#they both KNOW what they mean no matter what words they use to express it ;3;

[aizenify]

[💌] AIZEN SŌSUKE RELATIONSHIP HEADCANNONS

[NOTE]: Aizen has a variety of character arcs, so this won't be limited to any specific one. I do plan to create a more detailed version covering the different Aizen arcs in the future, but you're welcome to request any specific one in the meantime.

[ ☕️ ] My ask box is open! If you have a specific prompt you'd like me to write about—whether it's relationships, everyday activities, or anything else—don't hesitate to ask! I encourage you to suggest whatever your heart desires.

TW: none!

This will be split into 2 sections

What does Aizen look for?

— If you were Aizen’s partner, you’d definitely be someone very special to him. Looks wouldn’t be as important; rather, it would be your personality and ideologies that matter most.

— For instance, Aizen values someone who enjoys challenges and is willing to take risks. He’s all for that, but, of course, you’d also need to be cautious at times.

— Aizen greatly appreciates a deep understanding of the world. I like to think that he and his partner would engage in philosophical conversations daily. He’d want someone to explore the world with, to venture into new places, and try new experiences. Aizen definitely strikes me as the type to enjoy travel.

— He would want someone who challenges him. Given who Aizen is, he wouldn’t be interested in a partner who is passive or follows the crowd. He wants someone who will challenge his ideas, his ethics, and his worldview. He seeks someone who is on the same intellectual level, someone equal to him, or perhaps even better. This is something he has always longed for.

— I believe Aizen is sapiosexual, meaning he is attracted to people with high intelligence, and also likely demisexual or somewhere on the aromantic/asexual spectrum. He deeply values intelligence and personal space. For him, the sexual aspects of a relationship would not be his focus; instead, he values the fundamentals. His understanding of "love" is more complex than that of most people.

— Building on what I mentioned about his view on love, you would also need to respect his needs and be patient. Trust is essential here. Aizen doesn’t easily trust anyone, so the idea of him loving someone would make him feel extremely vulnerable. While he views trust as a form of reliance, his approach to trust in relationships is different. His way of showing trust and love will likely be expressed through his actions. Perhaps after Muken, Aizen would become more open and free. Muken Aizen, after all, is much more carefree and relaxed.

I’ll keep this section as is since it’s getting long. I’ll leave the rest for another day!

What will Aizen be like with his S/O?

— Aizen would likely ask for your thoughts on his plans or if you have any alternative suggestions for execution. He enjoys the sound of his own voice, so don’t be surprised if he rambles on about his strategies or just shares his thoughts from time to time.

— He will shower his partner with gifts and words of affirmation. Aizen is incredibly attentive and will take note of even the smallest details about what you like, even if you haven’t explicitly told him.

— Quality time will be very important to him as well. Despite his preference for solitude, having someone by his side will be a refreshing change. After being alone for so long, it’s natural to crave companionship. Aizen will likely plan a variety of activities for you both to enjoy together, whether it’s shopping, cooking, or simply taking a walk. Every moment with you will be meaningful.

— Physical touch is something Aizen might find unfamiliar at first. He’s used to being cautious with those around him, especially with anyone who gets too close. However, I think he would offer hugs from time to time as a way to show that he’s there for you and cares for you. If he knows you enjoy physical affection, he’ll make an effort to meet that need, even if it takes him a while to become fully comfortable with it!

— Expect a lot of playful bantering. Aizen seems like He enjoys a bit of lighthearted back-and-forth.

— Aizen will take you out on extravagant dates or to fancy venues. He is undoubtedly classy and chivalrous, he will treat you with the utmost respect and make sure you always get the best of everything!

That’s all for now! Thank you for reading!!! This is my first published hc 🧡🤎☕️

[ninguitar]

୨୧　𝓣AKE A BITE　˒˒　LR

─── ﹙🍎﹚when two lovers can't help but be addicted to one-another's lies.

pairing. lara raj x f!r genre. angst, bittersweet ?? wc. 1.4k+ notes. communication issues, toxic relationship, for @lararajjj 🗣️ italics = past events ( MASTERLIST )

now playing ⋆ take a bite by beabadoobee

LARA RAJ COULDN'T HELP but chastise herself for her sheer idiocy—more specifically, how she fell for you horrendously. with her hand interlocked with yours, an incoherent slur of words escape her breath. you two were sat out on your apartment's fire escape, seeking refuge in one-another—well, more so, as an attempt to mend your guys' relationship.

leaves wave against the trees, the breeze settling on the horizon. barely any words escape the two of your guys' lips, words lying on the tip of your tongue particularly. you two had just been in yet another argument for the month, hissing and huffing out incoherent curse words strung together with useless arguments.

"why- why are you acting this way! it wasn't even that big of an issue!" you hiss out, your words laced in venom, as you sigh, "you're just making it worse!"

"because you can't seem to do the littlest of tasks—i mean, forgetting to do anything i ask of you—how hard it be to do the stuff i ask of you!" lara observes flatly, her voice dreary, as you could practically tell she'd been biting these words back, waiting for the right moment to just explode.

"i've been busy with college, lara. you know that," you tell her, your hand reaching her shoulder, before she dismisses you, pausing in her movements. hastily, she takes your hand off her shoulder, a frown on her lips.

"look, i— i know i've been failing you lately, and you're sick of it, but i promise i'll stop using being busy as an excuse," you try to mend the already wounded and sour relationship between you two, your tone gentle, and your gaze filled with remorse.

the indian girl huffs, meekly shaking her head, anger sewn into her tone. an exasperated sigh escapes her parted lips, "it's not just lately. i- i've tried to ignore it, really, but god, i've done more shit for you than you have for me!" her face darkens, her frustrations towards you seeping through her skin.

"are you serious right now? i took time off of school just to take care of you when you were feeling down! everything i do has been for you. you act like i don't do anything to you at all," you raise your voice to match hers, glaring at the girl.

"it's not even just a matter of that—you always have no time for me, at all! i have not heard you say anything but the same excuse of 'i'm busy'!" her bitter resentment remains, remarking with force.

your expression crumbles at her words, as they settle in your mind, your chest blossoming pain. lara's face dons with an expression that displayed no regret for her words, making you scoff in response. you cross your arms against your chest, "fine then. be that way."

her lips tremble slightly at your words of agreement, her eyes widening, as the shock from your reaction sets in. by then does her anger tame itself, regret and worry washing over her features now. you brush past the indian girl, disappearing into the fire escape.

which, is what led the two of you to now.

"are we okay?" you murmur, turning to face the indian girl, as you swallow a lump down your throat, a look of resignation washing over your features. a sigh drifts from your lips upon waiting for her answer, both your hands resting on the railings.

she whispers, "'course we are, but not now, okay?" before pressing her lips against yours, her voice barely above a whisper and soothing. trying to ease your mind off of any concerns, lara's arms snake around your waist, interrupting any of your protests.

and by then, you were addicted to lara's lies.

guilt runs through your bones, as you meekly oblige, before trying to protest once again, "it just feels like we're always fighting an uphill battle, that we can never fix. it's always the same thing over and over again." worry lines crease your forehead, your stance stiffening, as you watch the smile falter from the red-haired girl's face.

before you could speak up once again, her finger finds your lips, shushing you. her words are laced with desperation, her voice quietly ringing in your head over and over again, "please, not now, pretty." she meekly grumbles under her breath, burying her head against your neck, murmuring nonsense while doing so.

you knew everything wasn't okay—hell, even lara knew that. but, things always go like this between you two. something goes wrong, either you or her confronts one-another, and then an argument follows. but then, it's forgotten almost instantly a few seconds after, and you're back to square one.

her eyes trace over your lips, before pressing her plush ones against yours, trying to melt away your worries. cupping your chin in a haste, she peppers your face with an abundance of kisses, coaxing praises under her breath. her lips trail down to your jaw to your neck, ruthlessly moving against them—a stark contrast to the way her hands entangle themselves in your cold hands.

"fuck—" her breath fans over your neck, making a chain of shivers run through your spine. leaving a trail of kisses down from your jaw to your neck, they leave small, pink-tinted stains, your fingertips dancing along lara's knuckles.

and you know it’s wrong—wrong to be in a relationship like this, where it's endless fighting between the two of you. and of course, two wrongs don't make a right, but how could you resist the temptation?

your breath stutters, unconsciously easing into the indian girl's touch, as she pulls you closer in an urgent manner. with the two of you standing against one-another at your fire escape, by now, the communication issue in your guys' relationship now seems like the last of your concerns. she pulls away from your neck, her head now facing yours.

"you're perfect," the red-haired girl whispers, running her hands down your arm.

a lie.

lara fixates on you, her lips pressing against each and every crevice of your face, wanting to reassure you, "so, so perfect—my gorgeous girl. can't let anybody else have you."

another lie.

and from her soft, tender touch, you can't help but let yourself drift off into her world, letting yourself believe in her lies. every single, small kiss of hers leaves you remembering the moment you knew lara raj was the one. her charming words from that day ring in your head—"i promise to never break your heart; i'll do anything i can to make my girl happy."

also a lie.

for as long as you were in a relationship with lara, you felt like you were high in a daze, feeling as light as a feather whenever you were with her. you thought—no, knew—that even in another lifetime, you two would inevitably find each other. and lara, likewise, knew so too, finding herself irrevocably in love with you—with everything that embodies you.

you were everything she wanted, and she was yours as well. you know how the indian girl looks when she genuinely professes her words to you—when she talks to you with sincerity laced in her words in general.

and your eyes desperately glaze over hers, already knowing she was meekly telling you lies. you mumble, "i love you too, forever." before you could manage to murmur another word out, lara captures your lips in a ruthless attempt, moving against yours fervently. her kisses leave you breathless, her hands running up and down your waist. the cool night breeze whistling only serves to make the red-headed girl kiss you feverishly.

you think that you two are perfect for each other—well, at least in terms of ignoring the underlying issues in your relationship. either one of you could speak up, but you guys don't, or one of you interrupts the other. it's the same cycle, and it ends up like always—the two of you fixing it with a kiss on the lips.

the red-headed girl drags you to the bedroom, not letting you protest with any words, as she sits, letting your head rest on her lap. the deafening silence through the room leaves you tense, your cheeks and ears flushed. her hands find their way to your hair, playing with your hair every few seconds.

thus, you call it yet another night of endlessly moving backwards instead of forward, stuck in reverse, and inevitably fixing it with a kiss on the lips, accompanied by words that mean little to either one of you. it's wrong, but lara's willing to do anything to not let your relationship go south, and vice-versa.

it gets harder to breathe

but i take it and i want it and i love when it bleeds

taglist. ୨ৎ @lararajjj @kisshae @sed7ction @yeetaberry127 @vrtualstar

@jellaaa @artrizzler19 @falling-intoo-deep

[promise-you-doie]

From Home | Jung Jaehyun

For all the valentines who wanted Jaehyun to win the cold war between him and Doyoung. I hope this alternative ending fufils your every need.

Under 1k words I think

Jaehyun x reader (Exes to Lovers)

A little angst lots of fluff

Home Series

"Drive safe." You stop at the door, and Jaehyun halts mid-step, turning back to look at you.

"You’re not coming?" he asks, brows furrowing slightly.

You shake your head. "I don’t want to leave him alone."

Jaehyun presses his lips together, the disappointment flickering across his face unmistakable, but he doesn’t push. "Okay," he says softly. He leans in, pressing a tender kiss to your cheek. "I’ll call you. Goodnight, baby."

"Goodnight, Jaehyun," you murmur faintly, watching as he walks to his car. The sound of his engine starting and the sight of his taillights fading down the driveway linger in your mind as you close and lock the door.

Dragging yourself upstairs to your bedroom, you exhale deeply, fingers brushing back your hair. The weight of the day settles in your chest like an anchor.

Doyoung is seated on the edge of your bed, his posture tense but his expression unreadable. He glances up as you enter, offering a small, tired smile that you attempt to return.

"Hey," he says softly, tugging lightly on your wrist as you approach, gesturing for you to sit on his lap.

You don’t move, sinking onto the bed next to him instead, your body heavy with exhaustion. There was a time when his touch brought you solace, but now, not even the memory of that comfort could quiet the chaos in your mind.

"How do you feel?" he asks gently, ignoring the growing space between you.

"Tired," you breathe, your fingers brushing through your hair.

"You can talk to me," Doyoung urges, scooting closer.

You inch further away, avoiding his gaze. "I just… I’m really tired, Doyoung. I need to sleep." You sigh, glancing toward the window instead of meeting his eyes. "We both need to sleep."

"Actually," he says, his voice steady but firm, "I think we need to talk." His hand gently turns your face toward him.

You grab his wrist, lowering his hand. "Where do we even start?"

"Let’s start with the fact that you left without saying a word. Did you think ignoring me would make everything disappear?"

"I’m not good at this," you reply, your voice low. "You know that. It’s how we got here in the first place."

"We can’t ignore it either." He moves closer, his presence unrelenting, his gaze sharp.

"I slept with him." The words leave your mouth before you can stop them.

Doyoung freezes, his face unreadable, though a flicker of resignation flashes in his eyes. Like he already knew.

"And I still love him," you add, barely above a whisper, your hands twisting in your lap as you avoid his gaze.

His voice is quiet when he finally speaks. "So… what does this mean?"

"I think you know what it means." You stand, wrapping your arms around yourself as you face him. "I love you, Doyoung. But Jaehyun and I… we—"

"I was there for you when he wasn’t," Doyoung interrupts, rising to his feet and taking your hands in his.

"I know," you say, your voice trembling. "I was broken, and you were there to catch me. I fell in love with you because you gave me what I needed. But I never stopped loving him." You meet his gaze, tears stinging your eyes. "He knows me in ways you don’t. There’s a connection between us that I can’t ignore, no matter how much I tried."

Doyoung nods slowly, his expression softening. The silence between you is deafening. He releases your hands, his own rising to cup your face.

"I love you," he says quietly, his thumbs brushing soft circles against your cheeks. "And I wish you nothing but the best. I’m sorry I couldn’t make us work out.” 

You shake your head, your lips trembling. "Don’t say it like that."

He leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before pulling you into his arms one last time.

"Goodnight," he whispers as he steps back, his hands falling to his sides before he walks to the door.

You watch him go, his figure disappearing down the hall as he leaves your room.

Something feels different. Maybe it’s relief. Maybe it’s heartbreak. Maybe it’s both. All you know is that tomorrow is going to be one hell of a day, and for now, you just need to sleep.

"Good morning!" Joy chirps the second you answer your phone, her voice bright and bubbly. "So, what happened?"

You press your lips into a thin line. "I should’ve known you had something to do with this."

"I knew exactly what I needed to do to set you straight," she replies smugly, a playful smile lighting up her face on the screen. "So? Spill. How did it go? When are you guys coming back?"

"Umm…" You rub your forehead, the weight of the conversation from last night pressing down on you. "I’m assuming Doyoung probably took the next flight back, so I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s already home."

Joy’s smile falters, confusion creeping onto her face. "What do you mean? Where are you? Why aren’t you together?"

You take a deep breath. "We broke up."

Joy blinks, her expression going blank for a moment, and then she asks, her voice laced with confusion, "Well, yeah. You guys were on a break, I get that. But that was just until you got back to LA. Then you’d get back together, and everything would go back to normal."

"No," you say, shaking your head slowly. "We’re not getting back together. We talked last night, and… seeing him again made me realize it’s not the same anymore."

"What’s not the same?" she presses, her tone a mix of curiosity and disbelief. "You haven’t been apart for that long."

"I don’t care about him the way I care about Jaehyun." Your voice softens, trailing off like you’re ashamed to admit it out loud. "I love Doyoung, but it’s not the same kind of love I have for Jaehyun."

There’s a long pause on the other end of the line. You can practically feel Joy’s internal struggle, and when she speaks again, her words come out slow, like she’s carefully choosing them. "Obviously, I’m not thrilled about this," she says, her voice tight. "But it’s your life, and you’ve got to do what makes you happy. If… Jaehyun’s who makes you happy," she falters, unable to say his name without a moment's hesitation, "then I won’t stand in your way."

"Thank you," you say, a genuine smile breaking across your face.

"You’re still coming back, though, right?" Joy asks, her tone a little lighter now.

"Yes, I’m definitely coming back," you assure her with a nod. "I can’t stand another day in Connecticut."

"Good," she says, perking up. "I missed you so much. I’m giving you the biggest hug when you get here."

"I missed you too, Joy," you reply, your voice soft with emotion. "You have no idea."

"Well," she says with a sigh, "I’ve got to run, but… I love you. I’ll see you when you get here, okay?"

"Love you too," you reply just before the call ends.

Not a second later, your phone buzzes with a text from Jaehyun.

Jaehyun: I’m outside. 

You rush to your window, and sure enough, Jaehyun is standing next to his parked car. A smile creeps onto your face as you take a deep breath and head to the door.

“You’re early,” you say, opening it to greet him.

He shrugs lightly, his gaze meeting yours. “You didn’t answer my call last night. I couldn’t sleep.”

“I’m sorry,” you say softly, shoving your hands into your pockets. “I was so tired, I just passed out.”

Jaehyun’s eyes flick to your bedroom window before returning to yours. “So… is he here?”

You shake your head. “No. He left last night.”

His jaw tightens slightly, but he nods. “I’m guessing you two talked.”

“We did.” You pause for a moment, then say it outright. “We’re not getting back together.”

The corner of Jaehyun’s mouth lifts, his dimples deepening as his smile widens. “Thank god,” he says, stepping closer and leaning down to press a firm kiss to your lips.

You smile against him, your heart skipping a beat as you pull back slightly.

“So… we’re still on for LA?” he asks, his voice hopeful.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” you tease, grinning before leaning in for another kiss.

1 month later 

You step into the empty apartment, Jaehyun’s hand clasped softly in yours. Your heels click against the smooth hardwood floor, the sound echoing in the silence. With each step, you feel the weight of the new chapter you’re about to begin, the new memories you’ll make. Jaehyun’s fingers are warm against yours, and the quiet intimacy of the moment wraps around you like a soft blanket.

As you walk through the space, your mind starts to drift. You imagine staying up late on the couch together, laughing through cheesy movies. You picture cooking meals in the kitchen, Jaehyun at the stove while you chop vegetables beside him. You can almost hear the crackle of the vinyl player as it spins your favorite songs, the two of you slow dancing around the room with no care for time.

You think about mornings—waking up next to him, your feet tangled in the sheets, the sunlight streaming through the windows. You imagine the little arguments over the thermostat, his warm hand on your back as you work at your desk, the quiet moments that will fill the walls with life.

This apartment, this space, is where all of your dreams will come true. It’s where you’ll build your home.

Turning on your heel, you walk backward, your fingers still intertwined with Jaehyun’s. He watches you, a small smile on his lips.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks, his voice soft and steady.

You smile, leaning in closer to him, your lips brushing against his cheek as you speak. “I’m thinking about how much I love you,” you say, your heart swelling at the simple truth of it.

His eyes soften as he leans down to kiss you, gentle and slow, like he’s savoring the moment. “I’m thinking about how I made the right decision,” you murmur, kissing him again, your lips lingering on his.

You pull back, meeting his gaze. “I’m thinking about how I can’t imagine this without you.” Another kiss.

Jaehyun pulls you closer, wrapping his arms tightly around your waist. “And I’m thinking about how I’d choose you again and again and again,” you whisper, your heart racing as he presses his lips to yours once more.

Jaehyun’s smile is bright, his hands warm as he lifts you off your feet, kissing you deeper, spilling all the love he couldn’t give you while you were apart. You laugh softly against him, and before you know it, you slide off him, grabbing his hand and tugging him toward the window.

The city sprawls out before you, Los Angeles glittering below like a sea of stars. Jaehyun stands behind you, his arms slipping around your waist as he rests his chin on your shoulder. You lean back into him, the rhythm of his heartbeat against your back steady and comforting.

For the first time in a long time, you feel at peace. You’ve finally made that little girl inside of you proud. You’ve achieved all of the dreams you had when you were eighteen—your dream apartment, your life in LA, and the man who has always been there for you, right by your side.

You tilt your head slightly, looking up at him. “We’re gonna be okay, right?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jaehyun kisses your cheek, his lips soft against your skin. “There’s no other way,” he says, his voice full of certainty.

The end for real this time.

[yoomiwrites]

Salty Rush¹¹

Summary: Some time ago, Reader was a partner of Akainu, a comrade he could rely on. Reader betrayed the navy, became part of a pirate crew...And finally the two face each other again

Note: He is WEAK.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

The silence weighed heavily in the small room. My hands rested in my lap, cuffed and immovable, but my mind was anything but still. The minutes stretched on endlessly, every creak of the walls making me jump. I didn’t know what I was waiting for, but the oppressive quiet felt like a punishment in itself.

Then, the sound of footsteps.

They were steady, deliberate, and heavier than those of the soldiers who had brought me here. My heart pounded as the iron door groaned open, revealing a tall, broad figure I hadn’t seen in years. The sight of him made my breath hitch, my chest tightening.

“Sengoku…” I whispered.

The former fleet admiral stepped into the room, his presence as commanding as ever. His white hair glinted under the dim light, and his sharp eyes bore into me with a mixture of pain and disappointment. For a moment, he didn’t speak, simply standing there as if gathering his thoughts. Then, with a sigh, he stepped closer and crossed his arms over his chest.

“So,” he began, his voice low but firm. “This is what it’s come to.”

I didn’t know what to say. Seeing him again brought a flood of memories—years of training under his guidance, his sharp but fair criticism, his unwavering belief in my potential. I had admired him once, respected him as both a mentor and a man. But now, all I could do was lower my gaze, shame tightening my throat.

He pulled out the chair opposite me, its legs scraping against the stone floor, and sat down. For a long moment, he studied me, his expression unreadable. Finally, he spoke again, softer this time.

“You’ve changed,” he said. “But not enough to hide from me. I know you, Y/N. Better than you might think.”

My lips parted, but no words came out. What could I say? Sorry? That felt hollow. Explanations felt useless. So I said nothing, and the silence between us stretched.

Sengoku’s voice cut through it, laced with emotion. “When I first heard the reports of your defection… I couldn’t believe it. I told myself there had to be a reason, something I wasn’t seeing. But then the evidence piled up.”

He leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly together, his gaze piercing. “Do you have any idea how much that hurt?”

His words struck me harder than any blow. I swallowed, forcing myself to meet his eyes. “I didn’t want to hurt you. Or anyone.” My voice cracked, but I pushed through. “But I couldn’t stay. Not when I saw what we were doing. What we were becoming. Sengoku… you know it’s wrong. You’ve always known.”

