#they’re too perfect (*´꒳`*)❤︎

[merakiui]

recently i watched ‘the shape of water’ for the first time and omg i enjoyed it so much!! creatures in captivity will forever be such a fun concept. <3 i adore it greatly hehe!! \(//∇//)\

of course now this also means i am blessed with shape of water thoughts but with octavinelle. orz i couldn’t stop myself from thinking about floyd while watching. all of octavinelle fit in the captivity trope, but there’s something especially fun about imagining floyd in that context because he is a much more emotionally volatile creature in comparison to jade (who keeps everything hidden close to his chest), and that makes for very interesting happenings. but then jade is also interesting in his own ways, especially with all of his secrecy and how he will silently observe instead of wanting to readily socialize after having determined you’re not a threat. and then azul….. uuuuwuwwaa i’ll stop myself before i ramble, but please know octavinelle in captivity regularly circulates on my mind and watching ‘the shape of water’ sparked that thought once more.

[hoshigray]

𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 | satoru gojō

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 : The start of the spring semester is supposed to be fresh and new, not be cramped up in a closet with your frenemy at a party! And what's worse: you actually like the feeling of his lips on yours!?

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x fem/afab! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - modern + college AU - frenemies to lovers - Gojo and reader are at least age 20 - implied that reader is a virgin - first kiss - awakening feelings - virginity loss - kissing/making out in a closet - thigh riding - grinding/humping - sex in shared rooms; college dorms (empty) - breast fondling + sucking + nipple play - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - orgasm denial- clitoral play (sucking, pinching and swiping) - missionary position - protected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up) - pet names (baby, cutie, gorgeous, pretty, princess, sweetie) - cameos: Utahime, Geto, Shoko and Mei Mei - humor bc I'm [not] funny - mention of vaginal pain, spit and tears.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 10.3k (i'm so sick...)

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: yessirrrr let's get this party started, shall we? >:333 plz enjoy the first part of this series!! and tysm for 5.3k !!! y'all are too kind && happy bday to my gal, jazzy!! hope you enjoyed your special day, jazzy jam c:

❤︎ « next story

“GO FUCK YOURSELF, SATORU GOJO!”

“BETTER THAN FUCKING YOU, Y/N L/N!”

“They’re at it again already, huh?”

“Yeah, man, it’s going to two o’clock. Might as well enjoy the show.”

College is hard enough as is. The fact that you’re now back for the spring semester is tiring enough, wanting to get these classes over with and wrap this up. Spring, Easter, and Summer break are just right around the corner, the cherry on top for this exhausting second half of your junior year. Those are the end goals!

But alas, the semester just started. The students scramble around buying their textbooks and switching courses around, struggling to make final move-in decisions and already stressing over seasonal depression at this time of year. Spring semester, huh? Same old, same old.

Although there are negatives that make it nerve-racking, there are still good things that come with this junior year. Finally over with winter break, you’re excited to be back to living with your roommates, Utahime, Mei Mei, and Shoko! They’re your girlfriends for a reason; missing hanging and stressing with them as they made your college experience much better than you expected. 

And it doesn’t end there, either! You missed study sessions at the campus café with your second-year peers, Yu Haibara and Kento Nanami. The two best friends always help with your studies whenever you need it. And, of course, you can’t forget about their roommate and your friend, Geto. The tall, raven-haired Biology major is always looking out for you and paying visits to study with Shoko. There was even a time he helped with a mouse situation in your dorm! Poor Utahime that day – saw the rodent when she came out of the shower.

However, you’re not exactly thrilled to see everyone after coming back. You throwing a middle finger at someone on the opposite side of the pathway should be evidence of such. “Oh, go jump off a cliff, Gojo!”

“Hah! I wouldn’t give you the satisfaction!” Satoru Gojo was the direct roommate of Suguru Geto, best friend of his and Shoko, and was the star player of the campus basketball team. But most of all, he’s the kid you despise with every fiber of your being. “I’d be more entertained with you slipping on some ice.”

“Oh, you wish! I saw you slip on some ice yesterday on your way to Professor Yaga’s class.” You puff your chest with pride when you see the white-haired guy suck his teeth in annoyance. “Made my whole day, what a fucking moron. How about slowing down next time? You were late anyway!” 

Snowy brows furrow with a scoff. “God, you really are a perfect roommate for Utahime; the both of you are so tiny and angry at the world around you for no reason.” 

Utahime, standing beside you during this yelling competition, decides to chip in after that remark. She almost popped a vein, “WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SAY, SATORU!?” 

“You heard me!” He barks a laugh at the two of you, turning around to go on his way. “Heard it’s gonna snow later tonight. Be sure to find a nice, big, puffy jacket and some boots so the storm doesn’t sweep you away, Y/n~.”

“I’ll be sure to shove an icicle up your ass before that, you fucker!” You turn on your heel and stomp your way out of the scene, Utahime following your move. “Hmph! Hate his ass so much…”

“Tch, right there with you.” Your roommate sighs heavily to exude the aggression. “But damn, the way you two go at it is worse than mine.” 

She is not wrong; it’s true – everyone within the campus grounds knows how much you and Gojo can’t stand each other. It’s no secret; at least you two make that apparent everywhere you go. This little feud between you started freshman year with you two in the same first-year engagement program. Tiny disagreements turned into narrowed glares, which then pivoted into prominent arguments, and now here we are. 

You hoped that freshman year would be the last you’d ever see of that snow-haired prude. Unfortunately, you were wrong. The year after, you were unhappy to discover he’s best buds and roomies with Geto. And what’s worse is that you were ill-fated to share a class with him every semester — especially this one with Professor Naga for Contemporary Issues. Is this the universe’s way of punishing you for something? For what!?? 

You’ve been a good kid, doing what you can and getting the grades that brought you merit and accolades. So, you don’t get how this one guy with his stupid round sunglasses is getting under your skin. So fucking annoying…

You hate him. You hate everything about him. From the way he immediately gives you a smug look when you walk into the room and take your seat right in front of him. The way he surprises you from behind because he finds your reactions amusing. The way he relentlessly calls your name to get your attention when you’re obviously ignoring him, even when he doesn’t need you for something. 

It all makes you heated. You hate Satoru Gojo. I hate him so much!

“…hear me?…Y/n?”

You blink, realizing you were too deep in thought for your ears to pick up Utahime calling out for you. “Hmm? What’s up?”

She pulls out the keys to the dorm from her coat. “So? You coming along?”

Huh? “Where are you going?”

“To Haibara’s get-together?”

Oh, hell no! “No, Uta. I think I’ll stay here.”

The dark-haired girl watches you walk past her when she opens the door. “Why?? It’s the first Friday night of the semester; it’s not gonna be a big party or anything. Just close friends.”

“What are we talking about?” Shoko chimes in after leaving the bathroom, brushing her teeth with sleepy eyes. “Haibara’s thing tonight?”

Utahime nods hurriedly at the drowsy nursing student. “I’m trying to convince Y/n to come!”

The brunette shrugs at the comment, following you two to your room. “Well, it’s not like I’m going either.” She snickers when the eldest dark-haired roommate turns to her with a hurt expression. “Sorry. I already have notes I need to get behind on. You can tell the guys I said hi, though.” 

Another sigh leaves Utahime as she puts her bag on her desk. “…Mei Meiiiii,”

“Yesss~?” The fourth roommate calls out from the hallway. 

“Are you going?”

“Mmmm, not sure.” Mei Mei comes to the doorframe, her long silverish-blue hair done in pigtails with a green skin-care mask covering her face. “Got a meeting for my club to head to later. And even then, it might still be a while for me to join, depending on if people are hanging out afterward.” 

Now is when the Utahime whines to her hands before she turns back to you, sitting on your bed. “Y/n, please, come with me!”

You don’t give in to her cries. “No, think I’ll stay and keep Shoko company.”

But she doesn’t give up. “Please! It’s just a small group of friends and maybe a few classmates Haibara’s familiar with. No biggie!”

“Small group of friends, huh?”

“Yes!”

“You know who else are his friends?” You lift a brow when she does the same. “His roommates: Nanami, Geto, and—“

“Gojo…” Utahime completes your sentence in defeat, understanding why your reluctance is present. 

“Sorry, Uta. Maybe next time.” 

Now, you’re not saying you’ve never been to the guys’ place before; they reside on the other side of campus where senior housing is (Nanami’s pick because he’s an RA). However, it’s the first Friday night of the semester. Meaning it’s the first free weekend for most students. And you’re going to ruin everyone’s fun by being in the same place as Gojo? Yeah, no thanks.

That is until Mei Mei says, “Actually, I heard from a friend that the basketball team are planning on going out somewhere tonight.”

Shoko adds on while taking out her toothbrush to appropriately speak to her friends. “Yeah, now that you mention it, Gojo told me he probably won’t be at the place in the first place. Something about meeting up with a group for one of his classes.”

All separate reasons from different accounts, yet that only fuels Utahime to beam out of her mini-depression and face you once more. “See? Gojo won’t be there by the time we get there! He’ll be busy with a group project – or whatever – and will hang with his sports buddies. So, you up for it now?” 