His expression flickered, a flash of something I couldn’t quite place—regret, perhaps. Then, he exhaled heavily and leaned back in his chair. “You’re not wrong,” he admitted, his tone weary. “Not entirely. But that doesn’t mean I can forgive you for the path you chose. There were other ways, Y/N. You could have come to me.”

“Would it have mattered?” I shot back, the bitterness in my voice surprising even me. “I did what I had to do because no one else would. I—” My voice faltered, and I looked away. “I didn’t have a choice.”

“Everyone has a choice,” he said, though there was no malice in his tone. Only sadness.

The silence returned, heavy and suffocating. I clenched my fists, struggling to keep my emotions in check. Finally, Sengoku broke the quiet.

“Do you know why you’re here?” he asked.

I frowned, confused by the sudden shift. “I assumed… an execution,” I said bluntly. “Isn’t that why you’re here? To deliver the final judgment?”

To my surprise, Sengoku shook his head. “No. This isn’t an execution.”

I blinked, taken aback. “Then what is it?”

He hesitated for a moment, as if weighing his next words carefully. “It’s… an enlightenment. A celebration, of sorts.”

“What?” I said, my voice sharper than I intended. “What are you talking about?”

Sengoku’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he leaned forward again, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “It seems Sakazuki has made his first mistake.”

I froze, his words echoing in my mind. “What… mistake?” I asked, my heart pounding.

He studied me for a moment, his expression unreadable. “He’s claimed your betrayal was part of a covert mission. A lie, of course, but one he’s insisted on. According to him, your actions were sanctioned, your defection an elaborate ruse to gain intel.”

I stared at him, my mind reeling. “That’s ridiculous. Why would he—” I stopped mid-sentence, the answer dawning on me like a punch to the gut. “He… lied? To protect me?”

Sengoku nodded slowly. “It would seem so. And now the higher-ups are preparing to welcome you back as a hero, rather than a traitor.”

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Anger flared in my chest, sharp and unrelenting. “That bastard,” I muttered, my fists clenching. “He lied to save his own conscience. To clean up his mess. He doesn’t get to decide my story—”

But even as the anger burned, something else stirred within me. A warmth I couldn’t quite explain. He had lied. For me. For reasons I couldn’t fully understand, Sakazuki—Sakazuki, of all people—had shown weakness. Had bent the truth for my sake.

And somehow, that made me furious and happy all at once.

“Y/N,” Sengoku said, his voice pulling me back to the present. “Whatever his reasons, this is your chance. Your one chance to walk away from this with your life. You’d be wise to take it.”

I looked at him, my emotions a storm of confusion, anger, and something uncomfortably close to hope. “And if I don’t?”

His gaze softened, and for the first time, I saw the pain behind his stern exterior. “Then we will lose you. For good.”

The weight of his words settled heavily on my shoulders. I looked down at my hands, the cuffs biting into my wrists, and took a deep, shaky breath.

Sengoku leaned back, his gaze heavy as he regarded me. The tension between us was palpable, the weight of our shared history pressing down on the room. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice quieter now. “What happened? Between you and Sakazuki?”

I blinked at the unexpected question, my throat tightening. For a moment, I considered brushing it off, keeping it vague, but the sincerity in his expression stopped me. If anyone deserved the truth, it was Sengoku.

“It’s… complicated,” I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper. “We trained together, you know that. Back then, we were close—closer than anyone knew.” I hesitated, searching for the right words. “He was… different. Not softer, exactly, but there was more to him than just the cold, calculating Admiral everyone sees now. He cared. About me, about what we were fighting for.”

Sengoku nodded, his eyes narrowing slightly. “I remember that. You two were inseparable during training. But something changed.”

I looked away, my chest tightening at the memory. “It did. As we climbed the ranks, he started pulling away. The more he dedicated himself to the cause, to justice, the less room there was for anything—or anyone—else.”

“Except for you,” Sengoku said quietly, his words startling me.

I frowned, shaking my head. “No, even me. He didn’t have time for doubts or distractions. And that’s what I became. A distraction.” My hands clenched into fists. “I tried to talk to him, to make him see that the way the Navy was heading—it wasn’t right. But he wouldn’t listen. Or maybe he couldn’t. He’d already made his choice.”

“And you made yours,” Sengoku said, his tone measured.

I nodded, my heart aching at the memory. “I left because I couldn’t stand by and watch anymore. I thought… I thought maybe it would wake him up, make him question things. But instead, he saw it as a betrayal. Not just of the Navy, but of him. And now… here we are.”

Sengoku was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. When he finally spoke, his voice was heavy with something I couldn’t quite place—regret, perhaps, or understanding.

“He cared for you,” he said. “More than I think even he realized. And I think that’s why it hurt him so much when you left.”

I laughed bitterly, shaking my head. “He cared for the idea of me, maybe. The version of me that fit neatly into his vision of justice. But the real me? The one who saw the cracks in the system, who questioned the orders we were given? He couldn’t handle that.”

Sengoku leaned forward, his eyes piercing. “And yet, he lied to protect you. Do you know how much that cost him? For someone like Sakazuki, who lives and breathes by the code of absolute justice, to bend the truth like this… it’s not something he would do lightly.”

I swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. “Why, though?” I asked, my voice cracking. “Why would he do that after everything?”

Sengoku’s gaze softened. “Maybe because he regrets what happened between you. Or maybe because, deep down, he knows you were right. And that scares him more than he’d ever admit.”

His words hit me like a punch to the gut, and I looked away, my vision blurring. “I don’t know if I can forgive him,” I said quietly. “For the things he’s done, the people he’s hurt. But part of me…” I trailed off, my voice trembling.

“Part of you still cares for him,” Sengoku finished, his tone gentle.

I nodded, unable to meet his gaze. “I don’t know if I’ll ever stop.”

Sengoku leaned back, exhaling heavily. “You and Sakazuki… you’re two sides of the same coin. Both stubborn, both unyielding in your beliefs. And both of you have suffered because of it.”

The room fell into silence again, the air thick with unspoken words. Finally, Sengoku stood, his movements slow and deliberate.

“Whatever happens next,” he said, his voice firm but kind, “know that I still believe in you. You were one of my best, Y/N. And no matter what path you’ve chosen, I’ll always see you as the person I trained.”

His words left me stunned, a lump forming in my throat as he turned to leave.

“Sengoku,” I called out, my voice trembling.

He paused, looking back over his shoulder.

“Thank you,” I said, the words barely audible.

He nodded once, a ghost of a smile on his lips, before stepping through the door and leaving me alone with my thoughts.

As the door closed behind him, I leaned back against the wall, my mind spinning. Sengoku’s words echoed in my head, mingling with memories of Sakazuki, of the fire in his eyes and the rare softness he tried so hard to hide.

Maybe Sengoku was right. Maybe we were two sides of the same coin. And maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t too late to figure out what that meant.

[roigami]

(Really rushed y’all… really rushed) The first time you saw Satoru, it hit you like a wave. You couldn’t quite put it into words at the time, but there was something about him that made your heart skip a beat. He was stunning in a way you hadn’t expected—like a burst of sunlight breaking through a clouded sky. His hair was messy, fluffed up in that effortless way, as though he had just rolled out of bed but still looked better than anyone else. His smile, lazy and self-assured, was both inviting and exasperating all at once. And the way he carried himself—like he didn’t have a care in the world, like he didn’t owe respect to anyone, especially those who were supposed to command it—was so far removed from your own nature. Everything about him was an unspoken challenge, a stark contrast to your quiet, controlled existence.

And maybe that’s what drew you in.

It was as if he lived in a world you couldn’t even touch. Your world was about duty, about tradition, about what was expected of you. Love wasn’t something you sought—it was something arranged, planned, calculated, like everything else. You didn’t want to have these feelings for him. You didn’t know how to handle it. Crushes were something you didn’t get. They were for others, people who had the luxury of indulging in their emotions, not someone like you.

Every time you tried to hold his gaze, you found it impossible. His eyes made your heart race in ways you couldn’t explain, until you found yourself smiling without meaning to. That made you panic even more, because smiling felt like weakness—something you couldn’t afford to show. So, you did the only thing that felt safe: you faked a frown. It was your armor, the one you knew how to wear, even if it didn’t quite match the fluttering in your chest.

You hated it. You hated feeling this way. You couldn’t tell anyone; you had no one to tell. Not your friends, not your family. Who could understand? Who could possibly get it when your world was already written out for you, and love wasn’t supposed to be part of it?

And yet, every time he walked by, your heart betrayed you. Every time he smiled, so effortlessly, so carelessly, you felt your walls crack, just a little bit more.

——————

Gojo couldn’t quite figure you out. He had never met anyone quite like you, someone who existed in the periphery of his life, who didn’t seem to fit in but still lingered in places where he couldn’t ignore you. The way you carried yourself—quiet, composed, distant—always caught his attention. It wasn’t like you were shy; no, you had this quiet strength, this undeniable presence that stood out even in a room full of people. You spoke with respect, even when it wasn’t deserved, and your words were always measured, never sharp. And yet… there was something about you that made it impossible for him to place.

Around him, you were frowning. It wasn’t that you seemed angry, but your expression was always steeped in something heavy— You never smiled. Never laughed in the way his friends did, never seemed to lighten up like the others. It wasn’t even as if you were a stranger to him. You’d tagged along on missions, hung out with his friends, and somehow fit in without really being in. You were like a shadow, constantly present but never quite seen. You only spoke when spoken to, offering no more than the bare minimum, always on the sidelines, always observing.

And that bothered him. It got under his skin more than he cared to admit. Gojo was used to people being drawn to him, engaging with him, enjoying his presence. But you? You made it clear you didn’t need him, didn’t want him, or anyone else for that matter. It ticked him off, this indifference of yours.

But Gojo wasn’t someone to let things slide, not when it came to his ego, not when it came to understanding people. He started to wonder: Was it just a mask? Nobody, not even someone as enigmatic as you, would walk around with a frown on their face all the time. It didn’t make sense. There had to be something else behind that expression, something deeper. And if it wasn’t a mask, if this was truly who you were, then maybe you were just miserable on purpose. Maybe you were someone who sought to suffer, to shut out the world for reasons he couldn’t quite understand. Or maybe… just maybe… it was him you didn’t like. The thought stung more than it should have, but it kept gnawing at him. He remembered the way your frown deepened every time your eyes met, as if you were unable to hide the disdain you felt for him.

He couldn’t help but dwell on it. But… maybe he was wrong. Maybe it wasn’t dislike at all. Maybe it was something far more complicated. Maybe you liked him. That thought, for some inexplicable reason, dug at him. The idea of you being silently affected by him, of you possibly harboring feelings for someone like him—an egotistical jerk—bothered him in ways he didn’t care to explore. And that upset him more than he wanted to admit. So, naturally, he decided to talk to Geto about it.

Geto, ever the voice of reason, listened to him with that patient, knowing smile that irritated Gojo more than he cared to admit. When Gojo had shared his suspicions—half joking, half serious—Geto’s response was enough to make his blood run cold. “Maybe it’s the opposite,” Geto had said, his voice almost teasing. “Maybe you like her.”

Gojo had scoffed, immediately dismissing the idea. That’s complete bullshit. He barely knew you. Sure, you were attractive, but looks weren’t enough for him to call it “like.” It wasn’t just about physical attraction. It wasn’t even about the shallow interactions that might have suggested something more. No, it was about who you were, and he couldn’t figure that out. The quiet, withdrawn nature you exuded made it hard for him to place any of this.

But curiosity gnawed at him, more and more each time he saw you, each time you spoke those few words. He couldn’t help but be drawn to you, to the way you seemed so completely unaffected by him, yet at the same time, always so close, always so present in the spaces he inhabited. And deep down, he wondered—maybe, just maybe, that was the most intriguing thing about you.

His ego, ever his guide, whispered that he couldn’t like you. Not in this situation, not now. He told himself that, over and over. That’s what his pride demanded. That’s what his ego insisted. But even then, in the back of his mind, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something more to you—something that called to him, even if he refused to admit it.

—————

“Just ask her if she hates you.”

“Do you hate me?” Satoru asked suddenly, his voice slicing through the comfortable silence. You froze mid-step.

“What?” you managed to say, confused by both his tone and his question.

Satoru turned to face you fully, crossing his arms with a dramatic sigh. “It’s weird,” he began, eyes narrowing slightly, “because every time I’m near you, your frown deepens by, like, a millimeter. Do you know how insulting that is for someone of my charm and good looks?”

His deadpan delivery made your head spin. Were you frowning at him? Did your face have a vendetta you weren’t aware of?

You felt a twinge of panic rise in your chest. It wasn’t that you hated him—quite the opposite, actually. But apparently, you were giving him the worst signals in the history of mankind. If there was an award for unintentional mixed signals, you’d win gold every time.

While Satoru stood there, waiting for your response, he didn’t seem inclined to stop talking. “Seriously, you’re always looking at me like I’ve done something horribly wrong. I mean, I’m amazing, so it can’t possibly be my fault, right? Maybe it’s you? Are you allergic to people who are this good-looking? Or maybe—”

You tuned him out for a second, mentally slapping yourself. You waited until he finally ran out of breath, his hands gesturing wildly as if proving some unseen point, and then calmly said, “I don’t hate you.”

Your words landed with a thud, and for a moment, there was blessed silence. Satoru blinked at you, his head tilting like a curious puppy. “You don’t?”

“Nope.”

“Hmm.” He squinted, suspicious. “Are you sure? Because the frowning thing really had me convinced. Like, I was about to write a thesis on how much you secretly despise me.”

You shook your head. “I’m sure.”

His eyes lit up like someone had just handed him his favorite dessert. “Well, why didn’t you say that in the first place?!” he exclaimed, his grin so wide it could’ve powered a small city. “You had me worried for no reason!”

Before you could respond, he spun on his heel and started skipping away from you down the street. Yes, skipping. He was practically glowing, and you swore you saw actual sparkles radiating off him like some sort of anime protagonist.

————

You guessed that’s when it all started. When he really started to speak and see you more.

The sun beats down relentlessly, its heat pressing into your skin like a heavy hand. You walk along the street, feeling each step drag beneath the oppressive warmth. But then—thankfully—you spot a vending machine. A savior. You eagerly shove money into the slot and press the button, waiting for your drink to fall with a sigh of relief.

And then, a voice cuts through the quiet hum of the afternoon, pulling you from your thoughts. “You’re really quiet.”

You flinch slightly, turning to face the voice you already know well. Gojo Satoru stands there, looking as effortless as ever. His white hair gleams in the sunlight, and his usual confident, amused expression is plastered across his face.

You bow, a reflex, and immediately hear the soft sigh he lets out. His gaze is already rolling, and you can practically feel his exasperation “Can you get me a drink too? This heat is killing me!” He says dramatically, fanning himself, though there’s no sign of sweat. Maybe he’s just blessed with not feeling the heat the same way.

You shrug and reach into your pocket, pulling out another coin. “What drink?” you ask, your gaze cool as you meet his. He pauses for a moment, as if trying to decide, before muttering, “I guess, any.”

With a slight tilt of your head, you grab the drinks from the machine, handing him one without much thought. The lychee flavor.

“Hm?” He looks at the drink in his hand, an eyebrow raised. “How’d you know this was my favorite?” His teasing tone is there, but his glasses slip down his nose, and you catch the playful gleam in his eyes.

Your words quiet but clear. “Whenever the group hangs out, I always see you ordering lychee. And you always stare at lychee-flavored drinks when we try to order something else like Sprite.” Your voice is as steady as ever, unaffected by the fact that you’ve just revealed something Gojo didn’t know.

For a split second, he freezes, his lips parting slightly in surprise. And then, the most charming smile spreads across his face. It’s bright, almost blinding.

“Ah, I see.” He chuckles softly to himself, turning his back to you as he takes a sip of the drink. You watch him, your head tilted in quiet curiosity. Is drinking that private to him? But then you notice the faint redness creeping along the tip of his ear. It must be the heat, you reason, but somehow, it’s endearing.

“Goodbye,” you say softly, preparing to leave, but as you start to walk away, you feel him behind you, just a little too close.

You stop, turning your head. “Why are you still following me?” You can’t help the small bite in your tone. Isn’t he bored yet? All you are doing was walking.

He catches up, leans in slightly, and you feel his presence beside you like an unspoken weight. “Because I’m not sick of you yet,” he says, his voice low and warm. There’s something soft in his tone, something genuine—maybe he’s not entirely teasing, after all.

Your steps slow, heart beating a little faster, as the distance between you both closes, and for the first time, you let the silence between you feel like something more than just an awkward pause. Something familiar. Something you might just want to keep.

————

The group meandered down the lively street, their laughter and casual chatter mingling with the bustling sounds of vendors calling out and the sizzle of food being cooked on open grills. The scent of roasted chestnuts and skewered meat wafted through the crisp evening air, but your attention was elsewhere.

You were trailing behind the others with Satoru, who seemed unusually content staying close by your side. His hands were shoved in his pockets, and his usual carefree demeanor was only slightly overshadowed by the way he kept glancing at you.

When your gaze caught on a bright, retro-looking machine, curiosity flickered in your eyes. It was old-fashioned, boxy, and decorated with neon lights.

Satoru noticed your intrigue immediately. “Oh! It’s a Photo Booth!” he exclaimed, his voice filled with excitement.

Before you could even process what he said, he grabbed your hand, his warm fingers wrapping around yours, and tugged you toward the machine. The group called out after you, confused about your sudden departure, but Satoru didn’t even turn around.

“We’ll catch up!” he hollered over his shoulder before turning back to you with a mischievous grin.

The booth was cramped and a little dusty, but Satoru paid no mind as he dug out some coins and inserted them into the slot. He held the curtain open for you, and you ducked inside hesitantly, feeling a bit awkward about the whole situation.

“Let’s just snap a few pictures,” Satoru said, crouching slightly to get a better look at the buttons on the machine. “How does this thing work again…?” He frowned in concentration, poking a few random buttons until the countdown suddenly began.

“Three… Two…”

The numbers flashing on the screen triggered a burst of panic in both of you. You scrambled to get into position, barely managing to sit up straight and look at the camera as it clicked. The result was… less than flattering.

Satoru groaned loudly, looking at the preview. “Ugh, we look so stiff. Let’s be more… comfortable,” he said, glancing at you from the corner of his eye with a teasing smile.

He hesitated for a second, then moved his arm as if to drape it around your shoulders. But before he could, the camera flashed again, catching him mid-action.

“Shit!” he whispered, his hand retreating quickly as though burned.

“Two more!” you muttered, glancing nervously at the screen.

Satoru didn’t waste time. This time, he grabbed your shoulders firmly and grinned brightly at the camera. His confidence was infectious, and you couldn’t help but manage a small, tentative smile just as the next flash went off.

“Alright, one more,” he said, shifting gears entirely. He threw up a peace sign at the last second, his expression effortlessly goofy. You instinctively copied him, feeling the tension ease. The final flash went off, and the booth chimed to signal the end of the session.

Satoru leaned over to retrieve the printed photos from the slot, and as soon as he saw them, he burst into laughter.

“They caught me looking so ridiculous in the second one!” he said between laughs, showing you the strip. “And look at you—you’re so awkward!”

He handed you a copy of the photos, still chuckling to himself. You stared at them, cheeks burning slightly at how unpolished you looked in the first two shots.

“…I’ll do better next time,” you muttered under your breath, more to yourself than to him. Satoru immediately stopped laughing. “Oh? Next time?” he asked, his tone playfully curious.

You froze, realizing what you’d just said. “yeah, next time.”

His grin widened, and he leaned closer, his teasing eyes sparkling. “I’ll hold you to that,” he said, his voice low and amused.

Before you could respond, he turned back to the others, waving the photos in the air as he called out to Suguru and Shoko. “Hey! Look at these masterpieces! We’re basically models!”

As he walked ahead, your eyes drifted down to the photo strip in your hand. Despite the awkward poses and mismatched expressions, there was something undeniably warm about them.

Next time didn’t sound so bad after all.

————

You both entered a small store, the warmth inside immediately thawing your frozen limbs. Satoru, of course, had made a beeline for the snacks, grabbing armfuls of chips and sweets while you followed, shaking your head. At the register, you pulled out your wallet to pay for his haul.

“Really? You’re paying for me?” he teased, leaning against the counter with a smirk.

“I’m feeling generous,” you replied as the cashier handed over the change.

Back outside, the air hit you like a wall, the cold sharper now as the sun fully dipped below the horizon. You pulled your scarf tighter around your neck, snuggling into its soft fabric as your breaths came out in puffs of white.

The silence between you was comfortable, the crunch of your boots against the snow the only sound until thick flakes began to fall from the sky. It started softly, a gentle flurry that quickly turned into heavy snowfall, the world around you blanketed in white.

“You cold?” Satoru asked, tilting his head as he looked at you. His blue eyes sparkled, even in the dim light.

You nodded, unable to properly respond as the cold numbed your lips and cheeks. He stopped walking, and before you could question him, he stepped closer, pulling his hands from his pockets.

Suddenly, his hands were on your cheeks, and you flinched at the unexpected warmth. He had heating pads tucked beneath his gloves, the heat seeping into your frozen skin.

“Warm up,” he said with a lopsided grin, his voice soft despite the teasing undertone.

You fluttered your eyes closed for a moment, letting the warmth soak in. “Thanks,” you muttered, your voice barely audible over the sound of falling snow.

“Not a problem,” he replied, his grin growing wider. His hands lingered a moment longer before dropping back to his sides. He seemed pleased with himself, his expression bright despite the freezing air.

By the time you reached the meeting point, Shoko and Suguru were already there, waiting under the awning of a convenience store. Shoko was lazily sucking on a lollipop, while Suguru leaned against the wall, arms crossed.

“What took you two so long?” Suguru asked, raising an eyebrow as he straightened up.

Before you could explain, Satoru grabbed your arm, leaning against you dramatically as a mischievous smile spread across his face.

“On a date, kind of!” he chirped, his tone entirely too casual.

“What?!” Shoko nearly choked, her lollipop falling from her mouth as her wide eyes darted between the two of you.

You immediately shook your head, stepping away from Satoru’s grasp. “We were just running errands,” you said quickly, your voice firm as you glared at him.

“Oh, okay,” Shoko replied, visibly relaxing. She bent down to retrieve her fallen candy, though her smirk told you she wasn’t entirely convinced. “Good. If Satoru got a lover before me, I’d actually die.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” Satoru shot back, crossing his arms in mock offense.

“It means you’re insufferable,” Shoko quipped, sticking her tongue out at him before popping the lollipop back in her mouth. Suguru chuckled, shaking his head. “You really know how to stir things up, huh, Satoru?”

———

The stars were faint tonight, their shimmer dulled by the glow of city lights. The group had decided to spend their evening lounging at a nearby park, the cool breeze and faint rustle of leaves creating a sense of calm. But for Satoru, it was anything but peaceful. He sat slightly apart from the others, slouched on a bench with his sunglasses perched low on his nose. His usually vibrant energy felt dimmed, weighed down by the unresolved mess of thoughts swirling in his mind.

He sighed heavily, his fingers idly tapping against the bench as he stared into the distance. The chatter and occasional bursts of laughter from his friends blurred into white noise. He zoned out, his mind wandering aimlessly, until he felt someone settle beside him.

He assumed it was Suguru or Shoko, their usual presence comforting in its familiarity. Without looking, he started to speak, his voice low and uncharacteristically vulnerable. “…I’ve been hella bummed out lately,” he admitted, rubbing his temples as he took off his sunglasses. His fingers lingered on the frames, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “I think—”

His words faltered when he turned. Your gaze was steady, unflinching, but there was a softness in your expression that made his chest tighten. Satoru blinked, his usual confidence temporarily erased as his jaw slackened. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

“Oh, hey,” he finally managed, his voice lacking its usual cocky edge.

You didn’t respond immediately, your focus entirely on him. Your eyes lingered on his face, studying him with an intensity that made his palms sweat. Finally, you spoke, your voice soft but cutting through the quiet.

“Your eyes are pretty.”

The words hit him like a punch to the gut. Satoru froze, his mind scrambling to process what you’d just said. The breeze carried a few strands of your hair across your face, framing you in a way that felt almost cinematic, like a scene pulled straight from a dream.

“Yeah, uh… a signature trait of the Gojo clan,” he replied, a weak attempt to regain his composure. His usual pride crept into his tone, but his heart was beating too fast for him to fully pull off the nonchalance.

You nodded, a small, thoughtful movement. “I know,” you said simply, your voice calm as you turned your gaze forward, leaving him to process the weight of your observation.

Satoru, however, couldn’t look away. His eyes lingered on your side profile—the gentle curve of your cheek, the way your hair danced against your skin in the breeze. The streetlights cast a faint glow over you, and for a moment, he thought you looked ethereal, like something he wasn’t entirely sure he deserved to sit beside.

“Sorry,” he spoke again, breaking the silence. His hand reached up to rub the back of his neck, an uncharacteristic gesture of nervousness. “I must be bumming you out, huh?”

“You aren’t,” you replied, your voice quiet but resolute.

It was a simple statement, but it hit him harder than anything else that night. His heart fluttered, his chest tightening as though he’d heard the most beautiful melody in the world. How could two words, said so plainly, hold so much power?

Satoru fell silent, his usual quips and bravado forgotten as he looked at you. For the first time in a long while, Satoru Gojo felt seen—not as the strongest sorcerer, but simply as Satoru.

————

Amanai’s mission

————

The mission was grueling, a constant haze of tension as you protected Riko, the Star Plasma Vessel. It left you drained—physically, mentally. But for now, there was a fleeting moment of quiet. The halls of the building you were staying in were dim, shrouded in the soft, bluish glow of moonlight filtering through the windows. The darkness outside seemed vast, like it could swallow you whole. You yawned, padding silently through the corridor, your destination the kitchen. Maybe a glass of water would help you sleep.

But as you neared the dimly lit room, you noticed you weren’t alone. A tall figure, familiar even in the faint light, stood by the counter. Gojo Satoru. He wasn’t exactly someone you expected to see here at this hour. His white jacket was gone, leaving him in a simple black shirt, his usually perfect hair a little disheveled. For a second, you debated slipping away unnoticed, your feet shifting carefully on the wooden floor.

“You walk loud,” his voice rang out suddenly, startling you. He turned around, his piercing gaze meeting yours, a faint smirk playing on his lips despite the exhaustion in his eyes.

Caught, you gave him a small bow. “What are you doing up so late?” you asked, tilting your head slightly, trying to mask your own unease.

He shrugged, leaning casually against the counter, though his posture betrayed a weariness he rarely showed. “Not tired,” he replied simply.

You frowned slightly at his vague answer, your concern flickering to life despite yourself. “I have sleeping pills,” you offered, stepping closer.

“They don’t work on me,” he said with a dismissive wave, though his voice lacked its usual playful edge. There was something off about him tonight. He seemed… different. His usual overconfidence and cockiness had dulled, replaced by something quieter, something heavier.

You sighed softly, unsure of how to approach him in this rare, unguarded state. Comfort wasn’t exactly your forte, but before you could overthink it, his voice cut through the silence again.

“Can you stay?” he asked, almost too softly for you to believe it was him.

You blinked, turning to face him fully. “What?”

“Company would be nice,” he repeated, his tone light but sincere. “I don’t mind if you fall asleep. Just… stay.”

Something in the way he said it tugged at you. With a small nod, you crossed the room and sat down on the couch near the corner, one seat away from him. You didn’t want to crowd him, but you also didn’t want to leave him alone. The silence stretched between you for a moment, but then, to your surprise, he shifted. Slowly, deliberately, he slid closer, shortening the space between you.

“I’m just watching over,” he said quietly, his voice barely above a murmur. “Can’t get distracted. Anyone could show up.”

His words made sense, but the exhaustion lining his features made your chest tighten with something you couldn’t name. “You need rest too,” you said, your tone soft but firm. “I can watch over for a while.”

“No,” he said, shaking his head, his voice steadier now. “I can deal with it. I’m the strongest, after all.” There it was—his trademark ego, though it felt more like a mask than a truth tonight.

You deadpanned at him, unimpressed. “You’re weirdly stubborn, you know. Just because you’re the strongest doesn’t mean you have to handle everything alone.”

He turned his head slightly, his pale lashes lowering as he studied the floor. “It’s not that simple.”

“It is,” you countered, your voice quieter now. “I’m here.” The words slipped out before you could stop them, and they hung in the air between you, heavier than you intended.

His head tilted toward you, his expression unreadable in the dim light. For a moment, he didn’t respond. Then, he chuckled softly, the sound more subdued than usual, almost self-deprecating.

Before you could react, he leaned into you, resting his head lightly against your shoulder. The gesture was so uncharacteristic, so vulnerable, that it rendered you momentarily speechless. His hair was soft against your neck, and you realized with a start that his infinity was off.

“Satoru?” you whispered, the surprise evident in your voice.

“Just until the clock strikes five,” he murmured, his voice low, almost drowsy.

You wanted to protest, to ask him what was weighing on him so heavily that even Gojo Satoru, the strongest sorcerer, sought solace like this. But you stayed quiet, letting the moment settle between you. Despite his words, you knew he wasn’t sleeping. His breathing was too steady, too measured. Whatever was on his mind, he wasn’t ready to share it.

So, you stayed. The minutes ticked by in silence, the faint hum of the clock the only sound in the room. His presence, though unexpected, wasn’t uncomfortable. It was warm, grounding, a quiet reminder that even the strongest among you weren’t invincible.

“I’m tired,” Satoru muttered, his voice unusually quiet. He leaned against the counter, his usually perfect posture slightly slouched. It was such a simple statement, yet it felt heavy, as though the weight of the world rested on his shoulders for once.

You studied him carefully, your brows furrowing. “I have sleeping pills,” you said, your tone steady as you tried to offer a solution.

He glanced at you, his lips twitching into a faint smirk that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Don’t work,” he replied, dismissing the idea with a lazy wave of his hand.

“They’re specifically made for sorcerers,” you added, your voice soft but insistent.

His head tilted, the faintest glimmer of curiosity crossing his face. “They really made that?” he asked, his tone laced with genuine surprise.

You nodded, your lips curving into a small smile. The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable—it felt… peaceful. The usual tension between you had dissipated, leaving behind a quiet stillness that neither of you rushed to fill.

After a moment, Satoru let out an exaggerated sigh, breaking the calm. “Sometimes I feel like you hate me,” he said, his tone light but tinged with something else, something harder to place.

Your head snapped toward him, your eyes widening. “What?”

He pouted, his lips curving downward in an almost playful expression. “You won’t even try to push the answer out of me,” he muttered, his gaze shifting away from yours as if he were embarrassed.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden vulnerability. “I just didn’t want to be a bother,” you admitted quietly.

His gaze returned to you, sharper now. “So… do you hate me?”

The question hit you like a physical blow, your heart skipping a beat. Hate him? The thought was absurd. If anything, your feelings leaned far in the opposite direction. But how could you admit that to him now, here, when his usually impenetrable confidence was already fraying at the edges?

“Well, I don’t,” you said finally, your voice steady despite the nervous fluttering in your chest. “Honestly, despite your ego and occasional… disrespect, you still care about people. Don’t think I missed the way you saw Riko’s sad expression and decided to add another day to this vacation. Even if you’re the strongest, we’re friends, aren’t we? To me, you’re just Gojo Satoru.”

His expression softened, his lips parting slightly as if he were about to say something. But you kept going, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “Your heart is pure, Satoru. I don’t hate you. In fact, I think that you’re—”

The sentence died in your throat as your eyes locked with his. His expression was completely unguarded, his usual cocky smirk replaced by something raw, something vulnerable. He looked at you as though you’d said the most earth-shattering thing he’d ever heard.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you felt heavy, charged, as though the slightest movement might shatter whatever fragile thread was holding it together.

Finally, Satoru let out a soft chuckle, his voice trembling slightly. “I’m not getting ahead of myself, am I?” he asked, his tone lighter now, though there was a trace of nervousness behind it.

You shook your head slowly, and that small gesture was all he needed.

He leaned forward, his movements slow and deliberate, as though giving you every opportunity to pull away. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

When his lips met yours, it was soft and tentative at first, as though he were afraid to break you. But then the kiss deepened, his hand gently cupping your jaw while his thumb brushed against your skin. He tasted faintly of sugar, and the warmth of him against you sent your heart racing.

It wasn’t just a kiss—it was an unspoken confession. The teasing, the stolen glances, the quiet moments where his guard slipped—it all made sense now.

————

“Satoru,” you started, concern lacing your voice. His eyes flicked to yours briefly, soft yet unwavering. Before you could finish your thought, chaos erupted.

The attack came out of nowhere, swift and violent. Your instincts kicked in as you reached out, shouting, “Satoru!” But he was already moving, stepping in front of you like a wall. He raised his hand, palm out, as if to shield you from more than just the physical threat.

“I’m fine,” he said, his voice calm, almost infuriatingly so, as he glanced at you. His usual playful arrogance was replaced by something far more serious. “Get Amanai to Master Tengen’s place. Immediately.”

You hesitated, your heart thundering in your chest. The thought of leaving him here, alone, against—it made your stomach churn. “Satoru, I—”

“I’ll be fine,” he interrupted firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument. His eyes, impossibly blue and still alight with that maddening spark, locked onto yours. “He has to be stopped by the strongest, and… I’m the only one who can do it.”

You clenched your fists, your nails digging into your palms. “You always think it’s your job to shoulder everything alone—”

“Because it is,” he said, cutting you off again. This time, his voice softened, as if he was letting you in on a secret. “It’s what I was made for.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, but your voice cracked when you finally spoke. “I’ll come back for you. I promise.”

He rolled his eyes, but the faintest flicker of something—gratitude? relief?—flashed across his face. “If that’s what you want,” he said, his smile quirking up at the edges in that way only Satoru Gojo could manage, even in the face of danger. “Thanks.”

You gave him one last look, your gaze lingering, trying to memorize every detail—the tilt of his head, eyes swirled around his silhouette, the resolute strength that seemed so unshakable.

————

That’s where it all went wrong.

The last clear memory you had was the bitter cold biting at your skin and Satoru’s voice ringing in your ears—calm, steady, and so sure of himself. “Get Amanai to safety. I’ll handle this.” Then chaos. A sharp pain searing through your skull. And then—nothing.

When you woke, the world felt… dimmer. You blinked, groggy and disoriented, only to realize you could only see out of one eye. Panic clawed at your throat as you sat up, heart pounding, reaching up to your face only to feel the bandages covering the gaping absence where your left eye had once been.

You had questions. So many questions. But the answers never came.

Satoru was the first person you thought of. Surely, he would explain what happened, right? But every time you asked, he brushed it off with an infuriating shrug and a nonchalant, “What’s done is done. You’re alive, that’s what matters.”

It pissed you off.

You were his friend, weren’t you? You had fought beside him, trusted him with your life. And yet, now it felt like there was this invisible wall between you—one you couldn’t break through, no matter how hard you tried.

Geto wasn’t much better. He was quieter than usual, his sharp edges dulled by something you couldn’t quite place. His frame seemed thinner, his eyes darker. He avoided your gaze during the rare moments you saw him, always in passing. You tried to connect, to figure out what was wrong, but he slipped through your grasp like smoke.

And as for Shoko—she was the glue holding everyone together, but even she seemed stretched too thin. Her humor became brittle, her smiles forced. The four of you, once inseparable, were now like scattered fragments of a mirror, each reflecting a distorted version of what you used to be.

It all came to a head when Geto finally snapped.

The news hit you like a freight train. The murders, the defection, his complete rejection of everything he once stood for—it was almost too much to process. You couldn’t believe it. You didn’t want to believe it.

But Satoru? He knew. He must have known.

You saw it in the way his posture slumped ever so slightly when he thought no one was looking, the way his usual bravado felt more like a mask than ever before. For once, Satoru Gojo—the strongest—looked fragile.

You tried to talk to him about it, but he shut you down every time. “It’s not your problem,” he’d say, his voice clipped and distant. And maybe he was right—maybe it wasn’t your problem. But it was his.

And that made it yours too.

The bond between all of you, once unbreakable, had splintered beyond repair. Missions and eye check-ups consumed your time, leaving you no room to breathe, let alone process everything that had happened. You felt like you were drowning, and no one—not even the people you cared about most—could throw you a lifeline.

The days blurred together, and you found yourself wondering if things had ever truly been as good as you remembered. Or if you’d just been too naive to see the cracks forming from the very beginning.

If only you had stayed with Satoru during the attack.

The thought haunted you, replaying in your mind like a broken record. You had trusted him, as you always did, to be the strongest—to handle everything alone. But what if you hadn’t? What if you had stood by his side, fought with him, and shared the burden instead of leaving him to carry it all? Maybe things would have been different. Maybe he would be different.

But Satoru never let you find out.

He shut you out, retreating into himself like a shell snapped shut. Every attempt you made to reach him was met with indifference—an impenetrable wall of silence. His once vibrant personality, the one that lit up every room, now seemed dimmed, guarded, and distant.

You told yourself it wasn’t your fault, that he was grieving in his own way��over Suguru, over Amanai, over everything that had gone wrong. But guilt sank its claws deep into your mind, whispering relentlessly. You should have stayed. You should have fought harder to help him.

You drowned in that guilt.

And while you struggled, Satoru disappeared into his work. He buried himself in missions, dedicating every ounce of his being to the world of sorcery, leaving no space for anything—or anyone—else. When you tried to talk to him, you were met with clipped tones and hurried goodbyes.

Until one day, there were no goodbyes at all.

No calls. No texts. Nothing.

It was as if he had vanished entirely from your life. And just like that, 12 years slipped through your fingers, passing as swiftly as a winter breeze. Time dulled the pain but never truly healed it. Your first love didn’t work out, but you were glad he was the first man you fell in love with.

You had left Jujutsu High not long after Suguru’s betrayal, unable to stomach the memories and the lingering fractures of your once unbreakable bond. The world outside sorcery offered no solace, but it was quieter. You tried to move on, tried to forget, but the echoes of those days followed you like shadows.

Years passed. The simplicity of a normal life wasn’t sustainable. Low pay and rising expenses forced your hand, and eventually, you returned to Jujutsu High. The halls felt colder than you remembered, the laughter of younger sorcerers ringing hollow in your ears.

It was strange being back, stepping into a world that once felt like home but now felt alien. Satoru’s name was on everyone’s lips, his legend only growing in the years you’d been away. But to you, he wasn’t a legend. He was the man who had once smiled at you like you were his whole world, only to shut you out when you needed him most.

And now, here you were—older, wiser, but no less haunted by the ghost of him. Would he still be the same Satoru you had known? Or had time changed him just as it had changed you?

You weren’t sure if you wanted to find out.

————

A deep, involuntary sigh escaped your lips, the frustration of being caught between duty and your own growing hesitations bubbling to the surface. It had become routine: kill, eliminate, destroy. But this time felt different. It was always different when there were no clear lines to cross, no simple black and white.

Stepping out for a moment to breathe, you wandered into the open air. The sky was turning a shade of purple, its glow reflecting the storm inside your mind. The dusk painted the world in a hue of melancholy beauty, and for a moment, you simply watched, trying to ground yourself in the sight of it.

“It’s pretty.”

The voice cut through the air like a soft breeze, familiar yet foreign. You turned swiftly, your eyes locking onto him before your mind had even fully processed the sound. Your heart skipped in that fleeting moment, and your breath caught. There he was. Satoru.

It was as if time had shifted. He stood before you, older now, his blindfold hiding whatever secrets lay behind his eyes. Gone was the reckless, cocky persona, replaced with something quieter, more thoughtful. The aura around him was different, subdued in a way that didn’t match the memory of his youthful arrogance. And yet, he still exuded power, a quiet storm that seemed to whisper of years gone by.

You stood there, frozen, unable to look away. You’d barely noticed the way he tilted his head, a small smile tugging at his lips. But you noticed it now. The change, the growth. It was like staring at a ghost of the person you once knew, yet not knowing if you could still reach them.

“I’m telling you, the old man is just stupid.” His voice was casual, but you could hear the underlying urgency in it. The underlying plea. He didn’t need to say it outright—you knew exactly what he was asking. He wasn’t telling you to defy orders. He was asking you not to carry out the mission. Not to destroy the kid.

Your mind reeled. The old man’s orders were clear. You couldn’t just ignore them.

But then, the storm inside you churned. You met Satoru’s eyes—no, not just eyes, but his very soul seemed to be laid bare. It was as if he were pleading for you to see him for who he was now. The same person who once seemed invincible, but now seemed fragile, vulnerable in a way that felt so far removed from the confident, untouchable figure he once was.

“Gojo,” you whispered, your voice calm but steady despite the turmoil. “I can’t disobey orders.” There it was, the wall you’d built to protect yourself. The truth you couldn’t escape from.

His expression softened, his steps drawing nearer. The weight of his presence was undeniable as his hand lightly rested on your shoulder, the warmth seeping through your skin, through your defenses. “I know you,” he murmured, voice lower than before, with a sincerity that almost broke you. “You’re better than this.” His words were a quiet plea, a confession of sorts, as if he was hoping you would remember who you were before the world had scarred you.

And then, his voice, tinged with vulnerability, cracked through the air like a fragile promise. “I guess I’m not worthy, but I’ll ask this one last thing of you.”

You could feel it. That raw, unspoken emotion between the two of you, a fracture that never quite healed. It lingered in the spaces between your words, in the silence that stretched between your breaths. This wasn’t just a mission anymore. This wasn’t just about a cursed kid. It was about you, and him, and everything that had ever been left unsaid.

“… I guess you finally learned how to not deal with the burden yourself,” you whispered, more to yourself than him. The words felt like a release, the truth that you had been holding back for so long. There was a shift in the air, a heaviness that you couldn’t quite shake, but his low chuckle met you nonetheless.

As he turned and walked away, leaving the space between you cold and vast once again, you stood frozen, your heart heavy with what could have been and what never was. It wasn’t just the kid you had to decide about. It was everything. The past. The present. The tangled threads between you and Gojo Satoru.

And just like that, he was a stranger again.

————

You walked into your office, the familiar scent of paper and ink hanging in the air. The desk was cluttered with scattered papers, the endless work that always seemed to pile up. You glanced over the mess, letting your gaze linger on the various stacks, files, and forgotten notes. It was a typical day—nothing out of the ordinary. Yet something felt different.

As you moved further into the room, your eyes were drawn a bright yellow lily, placed on a stack of papers. Its petals were wide, almost regal, their golden hue catching the light from the window, casting a soft glow over the surrounding chaos.

You paused, the sudden appearance of the flower stirring a mix of curiosity and confusion. You leaned closer, inhaling the subtle fragrance that filled the air—a sweet, almost intoxicating scent that seemed out of place in the otherwise sterile, work-heavy atmosphere.

You pursed your lips “geez, I wonder who this is from.”

————

Too lazy to write this but just imagine you got into a deadly fight before the Sukuna vs gojo and boom into a coma.

————

You slowly began to wake from the depths of slumber, your mind groggy but slowly regaining consciousness. The familiar warmth of the bed you were lying, you blinked, trying to adjust your senses to your surroundings. Something was off. The room you found yourself in was so strikingly familiar. An old, worn room, the kind that held fragments of your past—your student days at Jujutsu High. The walls were lined with memories you had long buried.

With a sudden jolt of recognition, you flung yourself out of bed, your heart racing as the weight of nostalgia crashed down upon you. You rushed to the mirror, practically stumbling in your haste, your breath quickening in anticipation. As your eyes landed on the reflection before you, the reality settled in with a shock. It was you—young, untouched by time, and whole in a way you hadn’t felt in years.

There was no trace of the fatigue and scars that had marred you over time. Your eyes, now shimmered with a hopeful innocence, almost as though you had forgotten how to carry the weight of your own choices. Your skin was smooth, without the burdens of experience. You leaned closer, your fingers trembling as they brushed against the surface of the mirror. The reflection of your younger self stared back at you, still so full of promise, so unaware of the pain and regret that would soon mark the years ahead.

Your heart swelled with an aching kind of longing, yet the joy was quickly tainted by a creeping bitterness. Your hands fell to your sides, and you couldn’t stop the rush of memories that hit you like a wave. Was this a gift or a curse? A dream too detailed to be one, a mirror into the past so perfect and raw that it hurt to look. The weight of what you had lost pressed down on you with suffocating force. You had so much ahead of you then, so many chances. You could have chosen differently—could have stayed with Gojo, could have acted faster, been quicker. If only…

A sharp pang of regret twisted your gut as you stared down at the floor, your body tense with frustration. You could feel your chest tightening, your breath shallow. What if you had been there when Gojo needed you most? If you had made the right choices, where would you be now? The bitterness of your thoughts threatened to choke you. The future, the path that was now set before you, had been shaped by your own faults. If only you had chosen differently.