Your brows trench down. “I…I don’t know—“

If there’s one thing the oldest roommate is good at, it’s not giving up. And it’s because she bats her pretty brown eyes and gives you the most grandiose pleading puppy face she can. It’s the oldest manipulation tactic in the book, yet it works by making your heart cringe.

Of all things to be dragged into now, it was a party? The semester just started, and you haven’t even touched a single piece of reading yet. Is this a good idea? You can’t really go based on the perspective of your roommates because what’ll happen on the off-chance you do see Gojo? The thought of it is already headache-inducing.

Then again, it’s the first time since last semester that you’ll be able to see the other guys. You didn’t say goodbye to Geto and Haibara before break because they were swarmed with finals, and Nanami was gone the moment he found out all his exams were take-home. You’re not much for parties, to be quite honest. Regardless, it would be nice to catch up on the gang and see how they’re doing before we all revert to non-stress-free college life.

You release a sigh through your nostrils before making your decision begrudgingly. “...Don’t make me regret this.”

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

I regret this so fucking much…

Well, this night was going to be quite a drag. Why? Let’s go over the reasons, shall we?

The party that was supposedly at Haibara’s dorm? So, it turns out, there was a change of plans, and to be relocated somewhere else — like outside campus grounds. Screw walking, you and Utahime had to go by car with Geto to go to the party, following down the main street into this big, beautiful neighborhood and parking by a big house. Perfect for housing an event for many people to drink, dance, and vibe.

Oh yeah, that was another thing, too; the many that were attending this fucking party. Word got out about the get-together, so, of course, lots of people wanted to come and celebrate the first weekend. So, not only are you outside campus grounds, but now you’re forced to interact with a crowd rather than a small group of people. You practically have been to every corner of the place to disassociate with people you didn’t know. 

So, where are you now? Upstairs in one of the bedrooms, where the bass of the speakers downstairs can be heard. You’re not alone — sitting in a circle with Utahime, Geto, and a couple of other kids who’re present at your university. What’s happening in the room? Just a chill game of truth, drink, or seven minutes in heaven; either you answer truthfully to a question, drink to avoid it, or go to the closet and do what you want with the person who spun the bottle on you.

But, there was nothing chill about the game, and the players would agree to that notion apprehensively. Because you most definitely silently dreaded every second of this entire night. Why? How about asking the person across you that you’ve been glaring at since you opened the bedroom door and saw his face?

Apparently, as word got out about the party, the college basketball team heard about it and decided to come and celebrate. Meaning the whole team is at this party. Let’s say that again: the entire basketball team – all the players – are here to enjoy the party.

The person who stood across from you sat criss-cross with long, jean-covered legs, leaning with his hands behind him, a navy blue sweatshirt, and dark round shades that cover his eyes that you know are looking dead at you. And a smug grin that patronizes you to the core.

You peer to your night, giving Utahime the nastiest look you can. And the eldest could only meekly mumble an “I’m sorry…” with twiddled thumbs.

Satoru Gojo looked at you, and you frowned right back at him. The tense atmosphere between you two was enough to suffocate the other players. Some would try to break the tension by playing the game. But even then, it was still strenuous. One girl rolled the bottle on Geto, to which he picked “truth” and answered her question: “How did you and Gojo meet?”

Even though he didn’t pick the option, he’d take a small swig of his beer. “Satoru and I have been friends since middle school — same with my other bud, Shoko. We’ve been inseparable since, and now we’re here. He can be an asshole, though, so watch out.”

A guy spun the bottle on Utahime and asked, “Were you ever interested in Gojo?” The raven-haired girl clicked her teeth and took a chug, drinking the whole thing in one sig. 

“Hmph! I’d rather drink sweat from Professor Gakunaji’s crusty beard and eyebrows!” She’d admit after a burp.

“Ahaha! That’s a sight I’d like to see,” Gojo would chuckle at her insult, prompting a few around him to laugh. “Bet you’d get more satisfaction from it than being with me anyway.” 

The senior rolls her eyes before opening another bottle. “Fucking bastard…”

Another spin to the bottle after a couple comes out of the closet all close and giggly. This time, it lands on you. Some bubbly girl who had her eyes all up on Gojo, her nipple piercings able to be seen from her crop tee, was the one who spun it. She asks you, “Y/n, could you please tell me why you hate Satoru so much?”

You couldn’t fight the twitch of your eye. Of fucking course. You’re in no mood to drink, and you barely know this girl to think of being in the closet with her. You exhale through your nostrils, “….We’re friends, to an extent.”

“To an extent?” She asked more questions with a naive tone. “But Satoru's so nice, no?”

Oh, drop it, will you? And why are you referring to him by his first name like you know him? “We’re—“

“They mean that we’re kinda friends, kinda not.” Of course, nothing can be to yourself because the white-haired nuisance went ahead and answered your question. “They’re friends with my roomies, and my friends are their roomies. So, I guess that makes us friends by association. At least that’s the only way to see it since we nearly argued our heads off freshman year.”

You scoff with narrowed eyes, “By association, huh.” 

He quirks a brow up. “Mhmm.”

Good God, the more you two throw invisible daggers at each other, the more uncomfortable people feel being in this room. Oh, but don’t worry; the night gets even worse. Three turns later, it was your turn to spin the bottle. And – sit with me here – just guess who it lands on? Bingo! Satoru Gojo.

The hushed gasps that filled the room were telling; it was bound to happen, but no one thought it would happen. The star-crossed haters spun the bottle and landed on each other. And since Gojo doesn’t drink (and he finds the questions rather lackluster), he chooses the closet. The gasps were louder that time, and your blood began to boil.

The first time it happened was uneventful; it’s what you preferred. After the door closed, you told him, “Don’t even think about touching me.” It was just pure silence for the entire seven minutes. You sat on one side of the emptied closet while Gojo was on the other. There were the occasional sniffles of your nose and his loud yawns. But other than that, you two stayed at your respective sides of the closet. Seven minutes of no words, just keeping to yourself and watching the lava lamp in your corner be your light. 

You two survived the first set of seven minutes, not a scratch on either of you, to everyone’s thankful stars. Keywords: first set. Because why wouldn’t there be more? 

When it got to Gojo’s turn, he spun the bottle and got you! So, here you are, walking into the closet again with your notorious opp. You swore to God this had to be the universe’s way of toying with you as if the start of this semester wouldn’t be a handful to deal with already. 

You’re back on your side of the closet, groaning at your hands. It’s okay, Y/n, calm down. You can sit through another seven minutes. You got this! Don’t even act like he’s there…

And so you compose yourself, watching the heated, yellow wax of the purple lava lamp prompt up to the top to cool and sink back down. Six minutes…Five…Four—

“So, let’s say, hypothetically,” your eyelids closed shut for your eyes to roll freely. “I asked for a little something-—“

“I guess I should’ve added no talking, too. Thought that was rather self-explanatory to you.” You shut him down quickly. “And I thought I said don’t even think of touching me.”

“Well, you’re not in control of my brain,” you don’t have to turn your head to know that the fucker is looking at you. “Besides, I did say hypothetically.”

This motherfucker… ”Well, then, I’d, hypothetically, break every single one of your fingers and give them to Mei Mei so she can sell them to all your fangirls.”

“Hah! Nice to know you see me of high value.” He shifts his feet around from their crisscrossed position. “Bet you’d keep one of them.”

You scoff. “Oh, don’t flatter yourself! I’m annoyed just from not looking at you; what the fuck would I need your stupid finger for.” 

“Hmmm, I can think of many, like—“

“Do not finish that sentence, Gojo.” Your tone dialed lower; a warning. He notices it, bringing his hands up defensively. 

“Jeez, lighten up, Y/n.” He says while leaning against the back wall. “With an attitude like that, no other guy or gal in that room will ever want to be in a closet with you.” 

Oh, you don’t say, fuckface! “I barely want to be in this closet with you. Hell, I didn’t even want to be here! I only came for Utahime, assuming it would be a small party…How the hell did you even get here? I thought the basketball team was going out somewhere.“ 

“Awww, you spying on me, Y/n?” Oh, you hate his fucking snicker, shoving a middle finger in his direction. “We were supposed to be at some restaurant joint, but a few of the crew flunked out on us and said they’d go to some ‘big party,’ then everyone wanted to go, and now we’re here. You know I don’t like alcohol, but I just tagged along because Suguru was here. I didn’t know about you, though.” 

You bring your hands to your face to sigh in private. “We gotta stop meeting like this…It’s like I can never escape you.”

“…Is that a bad thing?” 

You open your mouth to refute, but no words leave….Huh?

That was…..odd. Why did he ask that question like that: you couldn’t detect a remnant of childish malice he’d been throwing at you back and forth. Even when you faced him, his face was straight ahead. But when you don’t answer, his left eye goes to his peripheral to glimpse at you.

What the…Is he being genuine right now? 

You gaze at him briefly before turning away, “I….I don’t know.” He hums to your response. “….Do you think so?”

Gojo shrugs. “Can’t say so either.” You hum back, and the silence takes over once again.

Okay, now things are even more awkward. You came into this closet with irritation, yet somehow, it vanished into thin air. It was the one thing that’s been constant throughout this evening. Now that it’s gone, you can only replay the moment from a few seconds ago in your head. 