And then, as if in response to your spiraling thoughts, the sharp ring of your phone cut through the silence, jarring you back to the present. Startled, you fumbled to unlock it, the screen flashing to life. A message from Gojo.

—

(Cn: idk what messages looked like back then. Pls don’t come after me.)

—

With a shaky breath, you pushed the overwhelming emotions aside. There was no time for dwelling in sorrow. You had a choice now—an unexpected chance to relive a moment from the past. You shook off the melancholy, forcing your mind to focus on the here and now. You stood up from your reflection, pulling yourself together as best you could. Your gaze swept across the room, the walls adorned with photos, clothes, and memorabilia—each one a reminder of who you once were. The nostalgia hit you hard, but you couldn’t let it pull you under. You were here for a reason, even if you didn’t understand it fully yet.

You hurriedly gathered your things, slipping into your clothes as memories of laughter and camaraderie flooded your mind. The clothing you once wore felt oddly familiar, almost too fitting for a time that felt so distant. Your heart quickened as you finished preparing, the excitement of the amusement park trip creeping into your thoughts. A taxi ride later, and you arrived at the park, your breath catching in your throat. You stared at the entrance, the sounds of distant rides and laughter filling the air. A lump formed in your throat as you approached the gates, your heart hammering with both anticipation and fear.

Would you burst into tears as soon as you saw them? Would they be the same people you once knew, full of warmth and life, or would this dream only amplify the aching void that existed without them? You couldn’t be sure, but the possibility of seeing them—of reliving even just a sliver of those happier times—was too much to deny. Steeling yourself, you stepped forward, your breath shallow, each step a struggle between hope and the reality you knew you would eventually have to face.

The air was thick with excitement, the sound of laughter and chatter filling the space, but it wasn’t the noise that caught your attention—it was a voice, sharp and familiar, cutting through the crowd like a beacon.

“Over here!” The voice called out, and you turned instinctively toward it, heart racing, only to find Suguru, standing with a mischievous smile playing on his lips.

Suguru… The bastard who betrayed Jujutsu society, who killed thousands without hesitation, the man who tried to take your life and the lives of your students. The one you couldn’t save.

For a moment, the memories rushed back—the bloodshed, the betrayal, the silent screams of everyone who had fallen to his hands. He looked so different now. He stood there, as young as he had been in your past, yet there was a softness in his expression you hadn’t remembered. This Suguru was not the man who had tried to destroy everything you held dear, nor the person who had walked away from everything for a cause that seemed too foreign to understand. No, this Suguru seemed almost… like the version you once knew—the friend you never thought you’d lose.

“I’m sorry, Suguru. I’m sorry for not noticing how you felt sooner…” The words formed on your lips, but they stayed silent, trapped beneath a weight you couldn’t shake.

You stepped forward, caught in the whirlwind of conflicting emotions, and just as you were about to close the distance, to reach out as if nothing had changed, another familiar face emerged from behind him. Shoko. She popped her head over Suguru’s shoulder, grinning playfully, and as always, sucking on a lollipop.

“I’m here too!” she said, her voice full of warmth. She was trying to hide it, but you could tell she was still battling her smoking habit—just another small, bittersweet reminder of the time you’d lost, the years that had passed in between. She looked the same, but different. It was almost as if nothing had changed, yet everything had.

A sharp pang of sorrow gripped your chest as you smiled back, the tears you’d been holding back now threatening to spill. But there was no time to reflect on that. The noise of the crowd, the joy that should have felt comforting, now felt like a cruel reminder of everything that had gone wrong.

“Hey!”

The voice sliced through the air, too familiar, too personal. Satoru’s voice. You froze, a cold shiver running down your spine. The man who had once been your closest friend, your confidant, the one you had been so painfully distant from. He was the one who always stood by you, who never let go, even when you shut him out. The one you had betrayed in the worst way.

No… You didn’t have the right to even think about him like that anymore. You were the reason everything had gone wrong. You were the reason he had been forced into isolation, into being the man who wore a mask for the world—a mask you had helped build, one that only showed the strongest version of himself. He had once been like you—open, raw, vulnerable—but through your decisions, he had become as closed off as you had been. You were the mirror that reflected the worst of him.

And now, standing there, watching him, all you could think of was how you had failed him. The guilt twisted inside you, suffocating you with every breath you took. You wanted to reach out, to apologize, to make everything right again. But all you could do was stand there, watching him as he approached, a warmth in his expression that didn’t match the ice in your heart.

“Heyyy?? You were totally zoned out!” His voice broke through the fog in your mind. His hand waved gently in front of your face, a gesture that should have been teasing but only made you want to collapse in on yourself.

“…Hey.” The word escaped you in a barely audible whisper, and your gaze fell to the ground, ashamed, unable to meet his eyes. You could feel his gaze on you, though, and you wanted to scream in apology. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve you.

You couldn’t even look at him—Satoru, the man who always gave you that goofy, carefree smile, even when you didn’t deserve it. Even now, despite your coldness, despite the way you had distanced yourself from him, he was smiling at you. His smile was so bright, so effortless, that it made your chest tighten with an unbearable ache. He had always been there for you, and now, you couldn’t even be there for him.

The guilt that swirled within you grew heavier, suffocating you as you forced yourself to look at him. His smile remained, but there was something softer about it now—something that made your heart break even more. You wanted to tell him everything, apologize for every wrong you had done. But instead, you just looked away.

Satoru didn’t seem bothered by your lack of response, his hand falling back to his side as he shrugged it off, turning toward the entrance of the amusement park. “Guess we should go inside, huh?” His voice held the same lightness as always, despite the heaviness in your chest.

Suguru and Shoko followed behind, the four of you walking together like nothing had changed, but everything had. You trailed behind them, your heart in your throat, the weight of your past mistakes pressing down on you with every step you took. You wanted to collapse, to apologize, to make up for everything, but you knew you couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe never. But for now, you just had to walk beside them, pretending as though this fragile dream wasn’t unraveling in your hands.

—

“Let’s get some plushies!” Shoko exclaimed with uncharacteristic enthusiasm, her eyes lighting up as she darted toward one of the claw machines. Without a moment’s hesitation, she pulled out a few coins and popped them into the slot. “Watch and learn,” she declared, gripping the joystick with determination.

The machine whirred softly as the claw descended, brushing against the edge of a plush panda before slipping away empty-handed. Shoko let out a frustrated groan but quickly tried again. And again. And again. Twenty attempts later, she was clutching her head, biting her lollipop like it had personally offended her.

“What the fuck?! This isn’t fair at all!” she yelled, stomping her foot in frustration. Her usually calm demeanor had evaporated, replaced by the fiery temper of someone truly defeated by a claw machine.

Suguru, leaning casually against the machine next to her, chuckled under his breath. “Move over, rookie. Leave it to the masters.” He flicked his hair over his shoulder with mock arrogance, a playful smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh, please,” Shoko scoffed, stepping aside begrudgingly. “Let’s see you do better, Mr. Master.”

Suguru slid a few coins into the slot, cracking his knuckles as if gearing up for a monumental task. “This is about precision,” he said, his voice dripping with faux seriousness. “Focus. Strategy.”

The claw descended, snagged the plush bunny by its ear, and for a fleeting moment, it seemed like he might succeed. Then, the bunny slipped through the claw’s grip, tumbling back into the pile below.

Suguru stared at the machine in stunned silence. “What?”

Shoko burst out laughing, pointing at him. “Master, huh? You’re no better than me!”

“Alright, amateurs, step aside,” Satoru interjected, pushing past them with his signature cocky grin. “Let me show you how it’s done.” He cracked his neck for dramatic effect, drawing the attention of a few passersby.

“You’re just going to fail like the rest of us,” Shoko muttered, rolling her eyes.

“Bet you five bucks I won’t,” Satoru shot back, sliding his coins into the machine.

The claw descended under his control, shakily grabbing hold of a bright yellow duck. For a moment, it seemed like he had succeeded. But as the claw ascended, the duck slipped free, tumbling back down just like before.

“WHAT?!” Satoru exclaimed, pressing his face against the glass of the machine. “This thing is rigged!”

Suguru snorted. “You were saying something about being a pro?”

“Shut up,” Satoru snapped, popping in another coin.

Before long, the three of them were caught in an endless loop of failure, shoving each other out of the way to claim the joystick for another turn.

“You’re hogging it, Satoru!” Shoko yelled, trying to pry his hand off the controls.

“I’m the only one who came close!” Satoru argued, his voice rising in indignation.

“By ‘close,’ do you mean failing slightly less spectacularly?” Suguru quipped, earning himself a half-hearted shove from Satoru.

Their bickering grew louder, each of them trying and failing to best the cursed claw machine. Their laughter and animated arguing filled the arcade, drawing stares from strangers.

You stood off to the side, arms crossed, watching the chaos unfold. Like little kids, they were utterly absorbed in their futile mission, completely unconcerned with how ridiculous they looked. It was almost embarrassing how they were acting up in public.

But then again, their childish giggles and fiery bursts of frustration brought a bittersweet warmth to your chest. These moments, fleeting and full of life, reminded you of why you loved being with them. It wasn’t about the plushies or the competition. It was about this—this messy, chaotic joy that only they could bring.

—

The three of them had finally scored plushies after what felt like an eternity. Suguru held up his monkey with quiet satisfaction, its stitched-on smile mirroring his own subtle grin. Shoko smirked as she turned her smoking egg plushie over in her hands, clearly amused by the absurdity of it. And then there was Satoru, smugly twirling a gray plush rock between his fingers like it was the most priceless treasure in existence.

You couldn’t help but notice how everything about these three—their chosen plushies, their demeanors—felt like echoes, reverberations of something deeper. Memories bubbled to the surface, threatening to drown you. Was it coincidence? Or was the past merely a map of the future yet to unfold? You stared down at the ground, lost in the maze of your thoughts, lips pressed tightly together.

“Hey,” Satoru’s voice cut through the haze, snapping you back to reality. His gaze was sharp yet playful, the trademark gleam in his eyes. “Where’s your plushie?”

What? This never happened … but dreams aren’t specifically supposed to be accurate…

You opened your mouth to answer, but the words stuck. He didn’t wait for you to respond anyway.

“I got this,” he announced with that unshakable confidence of his, already making his way to the claw machine. “Watch and learn the ways of the strongest.”

You watched as he squared up to the machine, his shoulders rolling back like he was about to take on some ancient curse. His eyes locked onto the prize with laser focus, a pink bear nestled just within reach. His tongue poked out slightly in concentration, and his fingers worked the joystick with expert precision. He hit the button. The claw descended, brushed against the plushie—and missed.

Satoru froze. His expression didn’t falter, but you could sense the simmering disbelief as he fed another coin into the slot.

Again, the claw moved. Again, it missed.

It became almost comical as the cycle repeated. Five times. Ten times. By the fifteenth attempt, Suguru had slumped against the machine, barely holding back laughter, while Shoko lit an imaginary cigarette in mock frustration. Satoru’s face, meanwhile, remained fixed in a look of determined fury, the joystick now an extension of his will.

“Come on,” he muttered, brows furrowing as he lined up the claw for the twentieth attempt. The plushie wobbled but slipped free. He let out a loud groan of frustration, clutching his head dramatically. “Gah! What’s wrong with this thing?! All my money’s gone!” He patted his pockets in disbelief, as if a miracle coin might magically appear.

But you weren’t paying attention anymore. Somewhere in the midst of Satoru’s theatrical tantrum, the world shifted. The lights of the arcade flickered, the noises dulled, and the air thickened with an unnatural heaviness. You blinked, and suddenly, you were surrounded by shadows. A voice, deafening yet indistinct, cut through the silence.

“Change the future.”

It wasn’t a plea—it was a demand, suffocating in its intensity. The words echoed in your mind, but the speaker remained faceless, nameless.

“You think this is a dream, hm?” the voice said, softening just slightly.

You gasped, a sharp intake of breath that pulled you back to reality. Satoru’s face was inches from yours now, his crystalline eyes scanning your expression with uncharacteristic worry. “Hey… [Name]? You okay?”

You blinked at him, still shaken, his words barely registering.

Before you could spiral further, Satoru straightened up and gave a little cough, trying to regain his usual swagger. “Anyway,” he began, pulling something from behind his back, “my money’s gone, but I got you a present.” He held out a plushie—a butterfly, its wings soft and delicate, its stitched antennae slightly crooked.

“Sorry if it’s not what you wanted,” he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. “I just—”

“Thanks,” you interrupted, the word tumbling out before he could finish. You reached for the plushie, your fingers brushing his for a moment. It wasn’t the butterfly itself that struck you—it was the gesture, the effort behind it.

Satoru’s grin returned, a little lopsided but no less radiant. “Of course,” he said simply.

You clutched the plushie tightly, its soft wings grounding you as your thoughts crystallized. You didn’t know what the voice meant, or who it belonged to. But as you looked at Satoru—his unshakable confidence, his occasional vulnerability—you felt the weight of your decision settle in your chest.

—

The sky turned a deep shade of indigo, stars just beginning to peek through the encroaching darkness. Neon lights from the food stands illuminated your surroundings in bursts of color, their glow reflecting off the shiny wrappers and paper trays strewn across the ground. The lively chatter of the crowd buzzed in your ears, but you barely noticed. Your gaze was fixed on the backs of your friends—Suguru, Shoko, and Satoru—who were engaged in their usual playful bickering. You’d been zoning out all day, a heavy cloud of unease clinging to your thoughts.

“We went everywhere,” Suguru groaned, his shoulders slumping dramatically. “My pockets are empty. Absolutely cleaned out.”

“Same here,” Shoko agreed, lazily flipping through her wallet as if hoping to find some forgotten cash hidden in its folds. “Not even a coin.”

“Speak for yourselves!” Satoru chimed in, his tone both smug and exasperated. “I said we should’ve skipped that overpriced cotton candy, but nooo—‘it’s a carnival, Satoru,’ ‘you’re too uptight, Satoru.’ Now look at us.”

Their banter drew a soft chuckle from you, but the sound barely reached your lips. You were too preoccupied with the lingering thought that had been eating away at you all day.

“[Name]?” Satoru’s voice broke through your thoughts, pulling you back to reality. His crystalline blue eyes locked onto yours, a playful tilt to his lips. “You got any money for the roller coaster?”

You blinked, startled, before nodding quickly. “yeah, hang on.” You rummaged through your bag, finally pulling out a few crumpled bills and handing them over. Before you could process what was happening, Satoru casually announced, “I’ll be with [Name].”

That stopped you in your tracks. You stared at him, momentarily stunned, as Shoko and Suguru exchanged glances. There was a split second of silence before the two of them burst into barely contained snickers.

“Thanks for the donation, [Name],” Shoko teased, snatching the money from your hand before you could react.

“Yeah, much appreciated,” Suguru added with a grin.

Before you could protest, they were already walking off toward the line, laughing together like they’d just won the lottery. You turned back to Satoru, your heart hammering uncomfortably in your chest. Alone. With him. On a roller coaster. The thought filled you with unease, and not because of the ride itself. Guilt for the future you knew was coming pressed down on you like a weight, making it hard to breathe.

“You okay?” Satoru’s voice was softer now, his teasing edge gone. You hadn’t realized your eyes were glued to the ground until he stepped closer, his hand snaking around yours. His touch was warm, grounding, and it made your breath hitch.

“Let’s get going,” he said, his smile brighter than the carnival lights around you.

You managed a weak nod, letting him pull you toward the line. It wasn’t long, thankfully, but the time it took to move forward felt eternal. Each step closer to the ride amplified the lump in your throat. How could you face him? How could you sit beside him, knowing what you knew?

—

You finally reached the roller coaster, the hum of the machinery and the chatter of excited riders filling the air. As the two of you stepped into the car, Satoru slid into his seat first, his trademark grin in place. He patted the spot next to him with an almost hopeful air, the blue of his eyes sparkling with expectation.

But you hesitated. That tiny flicker of warmth in his gaze made your chest tighten, and you turned away, pretending not to notice. Instead, you slipped into the seat directly across from him. You could almost feel the confusion radiating from him as his smile faltered, his brows knitting together ever so slightly.

“I wonder if Suguru and Shoko are having fun,” he murmured, his voice quieter than usual, his gaze drifting toward the window. His tone was casual, but there was something else—something unspoken. He didn’t look at you.

You nodded stiffly, not trusting yourself to speak. The tension between you was almost suffocating, an awkward silence that settled like a weight on your chest.

Guilt clawed at you, burrowing deep into your thoughts. It overshadowed everything else, refusing to let go. You couldn’t meet his gaze, couldn’t face him with the same ease as before. How could you, knowing what the future held for him? The burden he would bear. The loneliness. Every single struggle he faced, he carried on his own. And you—you hadn’t been there for him. Not when it mattered. Not like he had been for you, time and time again.

The knowledge of your failure stung like an open wound. You hated yourself for it, hated the ache that came with the realization. But even as the guilt threatened to consume you, a flicker of hope sparked deep within.

Maybe… just maybe, I can change it.

That fragile thought lingered for only a moment before reality came crashing down, crushing it into dust. Changing the future would mean rewriting everything—every memory, every bond. The people you had met, the connections you had formed—they would all disappear, erased from existence. And no matter how much you tried to convince yourself otherwise, a tiny, selfish part of you refused to let them go.

Your thoughts tangled in knots, and when your eyes finally found Satoru’s, something inside you stilled. His gaze was steady, searching, as though he could see through the barriers you had put up. His expression softened, and for a fleeting moment, the world seemed to shrink to just the two of you.

And in that moment, you admitted the truth to yourself.

You would be okay with losing everything if it meant he could smile without that weight pressing down on him.

“Is something wrong?” Satoru asked softly, tilting his head like a curious child. His crystalline blue eyes studied you, their usual mischief replaced with something softer, more vulnerable. His confused expression only made your chest tighten further. You quickly shook your head, the tension in your shoulders refusing to release.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” you replied, but your voice wavered ever so slightly. The silence between you stretched once again, fragile and heavy, like a glass teetering on the edge of a table. You glanced down at your trembling hands, your lips quivering as unspoken words clawed their way up your throat.

“Satoru,” you murmured finally, barely above a whisper.

His attention snapped back to you in an instant, his brows furrowing slightly. “What is it?” he asked, his voice as steady as ever, though his posture straightened. He was worried now.

“Thanks.” The word slipped out before you could second-guess yourself, and his reaction caught you off guard. He blinked, his mouth parting slightly as if he hadn’t heard you right. For a moment, he looked almost… stunned.

Then that familiar grin crept onto his face, lighting up his features like a dawn breaking through the dark. “For what?” he asked, his tone light but tinged with genuine curiosity. His hand moved to the back of his neck, scratching it almost sheepishly.

“You know… for everything,” you said, your gaze firmly fixed on the ground. You couldn’t meet his eyes, not when you felt this raw. “All the times you helped me, all the times you stood by me, even when I didn’t deserve it.” Your voice cracked slightly, but you pushed through. “I never really said it before, and I should have. I should’ve said it a long time ago.”

The silence that followed felt unbearable, and you bit your lip, already second-guessing yourself. Of course, it’s not enough. It’s such a small thing to say after everything he’s done. He probably thinks I’m ungrateful. You braced yourself for some teasing remark, some cutting joke to lighten the tension.

But it never came.

Instead, you felt a warmth spread through your hand. His. At some point, he’d moved to sit beside you, so close you could feel the faint heat radiating from him. His hand rested gently atop yours, grounding you, steadying the storm inside you.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice carrying an uncharacteristic weight. “You know, [Name], you’ve made me happier than you’ll ever know.”

Your breath caught, and your eyes snapped to his. The sincerity in his smile was almost too much to bear. “Satoru…” you whispered, but he pressed on.

“I mean it,” he continued, his hand squeezing yours. “You’ve been there for me, even when you didn’t realize it. You’ve helped me through so much—more than I’ve ever let on.” He paused, his smile faltering just slightly as his eyes dropped to the space between you. “I want to be with you. The real you.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and unyielding. “And I’ve been trying to hard to find you.”

You swallowed, your voice barely audible. “But I’m right here.”

But he shook his head slowly, almost sadly, his gaze flickering away. “Yeah, but…” His voice trailed off, and for a moment, you thought he wouldn’t finish the sentence. Then, as if the weight of it all became too much, he leaned forward, his arms wrapping around yours. His head found your shoulder, his breath warm against your neck. In the distance, you heard the faint crackle of fireworks, their vibrant light illuminating the night.

“Satoru?” you asked softly, your own voice trembling now.

“Just… just until the ride’s over,” he murmured, his words so quiet they were almost drowned out by the fireworks.

You let him stay there, the closeness both comforting and terrifying. Did you disappoint him? Did your answer fall short? Your thoughts were a whirlwind, but then you felt his vulnerability, the way his weight leaned into you as if he couldn’t bear to hold himself upright anymore. His infinity was off, something you hadn’t experienced in the future. Slowly, tentatively, you reached for his arm, pulling it from your lap and intertwining your fingers with his.

“Satoru,” you said again, firmer this time. He turned his face slightly, his eyes meeting yours, questioning. “Hey… seriously,” he began, a small, almost nervous smile tugging at his lips. “Am I getting ahead of myself here?”

Your heart ached at the sight of him like this—so unsure, so unguarded. You smiled gently, and that was the answer. Your eyes softening as you leaned in closer.

His breath hitched, and before either of you could overthink it, the distance between you disappeared. His lips brushed against yours, tentative at first, as though testing the waters, but when you didn’t pull away, the kiss deepened. The world around you dissolved, the fireworks bursting louder and brighter as if celebrating this fragile, precious moment.

When you two finally pulled away, Satoru’s smile was a bittersweet thing, the curve of his lips that only made the pain in his eyes more apparent. They were red-rimmed, exhausted, as if he’d been crying for a long time without letting anyone see. He leaned in, his breath shaky, his voice a quiet whisper —

“Whatever happens,” he said, his tone something vulnerable. “Don’t blame yourself.”

His hands found your shoulders, pushing you gently but firmly. The world tilted as you were shoved back, stumbling helplessly, your heart racing with the terror of knowing the finality of it all. Desperation flooded your veins as you reached out, fingers stretching, aching to grasp him, to stop him from slipping away.

“Satoru!” Your voice cracked, torn between the need to hold on and the brutal reality that was unfolding before you.

And then, the ground gave way beneath your feet. The world around you shifted, falling—sinking—until it felt like nothing but darkness wrapped around you. Trying to catch anything to stop the fall, but there was nothing to grab. Only the fading echo of his name in your chest.

You jolted awake with a sharp gasp, your body drenched in sweat, the cool hospital sheets tangled around you as your heart thudded in your chest. The monitor beeped rhythmically beside you, you reached up instinctively, your fingers pressing against your throbbing temples as the remnants of the nightmare clung to you, twisting around your thoughts.

Your eyes drifted to a TV screen next to you. Live streaming a horrid thing to wake up to.

Tears started to spill from your eyes, hot and relentless, as they tracked down your cheeks. They fell in a rush, like a sudden waterfall, unstoppable and full of grief. The sobs tore through you—broken, desperate, full of everything you couldn’t bring yourself to say. You could feel the weight of it all in the pit of your stomach, gnawing at you, sinking deeper into your soul.

The dream—the dream—had been a desperate, aching hope. A desire for something that could never be. You had wished for it, longed for it, but deep down, you knew. You knew that no amount of yearning could change the cruel, inevitable truth of what had happened. The future was set, and the pain of that truth was something you would have to carry forever.

I’m so sorry, Satoru.

————

This was so rushed and that’s why half the parts make no sense. The parts are extremely fast paced so I’m super sorry , and there would be more angst and yearning if I was more locked in… a lot of Clerith inspired scenes in there but anyways !!

#lazytown😜😜

[uzurakis]

hii! could you please do like after a really big argument it like gets to the point that the reader wants to break up with then and how they would handle it? i just request that choso is one of them<3

WANT US TO BREAK UP, YOU SAY?

featuring: choso kamo. gojo satoru. nanami kento. fushiguro megumi.

n. hi nonnie! thanku for the req. i usually don't write for choso, this is the first time i'm writing for him, i hope it doesn't stray out of his character. confession: i didnt proofread so.. enjoy </3

GOJO SATORU

the room was heavy with silence after your heated argument. you stood near the desk, arms crossed, emotions swirling. as for him, gojo leaned against the wall, his sunglasses off, revealing eyes that bore into you with a mix of frustration.

"this isn't working, satoru," you fidgeted your nails and shifted your feet. "i think we should break up."

he pushed off the wall, taking a step closer to you. "hell no," he said firmly, those blue eyes you know so well never leaving yours. "i'm not letting that happen."

you clenched your fists, anger and hurt bubbling to the surface. "you can't just decide that for me. we’ve been fighting constantly, and it’s exhausting.”

the man crossed the room in a few quick strides, stopping just in front of you. "we're not breaking up," he repeated, voice low and steady. "you're upset, i'm mad, and we had a fight, but that doesn't mean we break up."

tears welled up in your eyes as you met his gaze. "you don't get it, satoru. i can't keep doing this.”

he reached out, his hand gently but firmly grasping your wrist. "you’re not leaving," he said, his tone softening but still commanding. "we can fix this. together."

you tried to pull away, but his grip held you in place. "toru, this isn't just about one fight.” then his grip changed into him interlocking his fingers with you. “we keep hurting each other…”

his expression softened, but his grip remained steady. "i know, and i'm sorry, darling. but running away won't solve anything. i love you, and i'm willing to fight for us."

NANAMI KENTO

nanami’s expression remained calm, but you could see the tension in his eyes. he took a deep breath and walked over to you, his movements slow and deliberate. “please, sit down,” he said softly, gesturing to the couch. “we need to talk about this calmly.”

you hesitated, still seething with emotion, but his gentle tone made you relent. you sat down, crossing your arms defensively. nanami sat beside you, maintaining a respectful distance but close enough to show he was there for you.

“why do you want to break up?” he asked, his voice steady and soothing.

“like i said,” stating once again. unlike his, your voice cracked. “i feel like we don't have time for each other, not like we used to.”

he nodded, listening intently. “i understand,” he said, his tone even. “but breaking up isn’t the solution, sweetheart. we need to address it.”

nanami reached out, taking your hand in his. his touch was warm and reassuring. “every relationship has its challenges,” he said gently. “what matters is how we handle them. i believe we can work through this if we’re both willing to try.”

CHOSO KAMO

his eyes widened in shock, and before you could react, he crossed the room and wrapped his arms around you. his embrace was firm yet gentle, a stark contrast to the turmoil in your heart. “please, don’t say that,” he whispered, his voice filled with desperation. “you can’t just say that, baby.”

you struggled against his hold, tears streaming down your face. “choso, don’t hold me back..”

he held you tighter, saying soothing words despite the urgency. “i know it’s been hard for both of us, but never say that, i don't want to hear you say that again.”

feeling the warmth and genuineness of his embrace, you drew in a shaky breath and found yourself losing resolve. “i just, i don’t know what to do with us.” your voice breaking.

choso loosened his hold just enough to meet your gaze, his love and concern visible in his eyes. “every relationship has its struggles, but i'm sure we both can overcome them. i love you, and i’m committed to working through this with you. so please, i dont want to give up on us yet."

he gently cupped your face in his hands, his touch warm and reassuring. “i’m willing to do whatever it takes to make this work. are you?”

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI

your boyfriend’s shocked eyes became wider. “what? no!” he took a step forward, expressing a mix of disbelief and urgency. “that’s not how you solve this problem.”

with a hand raked through his hair, he was clearly frustrated. "i understand that we've been fighting a lot, but splitting up isn't the answer. we have to discuss our concerns and work towards–”

“i’m fucking trying, okay?” you hurried to cut his explanation. “you always have a logical answer for everything,” biting your lower lip, is he seeing that you don't need reasoned answers? but simply, perhaps some reassurance? “but it doesn’t change how i feel. it hurts, and i don’t see a way out of this.”

megumi took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “i’m sorry.”

“…”

“look, i need you to hear me,”

“i don’t want to fight either, heck, i’m too tired to argue,” he gently pulled you into an embrace. “but i don’t want to lose you. i can't promise you, but we can find a way to make this better."

"let’s be patient and work through our problems one step at a time.”

@uzurakis

[rafesangelita]

⊹₊⟡⋆♡ having a pregnancy scare wasn’t on rafe and pogue!sweetheart!reader’s to do list anytime soon.. but alas, here they are waiting to see if two pink lines will change the trajectory of their lives forever.

warnings: pregnancy, mentions of a breeding kink lol, super sweet fluff, slight humor, lots of crying

a/n: this is my not-so-subtle way of introducing babydaddy!rafe to my blog (i’ve been reading a lot of babydaddy!rafe lately.. yum) also just a reminder: pogue!sweetheart!reader is only pregnant in this fic alone. meaning any other works i create with her are not correlated with this one UNLESS stated so <3 you could keep up with this little universe under the second tag of this post: ‘₊˚⊹♡ pogue!sweetheart!reader & babydaddy!rafe’

w/c: 1.3k

“a-are you sure you’re late?” rafe was pacing back and forth, tears pricking your eyes as you flipped through your little calendar book. “yes! i look at my calendar everyday rafe, it’s been three weeks!” you sniffled, checking for the millionth time. rafe joined you on your bed, realizing he probably wasn’t making you feel any better if he was freaking out too. “hey..” he cupped your chin, “it’s gonna be okay, baby. what do you need me to do? ‘want me to go get some tests from the store?” you cried even more, the whole thing becoming too real all at once. “i don’t know! i don’t know what to do, ray!”

he sighed, holding you as you wept in his arms. “oh, baby,” rafe rubbed your back, “you know i’m going to take care of us, of you.” he whispered, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. he wiped the tears from your eyes, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “i know.. it’s just— this is so new, and even though we don’t have a for sure answer yet, i feel like i really am. you know.. pregnant?” saying it out loud made rafe’s heart drop to his stomach. you saw the way his expression softened, his eyes flickering down to where you two held hands.

while it shouldn’t be too surprising, considering you two never use protection.. it’s still a delicate matter that rafe took very seriously. “am i gonna sound crazy if i say i hope that you are?” you took a breath, stroking the side of rafe’s face. “no. i want it too.” letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, he pulled you against his chest, embracing you once again. “why don’t we find out? ‘go to the pharmacy and get some tests?” you nodded, the anticipation already feeling unbearable. “okay.” you pulled away, getting under your knitted blanket.

“you’re not going with me?” rafe laughed. “are you joking? the owner has known me forever. if he see’s us buying a pregnancy test, he’ll—” you lowered your voice down to a whisper, “he’ll know what we’ve been doing..” your cheeks heated at the thought of the sweet old man who’s known you for all of your life checking you out for a test that indicates you’ve been doing a lot more than just baking cookies. “baby, if you didn’t live in the middle of nowhere, and far away from any kind of civilization, everyone on this island would know what we’ve been doing.” he winked.

at his words, you shooed him out of your camper as a giggle escaped your lips. he wasn’t wrong. rafe knew all the ways to make you scream and tremble in pure bliss. it felt like forever since rafe had been out, but one glance at the heart shaped clock on your wall, and it had only been ten minutes. you laid on your back, fingertips skimming your tummy. imagining a baby, half of you, and half of rafe, a result of two worlds, both full of so much love, colliding into one and making the most beautiful creation you were sure to ever see, made a smile grace your pretty face.

now you were thinking about a nursery, wondering if you’d be painting it baby pink or powder blue. either color was fine with you. sitting up, you looked around your camper, really seeing just how small it was. you and rafe barely fit in here together, let alone with a little baby that’ll eventually grow and want to run around. now you felt sad at the indication that you might have to move out of the only place you’ve ever known. this would change your life, but with rafe by your side you felt more ready than ever. just as you were going to call rafe and politely tell him to hurry up, he walked through the door.

“i wasn’t sure which one you wanted, so i just grabbed one of each.” rafe gave you the bag, plopping down next to you. there was about ten different tests in there, including a lot of the snacks you’d been craving over the last week. sour gummy bears, chocolate, and spicy chips mostly. taking out a pink box, you read the instructions before looking back at rafe who already had his full attention on you. “can you come with me?” without hesitation, rafe helped you up and guided you to the bathroom. “alright..” he leaned against the doorframe, watching as you unwrapped the test.

“i can’t really pee if you’re looking..” rafe had zoned out, thinking about house hunting already and wondering what kind of car seat would be the safest for a baby. “right, i’m sorry.” he turned around, swallowing the lump in his throat. rafe needed the confirmation just as much as you did, his stomach doing somersaults as he nervously bit his lip. “you okay?” he asked. you hummed, peeing on the stick before setting it down on a piece of toilet paper. washing your hands shortly after, you and rafe left the test in the bathroom as you waited in silence.

“my heart is beating so fast right now.” you laughed, on the verge of tears as rafe rubbed circles into the flesh of your thigh. “i want you to know something..” rafe whispered, “whatever those test results come out to; negative or positive, we’re going to be okay. i don’t want you to worry about a thing, alright?” your chin wobbled as you nodded, your head falling in the curve of his neck. you stayed quiet for the rest of the time, the timer on rafe’s phone going off. “oh, god..” you whimpered, motioning for rafe to grab the test. “don’t look at it, just bring it over!” you called out.

rafe walked back with his eyes closed, nearly bumping into the wall as his hands trembled with excitement. “where are you?” he kept his eyes screwed shut, in which you followed suit. “i’m right here.” you squeaked out, holding onto his wrists. “on three we’re gonna look down.” you nodded even though he couldn’t see you. “okay, i’m ready.” both of you smiled. “one, two, three—” both of you looked down, rafe jumping and running out of your camper as you stared down at the sight of two, very prominent, pink lines. rafe was shouting outside, the sound making you laugh as you took a seat on the couch.

“oh my god.” rafe poked his head in, your teary eyes meeting his. thankfully, he was able to read the room and calmed down a bit. “oh my god.” he repeated, kneeling down in front of you. “are you okay? are you happy?” rafe rubbed the side of your thighs, his touch providing a comfort like no other. “yes! i just can’t believe it..” you hugged him, his arms wrapping around your waist. “we have a lot of planning to do.” you sniffled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. rafe could already see it. the white house, the white picket fence, both of you were already two steps closer to your dreams becoming a reality.

“yeah, we do,” he agreed, “let’s just take it one day at a time, yeah?” you smiled, cupping his face. “i love you so much, this is crazy.” he kissed your lips before taking the test in his hands again. “a whole baby..” you were in utter disbelief. “maybe i should take the rest of the tests?” you stood up, taking the plastic bag with you to the bathroom. by the time you finished, the sun was already setting, both you and rafe staring at the approximately ten tests in front of you. all positive. “looks like we took the breeding kink a little too seriously, huh?” you looked up at rafe through his reflection in the mirror. “that was a good one.”

[pickingupmymercedes]

Happy you're home - Lewis Hamilton

request : "their son is like 2/3 y/o and reader obviously pays more attention to him, even after coming back from work, so lewis is a bit 'jealous' and very clingy, needy with his wife." - fluff anon ✌🏽(gonna call you that because you were so lovely even with the confusion)

pairing: Lewis Hamilton x Wife!Reader!

wordcount: +2k

a/n: There's a bit of angst , I know the request was for something fluff, but I just had to. It's worth it though, promise😉.

As always, I'm open for feedback, come say hi!

______________________________________________________________

"So, special dates?" Lewis asked casually as he leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Y/n stir the sauce simmering on the stove.

Y/n glanced over her shoulder at him, catching the hint of something beneath his tone. "Yeah, just little outings after I pick him up from nursery" she replied lightly, sensing where this conversation was headed.

"Outings?" Lewis repeated, pushing off the counter to walk closer, his eyes following her every move. "You make it sound so... exclusive."

"Well" Y/n teased, turning to face him fully "It was our thing while you were away. Just me and him. You know he's a little creature of habit."

Lewis crossed his arms, feigning nonchalance. "And what, he's not happy I'm home now?"

Y/n laughed softly, moving to grab a couple of plates. "He's thrilled you're home, Lew. But he's also two, and he's gotten used to our routine."

Lewis hummed, but there was a slight edge to his expression. "I just thought he’d be excited to see me. I mean, I picked him up, and he barely smiled."

"He's not used to you picking him up, that's all. Give him time." She set the plates down on the table and walked over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "He missed you. We both did."

Lewis softened at her touch, pulling her closer. "I missed you too. I just feel a bit... left out?"

Y/n tilted her head, studying him. "Left out?" She smiled, though she could see the seriousness in his eyes.

"I mean…" he admitted, a bit sheepishly. "It’s like every time I turn around, he's glued to you. And I get it, you're his mom, but..." He trailed off, his hand resting on her hip, thumb brushing absentmindedly against the skin he found just below the waistband of her jeans. "I guess I'm just a little jealous."

"Of him?" Y/n raised an eyebrow, trying to hide her amusement.

"Maybe," Lewis muttered, his voice low. "Or maybe of the fact that you two have all these moments when I'm not around."

Y/n's smile turned into a gentle laugh, and she leaned up to kiss him softly. "You know, you could join us on our little dates."

"Could I?" Lewis' eyes sparkled with the challenge. "Because it seemed like he wasn't too happy about me crashing those special times today."

Y/n chuckled. "We'll make it our thing—all three of us."

Lewis seemed to consider this, his hands tightening around her. "I don't want to just be the guy who shows up between races, Y/n. I want to be part of all of it."

"You are" she reassured him, kissing the corner of his mouth. "And trust me, he adores you. He just doesn't know how to express it."

He sighed, nodding slowly. "I know. I just hate missing out."

Y/n cupped his face, making him meet her gaze. "You're here now. And that's what matters."

As the rest of the evening went by the tension from earlier slowly dissipated. But Y/n couldn't help but notice how clingy Lewis was, not just with their son but with her too.

Every chance he got, he was touching her, keeping her close. When it was time to put their son to bed, Lewis lingered, his hands on the small of her back as she tucked the little boy in.

As they got ready for bed themselves, Y/n couldn’t contain herself anymore. She slipped into her nightwear, watching as Lewis pulled back the covers.

"So" she began, trying to sound casual, "you’re a little... possessive tonight."

"Possessive?" Lewis looked up; one eyebrow raised. "Is that what you call it?"

"Handsy would be a better word" Y/n teased, slipping into bed beside him.

Lewis smirked, leaning closer. "Maybe I missed you more than I realized."

Y/n rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t suppress the smile forming on her lips. "Or maybe you're still a bit jealous of a toddler."

Lewis didn’t deny it, instead pulling her into his arms, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Maybe I am. But can you blame me?"

Y/n laughed softly, running her fingers tips on his arm. "You’re ridiculous, you know that?"

"Um…" Lewis murmured, his lips brushing against her neck.

Before she could respond, they were interrupted by the sound of their son's cries coming through the baby monitor. Y/n sighed, moving to get up, but Lewis held her back for a moment.

"Does he really need you every time?" he grumbled, clearly frustrated.

"He's two, Lewis," Y/n reminded him gently, though there was a hint of impatience in her tone. "And yes, he needs me because that's all he’s got."

The words were out before she could stop them, and she immediately regretted them. Lewis’s expression shifted, something like hurt and understanding mixed on his features. "Y/n..."

"I’m sorry," she quickly apologized, her voice softening. "That’s not what I meant."

Lewis nodded, though the sadness lingered in his eyes. "We'll talk later, okay?"

Y/n nodded, leaning down to kiss him briefly before slipping out of bed.

She hurried to their son's room, finding him sitting up in his crib, tears streaming down his chubby cheeks.

"Dada?" he asked through sniffles, looking around as if expecting to see Lewis behind her.

Y/n’s heart melted a little, and she leaned into the crib, brushing his curls back. "Dada's asleep, sweetie. Do you want me to tuck you in?"

But their son shook his head, determined. "Dada."

Before Y/n could respond, Lewis appeared in the doorway, his expression softening as he saw their son. "Hey, buddy" he said quietly, crossing the room to pick him up.

The little boy immediately settled against his father’s chest, his tiny arms wrapping around Lewis’s biceps.

Y/n watched as Lewis sat down in the recliner, cradling their son with a tenderness as she have them some space, slipping out of the room and back into bed.

When Lewis finally returned, his footsteps were soft as he approached the bed. He slipped in beside her, pulling her close and leaving a kiss to her exposed shoulder.

"Has he been waking up like that a lot?" Lewis asked, his voice tinged with concern as he settled into bed beside Y/n.

Y/n nodded, resting her head on his chest. "For the past couple of weeks mostly. The change in routine really got to him."

Lewis sighed deeply, his hand gently tracing circles on her back. "I should’ve been here for his first days at nursery."

Y/n lifted her head slightly, about to reassure him, but Lewis's hand on her back stilled her.

"Y/n, don’t" he began, his voice thoughtful. "It’s not just about missing his first days. It’s the time you’ve had with him, but also the time he’s had with you."

She looked up at him, her brow furrowed slightly in confusion. "What do you mean?"

Lewis let out a small, self-deprecating chuckle. "I missed you, too. Not just the way I always miss you when I’m away, but I missed being a part of this routine. The bedtime, the little 'dates,' the way he clings to you... I missed seeing you with him, and I missed having you to myself after all that."

Y/n's heart softened at his words, a tender smile tugging at her lips. "Lew, you’re always part of those moments, even when you’re not physically here."

Lewis’s eyes met hers, full of emotion. "I know I was stupid earlier, but it's because I love being with you—both of you. And when I'm not, it feels like I'm missing out on so much. As his dad and as your partner."

Y/n’s smile widened as she shifted to lie more comfortably against him. "I missed you too. More than you know. And trust me, our little guy missed you like crazy, even if he didn’t show it."

Lewis chuckled, the sound rumbling in his chest. "He’ll come around. I just have to remind him that I'm part of this whole 'special date' thing too."

"You will," Y/n assured him, brushing a soft kiss against his neck. "And as for us, we’ll make up for lost time."

He kissed the top of her head, his voice filled with affection. "You’re stuck with me, Mrs. Hamilton."

And as Y/n began to drift off to sleep, Lewis leaned into her hear, whispering almost to himself "I really did miss you. And I’m not going anywhere. Not for long anyway."

______________________________________________________________

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[misswynters]

Jinx having a gf who’s touchy and affectionate

requested. @luc1dw0rld

Jinx’s hideout was always filled with chaos, half-finished inventions strewn across every surface, faint scorch marks on the walls, and the constant hum of machinery that never quite worked the way she wanted. But today, it felt different. Calmer, almost peaceful. It wasn’t because she’d finally decided to clean up the mess. She hadn’t. It was because of you.

You were sprawled out on her couch, an old, tattered thing she’d salvaged from a junkyard, but it felt like a throne whenever you were on it. Jinx sat cross-legged on the floor in front of you, tinkering with a grenade she’d been working on for days. Your legs dangled over the edge of the couch, and every so often, your foot brushed against her shoulder. Each touch, light as it was, sent a warmth through her that she didn’t know how to handle.

“Y’know, I think I’ve got this one right this time,” Jinx muttered, her tongue poking out as she focused on the tiny screws and wires in her hands. Her usual frenetic energy was dulled and her movements slower.

“I don’t doubt it for a second,” you said from above her. Your voice was soft, laced with the kind of unwavering confidence in her abilities that always made her stomach twist in unfamiliar ways.

She glanced up at you, her eyes wide and unguarded for a split second before she remembered herself and looked away. “Pfft. Don’t go jinxin’ it, babe,” she said, forcing a smirk as she set the grenade down. But her voice lacked its usual sharp edge, softened by the way you were looking at her.

You slid off the couch and onto the floor beside her, your legs folding neatly under you. “Need help?” you asked, even though you both knew your technical skills couldn’t match hers. It didn’t matter. The question wasn’t really about the grenade.

Jinx tensed for a moment, her fingers twitching against her thighs. She wasn’t used to this. To someone just…being there. It was a different kind of tension, though. Not the kind that made her fingers itch for a trigger or her mind spiral into chaos. It was much softer.

“Nah, I’m good,” she said, her voice quieter than usual. But she didn’t move away when your hand rested lightly on her knee.

You smiled at her, that small, knowing smile that always made her feel like you could see straight through her defenses. “Alright,” you said, leaning back on your hands.

Jinx’s gaze flicked to your hand on her knee, then to your face. She could feel the weight of your affection in the smallest gestures. The way your fingers curled slightly, as if anchoring her in place. It was overwhelming and comforting all at once, a contradiction she couldn’t quite wrap her head around.

“You’re all…touchy, y’know that?” she said, trying for a teasing tone, but it came out softer than she intended.

“Does it bother you?” you asked, tilting your head.