Is it a bad thing? Why would he ask that? Of course, it’s a bad thing! Has he forgotten how much hostility we have for each other? Jesus Christ….Wait, why did he say he didn’t know either? What does that even mean!!??

“You look nice.” 

You—……I’m sorry, what???

The way you snapped your head back to him, you could’ve sworn you heard your neck crack. Holy fuck, why the hell was he looking at you right now? His round glasses shine from the lava lamp, so you can’t see his eyes.

“Wh….What?” It was cold; the weather app said it would snow later tonight. Therefore, the temperatures and winds were unforgiving after sunset. So you took it upon yourself to dress warmly. It was all simple, just a white, long-sleeved halter blouse that matched your black skirt – it was the only nice thing you had outside of regular leggings. And you covered your legs with black pantyhoses but decorated with cute white knitted leg warmers. 

He repeated in a singing tune. “You look nice.”

When it came to the white-haired guy in this closet with you, there were rare moments where you felt as though you were shocked by him. This was beyond astounding, the comment continuing to ring throughout your ears.

You blinked at him before averting your eyes down to your hands, trying to distract the increase of heat on your cheeks by intertwining your fingers together. “….Thank you, Gojo.”

“Yeah, no problem,” he’d shrug again, chuckling to himself before adding on. “It’s way better than your other outfits. Baggy old sweatshirts, bags under your eyes even if you’re wearing glasses, sweatpants with stains. You look like a homeless librarian.”

Annnnnd just like that, with the drop of your quivering lip, all the warm feelings you felt for a minute evaporated in seconds. The anger returned with the twitch of a brow. “…Tch, gee, thanks. I can’t say the same for you.” 

“Oh, you know you look cute when you’re jealous~.”

You almost busted a nerve. Who the hell are you calling, cute? “As if. From the sound of it, you must be jealous of me; who told you to be looking and criticizing what I wear? Must be rough not being able to wear comfortable clothes all the time, huh?”

“Shut the hell up,” he finally snaps, and you stick your tongue out in victory.

“No, I’ll keep going! I’m sorry, Mr. Perfect, but not everyone wants to put on their best outfits to impress you, not like your fangirls who get their best bras to push up their breasts for you to notice.”

“Huh, you lookin’ at other girls' boobies? Wow, Y/n, never took you as a pervert.” He laughs at your stare of pure anger. “You are jealous, huh? That I’m talking at other girls and not you? Awww, don’t be so selfish; there’s plenty of me to go around!” 

You snarl at him. “Ugh, you’re so gross! I don’t want anything to deal with you. So all those girls can have you and rip you to shreds for all I care. Let them know how much of a big fucking baby the wonderful, amazing Satoru Gojo is when he drops his ice cream on the floor and cries on Geto’s shoulders. Or that you’re such a lightweight that you accidentally vomited in Nanami’s cup one time, which he threw at you...Or maybe I should tell them.”

His brows furrow, “You wouldn’t dare.”

“I would, and then some.” You sneer. “In fact, I’ll go downstairs, grab that red punch, and spill it right on you in front of that girl next to you. I’ll make your hair look like strawberry shaved ice.” 

He leans his cheek against his fist with a huff. “I take it back; you don’t look nice at all. So uncute.”

You gasped with trenched brows. “Excuse me!?”

“You heard me, you’re uncute!” Yup, today was the day: you’re going to choke the hell out of this motherfucker. “I feel bad for any guy who'd wound up in this closet with you, dealing with such a little devil.” 

“You’re one to talk, dickhead! I’d much rather be stuck in this closet with anyone else — even Geto!”

“Taah, as if! I bet you never even had your first kiss with such an attitude like that.”

Again, you open your mouth to say something, yet words evade you at that very moment. And Gojo catches it quickly. Because his brows raise, lifting his head back up, eyes scanning your face. 

Oh fuck.

“...”

Don’t.

“….Y/n,”

Don’t say it.

“You never had your first ki—“

BEEP!! BEEP!! BEEP!!

He couldn’t finish that sentence, thank God, because the phone alarm from the outside rang. Seven minutes are up — this session is up, so you quickly stood up and opened the closet door. 

With swift feet, you sit back next to Utahime, your eyes downcast to the bottle, avoiding Gojo’s feet coming around and taking his spot across from you. Your roommate perks at your silence, “You okay, Y/n?”

A nod is offered to her, “Yeah, I’m fine.” No, you weren’t. Your heart was pounding like crazy, your skin dropping in color. And you can feel the eyeballs from across boring into your being. “Let’s just keep playing.”

And so the game carried on from Gojo’s turn. Your eyes could only ever look at the bottle, hoping it would never land on you from there on out. But that would be the easy way out, and – as life is – nothing goes your way when you want it to be.

Because when it gets to your turn, you watch with patient eyes as the glass spins on the cold hardwood floor. One spin goes by, and another swings around. Finally, it stops, the neck of the bottle pointing vertically from you, and your whole figure washes in apprehension with the hushed sounds of exclamation of the other people in the room. 

Alas, the bottle pointed to Gojo. It was inevitable – you couldn’t avoid his presence since the last session anymore. You look at him, your brows scrunched with mercy. But he points to the closet with his chin, and you follow his lead to the small space with anxiousness at every step. 

Back to your respective stations in the closet. You can only use the mesmerizing wax of the lava lamp as a sort of comfort – a distraction for your nerves that are at an all-time high. Why were you so nervous? All he did was ask if you ever had your first kiss taken.

Yeah, that’s the problem! Why did he have to know that!? Ughhhh, I should’ve just lied or something…Now what? Will he make fun of me for not having my first kiss taken yet? What is this, middle school!?? The thoughts in your head were a battle to deal with, one personal worry after another.

But all that washes away when the silver-haired guy finally breaks the quiet after a minute. “…Wanna kiss me?”

It felt like your heart dropped at that abrupt question; the warm circulation coursing through your body transitioned to an ice-cold sensation. Your breathing stops, and your eyes shoot wide at the person you’re with. “….Wha….What did you say?”

He doesn’t hesitate at your request. “Wanna kiss?”

Have….Have you lost—“your mind!? Why would you ask me that??” You whisper yelled at him so the people outside don’t hear you.

He shrugs nonchalantly. “Why not?”

Why not?!? “Gojo, you can’t be serious. Just because I never had my first kiss doesn’t mean I need it to happen this instant! Are you that much of a horndog that you’d ask—“

“Let me explain, alright!?” He yells in whispers back with a hand raised to stop your rambling, and you hold your tongue. “Listen, I’m not asking to be a dick, okay? I just thought that…ya know, being in a place full of strangers, someone’s bound to be in this closet with you and ask you for a kiss.”

Your face screws to a magnificent expression of confusion you could ever contour. “Why are you concerned about who I kiss? It’s not like I’d agree or—“

“Yeah, but like, what if they did, huh?” His sky-blue eyes peek from above his sunglasses. The sharpness they carried told you he was serious about this — like he was serious about you. That…That was so off of him. “What if some weirdo forces themselves on you, and me and Suguru can’t help you in time, huh? I can think of two guys in this room who’d probably do that.” 

It takes a few seconds for you to soak in his words, “….So? What are you getting at?” He opens his mouth but stops from saying something, his pointer finger up but back to a fist. You could tell; whatever he was thinking had him in mental turbulence.

He releases a deep sigh before saying, “I’m just…I’m saying, wouldn’t it be better to have your first kiss with someone you know, at least?”

You couldn’t believe he was saying such things to you. “And…you think you’re the one I should….kiss?”

“….I don’t hear a no.” 

You wanted to refute that statement — challenge him or prove him wrong! You looked at his face, examining every feature to find an indication that whatever he was saying was just a way to get under your skin. He loves to poke fun at you, so why wouldn’t he use this as a perfect opportunity?

However, you couldn’t find anything. His eyes were sincere, stationed right back on yours. You saw his Adam’s apple move from a gulp, letting you know that he was a little nervous, too. And your gaze drifted to his mouth, the thought of his lips being on yours staining your brain for the first time. It was scary to think about, your heart racing to no end. 

“Y/n,” he said your name so quietly that you almost missed it. “Do you trust me?”

What an odd question to ask in this awkward atmosphere. Do you trust Satoru Gojo, the boy you would smack with a given chance? He’s undoubtedly the most annoying person you’ve ever bumped into — a thorn in your side since freshman year. He is such a tactless fool, doing and saying whatever he thinks comes to mind, picking on you like you were a child, and not taking you seriously when you wanted him to. You could list many things that you saw wrong with this guy.

Yet, he wasn’t the worst. There hasn’t been an instance where you felt uncomfortable around him, only annoyance. He was friends with Geto and Shoko; that alone should be enough to tell you he’s someone worth depending on. And even when you two would be tasked to do something together, you’d surely click your tongue and bicker until the cows came home. But at the end of the day, you still knew how to work with one another and get the job done.

In all things considered, Satoru Gojo was an irritant. Even so, he was an irritant you could depend on — to trust. 

Breathing was a hard thing to do, taking in air and exhaling excruciatingly slow. You chew on your bottom lip and give him a curt nod. “I…I trust you, Gojo.”