Jinx hesitated, her fingers drumming against her leg in a rapid rhythm. “Nah. It’s just…weird. Not bad weird. Just…weird weird.”

You chuckled, the sound light and easy. “I’ll take weird weird.”

She watched as you leaned closer, your fingers brushing a stray strand of blue hair out of her face. The gesture was so gentle, so casual, it made her heart stutter. She wasn’t used to people touching her like this. As if she was something fragile, something worth handling with care.

“Why’re you always doing that?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Doing what?”

“Touching me. Like…like that.”

You tilted your head, your expression soft but serious. “Because I love you, Jinx.”

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to do with them. Love wasn’t something she was good at. It was messy and complicated and full of things she didn’t understand. Whenever she was with you, her entire world felt simpler.

She looked away, her cheeks flushing a faint pink. “You’re such a sap,” she muttered, but there was no bite in her words.

“That means you like it,” you said, your voice teasing but warm.

She rolled her eyes, but the faint smile tugging at her lips gave her away. “Yeah, yeah, don’t let it go to your head.”

You didn’t respond, just leaned closer until your forehead was resting against hers. Jinx froze, her breath catching in her throat. She could feel the heat of your skin, the steady rhythm of your breathing, and it was…nice.

“You okay?” you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” she said, her voice shaky but sincere. “Just…not used to this. Feels…weird.”

“Weird weird?”

“Yeah. But, like…good weird.”

You smiled, your hand slipping into hers. Her fingers twitched, hesitant at first, but then they tightened around yours. She didn’t say anything, but the way her grip lingered said more than words ever could. For a while, the two of you just sat there, her hand in yours, her forehead still pressed against yours. The chaos of the hideout faded into the background, replaced by a quiet that was rare for her. It wasn’t the kind of quiet that came with loneliness. It was the kind of quiet that felt safe. Jinx absolutely loved the time she would spend with you. You are her world.

banner. @anitalenia

[iidrk3i]

☆ ACTIONS OVER WORDS

hq -- tsukishima kei x gn!reader

summary: tsukishima kei doesn't know how to say he's sorry. so instead, he tries apologizing in a different way.

warnings: a bittt angsty but fluff in the end, brief food mentions, tsukki calls reader overbearing, nothing too much :)

word count: 768

there he was, sitting on the couch with his head lolled on the headrest. what had started as a small disagreement between the two of you became a heated argument, which resulted in tsukishima calling you overbearing.

in your defense, you were just reminding your boyfriend to eat his meals everyday. this was the third time this week that you had reminded him, but something about today really ticked him off.

after tsukishima had gotten the last word in, he caught a glimpse of your face before you headed off into your shared bedroom. it was clear that you were upset with him, and you had every right to be. you weren't being overbearing at all. you were just being the kind person that he fell in love with. the person who looked out for everyone that they loved.

tsukishima looked at his phone. 6:43pm. he’s been sitting on the couch for a good 15 minutes trying to think of something to say to you. he wanted to say something sincere, something that would be genuine, but no matter how hard he thought, no matter how long he sat and waited for something to come to him, nothing was coming to mind.

that’s when tsukishima thought of a different tactic.

he had gone online and searched up your favorite take out place, ordering something for the both of you. once the food had arrived, tsukishima finally built up the courage to knock on the bedroom door. when he was met with silence, his hand hovered over the doorknob for a second, ultimately coming to the decision to walk in.

“oi y/n, i- uh.. i ordered takeout for us, if you're hungry," tsukishima stammered, feeling the weight of his words from earlier still heavy on his shoulders. he hesitated for a moment, unsure if you would even want to see him.

inside the dimly lit bedroom, you were seated on the edge of the bed, your back turned towards him. you had been replaying the argument in your mind, questioning whether you were indeed being too pushy. your thoughts were interrupted by his voice, and despite feeling hurt, you couldn't deny the rumbling in your stomach at the mention of food.

you turned slightly to look at him, noticing the takeout bags in his hands. the gesture made your heart melt. tsukishima cleared his throat nervously, taking a small step closer. "i... i know i was out of line earlier. you were just looking out for me," he began, his voice low. "i appreciate that, really. i'm sorry for calling you overbearing."

you remained silent, your gaze fixed on the floor as you processed his words. tsukishima shifted uncomfortably at the doorframe. "can we... can we talk about this?" he asked tentatively, taking another small step forward. "or at least, can we eat together?"

you glanced up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. despite the hurt feelings, you knew that tsukishima wasn't one to apologize easily. the fact that he had ordered your favorite food showed that he was trying, in his own way, to make amends.

finally, you nodded silently, gesturing towards the bed. tsukishima exhaled quietly in relief, setting the takeout containers down on the bedside table before joining you. for a while, neither of you spoke as you ate, the quietness was comfortable.

after a few minutes, tsukishima broke the silence cautiously. "i mean it, y/n. i shouldn't have said those things. i know you care about me, and i... i care about you too." his voice was hesitant, but genuine.

you looked at him then, meeting his gaze. "i know," you replied softly, your tone was enough for tsukishima to know you were forgiving him. "i just... sometimes i worry, you know?"

he nodded, his expression serious. "i get that. and i promise i'll try to be more mindful. you deserve that."

with those words, all the tension leaves the air. the conversation flowed more easily from there, the both of you gradually finding common ground and understanding. by the time you finished eating, a sense of comfort hung in the air.

as tsukishima gathered up the empty containers, you reached out to touch his arm lightly. "thank you, kei,” you said sincerely, meeting his eyes once more. "for trying."

he smiled faintly, a hint of relief in his expression. "thank you for not giving up on me," he replied, his voice soft.

and with that, the evening unfolded into a quiet understanding between the two of you, strengthening the bond that had drawn you together in the first place.

a/n: this one’s a little messy😓

[after-witch]

Bus Stop [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Title: Bus Stop [Yandere Geto x Reader]

Synopsis: You’ve escaped from Geto–but for how long?

Word count: 3200ish

Notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, noncon sex scene, female reader, degradation

Despite everything that has happened to you within the last year, your hands have never shook so much; your breath has never been this ragged, this desperate; your chest has never heaved and pleaded with the most fervent of thoughts: please, please, for the love of everything I used to believe in, answer your door!

It feels like your knuckles will begin to bleed against the wood grain but then, the door opens so swiftly that your hand falls forward and you nearly stumble over the threshold.

A man is standing in the doorway. A man with a button down sweater and a concerned, fretful expression--well, no wonder, with the way you’d been rapping on his door.

The man is your psychologist. Mr. Mayeda. You’ve been going to him for several years–or at least, you were going to him, before everything happened. Before you were taken and kept and–

His eyes widen. He takes in your state. Oh, how you must look. Forehead beaded with sweat, eyes round and pleading.

And then there is the matter of the collar around your neck.

“Come in,” he says, sounding dazed and concerned all in one breath. “Tell me what’s happened.”

–

“Will you miss me, pet?”

You nod, and keep your eyes downcast. He likes your eyes downcast when you’re in the presence of anyone else–like now. Unless he tells you to look at him. But even when you’re alone with Geto, you’re prone to keeping your eyes glued to the floor, your lap, the ceiling. Anywhere but his face.

“Do speak up,” he says, trailing a finger possessively along your cheek.

“Yes, master Geto,” you murmur. “Please return quickly.”

He pats your head. Like a dog, like a pet. Because that’s what you’ve become, isn’t it? His pet. You even sit at his knees when he’s addressing his legions of followers, most of whom you can’t stand; and the ones you can stand only possess that particular description because you haven’t really met them yet. 

This one, the woman Geto is leaving to monitor you while he’s off on some awful errand, is not someone new. She’s someone who dislikes you out of jealousy or supremacy or perhaps a bubbling mixture of both.

But there’s an advantage in that. She doesn’t try to talk with you, like some of the milder ones do. As soon as Geto is gone, she throws a disdainful glare your way and gets out her phone. She doesn’t even bother staying in the room with you; she goes into the next room and slides the door shut. She’ll talk to her boyfriend until she hears the telltale sound of Geto’s footsteps leading up to the room, then pretend like she’s been happily watching over you the whole time.

Which means she won’t notice when you pry open a loose floorboard and retrieve a backpack you’ve stuffed with papers, with cash, with a few necessities. 

Which means you’ll have an easier time escaping. 

Which means you’ll finally be free.

It almost seems too easy, when you make it out of the compound. You expect Geto to pounce on you at any moment. But you make it out,  you do, and you make it to a bus station and slide some of the money you stole from Geto’s room over to the ticket counter.

You could call the police. But Geto would look for you there first. He would know you’d run, little rabbit that you are, to the only authority you could think of; but they couldn’t protect you. Not from him. 

So your mind drums up the only address you can really remember–that of your psychologist’s office–and you ask the ticket taker for the next bus to the city.

–

Mr. Mayeda does not say anything at first. 

Even though what you’ve told him sounds wild. And crazy. And wholly made up. That is to say, you’ve told him everything. About how Geto Suguru can control monsters, only they’re not simply monsters, but curses. About how he sees them and eats them and hoards them, like he’s tucking them away for some awful winter. About how he kidnapped you and kept you, how he treated you like a pet, how he wouldn’t let you go. 

About how you escaped and didn’t know where else to turn.

“I know,” you say, leaning forward, arms crossed over yourself. “I know it sounds crazy. But you have to believe me.”

Mr. Mayeda frowns. 

You pull your backpack into your lap and rummage through it, until 

“I didn’t believe any of it myself at first.” Memories come flooding in. Those early days,, spent crying, gritting your teeth so hard that your jaw ached for a week, unbelieving everything Geto told you in the calmest, most horrible tones. “But it’s true. And–and I don’t know where to go or what to do. He’ll try to find me, and, and…” Your breath begins to quicken, your heart pounds. How could you think you’d be free? Oh, he’ll find you, and kill poor Mr. Mayeda, and then where will you be? What will he do? 

You’re only barely aware of your hyperventilation when Mr. Mayeda places a firm hand on your shoulder. He says your name. He says it again. And again. And when you look at him, eyes bleary with tears, he speaks again. 

“You have to calm down. I can’t help you until you calm down.”

His voice is an anchor in the storm. Help you, he said. Help.

 Your hand shakily goes up to clasp his; it’s a foreign touch, the first person that you’ve touched since Geto took you. No one else was allowed to, except Manami, but that was only in case of emergencies. 

“You don’t think I’m crazy?” Your voice is a hoarse croak. 

Mr. Mayeda gives your fingers a squeeze, and then lets you go. He stands up and looks down at you with a sympathetic smile.

“I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re very upset, and need someone to listen to you.” He sighs and looks you over. “I’d like to grab your file from my office. Would you like anything? A glass of water? Food?” 

“Oh–oh yes, water, please. If it’s not any trouble.” Your stomach growls, but you don’t think you could keep anything down right now, anyway. 

And what does food matter, when he’s going to help you? When he believes you? You’d imagined this conversation so many times. In some of them, he escorts you out of the building and slams the door in your face. In others, he has you picked up by ambulance and committed to a hospital for delusions. In others, he yells at you for wasting his time.

But instead he doesn’t think you’re crazy and he’s going to help and it’s the best possible outcome. One that you, in your hopeless state, didn’t even foresee.

By the time he returns with a glass of water, your breathing has returned. You smile wearily and wipe your clammy hands before you take the glass. The water is cool and refreshing down your sore throat. 

Mr. Mayeda gives you a few moments before he begins to speak. He has your file now, and opens it up on his lap.

“I need to ask you a few things. Just to get an idea of how we should proceed, all right? Please let me know if you feel uncomfortable.”

You set the empty water glass down and nod. What’s a few questions, compared to the hell you’ve been living?

“Have you been to your home, since you’ve left this mysterious compound?”

“No.”

He scratches the answer on the pad.

“Did you call anyone else, or contact anyone else except for me?”

“No.”

Scratch-scratch.

“So no one else knows you’re here?”

“No.” You bite your lip, and ask questions of your own. “What are we going to do? Where can we go? Do you know anyone that can help?” 

He raises his hand.

“One thing at a time. First, I’d like to get everything straight on your end.” 

You nod, and bring your knees up on the chair, feeling like a child in a doctor’s office for the first time in ages.

“Yes, of course, I’m sorry, I’m just…” You don’t finish.

Mr. Mayeda simply smiles, pity in his expression. You don’t need to explain to him what you are “just,” because he’s confident and calm and he knows exactly what to do.  “That’s all right. I understand this is stressful. I’m going to go make a call, and then we’ll talk about what we can do next. Okay?”

You nod. You don’t want him to leave you–he’s going to help you–and worries begin to creep in about Geto somehow finding you here. Maybe you had a tracker on you that you didn’t know about. Maybe there was a curse attached to your shoulder and he’d simply sniff it out. 

Maybe you were too anxious to think straight.

By the time he returns, your knee is bouncing. He regards it with a frown, and you force yourself to stop.  You don’t want him to be mad at you–you want him to help you. He said he’d help you. You just don’t know what he can do to save you from Geto. What anyone could do. 

But he sits down, and gets out your file again. Then he begins to go through every detail of your story, confirming, questioning, writing down notes. It’s hard–you start to cry, thinking about everything–but it’s necessary to create a plan of action. Right? 

In the midst of all this, the doorbell buzzes.

He sighs, and his frown deepens. He must have forgotten an appointment–you can’t blame him, with your sudden arrival.  “Let me get that. I’ll just have them reschedule the appointment.” When he gets up from his chair, he looks older in the moment; more tired and slow. Well, the stress of you dropping your predicament in his lap can’t exactly be easy to take. 

You wipe your teary eyes, and grab a tissue to blow your nose. You hope he doesn’t have to reschedule too many clients because of you. You don’t want to be too much trouble.  You just want to be safe and free and–

Geto and Manami walk through the open doorway of the office, and your stomach drops to your shoes. 

Behind them, Mr. Mayeda looks remorseful. 

“I had to,” he says, voice quavering. “My daughter–she… she’s used his services, you see.” 

Geto looks back at Mr. Mayeda, who immediately shuts up and stares at the floor. 

Ah. So he threw you back to the wolves to protect someone he loved. You can’t begrudge him for it. Not really.

But it doesn’t change the loss of your short-lived freedom. 

–

Manami drives. You don’t have the strength to look anywhere but your own lap, at your hands curled up so tight that they hurt, resting on your thighs. 

Geto hasn’t said a thing since he collected you. 

“Suguru,” you say, voice shaking through the words. “I… ” You’re about to lie. He knows this. You know this. But he’s never minded you lying, before, as long as you said what he wanted. “I won’t do it again, I promise.” Still, he says nothing. 

“Suguru–” you try again. He finally looks at you, a slow, languid turn of his head. His lips curl just a little. Not in a way that makes you feel good. 

 His voice is soft and sweet as honey. His words are anything but.

“You think you have the right to address me right now?” 

He’s angry. Not just annoyed, not just mad, not just disappointed. Angry. It’s a heavy, dreadful feeling that glues you to the seat just as well as any bonds. 

Gravity seems to pull your chin down, until you’re once again staring at your lap.

This time, you clench your fingernails so hard that your palm bleeds. 

–

You don’t remember the walk back into the compound. You didn’t dare look up from the ground underneath your feet–walking step by step behind Geto, even though you wanted nothing more than to run in the opposite direction–to see the expressions of those devout followers. No doubt some were glaring as much as they dared.

It’s not until you’re back in Geto’s quarters and Manami has been dismissed that you hazard a glance at something other than your shoes, now dirty from your short journey outside these walls. 

You look up at Geto, who is standing, silent, head tilted just-so as he stares at you. When he finally opens his mouth, he issues a command.

“Go to the bedroom.”

They are words to be obeyed, and you do. 

He’s not yet in the room when he continues the orders.

“Disrobe. Lay on the bed. Spread your legs. Do not speak.”

Dread pools in your stomach, thick and slimy. It makes you want to run into the bathroom and hurl the contents of your last meal into the toilet. But you dare not deviate from what he’s said, not when the world feels so heavy; not when you know he’s angry with you.

So you slip off your clothing and lay on the bed and spread your legs. The cool air of the bedroom does nothing but increase your trembling as thoughts come one by one.

What does Geto intend to do? Something related to sex, surely. Maybe he’ll fuck you so hard that you can’t sit properly for days. Maybe he’ll make you lay here, naked, simply for his own amusement. Maybe he’ll hurt you, finally, and that underlying, coil-tight fear you’ve had since the moment you were kidnapped can finally release.

After far too long for your mental sanity, Geto finally does come into the room, stripped down to only an undershirt and thin cotton pants. Casual clothing he only wears around you, and no one else. Maybe he expects that to be flattering, but for whom, you can’t quite tell.

He crawls on the bed, his weight dipping the mattress. 

He places his hands on either thigh, and pushes your legs further apart. 

You wait for some pain–the pain of him entering you without preparation, perhaps, or something more insidious. The crack of his hand. The crack of a leather belt. 

But you wait in vain, because instead of pain–instead of something harsh and cruel–you instead feel the soft touch of his fingers against your folds. His thumb rests softly against your clit, and begins to rub, sending an unwelcome jolt through you. 

“Suguru?” You ask, and boldly prop yourself up on your elbows. 

“I told you not to speak,” he murmurs, and you press your lips together. Now, you think, surely he will hit you.

But no. Instead he returns to his former ministrations, gently rubbing against your clit, other fingers gently squeezing the flesh of your pussy. It almost tickles, pleasantly. After a while, the dull pleasure begins to heighten, and you can feel a mild orgasm beginning to reach its peak. 

He stops. The pleasure hovers for a moment, and then begins to fade. 

He begins again. 

You want to ask him what he’s doing; you want to ask him why he stopped. But his order to remain quiet thrums through your head and you merely keep your head back on the bed, staring at the plain ceiling above you. 

The pleasure is different now. Sharper. Wetter. Instead of a dull, mild orgasm, it begins to feel like the ones you’ve had with him before; the ones where he spends a while building you up, getting you wet, wanting to hear you moan. 

Your breath begins to catch in your throat, and you can’t help but squirm your hips. It feels good,  you don’t want it, but he knows your body well enough to make it feel good.

And like before, you can feel yourself starting to reach your peak, getting to the point when pleasure becomes sparks. And–like before. 

He stops. 

And begins again. 

And stops. 

And begins again.

Until you are wet, and sweating, and squirming. Until your breath is not mildly catching in your throat but coming out in desperate pants. Until your hands are clenching the sheets. 

Until you are crying out, not because of pain and a sharp slap against your skin, but the unbearable heat that has built between your legs. A heat which Geto has carefully stoked with his fingers and his mouth, and the unrelenting pattern of bringing you to the top, only to let you fall before bringing you there once again.

You know you’re not supposed to speak. But you can’t help it, you just can’t help it. Not with the way his thumb is idly circling your clit. Not with the sweat clinging to your back. Not with the way your head begins to turn side to side of its own accord, unable to deal with the teasing. 

“Suguru–” Your voice is a needy whine. “Please, please–”

“Apologize,” he says, simply. Calmly. All the while continuing to slowly rub your clit with his thumb.

“I’m sorry,” you croak. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry–”

His thumb pauses, and you can feel your clit twitching against it.

“But do you mean it?” 

“Yes!” You don’t hesitate. Tears leak from your eyes. Wetness leaks from in between your legs.

“Then beg.” He keeps his thumb hovered above your clit. “Beg like you’re my pet. Because that’s what you are, isn’t it?”

Your thighs tremble. Your lips quiver.

“Please, Suguru.” Your cheeks heat in shame, but what shame can you truly hold onto, when your pussy is this wet, when you’re gyrating against him so pathetically? You say everything you think he wants to hear. “I’m your pet, I won’t run again, I’ll do what you say–”

You feel half-delirious, raising your hips towards the air to try to get some friction against his finger. All you succeed in doing is humping yourself against him, teasing your swollen clit with the promise of an orgasm that can only come from his fingers.

After a while, your words trail off into a pathetic whimper.

It’s then that Geto crawls up further on the bed and plants a kiss on your forehead. 

You sigh in relief. 

“No,” he says. “Bad pets don’t get rewarded, do they?”

You have only a moment to think before he yanks your sweaty wrists up and ties them to the headboard with cuffs he must have put there before he even collected you from Mr. Mayeda’s office. You pull against them once before he gives you a harsh look that makes you freeze. Once he’s satisfied with your stillness, he begins to take off his own clothes. 

“I would make you sleep on the floor,” he murmurs, shrugging off his shirt. “But that would be a punishment to me, to deny myself your body, no?” 

You can only shake your head in response as you shift your legs, trying to catch the fleeting orgasm that has begun to fade even further from your grasp. Geto raises an eyebrow and places his palm firmly on your hip to keep you in place. 

Once you stop squirming–it’s useless, you realize–he sighs and cuddles against you. It might be sweet, if he wasn’t who he was; if you weren’t in the position that you’re in. If there wasn’t an aching, warm soreness between your legs that has gone unfulfilled. 

His voice is not so sweet when he whispers against your ear.

“If you ever try something so foolish again, I won’t be kind about it.”

[cloudwisp]

𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 · 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐰𝐨 𝐨𝐟 𝐮𝐬

contents: fluff. satoru makes sweet promises about the future with you. 800 wc.

“What would you say if I retired today?”

The words left his mouth so easily—like they’re one of the many frivolous musings that comes and goes, an afterthought when the shared laughter and playful teasing had died down a bit. Behind his loose grin, Satoru carefully studies your face as he weighs the question in your mind, as though they bear no consequence and he wants to hear your answer no matter how serious or unserious he’s being.

“Retire…” You drawl thoughtfully, “You mean put your sorcerer work behind you?” You more than readily welcome the idea than you let on, it’s all you can think about sometimes and keeps you awake at night. You knew about the dangers and the shortcomings that his lifestyle posed, but your love for him outweighs the troubles and the fears and the risks that come with loving someone like him—that is Satoru Gojo.

Not the Strongest Sorcerer, the leader of something, just a normal person who has a fondness for the sweeter things and never lets good humor go to waste if he could help it. If he truly decided to retire from now onwards he won’t have to participate in another dangerous mission again, no more of those dreadful overseas assignments that keeps you both apart for long stretches of time, and you could get used to knowing that he gets to come home to you every night.

“Well, okay. I suppose I could become the breadwinner for once.”

Satoru lets out a pleased laugh. His arm that encircled your waist tightens as he squeezes you with great affection, receiving a small oof from you and quick gentle pats of surrender before he crushes your lungs. He’s sitting on an abundance of wealth for the both of you to lead a comfortable life, and you’re cute for worrying about finances in the foreseeable future. Maybe he doesn’t spoil his precious sweetheart far enough, he thinks.

“I guess you’ll need to work triple time in order to afford my expensive taste.” He teases, pinching your cheek between his fingers. “We can be a dynamic duo. You can work while I stay home.” He mutters softly, letting his hand settle against the nape of your neck while his thumb brushes against your cheek. “Would I be a good househusband?”

“You’d be awful.” You were a little quick to say, almost shuddering at the thought. He feigns a hurt expression with the slightest furrow to his brows and an adorable pout lines his lips. He had an affinity for sweets as shown in your fully stocked pantry but navigating the rest of the kitchen would cause quite an upheaval despite his best efforts. “Maybe at first anyway.”

“You think I won’t be able to clean or cook properly?” Satoru complains dramatically, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and shoulder. You attempt to push him away between your giggles as the ends of his hair tickles you and he gently nips away at your skin, but his large build unsurprisingly wouldn’t budge. He lays a light kiss here and there shortly after, his voice lowering into a playful whisper. “Giving up on me already, huh? Too bad, that was your only chance of seeing me in an apron~”

Satoru comes up to meet your gaze and he catches your lips for a sweet taste, the warmth of his body sinking into yours and your arms wrap around him to bring him in a little deeper. “Are you saying I wouldn’t be able to control myself around you if I came home to you wearing an apron?” It was your turn to pinch his cheeks fondly and you consider something. “But it’s a nice thought—you wanting to lead a different life.”

“I want to make you a promise,” he begins slowly, and there’s a beautiful look behind his cerulean hues filled with just pure adoration and love that’s reserved only for you. “When my time comes and I’m ready to call it quits, I’ll retire with you by my side. We’ll move somewhere peaceful and quiet—as secluded as you like. We could even travel the world if that's what my baby wishes, just the two of us.”

“That’s a big promise you’re making me.” You raise an eyebrow at him. But you like the dream that he’s sharing with you, no matter how close or how far out of reach it may seem. And so, a warm smile softens your face. “Just me and you?”

“Yes, Angel.” He grins happily, pulling you closer so his heartbeat matches yours and the sound lulls into one under the moon’s gaze. As long as you keep giving him every excuse in the world to keep you within arms’ reach—forever, then it’s contentment and peace and everything else in between he’ll find with you. If you’re there, then that’s home for him. “Just us and the sky.”

꒰ note ᰔ still coping with everything that’s happened along with ch. 261 so hope you enjoyed this something silly and something fluff for our sweet loverboy satoru. ꒱

[isaadore]

CLOSE TO THE EDGE MAX VERSTAPPEN

paring max verstappen x childhood friend!reader

SUMMARY you and max have been inseparable since you were kids. you both promised that no matter what happens, you’ll always be there for each other. but when the pressures of max’s racing career and a growing distance between you strain the friendship, you’re both left to find what you really mean to each other. word count 1.9k words

warnings self-criticism, themes of anxiety and stress, angst, jos verstappen

note requested :)

MAIN MASTERLIST MV1 MASTERLIST

THERE WAS SOMETHING nostalgic about the sound of engines revving; how it pulled you back to your childhood, back when life was simple, and the only thing that mattered was Max’s kart circling the track. You sat on the pit wall, the roar of engines around you as familiar as the heartbeat you couldn’t seem to steady.

The air smelled of gasoline and rubber, the sun already hot against your skin, but you were used to it. You had spent too many days like this to mind. From the time you were little, following Max around the karting circuits, this had been home. But it was different now.

Max was different now.

You watched as he climbed out of the Red Bull car, peeling off his helmet to reveal damp, sweaty hair, and an unreadable expression to anyone who hadn’t known him as long as you had. His features were sharper now; chiselled with the kind of confidence that came with years of pushing himself to the limit, of knowing he was the best. But behind his calm exterior, you could see it: the frustration, the constant war with himself to be perfect.

He glanced in your direction briefly, but you knew he wasn’t really seeing you. Not anymore.

It hadn’t always been like this. There was a time when you were the first person he’d come to after every race, win or lose. You’d sit together on the track, the world muted around you, just two kids who didn’t care about the future. But that felt like a lifetime ago now, and you weren’t sure when it changed when the distance between you grew so wide, you didn’t know how to cross it.

You weren’t even sure if he wanted you to.

20 YEARS AGO

“Faster, Max! You’re too slow!” you teased, legs dangling over the barrier as you watched him zoom around the small karting track your families had brought you to for the weekend.

Even at seven years old, Max was serious about racing, his brow furrowed in concentration as he sped past you in his kart. His father, Jos, stood nearby, arms crossed, watching Max’s every move like a hawk.

“I’ll show you slow,” Max shouted back, grinning as he floored the pedal, the little kart shooting forward with a speed that made your heart skip a beat.

You laughed, running to the edge of the barrier to watch him cross the finish line, his face flushed with excitement when he pulled off his helmet.

“Did you see that? I was way faster than last time!” Max exclaimed, running over to you, eyes bright with triumph.

You nodded enthusiastically, always his biggest supporter, even when you didn’t understand the technical details of racing. “Yeah, but you still couldn’t catch me on foot,” you said with a teasing grin, before darting off towards the grassy area behind the track.

“Hey!” Max shouted, chasing after you, both of you laughing until you collapsed in a heap, breathless and grinning under the summer sun. It had always been like this, simple, easy. Max was your best friend, the one constant in your life that you never had to question.

PRESENT DAY

That memory flashed through your mind as you watched Max now, his shoulders tight with tension as he talked to his engineer. You wondered when the last time was that he laughed like that, really laughed, not the polite chuckle he gave to fans or media. You wondered if he’d forgotten how.

The race debrief dragged on, and you shifted on the bench, your eyes flicking towards your phone. You weren’t there for the media, or the race engineers. You were there for Max, but lately, it had started to feel like you were just another fixture in the background of his life, like you had become part of the scenery instead of someone he needed.

You were still deep in thought when you heard his voice, closer now. “Hey,” Max said, but it lacked the warmth it used to have.

You looked up, forcing a smile. “Hey. How was the car?”

“It was fine.” His tone was clipped, distracted, as if his mind was already miles away, focused on the next race, the next challenge.

You nodded, unsure of what else to say. “You’ve got the weekend off after this, right?” you asked, hoping to reignite the friendship, the ease that used to come so naturally between you.

“Yeah,” Max replied, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ve got a couple of media things, but I’ll be free for the most part.”

There was a pause, a beat too long, and you wondered if he was going to ask you to do something, like he used to. Back when weekends off meant go-karting for fun, or late-night drives where you’d talk about anything but racing.

But the invitation didn’t come.

“Good luck with the media stuff,” you said finally, the words falling flat between you.

Max nodded absently, already turning away to speak to someone else, and you were left with the bitter taste of something unspoken in your mouth. The silence between you was louder than the roar of the engines, and you wondered how long you could keep pretending that things hadn’t changed.

12 YEARS AGO

It was the first time you had ever seen Max cry.

You were both fifteen, standing outside the karting track after he had lost a crucial race. It wasn’t even a huge competition, but for Max, every race was an important one. He hated losing more than anything, and you could see the way it ate at him, the disappointment in his eyes when he realized he wasn’t invincible.

“You were still amazing,” you had said, trying to comfort him, but Max just shook his head, his jaw clenched tight.

“No, I wasn’t,” he muttered, kicking at the gravel with his shoe. “I should’ve been faster. I should’ve won.”

You didn’t know what to say, so you just stood there, waiting, offering your silent support the way you always did.

It was only when the others had left, when it was just the two of you in the fading evening light, that Max finally let the walls crack. His fists clenched at his sides, and he looked at you with those piercing blue eyes, tears threatening to spill over.

“I can’t keep losing,” he whispered, his voice breaking in a way that made your heart ache. “I have to be the best.”

You hadn’t hesitated. You reached for him, pulling him into a tight hug, your arms wrapping around his tense frame. Max resisted for a moment, stiff in your embrace, but then he crumbled, burying his face in your shoulder as the tears came.

“I’m here, Max,” you had whispered into his hair, holding him as tightly as you could. “I’ll always be here.”

PRESENT DAY

You wondered if he even remembered what it felt like to rely on you for support. Now, it felt like you were the one watching from the sidelines while Max barrelled through life at breakneck speed, focused on nothing but the finish line.

The days when he used to confide in you, to trust you with his fears, seemed so far away now.

Later that evening, you sat in your hotel room, staring at the ceiling, the weight of your unspoken thoughts pressing down on you. You couldn’t keep doing this, watching Max drift further and further away, pretending like it didn’t hurt.

The sound of your phone buzzing broke the silence, and you glanced at the screen. It was a message from Max.

Are you free to talk?

You hesitated for a moment, your heart racing in your chest. It had been a while since he had asked to talk, really talk. You quickly typed back a reply, and a few minutes later, your phone rang.

“Hey,” Max’s voice came through the line, quieter now, almost hesitant. “I just… I don’t know why I called.”

You felt a flicker of hope in your chest. “You don’t need a reason,” you said softly.

There was a long pause, and when Max spoke again, his voice was lower, more vulnerable. “Do you ever feel like… we’re not the same anymore?”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words, the very thing you had been afraid to admit to yourself.

“Yeah,” you whispered. “I do.”

There was another silence, and for a moment, you were both suspended in it, the weight of years of unsaid words hanging between you.

“I miss how things used to be,” Max admitted, and it was like the walls he had built up over the years were starting to crack, just like they did that day when you were fifteen.

“So do I,” you confessed, your voice barely audible.

“I don’t want to lose you,” Max said, and you could hear the fear in his voice now, the same fear he had when he was fifteen, terrified of not being good enough.

“You won’t,” you promised, the words coming out before you could stop them. “I’m still here, Max. I’ve always been here.”

Max let out a shaky breath, and for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were on the same page again, like the distance between you wasn’t so insurmountable after all.

The next few days passed in a blur of media obligations and sponsor events, but there was a shift in the air between you and Max. It was subtle, little things, like the way he sought you out in the crowd, the way he lingered after conversations as if he was afraid of letting you slip away again.

One evening, after a particularly gruelling day, you found yourselves sitting on the balcony of Max’s hotel room, watching the city lights flicker in the distance.

“Remember that time we raced each other on foot after your kart race?” you asked, a smile tugging at your lips.

Max chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, and you tripped and scraped your knee. You wouldn’t stop crying until I gave you my ice cream.”

You laughed, the memory of it warming you in a way you hadn’t felt in a long time. “I’d still take your ice cream, by the way.”

Max grinned, but then his expression softened, and he looked at you in that way he used to when you were kids; like you were the only person in the world who truly knew him.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, his voice low.

You blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in tone. “For what?”

“For… everything,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “For letting things get so messed up between us. I didn’t mean to push you away. I just—”

“Max,” you interrupted gently, reaching over for his hand. “You didn’t push me away. I just… I didn’t know how to help you anymore.”

Max squeezed your hand, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You’ve always helped me, even when I didn’t realize it.”

You held his gaze, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm blanket. There was so much you both still needed to say, but for the first time in a long while, you felt like you were finally on the right track.

“Do you think we can fix this?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max looked at you, his blue eyes filled with something you hadn’t seen in years; hope. “Yeah,” he said softly. “I do.”

And for the first time in a while, you believed him.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ MAIN MASTERLIST ✷ MV1 MASTERLIST

[kurokawaia]

❛ I Like That... ❜

Iguro Obanai X Fem!Reader

WC; 2.9k+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW; afab!Reader, Fem!Reader, Fem pronouns used - she/her, reader is implied to be a Hashira/ demon slayer herself, daddy kink (obviously), implied rough sex, cervix kissing, missionary, implied that there was consent before the sex, slight begging, pretend his snake has a mind of it's own and slithers away when they have sex-, use of {Y/n} and {F/c} once

⋆·˚ ༘ *���𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: halloo ＼(٥⁀▽⁀ )／ !!!! i wanted to request a f!reader x obanai iguro with him having a daddy kink? like he didn’t like it / unsure at first but like one day it hits him and he likes hearing it? sorry if it isn’t specified enough - ANON

honey's a/note :: this is the longest oneshot ive done in a while, i hope you enjoy, this is my first time writing for obanai and i hope its okay >.<

m.list | demon slayer m.list

You tense when Obanais hands trailed down to your waist, body arching into his touch. A breathless sigh leaves you mouth when his warm hand skimmed up your lower stomach, before his other hand gripped your breast. Your lips part in a small 'O' as Obanai's lips pressed against your perky nub.

His tongue swirling around the sensitive tip before a whimper leaves your mouth. "Sorry," you breath out, arms wrapping around his neck, fingers entangling into his black stands.

"Don't be," He mumbled while taking a squeeze of your boobs. Your cheeks heat heat up. His lips were pressed roughly against your breasts as the slender tips of his fingers tugged on your panties, slipping the material down your legs.

The cool air in the room caused chills to tingle over your body. Obanai's fingers trail a path along your slick slit and the touch is electrifying. You trembled in pleasure in his hold, body responding to every miniscule movement he made to your body. A helpless whimper leaves your plumped lips from kissing, proof of the overwhelming pleasure from the simple touches you're receiving.

A gentle scoff leaves his mouth. "So wet already?" he hums looking up to you.

"Obanai, please," you breath out.

"You got to ask for it more," Obanai replied, his lips moved, tugging, sucking on flesh on and around your collarbone.

Then, the words slipped out your mouth before you could stop them. "Daddy, please," you whimpered out and Obanai froze, stopping everything he was doing.

He lifted himself from you, his duel coloured eyes laced with confusion and bewilderment. "W-What did you just call me?" Obanai asked slowly.

He breathed out heavily, sitting himself between your legs on his knees, clearly taken aback. "Please refrain from calling me that."

Your hands cover your face in embarrassment. "Sorry, Obanai," you mumbled, your voice muffled by your hands.

Obanai paused, the room filled with an awkward silence. He gently pulled your hands away from your face, his expression softening slightly. "Hey," he said quietly, "it's alright. I'm just… not used to that kind of term. Just... don't say it again."

You nodded. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. Sorry..."

He sighed, his thumb gently brushing against the back of your hand. "I know. It's just… unexpected. Let's just take a break."

"I really didn't mean to," you hummed, sitting up and resting your head against his shoulder. The warmth of his body and the steady rhythm of his breathing provided a small comfort among the embarrassment.

"No matter," he replied softly, his voice carrying a reassuring tone as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you closer. "Let's just rest now."

Obanai laid his head on your now clothed chest, his breathing slow and steady. You were both dressed in nemaki, the soft fabric adding to the comfort of the moment. Your arms wrapped around his figure, holding him close, as his arms did the same.

The warmth of his body against yours was soothing, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest matched the rhythm of your heartbeat. As the night grew quieter, the only sounds were your synchronized breaths and the occasional rustle of the fabric as you both shifted slightly to get more comfortable.

You ran your fingers through his hair, feeling the silky strands beneath your touch. He sighed contentedly, nuzzling closer to you, his grip tightening ever so slightly as if to make sure you were really there. The feeling of his closeness brought a sense of peace and contentment that you had rarely experienced.

"I'm so glad I didn't stuff up with calling him that," you mumbled to yourself, your voice barely a whisper. 'How silly could I be, calling him daddy?' you thought to yourself, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the lingering embarrassment.

But as you looked down at Obanai, now peacefully resting in your embrace, you realised that the moment, though awkward, hadn't damaged your bond.

He shifted slightly, a soft murmur escaping his lips as he settled back into a deeper sleep. You watched him for a moment, the gentle rise and fall of his chest, the way his eyelashes fluttered ever so slightly. It was a sight that filled you with warmth, and was the last thing you saw before you fell asleep.

꒰ timeskip - a week or so꒱ - obanai and sanemi are training together when obanai looses focus/ zones out

"Obanai, please," you breath out.

"You got to ask for it more," Obanai replied, his lips moved, tugging, sucking on flesh on and around your collarbone.

Then, the words slipped out your mouth before you could stop them. "Daddy, please," you whimpered out and Obanai froze, stopping everything he was doing.

He lifted himself from you, his duel coloured eyes laced with confusion and bewilderment. "W-What did you just call me?" Obanai asked slowly.

Obanai was lost in thought as his mind ran wild to that night. The feeling of warmth, the gentle touch, and the unexpected term of endearment—Daddy—echoed in his mind, bringing a subtle blush to his cheeks, which he quickly discarded. He didn't want to be seen in a state as he was in right then, flushed over the thought from that night.

"Oi," Shinazugawa uttered annoyed, snapping him back to reality. "If you aren't going to give it your all in training, then go fuck off."

Obanai shook his head, clearing his thoughts, and refocused his gaze on Shinazugawa. "Apologies," he muttered, tightening his grip on his wooden sword. "Distracted."

Shinazugawa scoffed, crossing his arms. "Distracted? You? Must be something serious."

Obanai didn't respond immediately, instead replaying the moment in his mind. Despite the initial awkwardness, the memory of being called "daddy" stirred something within him. It was a term he never thought he would find appealing, yet, coming from you, it had felt oddly comforting and... right.

Shinazugawa's impatient glare brought him back once more. "Are you going to explain, or do I have to beat it out of you?"

Obanai sighed, lowering his sword. "Nothing you'd understand," he said, a hint of a smile playing at his lips beneath his mask. "Just... thinking about someone important."

Shinazugawa raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "Heh, lemme guess, {Y/n}, huh? Must be serious if it's got you zoning out."

Obanai hummed in reply causing Shinazugawa to scoff.

Shinazugawa rolled his eyes but didn't press further. "Fine, but get your head back in the game. We’re here to train, not daydream."

Obanai nodded, refocusing on the training session. As they resumed their sparring, he couldn't help but let his mind drift back occasionally to that night. The way you had looked at him, the way you had felt in his arms, and the unexpected term you had used.

As the training session continued, Obanai realized that he didn't just like being called "daddy"—he cherished the intimacy and trust it represented.

Finishing the session with a renewed sense of purpose, Obanai sheathed his sword and gave Shinazugawa a nod. "Thanks for the training," Shinazugawa said, his voice steady, watching Obanai walk away.

As he walked away his head was swarmed with the thought of actually liking being called that term, something that he had never expected to like. The words coming from you though, made him feel so good. He couldn't wait to see you again, to hold you close, and maybe, just maybe, hear you call him that special term once more.

Obanai returned home to your shared house later that night, his thoughts still lingering on the memory of that special term. As he entered the house, he could hear the faint sounds of movement from the bedroom. He quietly made his way there and saw you getting undressed from your uniform, {f/c} haori dropped to the floor, still slightly sweaty from the day's exertion.

You turned around as you heard him approach, offering him a tired smile. "Obanai. How was your training?"

"Fine," he replied, his voice softening as he took in the sight of you. "How about you? How did it go training the new Demon Slayers?"

You groaned, rolling your eyes as you unbuttoned your shirt. "They were really annoying today. So many questions and so little discipline. I had to be extra stern just to keep them in line."

Obanai chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Sounds like a handful."

"Definitely," you agreed, starting to unbuckle your belt. "I don't know how much more of their antics I can take before I lose my mind."

As you turned to put your uniform clothes away, simply donned in your underwear now, Obanai felt a surge of affection and a desire to comfort you. He moved quietly behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. You tensed for a moment, surprised by the sudden contact, but then relaxed into his embrace.

He wasn't usually this foreword with affection.

"You're doing a great job," he murmured, his lips grazing the back of your neck.

You leaned back against him, head craned over his shoulder, sighing contentedly. "Thanks, Obanai. I needed to hear that."

He tightened his hold on you, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, then trailing his lips up to your neck. "You deserve to be appreciated," he whispered, his voice low and filled with emotion.

You turned in his arms, facing him, your eyes meeting his. "Obanai," you breathed, touched by his tenderness.

He cupped your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your skin. "I mean it," he said quietly. You slowly undid the bandages covering his mouth, knowing that only him and him alone will trust you with seeing a sight like that.

Feeling a swell of emotion, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him into a deep, loving kiss. Obanai responded immediately, his lips moving against yours. The kiss displaying all the words he found difficult to express, all the feelings he held close to his heart.

When you finally pulled back, both of you were slightly breathless. You rested your forehead against his, your eyes fluttering closed. "So? Do you want to..."

You still were unsure about how having sex with him the other day went, the term, 'Daddy' had slipped out your mouth unintentionally and you were frightened that he would be hesitant. But it seemed it didn't matter as Obanai pressed his lips against yours once more in agreement to what you were asking.

As his tongue slipped into your cavern, you melted into his touch. Then, both your bodies moved unconsciously to the futon resting on the floor. Obanai had discarded his uniform, leaving himself bare for you and only you.

He made place on top of you, tongues intertwining once more while he slipped your socked panties down your smooth legs. Obanai's slim fingers slide down your slicked folds and push past them, a mewl spilling out of your lips.

Your arms tighten around his back and neck as his fingers press against your throbbing clit and a surge of pleasure courses through you, breathless and wanting more. A moan leaves your parted lips as your back arches into his touch.

Your eyes were screwed shut but Obanai's studied every miniscule movement and reaction your body made as his fingers fondled with your puffy clit, fingers getting slicked with your arousal. Your legs squeeze around his hips, moans stringing out your mouth before you felt his digits slid to your seeping hole.

Two fingers immediately slipped inside your gummy soaked walls causing your eyes to snap open. "Feel good?" Obanai questioned and you nod frantically.

"So good," You whimpered as he slowly pumped in and out your spongy walls. "I-It feels so good, Obanai."

"Really?" He asked and you moaned as he inserted another finger into your walls.

"Yeah, so so good," you whimper. "So good, Obanai."

The sensation is overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and intensity that leaves you unable to contain your moans. You press your lips against his shoulder, muffling the sounds that escape from deep within you. His fingers explore the depths of your core, igniting a fire that consumes your every thought. Each movement, each curl, sends shockwaves of pleasure radiating through your body.

Obanai's fingers were soaked as you surrender to the intoxicating rhythm of his touch, the combination of his skilled fingers and the intensity of our connection pushes you closer to the edge, teetering on the precipice of release. It's a moment of pure bliss, where time stands still, and you are consumed by the overwhelming pleasure that courses through your veins.

As Obanai's fingers continued their relentless rhythm, pumping in and out of your seeping hole, there was an unfamiliar tightness growing in your lower abdomen, pleasure tightened inside your stomach.

Shakily wrapping your legs around him, your body quivers with anticipation of his every move, responding to his every touch. Chant's of his name leave your mouth, voice filled with desire and need while comfort words left his mouth to stabilise you.