He lets your answer sink in for a bit before he moves his position, his back to the wall while facing you, legs straight down to the ground. He pats on a thigh, “C’mere.”

Hesitance was there for a split second, but you followed his command and quietly maneuvered your way toward his direction, situating on top of his legs. Of course, you were anxious as hell; your ears and cheeks shared a warmth unbearable to host. Your figure being so close to his, you had to be dreaming. 

But you weren’t. The hands he placed on your waist prove so, earning a gasp to leave you. His voice is low for just the two of you to hear. “Put your hands on my shoulders…Ya scared?” A slow nod is what you give him, and he chuckles lightly. “It’s okay. Try closing your eyes for me. Relax, I’m not gonna do anything dumb.”

He only said that because of that look you gave him. He is going to do something to you — just nothing too rash. 

“Trust me, pretty.”

Pretty? Yes, he just called you pretty. You were used to him calling you dumb names to get you riled up, yet none nearly sweet and fitting the mood like this one. It made your heart skip a beat.

With that, you held back reluctance when closing your eyelids. It made you a little uneasy, unable to see him in front of you, what he was doing, what he looked like while having you on him like this.

Suddenly, you squeak when something softly presses down to your clavicle. It was his lips. 

He snickers, “Ya know, I gotta admit.” He brings his mouth up your neck with kisses, your breath shaking with every peck, and your hands clinging onto his sweatshirt. “It’s kinda nice seeing you be all shy on top of me like this.”

“Go..jo...” you flinch at his soft kiss on your forehead, his hands rubbing your sides.

“Don’t do that. Call me by my first name.” You can feel him bringing a hand to your cheek, caressing your bottom lip gently with his thumb. “I know you know it. I wanna hear it with your voice.”

Holy fuck, this got intense way too fast. He brings his nose close to yours, and you shiver at the contact. It only means he’s mere centimeters away. Thank God your eyes were closed now because you swear you’d turn to stone if you snuck a peek.

“S..Sa…Toru—Mmmph!?“

And there it was, the inexorable. Gojo’s lips fleshed with yours softly, nothing too explicit or unpleasant for you. It was a simple kiss, yet it felt so foreign to you. Your first kiss had been with Satoru Gojo. What a momentous day.

It lasted a few seconds, your body stiff and hands balled to fists nonetheless. He removes from you with a soft noise between your lips, the heat from his face taken with him now that you have space to breathe. You open your eyes for him.

“There ya go,” he says with a small smile, stroking your cheek with his thumb while his forefinger plays with your earlobe. “Was it so bad?”You huffed, shaking your head no. Gojo hums, the hand on your waist gripping your flesh faintly. “….Can I kiss you again?”

Your breath hitched. It was a tiny request. One more wouldn’t hurt, right? You nod, closing your eyes again and awaiting his move.

Gojo leans in and claims your lips again, a soft hum from him when his face is back on yours. The next one was a little more risqué than the last, your bottom lip being taken by his playfully. The third kiss was where the mood dialed to a more wanton plane, him nibbling on your lip to allow him access. It’s here that Gojo can’t contain the reins, removing his glasses, “Come here, cutie.”

And you can’t help yourself either, succumbing to these smooches while wrapping your arms around his neck. Gojo’s no better, snaking his hand to the back of your neck and his other sneaking down to your butt.

You break the kiss to inquire, “Hahhh—…you pervert,” your eyes half-lidded. 

He puffs a laugh, “Whaaat? I thought you’d like me to be touchy.”

You don’t admit anything to him, just slamming your face to his again. You decided to be a little adventurous and lick his lips. Gojo senses the initiative and takes your tongue to suck on. The whimper you let out was too cute, egging him on to suck and tease the muscle more. 

It makes you dwell in the moment more, your limbs no longer stiff, yet your hips subtly move voluntarily. The friction from your groin rubbing on his jean-covered thigh was strangely enticing, your restraint becoming lesser the more you moved. And it gets worse after both Gojo’s hands creep into your skirt and tease your ass with squeezes.

“Ahhh, mmmm, Satoru..” you wailed. 

“Relax, baby,” there it goes again, another cute pet name to call you. He really knew how to get you going. “Let me take care of you….Mmmm”

He shoves his tongue into your mouth – not too forceful to scare you, but enough to get that he is impatient. You moan to his mouth, a hand grabbing tuffs of his snowy hair. 

His nose is pressed to your cheek like yours, and it’s getting harder to breathe now that things are getting intimate. But it all felt good, and the mood was just right. You rub your chasm onto his leg, which he lifts just a bit to make grazing your groin a little better. And God, the way his hands groped your butt, it turned you on even more. 

Ohh fuck, tongues swirl around each other, your head begins to pound, and your ears ring from the heat on your face.. Oh, God, you could feel a hand come up to the top of your stocking, teasing its way down your skin and to the hem of your underwear. Please, please—

BEEP!! BEEP!! BEEP!!

Even so, everything freezes in time, and both you and Gojo stop whatever you’re doing. Lips still on lips, your ass on his lap, and his middle and forefinger barely grazing the crack of your ass. It’s here that everything hits you all at once: you are not the only one here — you’re not even in your room! You’re still at the party you were dragged into, in some stranger’s bedroom closet, smooching with your supposed most hated person. 

You immediately withdraw from him, Gojo removing his hands from you to put up defensively. Your hands rush to cover your lips, which are wet from spit. A thousand thoughts run around your head. Holy shit, what the hell was I doing!? Did I really just kiss Gojo? Satoru Gojo!? What was I thinking!!?

And Gojo didn’t say anything, only gauging your reaction to see what goes from here. The light from the lava lamp behind you is sheltered, your silhouette drawn to cover the guy in front of you. 

I need to leave. That’s your final thought, taking an immediate stand and storming out of the closet. Utahime noticed you make a beeline to the door, and the roommate pursues right behind you down the stairs. She moves past drunk dudes to grab your wrist, “Y/n! What’s wrong – are you okay?”

It’s time to lie. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just tired, you know.” You lead her to the broom closet where all the initial guests’ jackets were stored. You grab for yours and put it on, “I think I’m just gonna call an Uber and head back to campus before the snowfall.” 

Her face contorts to an expression of worry. “Are you sure? I’ll come with you; this place bugs any—“

“No, no. You don’t have to worry, Uta.” You place a hand on her shoulder before she can move another step. 

“When you say it like that, I can’t help but worry.”

Your lips twinge to a smile to display faux comfort. “It’s okay, really. You don’t have to ruin your fun for me. Besides, I saw some underclassmen waiting to speak with you all night somewhere down here.”

Utahime doesn’t buy it, and you knew she doesn’t. But thankfully, she doesn’t try to fight with you and gives you the okay. She watches you open the door before leaving, “Make sure you call or text me when you get to our dorm!”

It made you laugh; the girl can be such an older sister. “Don’t worry, Shoko’s still there, remember? Cya later, have fun!”

“Bye, be careful!” A final warning to you before the roommate closes the door for you.

You spoke too soon. Now outside, snow was already falling to the ground, probably a few minutes earlier since it wasn’t sticking to the ground yet. The little cold flakes touching the skin of your face were almost remedial, evening out the warmth of your cheeks.

You use this moment to recuperate from what transpired in that house. It was so out of the ordinary and was completely weirding you out, but not in a terrible way. It was more like odd-ish, strange, downright out of the norm. The more you think about it, visiting back to the senses of your hands in his hair, his slender fingers teasing the flesh of your butt, and the pillowy sensation of his lips glued to yours while whispering sweet things…..

….Nope, the cold was not helping at all. There goes the warmness creeping back on your cheeks and ears. Let me hurry and get the fuck out of here, grabbing for your phone and unlocking it to find the Uber app.

“Y/n!”

But before your thumb could press on the application, you instinctively turned around to see the door was open again. And the person who called out to you had your breath come to a complete stop.

Gojo closed the door behind him, coming down the driveway while hurriedly putting on his grey Chesterfield coat. “Fuuuuuck, it got cold quick!”

“G–Gojo!” You stuttered when out by the time he could make it to you. “What’s up? What are you—“

“I saw you weren’t in the bedroom, and Suguru told me you headed downstairs. You could’ve told me you were leaving; that fox with bangs was giving me an earful,” he stuffs his hands in his pockets and then curses. “Fuck, I should’ve checked for my gloves before I left….Anyway, where are you heading off to?” 

You were a little taken aback. “Uhhh, back to the dorms?”

“Great!” He wraps an arm around your shoulders and walks with you down the road. “My car’s over there; let’s hurry before we freeze to death.”

Huh? “Hurry where??”

“Huh? We’re going back to campus, no?”

We!? “Together!?”

“Yeah?”

“Gojo, please!” You promptly removed yourself away from Gojo, standing in front of him. “Why are you doing this? Why are you being all nice now?”

He shrugged “Ehhhh? Are friends not supposed to give friends rides back home?”

“No, not us! We aren’t friends; we’re friends to an extent, remember!?”

“Ahhh, stop being a baby. You act as if you’ve never been in my car before.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Yeah, but not when I’m alone with you, dummy! “C’mon, it’s gonna get colder with this snow.”