Tears welled in your eyes wanting to desperately release the coil that was growing in your stomach.

"Obanai, please," you sob out, wanting to feel the euphoric tension spill though your body.

He begins to press your clit with the pad of his thumb, adding another layer of pleasure to the already intense sensations. The touch is electrifying, causing you to arch my back in response. "Beg for it," Obanai hummed against your skin.

"Please, Obanai," I sob. "I need to... So good, Obanai."

"More," he said, teeth digging into my neck, my head thrown back against the pillow.

"Please, please, please," you whimper. "I need it, Obanai," you mewl.

Then, Obanai had the urge to want you to call him that term he found interesting during sex. He found himself craving for you to beg him as you did the past couple nights ago.

"Come on," he replied, speeding up the pace of his fingers in your tightening cunt. "You know what to say, call me what you crave to do so badly."

Something in your head clicked, he wanted to be called that, was he sure? But the words spilled from your mouth, not wanting to think of the potential consequences if you interpreted his statement wrong.

"Please, daddy, I need it," you mumbled out and Obanai lifts his head from your neck, admiring the trails of splotches of red.

Obanai used his free hand to grip your chin and angled his face towards him, eyes staring intently into your own. "Louder," he hummed, eager to hear the words spill from your pretty, plumped lips.

Your eyes screw shut. "Please, daddy," you continued, desperate to feel the release you so desperate needed.

"Look at me when you utter those words," he urged, wanting to see you fall apart underneath him.

Eyes snapped open at his command, wanting to release badly. "I want it, please, daddy," you whimper and you saw his eyes flicker in approval causing a swell of happiness to surge through your body.

"I've got you," Obanai reassured, allowing you to release, intertwining your mouths together, his mouth swallowing the moans that slipped out your mouth.

The pleasure builds, the tension mounting with each passing second until your on the precipice of release. It's a moment of pure surrender, where pleasure reigns supreme, and your am consumed by the overwhelming ecstasy that engulfs you.

Waves of ecstasy wash over you, leaving your legs trembling and weak from the intensity of the sensations. He slips his fingers from your drenched hole and you continue to tremble from the aftermath of the orgasm.

"I thought you said you didn't like that," you mumbled, breathing heavily.

"Changed my mind," he replied.

A soft chuckle leaves your mouth before you press your lips to his, then pressing soft kisses over his scars. He sighed in content at the soft pecks you left on the healed wounds.

You sit up on your knees and spin the position around, pushing Obanai to the futon as you straddle his lower abdomen, his dick throbbing and hard against your ass. Leaning forward, you leave sucks and kisses down his pale neck, leaving red splotches down to his collarbone before you rose your hips.

Aligning his throbbing pink tip to your soaked entrance, a moan leaves his mouth as his hands move to grip your plushy hips. You sink yourself down onto his thick length, messily pressing your lips against his once more and the ecstasy within your body continued to grow as the pleasure grew.

The world began to fade away when his cock hit that soft gummy spot in your walls, you whimper against to kiss. Obanai moans against your lips before pulling away, realises your thighs were getting tired from the constant movements.

HIs hips thrust into yours as he held your body still. Your body falls forward, your chest flush against his while lewd slapping fills the room followed by the mix of your moans. "You wanna come? Beg," Obanai moans.

"Daddy, please," you moan before the same statement continued to leave your mouth, his cock hitting your cervix at every thrust.

Then, you felt a grip loosen around your hips, his hand pressed against your lower abdomen and a loud moan left your throat. The coil within your stomach released while you clenched around his length.

His movements falter before his slipped from your tightened walls, spilling all over your stomach with a groan leaving his mouth. You body falls limp against his and his arms tighten around you before he take you both to the washroom.

"You want me to keep calling you that?" you ask as he lifted you up.

"Maybe," he hummed in reply and you knew that he wanted you to.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list| demon slayer m.list

send in some more requests guysss :DD

sanemi version

[vidals-harkness]

jealousy, jealousy (agatha harkness, rio vidal)

summary: pulling a stunt on your partners for their attention goes terribly wrong.

fic type: smut

pairings: agatha harkness x fem!reader, rio vidal x fem!reader

warnings: smut, jealousy, alight age gap, use of pet names (r is called bunny), mommy kink, daddy kink, oral sex (agatha and rio receiving), fingering, enchanted strap-on use, spanking (r receiving), degradation, mean!rio, mean!agatha, rough sex, choking (r receiving), orgasm denial, face sitting (agatha receiving).

word count: 2.1k

note: this is my first time writing smut, i apologise if it sucks, so please don’t judge me :<

This party was beyond boring. All you saw were people you barely recognised, smelt liquor you definitely weren’t allowed to drink, and saw your partners talking to everyone except you.

So, natural as it was, you wanted their attention all on you. What could you say? They had you craving more of them every time.

So, your eyes landed on the young Miss Wu-Gulliver, a sweet young woman who you quite liked being around.

You sat beside her, smiling angelically. “Hiya, sweetheart,” you winked, making her blush.

“Hey,” she nodded. “Um…s-sup,”

Your eyes caught Rio’s from across the room, and she raised a brow at you, earning a simple, enigmatic wink in return.

“You know you look damn pretty tonight,” you whispered, running a hand up Alice’s arm, making her breath hitch.

At the other end of the room, Agatha watched you and leaned closer to Rio, muttering through gritted teeth, “Looks like bunny’s putting up a bit of a show,”

Rio chuckled darkly, her eyes fixed on you as you began to dance your fingers over Alice’s thigh.

“Let her think she’s won, my love,” the primordial being laughed, sipping on her drink. “Bait her just a little,”

Agatha’s hands clenched into fists, eyes blazing as she saw Alice reciprocate, squeezing your hand in hers a little, pulling you a tad bit closer.

They snapped, it seemed, when you shot them a wink.

“Screw this, I’m making that brat pay,” Agatha hissed, going over to you both.

You leaned back in your seat, feigning innocence. “Aggie? You look a little bothered, what’s the matter?”

Agatha’s blood began to boil, and you knew it. A sly smirk came over you as she muttered a gruff word of adieu to Alice, leading you away.

“Let’s go,” she hissed to Rio, guiding you back to the car.

You waited for Agatha to speak as you sat in the back seat, but strangely she didn’t.

“Bunny…” came Rio’s voice—disconcertingly soft and gentle. “Exactly what did you think you were getting out of riling me and Agatha up?”

You fidgeted with your fingers. While you bratted out ever so often, getting reprimanded, however gently, still hurt.

“Attention…” you admitted ashamedly.

“Attention?!” Agatha spat, irritated. “The only thing you’re getting out of that stunt is a whole lot of punishment, bunny,”

"No, no, no, daddy, I'm sorry!" You exclaimed. Agatha and Rio's punishments were the worst. It always involved a lot of begging, a lot of crying, and enough denial to make you want to scream.

"Too bad, bunny," Rio chuckled. "You dug your own grave,"

You leaned your head back, eyes closing in defeat. You were very, very screwed.

The second you three entered the house, you were met with a sharp smack on your bottom, given by Rio.

"Upstairs, now," she said firmly.

"And strip while you're there, would you, bunny?" Agatha added, her sweet tone only giving away more of the fact that she was fuming.

You were quick to obey, dashing up the stairs to sit and wait for them, kneeling on the bed, naked and shivering a little.

As they entered, you felt goosebumps rise on your skin. Agatha's expression was, as usual, very readable, yet terrifying. She was mad, and you could tell by the way she didn't even look at you as she went to the 'special' drawer.

Rio, on the other hand, was a closed book with an enchanted lock. Her eyes were soft, her touch was the same, but her words were stinging, condescending, and conveying enough for you to know that she, too, was just as mad as Agatha.

She sat on the bed, stretched out and relaxed. She snapped her fingers, the command sharp and clear, "Come here, bunny,"

You quietly and obediently crawled over to her, not in the mood to worsen your punishment. You sat in front of her, not meeting her eyes. In response to your demeanour, she chuckled lowly, grabbing your chin firmly to make you face her.

"God, you're so stupid, aren't you bunny?" She chuckled, squeezing slightly. Your brows furrowed only slightly, as her gaze shot to Agatha, who was leaning against the foot of bed on her palms, eyes fixed on you.

"She really is," the woman agreed, standing straighter and coming closer. You caught a glimpse of what she was wearing--a purple lace lingerie set, the one you knew Rio liked.

"How do we begin, hm? Maybe our sweet bunny could choose the first punishment?" Rio purred, letting go of your chin. You took it as an allowance to look down, but as your head dropped, you felt the cold tip of her knife kiss the underside of your jaw. "Eyes on me, sweet girl," she laughed.

"No way," Agatha said, scowling. "She's gonna get twenty, and she's going to thank me for each and every one," her hands caressed your ass gently as she hissed, "Isn't that right, bunny?"

Before you could squeak out even the smallest 'yes daddy', she had landed one sharp smack on your ass, making you whimper softly. She'd positioned you on all fours such that you faced Rio, the knife keeping your eyes on her, leaving your bare behind to Agatha.

"Count," Rio ordered, pressing the knife against your skin hard enough to make you wince. "And thank her for each one,"

Agatha started over, each spank feeling harsher than the last. You didn't make a mistake, thankfully, but by the end you were a crying, soaking mess, your skin stinging.

"Aww..." Rio cooed, wiping your tears with her thumb gently. "Was daddy too harsh, bunny?"

You nodded with a whine, breathing a sigh of relief when you felt the knife lower, and crawled into Rio's arms, while Agatha rubbed some ointment on your reddened skin, providing some relief.

They were mad, but they never liked seeing you in too much pain.

"Alright, bunny," Agatha purred, snapping her fingers to make a velvet collar appear around your throat. She grabbed it and gently pulled you down so you were aligned with your face between Rio's thighs, which, with the help of magic, were devoid of any clothing.

“Make mommy feel good, bunny,” you heard Rio grin, laughing through her teeth in that gritty way which made you weak at the knees. “Be a good girl…”

Quietly and obediently, you began to suck on her clit, earning a sharp whine from her as her hips arched towards your head, her hand tangling into your hair. “Fuck, you’re so good, bunny…” she breathed, a heavy moan falling from her lips as you thrust your tongue inside her, eating her out expertly. You knew every inch of her, so every move of yours was calculated, feeling a rush of pride as a string of curses, praise and moans fell from her lips so effortlessly as you worked your magic.

Suddenly, you felt Agatha tug at your collar, a silent order to stop. You did so, earning a desperate whine from Rio.

“Daddy’s turn,” Agatha smirked, pinning you down on the bed, making you squeak in surprise ever so slightly. You felt her hand fist in your hair, the sharp pull feeling nice, sending a rush of pleasure to your already sensitive core.

She positioned herself over you, ordering curtly, “Make daddy cum, bunny,”

You nodded and put out your tongue, letting her ride your face, her clit bumping against your nose as she did, her moans like music to your ears. You felt Rio’s hands all over you, slipping between your slick folds every now and then to tease, making you a squirming mess, while you moaned il into Agatha’s dripping cunt.

“Such a good little slut for me and mommy, aren’t you, bunny?” She panted, her hips going at a steady pace, words punctuated by a breathy moan each time.

“Look at her, she’s dripping on the sheets,” Rio giggled, her two fingers running up and down your slit, making you whimper into Agatha.

“You get off on being used like this, bunny?” Agatha panted. “Like a cheap toy for us?”

You couldn’t speak, not with her using your face, but the answer was evident and clear: yes.

You heard Rio’s laugh, and felt Agatha’s hips starting to get more irregular in their pace. She came over your face with a loud moan, perhaps audible to the downstairs neighbours.

“Clean it up,” said Rio firmly, seeing you about to squirm away from under Agatha. Quietly and obediently you licked her clean, breathing deeply.

“Good girl, bunny,” Agatha purred, sliding off you and gently petting your head. “Why don’t you keep Mommy company till I get right back, hm?”

You let out a quiet whine, nodding as Rio smirked and pulled you onto her lap, her hand going down to your dripping, aching, needy cunt.

“Oh bunny, you’re damn near tears,” she gasped, hand gripping your chin and her fingers squeezing your cheeks gently. “Are Mommy and Daddy being a little too mean?”

You nodded, making her nod with you somewhat mockingly. “Yeah?” She pouted. “Yeah, we’re so mean, aren’t we? Maybe if you’d been good, just maybe if you hadn’t acted so stupid, perhaps then we wouldn’t be so mean,”

You whimpered softly when she stuffed you with two of her fingers, eyes rolling back as you bucked your hips, begging her to move.

“Don’t,” she warned firmly. “Stay still bunny,”

You heard the tone—heard how it invited no argument, no defiance, and absolutely no resistance.

You nodded, making her smile.

“There’s my obedient bunny,” she chuckled darkly, moving her fingers inside you agonisingly slowly.

Agatha came back, her favourite purple strap around her hips and looking positively gorgeous as per usual—her hair open and wild, as well as her whole body radiating that kind of overpowering dominance which always had you on your knees in seconds.

“Bunny, come,” she said, standing on the edge of the bed, her eyes on you, taking in your flushed cheeks, sensitive body.

You obediently, though somewhat reluctantly, moved off Rio’s fingers, crawling to her and kneeling on the bed, eyes fixated on her.

“Down,” she pointed at the floor, brow raised. “You’re gonna put that smart mouth to use, hm?”

You nodded and knelt on the floor, parting your lips obediently, not wanting a second of more punishment. You felt your cunt, ever neglected and sensitive, dripping on the floor a little, making Rio giggle.

“Oh look at her, making a mess, so pathetic,” she said, laughing.

Before you could turn and react, Agatha’s hand had fisted in your hair, making you take her strap in your warm mouth. The sensation clearly made her moan, and you knew immediately—enchanted strap. You bobbed your head up and down as she pleased, moaning around her length, relishing the soft whimpers and expletives which spilled past her soft lips.

She suddenly pulled out, her strap connecting to your lips with just a sliver of your drool, and she pretty much manhandled you into position, your face in between Rio's legs, and ass in the air. You felt the green witch grab your hair tightly and hold it there, showing what she wanted, and before you could comprehend anything, Agatha's length filled you up.

A muffled yelp came past your lips, making Rio groan at the vibration on her aching cunt. Agatha began thrusting in and out of you, bottoming out every single time. The feeling of your walls around her cock made her moan gutturally, and with their constant teasing so far, you were quick to approach your high.

"You gonna cum, pretty bunny?" Agatha growled, her hands finding their place on your hips, squeezing the soft skin as you moaned into Rio's pussy as you replied, her juices soaking your tongue and face.

Before your high could crash down over you, Agatha pulled out, making you push your head back from between Rio's legs.

"Daddy no, no, please--I was good!" You whimpered, the easy tears gathering at your eyes.

"Tears again, bunny? God, such an adorable crybaby," Agatha giggled, placing you simply next to Rio. "What I want you to do is keep those pretty, sweet, teary little eyes of yours on Mommy and I, yes?"

You nodded, but felt Rio squeeze your cheeks sharply, her words that same, firm command. "Words, bunny,"

"Y-Yes daddy," you nodded, looking at Agatha with wide, scared eyes.

“Oh look at you, so fucking terrified,” Agatha giggled, using magic to bind your hands above your head, before she started to fuck Rio brutally with her strap, both their moans making you start to feel like you were going to explode with arousal.

Your whined and whimpered, trying to get their attention. You only got it when Rio came over Agatha’s strap, coating it in her cum.

She slumped forwards, breathing heavily, slowing her high down a little.

“I think…” Rio panted. “I think bunny’s had enough punishment,”

Agatha nodded in agreement, her hands coming to your hips to pull you forwards so Rio could hold you from behind, her hands toying with your nipples gently as Agatha lined up with your dripping pussy.

She pushed the strap through your soaking walls, moaning at the feeling, her eyes rolling back.

“Fuck, so wet…” she groaned, thrusting slowly and gently, while Rio held you close and kissed your forehead.

“Easy, bunny,” Rio purred, when you yelped as Agatha bottomed out. “Easy…”

Agatha continued at the pace you wanted and your body was flooded with feelings of ecstasy throughout.

You mewled out a small, ‘I’m close’,

Which made Agatha reply, “Cum when you want, my love,”

It just took that one order to have you coming undone under her and in Rio’s arms. You cried out and whimpered, repeating their names constantly.

As you came down form your high, you saw the strap vanish, and immediately there was cool water pressing against your slit tenderly. Rio. She cleaned you up, while Agatha held you, whispering sweet nothings to you.

“What did we learn, bunny?” Rio asked as she started running a bath for the three of you.

“Don’t make Mommy and Daddy jealous,” you mumbled, hiding your face in Agatha’s neck, feeling her laugh and stroke your hair.

Once everyone was bathed, sheets were changed, and in comfortable clothes, you snuggled into them both, watching a sweet Christmas movie together.

You acted up, but in the end, you knew they loved you.

i hope you enjoyed this, bao buns! sorry for how overdue and late this is and for that ending, I couldn’t figure it out :< feel free to request!

love, jaya

[ofstarsandvibranium]

Precious Truths: Part I

Fandom: Bridgerton

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x F!Reader

Summary: After your father finds out you've been writing under a male pseudonym, he threatens to marry you off to an atrocious man unless you find yourself a husband within a month's time.

Ever since you were little, you found solace in poetry. Your mother highly encouraged your governess to have you read any and every poetry book that was ever made. The imagery and feelings it produced was something you never experienced before.

After your mother died, your father forbade you from reading poetry. He forbade you for ever mentioning your mother again. Their love was strong and true. As a result, it caused your father deep heartache. He became cold, heartless, and cruel. A drunkard and a gambler. Fortunately, his sister, your aunt, had moved in and became lady of the house. She became your mother figure, but she could only do so much.

She snuck you poetry books when she could. The words now being the only part of your mother you had to connect to.

Because of this love, you began to write poetry yourself. You only ever shared it to your aunt and friend, Kate Bridgerton nee Sharma, another lover of stories and poetry. Both having expressed their hopes of you publishing your writing some day.

"Maybe some day," you'd always say.

What they didn't know was that you did publish your poems. You went under a man's pseudonym, Arthur Talbot. His poetry books were becoming popular among the ton and it brought you joy and a sense of thrill whenever someone mentioned his name to you.

You'd recite your his poetry readings held at Lady Danbury's often. Everyone was always in awe of how the words poured out of you with intense and deep emotion.

But the one who was most taken with them and you, was none other than Benedict Bridgerton.

_______________________

The small group break out into applause and you curtsy. Lady Danbury walks up to you with a proud grin on her face, "Another splendid performance, Miss L/N. I can tell you deeply resonate with Talbot. "

You bow, "Thank you, Lady Danbury. His words mean a lot to me. It's as if he and I are one." You hold back a laugh as you express your gratitude to the hostess.

"Well, I think this calls for a break," the older woman turns to face her guests, "Everyone please enjoy some refreshments."

People begin to disperse, leaving the sitting room for other parts of the Danbury estate.

You're standing off to the side, watching those around you, when your dear friend, Benedict, approaches you. You smile wide at him, "Ben!"

"Another splendid performance, Miss L/N," he lifts his glass to you.

You chuckle, "Thank you. But I think Arthur Talbot deserves just as much praise. They're his words after all."

Benedict nods, "Yes, but you perform his words so beautifully."

You look away, feeling a heat crawl up your cheeks. Benedict clears his throat, "I take it you still have no marriage prospects since you haven't mentioned anyone courting you."

You look back up at him and snort, "Ben, this is my fourth year in society. I highly doubt I'll ever find a man willing to marry me at this point." You cast your eyes down to play with a thread on your skirt, "No one wants to be married to someone who has gambling drunkard father. Doesn't matter if he's a Lord or not."

"If my brother, Anthony, managed to find love and a wife, you will to, Y/N."

You scoff, "How dare you put me in the same category as Anthony."

"I agree," you turn to see said brother and Kate, approaching you, arm in arm, "You're much better than my husband," Kate says with a smirk.

"Still disgustingly in love, I see," you arch a playful look at your friend.

"Very much so, I'm afraid."

Anthony unhook his arm from Kate's and moves towards Benedict, "Come, brother. Let us let the ladies socialize." He takes Benedict's glass and downs it in a gulp.

The younger brother frowns, "I was drinking that."

"Then we shall grab another and drinks for the ladies," he pats his brother's shoulder and Benedict groans, following his brother out of the room.

You and Kate take a seat on the couch and catch up while the men grab drinks.

_____________________

"So, have you finally decided to court Miss L/N?" the eldest Bridgerton asks.

"We are friends, Anthony. Nothing more."

"So you don't love her anymore?" Anthony asks with a curious gaze, taking a sip of brandy.

"...I didn't say that. Besides, you originally didn't want me involved with her because of her father. Isn't that right?"

"Yes, well, we are the not the sins of our parents. Miss L/N is a lovely woman. She's smart, well-read, not to mention she laughs with you even when your jokes aren't funny."

Benedict's brows furrow, "I am funny!"

Anthony takes another sip of his drink and sighs, "What I mean to say is that I think you two would be a fine match. Besides, it's not like any other man is interested in her."

Benedict immediately clenches his jaw and takes a leering step towards his older brother, "Don't talk about her like that."

Stunned by the sudden change of his brother, Anthony takes a cautious step back, "I meant no harm, brother, but is it not true? It's been years since she's stepped into society and very few men have made an effort to court her."

Benedict lets out a deep breath and apologizes, "I'm sorry."

Anthony clears his throat, "All I'm saying is that you've had several chances to be with her. If you don't take the opportunity, you may lose her."

_________________________

"I apologize for missing another one of your recitals," Kate says, grabbing your hand and intertwining her fingers with yours. Ever since she married Anthony, you two have become acquainted due to your paths crossing whenever you came to see Benedict.

You shrug, "You've heard it all before, Kate. Just another one of Talbot's poems."

"You're quite smitten with this poet, it seems."

You laugh, "I can't help it! His words are as if he speaks to my soul!"

"Maybe I should write to this Talbot and see if he'd like to ever attend a Bridgerton ball."

You shake your head, "Oh no. Please, don't. People say never to meet your heroes, so I don't think I would want to meet him."

Kate shrugs, "As you wish."

Anthony and Benedict come back with drinks in hand. Anthony hands Kate a glass and Benedict hands you one.

"Thank you, Ben," you give him a grateful smile and he smiles back, "Of course."

He sits in the chair beside you and you two fall into discussion about the poem you recited, all the while Kate and Anthony give each other knowing looks.