“Okay, just—Stop!” Your hands go up to prevent him from getting any closer to you. He stops, the fallen flakes camouflaging with his hair. “Gojo….you understand what just happened back there, right?”

He doesn’t say anything, only a single nod. 

“So, you know that my mind is going at like a hundred miles per hour right now.”

“….Yeah.”

“Okay….So, just please…I need a minute.” Your face goes to your feet to divert your thoughts elsewhere because you don’t know if you could handle looking at the white-haired man for a mere second.

Gojo looks at you mumble to yourself, avoiding him. He releases a deep sigh, walking towards you and lifting a side of his coat to shield you two from the windows of the house party. “…You’re doing it again.”

His shoes come to your direct line of sight, your heart pounding even more. “…Doing what?”

“The thing where you push people out whenever you feel overwhelmed.” You flinch when his finger grazes the back of your palm. “Don’t do that, not right now. I want you to talk to me.”

What is there to talk about? You could’ve said that to throw him off — be avoidant to this whole conversation. But it’s futile after he brings your chin up to face him. 

“Did I make you uncomfortable back there?”

“….No.” 

“Then what’s wrong?”

“I….I don’t know.” Honestly, you did not know. Your mind had too much to go through; so many memories and phrases from moments ago hit you all at once. You’re fighting the urge to tremble — not from the cold, but from overstimulation of brain power and senses.

His eyes are still fixed on you, noting you chewing on your lip. “Come with me.” The sudden revelation quirked your eyebrows up. “Whatever’s going on with you is obviously because of me. So, I’d feel like a dick if I just let you leave because of me. Plus, there’s no way you’re getting an Uber from here. Shit is like $20, I checked.”

“Gojo, I—“ he silences you with a kiss on your forehead. The feel of his lips on your skin again almost made you shut down.

“Sorry,” he whispered while placing his forehead on yours. You never really noticed how tall he was until he did that, your heart skipping again. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

Picture it: you are out in the cold with Gojo, snow falling down silently onto your figures, him bringing his coat up to shield you from the world. If you were naive enough, you’d mistake this as a scene from a fairy tale. And how he was looking at you, too; his sunglasses were back on, but you could make out the blue orbs that lingered on yours. It’s as if he didn’t want to look at anything else. Just you and only you. 

You don’t know where the hell this side of confidence came from, but you lifted your hands to cup his cheeks and bring him in for another kiss. Cold lips instantaneously warm up at each other’s contact, Gojo leaning into your touch more. 

Snow continues to fall and stick, and the music from the house can still be heard from the outside. Yet it doesn’t bother you because it all drowns out in this moment you feel with him. Whatever these feelings you are experiencing are something new — scary, but new. And for some reason, it felt right to have them for him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

A sheet of white cascades over the university grasses, students’ cars topped with sprinkles of snowflakes, and the lampposts emit a glow that fits the dark, cloudy weather. 

You were back on campus but not in your dorm where you told Utahime you’d be. You did text her when you arrived, so she doesn’t have to worry too much for you. In turn, she texted back that something had come up and is going to another event with Haibara and some other friends. She said she wouldn’t be back until tomorrow morning; it sounds like she’s having a good time. 

The same thing goes for Geto, only that the raven-haired boy called Gojo to say he’d be home in the morning because he was getting “private” with someone he met at the party. “Will be back in the morning. Don’t cause a fire alarm like last time, you dork." 

Haibara is supposedly with your roommate, meaning he won’t be back until the morning, either. The only person left to account for would be Nanami, who is currently away for the weekend because he had to visit home to grab last-minute things from break. 

That leaves only you inside their apartment – in Gojo’s room on top of his bed with your top and bra down on the carpeted floor, along with Gojo’s sweatshirt and jeans. His bed is like any other twin bed for college dorms, a little impossible to move around for two people and limited positions. Nonetheless, to start things off slow, you lie comfortably on his bed with your head to his pillow as he crawls above you and works from above.

Gojo is straddled on top of you, kissing your lips and sucking on your tongue, evoking the prettiest wails he’s ever heard. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders while his are busy roaming your body.

The kiss is broken when you gasp at the contact of his pinkie grazing a nipple on your breast. “Ahhnn, Satoru, don’t touch…Mmmph!”

“Hmmm, what, gorgeous?” He places his lips from your chin down to your neck, sucking on your skin and leaving ticklish nibbles. “Don’t touch what?”

“M–My ni—Ohhoo!” He gives the hardened bud a tweeze, and your cry results from the sudden action. 

He chuckles, “So cute.” Kisses travel down from your collarbone, your breasts, and finally, your other unattended nipple. A whimper leaves your lips at the wet sensation of his tongue swirling around the sensitive nob, and you shriek when he takes it into his mouth. The frequent grazes of his teeth and the tongue pushing your nipple to the roof of his mouth — it all felt surreal.

Yet, it wasn’t as surreal as the next thing he was about to do. Sucking on your tit was the perfect distraction for him to sneak a hand down into your pantyhose, sinking it to the lower regions of your underwear. You gasp at the feeling of a digit pressing on the wet spot of your underwear.

“W–Mmmph…’toru, wait…” you pat him on his shoulder to get his attention, yet he doesn’t lift from your breast yet. “Don’t—Stop, it’s embarrassing—Khhmm!“ Shivers shoot up your spine after Gojo uses his middle and forefinger to go in between your panty-covered folds. Your wetness sticks onto him the more he rubs. 

Gojo lets go of your nipple with one last suck, the cool air chilling the wet bud. “Awww, is my lil’ princess shy?” You could only answer in pants and puffs, his blue eyes surveying your entire body laid out for him. “Heh, shit, you look so good...Hmm? Hey, you got a tear down here.”

“Huh?” You follow his eyes down to your tights, bringing your attention to a worn-down incision where Gojo’s hand is between the material and your underwear. It must’ve been from when I was grinding on him earlier today…

The snow-haired boy removes his hand from inside your tights and uses both to make the rip bigger. Your eyes shot wide, “Wha—What are you doing?”

“Making it easier to see your pussy.” He continues to tear a hole big enough for the damp spot of your pussy to be prevalent. 

Your face dials up in warmth at the vulgar word. “You could’ve just taken them off, you idiot…”

“Pssh, that’s no fun. Besides,” Gojo uses a thumb to remove the panty barrier to reveal what he’s wanted to see the moment you crawled up on his bed. Your bare cunt, wet substance glistening the pretty folds of your labia. He bites his lip. “I’ve been dying to see this pretty thing you’ve been hiding from me.”

Your hands rush to cover up your vagina, “D-Don’t say such embarrassing things, Gojo!”

“Hey, hey, let me see it,” his hands are used to pull yours aside, your slit throbbing from his gaze without your control. “And what did I say about calling me by my last name?”

It was a force of habit, dummy. “...Just be gentle, okay, Satoru?”

He beams a smile at you, the dimples on his cheek prevalent with his childish manner. “I will, princess! Now, what’s goin’ on here…” 

He ditches his head down to your chasm, giving the inviting genitalia a slow lick up to your clitoris. You bucked your hips in shock, jerking at the sudden intrusion of his tongue situating between your slit. He uses his hands to keep your legs still while he sucks and teases your vagina.

You grab for his hair, “—Khhaa!! Ohhh, ohhfuckkk, Satoru, no—Ohhh!!” Your eyes screw shut, mouth open to let your cries fly out. 

It only pushes Gojo to keep going, his tongue ravaging your folds as if he’s going to lick you clean. And when he sucks on clit? Holy fuck, you could’ve sworn your soul left your body right there and then.

“Satoruuu!! Ohhhshit, ohhhh…Mmmph,” the noises that come from the commotion below of Gojo’s tongue lapping and slurping your essence were so pornographic to the ears as if they’d melt on the spot. “Oh, God, I’m gonna cum, I think I’m gonna…Nnmmph!”

Gojo hears you; that’s why he removes his mouth from your clit before you can experience your orgasm. You throw an unsatisfied whine at him, a shit-eating grin apparent on his face. “Sorry, cutie. But I wanna have a feel for you first.” He straightens his posture and spreads your legs for him. You follow his hands that land at the hem of his boxer briefs, where a tent protrudes until his erection is sprung out with one fell swoop.

The erect limb you gawked at was definitely something you weren’t mentally prepared enough to see. Your eyes take in every single detail you can: from his pink tip, where precum exudes from the urethra down to the underside of his cock, to the long body curved slightly to the left. A whole living a breathing dick — and it’s Gojo’s dick, of all things. It was oddly pretty, you had to admit. 

“Ya ready?” You snap back to reality when Gojo calls out to you as he scoots forward to you after putting the condom on, the cockhead aligning with your labia. You hold your breath at the proximity, “Listen to me, Y/n. Since this is your first time, I need you to take deep breaths and try to relax for me. Think you can do that for me?” You sigh through your nostrils, but you nod. “Heh, good. Now stay still, and let me know if it hurts, okay, princess?”

He lightly pushes his glans to your labia, swirling it around to warm you up before kissing the entrance of your vagina. He begins to propel into you, and you begin to brace yourself for the pain that accompanies his insertion. You grab the pillowcase, your teeth clinging to your bottom lip as tears well up. But you remind yourself to breathe, drawing out as much of an exhale for Gojo to shove the tip in.

And when it does get in, you release the loudest gasp you’ve ever expressed that night! Your body froze stiffly as Gojo plunged more of his length into you; the curve scraping your side caused such an exhilarating spike in your nerves that your walls immediately began clenching around him. 

Oh fuck, It’s coming, I’m gon— “Ahhhh!”

And just like that, your orgasm that was avoided before came back in seconds., the walls of your slit fluttering on Gojo’s cock like crazy, electric shocks climbing up to your head and pulling you in for a haze.

The sudden contraction of you makes Gojo hiss, “—Fuuuck, you’re gripping me like crazy…! Damn, you feel so fucking good…” He continues to push himself onto you until the base rises your southern lips and grinds his pelvis, which only fuels your screams even more with the overstimulation. “—Khhh! D-Damn…did you cum, baby?”

You can’t even form a proper sentence, your lower half feeling too full to speak, and your figure trembling from the crescendo. 

Your expression has Gojo bend down to laugh. “Never had that happened before. Heh, glad I could make you cum for the first time. Congrats, pretty…” Pillowy lips claim yours again, taking your whines and whimpers as he roughly grinds his hips to you.

Gojo begins moving his hips at a slow pace, letting you adjust to his size and shape. However, the peak has made your entire lower body dial-up in sensitivity, your back arching to him every time your clit is barely touched. Tears have long fallen since he successfully entered inside you.

Jesus, the fucking curve of his shaft was so fucking dangerous! Not only was the feeling of his veins coming to and fro with your inner walls had you twitching, but the way the tip of his cock was scratching and poking every spot that had you humming was so unfair. Especially now, when he changes the rhythm to a faster cadence, you’re bound to come again! 

“Ohooo, ahahhh, Sa-‘toru…! Ughhh, Jesus, it feels so….Hooohhh!!” Your words slurred in between kisses, almost choking on your tongue with the slap of his balls hitting your taint. 

“Yeah, baby…—Ohhh, shit, shit, shiiiit…!” You feel so good to Gojo; he can’t help but slam onto you with all his might. Your nails were causing eclipses on the skin of his shoulders. He didn’t mind; he knew it was because you were feeling good, too. “Hnngh…How’re you feelin’, Y/n? Hmm?”

“—Eeshh!! I–I…don’t know…” Your brain was too mushy to think adequately, too distracted by what was between your legs.

But Gojo wasn’t buying that mess. “Ohoho, I think you do know, sweetie.” The tall silver-haired boy creeps a hand down to your clit to give it a pinch. You scream, your legs wrapping around his hips involuntarily. “How’re you feeling?”

“—Fuuuhucck!! It feels good,” There, you finally said it. “It feels soo good…Hic–pleaseeee, make me feel good, ‘toruuuu!!”

He puts his forehead to yours before kissing it. “God, you’re so fucking, cute…” 

Gojo increases his tempo to an erratic fashion, your howls bouncing off the walls with every plunge of his dick inside you. Your gummy walls clamp onto him while his fingers swipe around your clitoris, and more tears strike down your wet cheeks. 

The familiar tingling sensation from before begins to climb up. Oh, God, it’s happening again. “Ahhooo—OhmyfuckingGooood!! I’m gonna cum again, I’m gonna cummm…! Aiiishh, ahhhhh!!”

And there it goes, your second crescendo hitting you like a wall. Your walls twitch around Gojo’s length again, prompting the man above you to impetuously thrust in a harsh motion, evoking more choked sobs from your puffy lips. And when he dwells into a finish of his own, you can feel his limb pulsate along with your contractions withering away.

The two of you heave and pant close to each other before Gojo slumps his body on your nude figure, allowing him to rest while he pumps his load into your stimulated cunt. The sheets beneath you stick to your sweaty skin, the air of Gojo’s huffs tickling your neck. 

When you feel your body subsided from the excitement, you two turn to each other. Noses touching each other, eyes locked into each other’s stares. 

“….So,” he’s the first to speak in a whisper. “…What does this make us?”

His eyes were so alluring to look at, like looking at the most beautiful azure gems in your adjacency. “…I’ll punch you if you say I’m your girlfriend.”

That has him chuckling in shaky breathes. “Fair enough, but it’d be dumb if we didn't talk after this.”

A curt nod in agreement, “…Is there a thing called frenemies-with-benefits?”

“Pfft, I don’t know, but why not? I wouldn’t mind.” Gojo then decides to get up and finally remove himself from you, slowly taking out his cock with the condom. The bed creaks when he leaves to remove the plastic and wrap it to discard it. “You okay?”

You ponder for a few seconds before coming to an honest answer. “I think so…My pantyhose isn’t fine, though, you fiend.” 

He flashes another smile at you, his dimples taking your heart away. “Yeah, yeah, sorry about that. I’ll get you another pair.”

“You better.” 

BZZZT!! BZZZT!! BZZZT!!

Before you could get off the bed, a vibration came from Gojo’s dresser top. It was his phone, the caller ID reading as “punk-boy bangy wannabe” 

You blink and give the phone to Gojo after he puts his sweatshirt back on. With raised brows, he says, “It’s Suguru?” His thumb presses the green button before bringing the device to his ear while he puts his limp dick back in his boxers. “Yo. Wassup?”

“Okay, good, you picked up. I’m getting in the elevator right now to grab something from the room real quick. Open the door for me, will ya?”

The white-haired roommate couldn’t express his shock in time because Geto ended the call before he could have the chance. He turns to you slowly, and you can tell whatever he’s going to say isn’t good based on that dumb look on his face. “Suguru's coming up…now.”

Panic spiked up as it rightfully should. You were still braless and topless, for Christ’s sake! And wearing torn tights!? Something you did not want Geto to see in the likes of his and Gojo’s room. “W–What should I do?!”

Gojp quickly scans the room for a plan, immediately pointing to a door to his right. “Hide in my closet!” He hurries to grab the door open. “Quick, grab your clothes and get in here!”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake…!” You grab for everything in your direct line of sight, making a straight beeline to the closet when you’ve got everything. “Don’t forget my shoes at the front; just quickly hide them somewhere!”

“Okay, okay—“

“I’m serious, Gojo! Do not do anything stupid!”

“I heard you, jeez.” He watches you move around the closet, moving his shoes to one side while trying to hide behind one of his suits. Jesus, you looked real cute even when you were scared. “…Hey.”

You peer up at him, moving his blazer so he could see your complete face. “What?”

“Be careful not to leave your panties here ‘cause I might not give them back.”

The last thing Gojo saw within that second was one of his dress shoes thrown dead at his face. His hands come to his stinging nose and cheek, exclaiming at the pain with a loud groan. “Fucking pervert, quit playing dumb games and get my shoes!”

I take it fucking back. He slams the closet door closed. “So uncute…”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2024 ❤︎ reblogs + comments are appreciated wholeheartedly ☆ dividers by @/cafekitsune & @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[norrisainz33]

Girl Dad || LS2

☆ summary: Logan’s longtime partner is a single parent and he absolutely loves being a girl dad

☆ pairing: logan sargeant x parent!reader

☆ fc & warnings: none and mentions of pregnancy

☆ requested: yes - changed it a little bit but hope you like! haven’t written about kids and family before so i did my best! thank you so very much for taking the time to request 🫶🏻

a/n: y/d/n = your daughters name

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

ynuser has made a post

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ynuser: family time with my favorite people! oh what i wouldn’t give for summer break to last forever 🤍

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lilymhe: summer break is fun and all but i miss you and y/d/n 😫

ynuser: we miss you too lils

alex_albon: the break literally just started and you saw each other yesterday

lilymhe: wondering who it was that asked you?

user1: logie bear and his girls 🥹

user2: mother is mothering

user3: it can since ur man has no job

user4: i mean this with full disrespect- f u 🖕🏻

logansargeant: it could last forever if we moved to florida 😉

ynuser: you know i love you logan but i will not be moving to florida

yourbff: little lady is getting so big omg i have to visit soon

ynuser: yes pls come visit!!

user5: looking forward to all the logan dad content this break

logansargeant has made a post

liked by ynuser, williamsracing, alex_albon, oscarpiastri, maxvertsappen1, lilymhe, and 678,436 others

logansargeant: boo ya baby

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user18: frat boy and dad logan all in one post im going to combust

user19: i love how he posts y/d/n more than y/n , he do be loving the honorary dad life

ynuser: cowabunga!

logansargeant: ❤️🏄‍♀️

williamsracing: hope you are enjoying summer break logan!

oscarpiastri: with what skills are you teaching y/d/n to surf?

logansargeant: i’ll have you know im quite good

ynuser: that is generous logan

user23: logan is so dilf coded this makes so much sense

user27: do we wanna take bets on how long it is till he proposes?

user44: gotta be before the end of the season. i’m thinking summer break is the perfect time

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ynuser: pictured: pretty princess logie bear treating his two girls right

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user88: PRETTY PRINCESS LOGIE BEAR

user28: princess logan was not on my bingo card but i am so here for it

logansargeant: i love both of my pretty princesses so much

logansargeant: (i thought we agreed you wouldn’t post these pictures of me and y/d/n)

ynuser: but they’re just so cute 🥹

alex_albon: oh look at this big softie

ynuser: he’s the biggest softie

logansargeant: please i have an image to protect

alex_albon: no you don’t

oscarpiastri: ok twinkle toes

ynuser: don’t make me pull up the pictures of you at y/d/n’s tea party

oscarpiastri: uncle oscar will be quiet

landonorris: SIMP

logansargeant: guilty

user29: he’s not the step father,,, he’s the father who stepped up 🗣️

user13: they’re not even married

user29: YET user13 YET

user34: seeing logan with y/d/n is so healing. we stan a man who loves his kids (even if they’re not his kids just his beautiful partners kids)

logansargeant has posted to his story

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user43: don’t mind me screaming my head off rn

user89: logan hunter sargeant the man that you are

landonorris: post anything other than y/n or y/d/n challenge failed

logansargeant: hey the second photo is just me!

ynuser: you have no business looking that good at the gym

logansargeant: sorry baby 😉

lilymhe: no matter how cute the pic is, socks with sandals is criminal

logansargeant: thanks for the feedback lily 😭

user42: i think these 2 pics might be the death of me

user46: thank you for feeding us papa sarge

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ynuser: y/d/n says she wants to drive logan’s f1 car one time and now he’s got her out here with her own kart. she’s a fast one tho just like her favorite guy 🤍

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user33: project sargeant is a go

user55: honestly y/d/n could drive the williams f1 car.. it may as well be a tractor at this point

logansargeant: had to make sure my girl could follow her dreams!

ynuser: she does want to be just like you 🥹

user76: i am going to lay in the road this is so

lilymhe: i miss little my race car driver!! also im obsessed with her pink helmet

ynuser: we can’t wait to see you in a couple days🫶🏻

maxverstappen1: love to see it! if she needs any pointers, i’d be happy to help 😉

ynuser: you and p should come by! she misses you both (and the cats too)

maxverstappen1: when you’re in monaco next we will get together!

user56: this just in - y/d/n is arrow mclarens next driver!

user38: f1 academy’s newest star

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logansargeant: surprise! we’re getting married and we’re expecting! baby sargeant coming spring 2025. we love you so much already little one 🤍

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user88: just fell to my knees in this walmart parking lot

user46: i’ve never been more happy for two people in my whole life

ynuser: can’t wait to be your wife and meet our little bundle of joy 🫶🏻

logansargeant: i could not be more excited 💙

lilymhe: SCREAMING CRYING THROWING UP

ynuser: same

alex_albon: my two favorite people are going to get married and have a baby wow

ynuser: 🥹🥹🥹

user34: logan is already the best dad to y/d/n , ik he’s gonna be the best to this little one too 😭

user76: RAHHHHH BABY AMERICA 🇺🇸🦅🦅🇺🇸

oscarpiastri: congratulations you too. big love to you both 🧡

ynuser: we love you uncle oscar

logansargeant: thanks osc 💙

lilyzneimer: YAYY!!!! beyond excited for you both. love love love love you 🧡

ynuser: love you more ms maid of honor 🤍

user75: if y/nlogan have no fans then i am dead

user27: sargenation won with this. our boy is so happy and that’s all that matters

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

a/n: thank you for reading!! working my way through my requests so please be patient. likes and reblogs appreciated 🫶🏻

ﾟ. ✿ ୨❤︎୧⠀✿ . ﾟ

disclaimer: pictures are not mine and everything i write is fiction

© norrisainz33 || please do not rewrite, translate, or copy any of my works posted here on to any other platform

[borathae]

Kiss the Cook

“Yoongi loves to cook for you. You love to watch him as he does and soon you can’t take it anymore. You have to kiss him or you will implode.”

Pairing: Yoongi x f.Reader

Genre: established relationship!AU, Slice of Life, domestic Fluff

Warnings: cutie!Yoongi, Yoongi being a sexy cook, i said what i said, he blushes!, she feeds him some tangerines <3, as she sits on the kitchen counter, making out on said counter, Yoongi in a woolen jumper, idk but this is so hot to me and therefore needs a warning, they’re grossly in love!!!, i want what they have #bigsad

Wordcount: 2.7k

a/n: i love him, i love them, i love her, i love this :( enjoy besties, oy!Yoongi is going to be the fucking death of me fjdjasf he is such a cutie ❤ ps: does a story sometimes make you feel so single or discontent with your current love life that you want to claw your own eyes out? yeah. this is that story for me. i want what they have fuxkxk they feel so mature and settled and :( grrr spreading negativity all around me grrrr

You invited Yoongi over for dinner and wine. Which means that he comes over to your place to cook while you watch him and sip on wine. Now, this isn’t because you are lazy or you are forcing him to cook. On the contrary, it was Yoongi’s idea. He loves cooking for you, so you learned, and these little dinner dates have become a regular thing in your relationship.

And it is perfect. You get to see him and talk to him. He gets to do something he loves whilst talking to you. And at the end of it, you can share the yummiest dinner ever and experience a giddy tingle in your stomachs.

You invited him over tonight for exactly such a dinner date. You dressed up in a thick jumper and some woolen socks and even did your hair.

It has been snowing rather vividly all day, turning the roads into one powdery white plane with the rest of the world. The weeping willow in front of your sunroom is bending under the weight of the snow and the frozen stream is covered under a heavy layer of it as well. It is such a beautiful view, making you happy to be inside where it is warm and cozy.

Levi, your cute little cat, hasn’t left his spot by the fireplace all day. He spends most of his winter days napping where it is warm or watching the very few winter birds eat from your bird feeder. He will not leave for outside, however, that much is sure. It is way too much work to soil his good fur with sticky, wet snow.

You check the time again. Ten past eight. Yoongi should have been here by eight. You pace in front the sunroom windows, looking at the faint lights where his house might be. He decorated the outside with lots of Christmas lights and on the nights where you miss him, you like to stand in the sunroom and look up at the lights. Whenever you do, it feels as if he was right there with you. 

Tonight however, the view makes you uneasy. Where is Yoongi and why isn’t he here yet? Did he slip and hit his head? Did a huge chunk of snow fall on him and he is now buried alive somewhere? Is he stuck somewhere? Did he forget?

Nervously biting your own nails, you hurry to the front door to take another peek outside. 

“Oh, shit!” Yoongi exclaims, stumbling back and almost dropping the grocery bags he is carrying under his arms.

You flinch back too, not having expected him to literally stand right in front of the door in the midst of ringing your bell.

“Sorry, you scared me”, he apologises for his cursing. He is bundled into the thickest winter coat ever, wearing a beanie, scarf and gloves with it. His snow pants are covered in snow up to his thighs, his winter boots are basically white from all the snow. The last few inches of his coat are opened. Holly, wearing a little beanie as well, is peeking out from it. Yoongi must have bundled him up in it to keep him warm. The view is adorable.

“You scared me too. I wanted to check if I could spot you. Come in”, you say, stepping out of the doorway.

“Yeah, sorry for being late. I underestimated the height of the snow. I had to fight my way down here without falling on my butt. I waddled like I was ninety.” 

“No worries, I’m just so happy that you’re here now and that you’re safe. I already pictured the worst scenarios ever.” 

Yoongi chuckles, “I survived. Barely, but I survived.”

You laugh. He is so funny, making you laugh again when he struggles with undressing.

“Wait. Let me take the bags so you have your hands free.”

“Thanks.” 

“Of course, I’ll carry them to the kitchen if you don’t mind.”

“Go ahead, I’ll be with you soon.”

You are in the midst of unpacking the groceries when Yoongi and Holly join you in the kitchen. Holly greets you first, jumping up your leg and barking excitedly. 

You coo, picking him up to let him lick your face. 

“I missed you too, you little stinker. Aw big kissies, yes big kissies.”

“He really missed you”, Yoongi says, walking to you. 

“Yeah, I missed him too.” You hand him Holly. “And I missed his dad even more. Hey there, handsome”, you say, stealing a kiss. 

Yoongi smiles into it, rubbing your waist as the kiss breaks.

“Hey there, beautiful. I missed you too.” He says and then takes a step back to set down Holly. The little toy poodle instantly sets off to explore your home and look for Levi. 

Yoongi studies your get-up, “I love what you did with your hair. It suits you.”

“Thank you, heh. I tried something new.”

“It’s nice, really beautiful.”

“Thankies. Uhm, wine?” You offer. “I might have already started without you because I was picturing you dying somewhere.”

He laughs, “what a relaxing thing to do. I won’t say no to some wine, thank you.”

You prepare him a glass, then cheer with him. He enjoys it with a hum. Afterwards he touches your hip and kisses your cheek. You lean into it, smiling from ear to ear. He is always so gentle with you. You love it so much.

“I hope that you’re hungry. I’m making risotto tonight”, Yoongi says.

“Yes risotto! I love risotto. I haven’t eaten since twelve because I wanted to be really hungry tonight.” 

Yoongi smiles and begins. He puts on the apron you made for him and rolls up his sleeves. Well, at least he tries to because you stop him before he can.

“Wait, let me.”

He gazes at your face as you work, cheeks slightly flushed and heart racing. 

“Thanks”, he whispers, trying oh so hard not to expose how giddy he actually feels. Spoiler alert, he feels very giddy. You are always so tender with him. He loves it so much.

Yoongi is wearing a brown jumper made out of the softest wool. It is warm and sits on his body in the most perfect of ways. His chest and back are defined in it, but he still looks snuggly. You feel so attracted to him that it is difficult not to bite him. In an adoring way of course. 

It also isn’t helping that he is wearing your favourite cologne and a watch which really fits his wrist. Once his sleeves are rolled up, you can’t help but feel up his arms just once. You trace his veins, squeeze him and play with his fingers.

Yoongi chuckles lazily, closing his hands around yours.

“Is this still part of the service?” 

“No, this was for me. You look really sexy in this jumper.”

He smiles and pulls you close to steal a kiss. You give it to him with a fluttering heart, gazing deep into his eyes once it breaks. He has the most beautiful eyes.

“I put it on for you. Because you once said that you like me in a jumper.”

“I do. I could bite you, I’m serious.”

“Please don’t”, he laughs and pecks your cheek, “I’ll be quick with dinner, promise. No biting needs to happen.”

“Maybe a little bit of biting.”

He laughs, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“If I knew that I would be dating a biter, I might have reconsidered”, he jokes, busy with setting up some pans.

“You like it. Don’t lie”, you say and sit down on the kitchen counter.

“Maybe I do.”

You snicker, picking up a tangerine to peel it as he cooks.

And so it begins. One of the coziest and most beloved date activity as a couple. He cooks while you watch him. There are only a few things better than this. 

You have the radio playing. Christmas songs because it is almost time for the holidays. The tangerine fills the air with a cozy scent and the wine tastes especially good. Whenever you and he aren’t lost in conversation, you can listen to Yoongi hum to the songs on the radio. He has a very nice singing voice. Deep and warm. You could listen to it for hours. Just as you could listen to him talk for hours.

“How are your legs by the way? Did the snow soak through your snow pants?” you ask him, staring at his butt. 

It isn’t your fault, he is wiggling it to the music. It is his fault that you have to take a sneaky look.

“Mhm? No, my legs are fine. The snow didn’t soak through.”

“That’s good to hear. How was your day?”

“It was good. I fixed some things in the upstairs bathroom and started with the chaulking.”

Yoongi is still renovating his house. It is a very big project and he isn’t stressing himself, so it’s been taking some time already. You don’t mind. It just means that he will have to stay over more often whenever the building site is too dirty. Quite frankly, a part of you secretly wishes for the renovations to take forever just so he will keep coming over to sleep in your bed. You really love having him sleep in your bed. Not only because he is a total cuddlebug (don’t spread these news to anyone, he is very shy about it) or because he always smells so good, but also because you feel safer with him close. 

“Chaulking? Wow, this sounds like process”, you say.

“Yeah, it’s been going really well lately.” He turns for a moment. “And you? Did you have a good day?”

“I had a really good day. I made some progress on the scarf and then did some yoga. Tangerine?” 

Yoongi closes the distance, snacking on the slice you’re offering.

“This sounds like a good day. You have to be finished soon, don’t you?”

“Yeah, it's almost finished, which is very exciting if you asked me.”

You are currently knitting a scarf and have been regularly sending updates to Yoongi via text messages. His reactions to the messages vary from “good job!” all the way to the very rare and precious thumbs up emoji. He is honestly such a cutie.

“I can imagine. Do you have a new project in mind after you finish the scarf?” Yoongi takes one more slice of tangerine before he returns to the stove. 

While you begin telling him about all the knitting project ideas you have. You don’t leave out any details. The material of the yarn, the design, the colours, even what kind of stitches you plan on using. And Yoongi listens gladly, he asks questions and reacts with his very endearing version of enthusiasm. It means so much to you. Being loved by him is so fulfilling. You feel so important, as if your existence has purpose. There is not one thing about you which isn’t important to him or which you feel like you have to hide from him.

It might sound strange, but being loved by him is so freeing. You feel so whole and so happy and you love him so much in return. 

Yoongi steals one more slice of tangerine, staying close to you afterwards as he slices some mushrooms for the risotto.

“And what about you? Any new music projects you are working on?” you ask him, switching your adoring gaze between his face and his hands. He has such sexy hands.

“Yes, so many”, he says, nodding his head.

“Tell me everything.”

You listen to everything he has to tell you, gazing at him with the biggest heart eyes. He is so interesting and exciting. His hobbies are so wonderful to listen to. As much as you love talking to him, you love listening just as much.

Yoongi feels content with you. He feels utterly and completely happy. There is nothing missing with you. When he is with you, he feels whole and like himself. There is not even the littlest thing about him he feels like he has to hide from you and whenever he comes out of one of his accidental monologues about his interests, he isn’t met with boredom but enthusiasm and questions. Truly, his nerdy little heart swells thrice its size when he is with you. 

A moment of silence follows after you and he exchanged interests. Happy and jazzy Christmas music fills it. Yoongi picks up the cutting board, carrying it to the pan so he can sauté the mushrooms in some butter. He adds the rice afterwards, seasoning it before he pours white wine into the pan. He pours some of the wine in his glass afterwards, closing the distance to clink glasses with you. 

“To this evening”, he says, smiling one of his pretty, soft smiles he always does.

“To this evening and to you, the best boyfriend ever.” 

“Be quiet”, he mumbles and drinks from his glass, looking to the side shyly. He blushes.

“Never. You need to know”, you say and lean in to munch on his cheek. 

“Hey. No biting”, he laughs as he complains, moving back. 

“Mhm, then how about I kiss the cook instead?” you say, setting the wine aside to pull him closer.

He lets you tug him between your legs, smiling at you and setting the wine aside. His eyes fall to your lips, his hands dance along a path which consists of your waist, hips and the side of your thighs.

“You’ve got a minute before I have to get back to the risotto”, he says.

“Then let me make the best of it”, you say, pulling him into a kiss. 

How you make the best of this one minute. You kiss him as if you missed him for a million years, as if you needed him for survival, as if his lips are all you ever wished for. It might only be a minute, but Yoongi comes out of this kiss with slightly wobbly knees and a racing heart. His cheeks are flushed, his lower lip tingles as you end the kiss by biting on it gently. 

“What was that for?” his voice is raspy, his eyes foggy as they gaze at your lips.

“Just felt like it”, you whisper, playing with his soft hair at the nape of his neck. 

“Should we like, I don’t know, should I remove the pan from the stove for a moment?” 

You laugh, scrunching your nose. You know what he is insinuating, stomach tingling at the aspect of it.

“And why should you do that?” you tease him, tinting his cheeks an even deeper pink. He curses under his breath, giving your hips a gentle squeeze.

“You drive me crazy, you know. First kissing me like this and then acting innocent.”

“Shouldn’t you check on the rice?”

Yoongi lets out a whine of discontent, but breaks away from you to stir the rice. He glances at you. You retort the glances, heart racing like crazy. His hair is a little messy because you played with it as you kissed him. His lips are slightly puffy and flushed pink. Quite frankly, he has never looked more attractive than he does right now in your little kitchen wearing the black apron you made for him as he cooks you dinner and seems just a little ruffled from your kiss. 

You lift the glass of wine to your equally as puffy lips, giving him an eye smile as you sip the sweet alcohol. Yoongi blushes, shifting his gaze to dinner. He rolls his lower lip between his teeth mindlessly while his hands are busy with pouring chicken stock over the rice. 

You and he both feel the electric sparkles in the air. The feeling is addicting, just as it is addicting to spend time with each other. You just work so well together, you are so right. 

“You know”, you begin.

“Yes, baby?” he answers you, voice warm and caring.

“I love having you over.” 

He glances again. His eyes sparkle, his teeth show in the shiest of smiles.

“I can look at you, I get to listen to you and talk to you. I love it.”

“Yeah, I love it too.”

“And I get to kiss you. It’s pretty awesome.”

He looks at your lips, raising your pulse with it.

“You know. I, theoretically, have one minute again”, he says, giving you puppy eyes.

You laugh because you love when he flirts. You set the wine aside, making grabby hands at him.

“Then come here and make it count.”

Yoongi sets the spoon aside, closing the distance. How he is going to make it count.

[stunie]

TIMELESS! ❤︎ — Umemiya Hajime x f!reader ﾉ Sfw ﾉ Established relationship ﾉ Submission for @17020’s ORQUÍDEAS event ^ ^ ﾉ 1.3K

IGUAL QUE UN ÁNGEL — To love is to adore, to be vulnerable, and devoted. To him, you're just like an angel, loving him purely and unconditionally. He's eternally grateful for your presence, making him feel as if he's God's favorite.

Summary: Umemiya just wants to surprise you with origami flowers.

“What are you doing?” Kotoha peers over at Umemiya from behind the counter, broom in one hand and the other resting lightly on her hip.

It didn’t take her very long to take note of the pile of crumpled paper surrounding him slowly accumulating throughout the night, but he doesn’t seem to pay it any mind even when the fan blows a couple sheets onto his lap.

Umemiya’s still hunched over the counter, calloused fingers working to diligently fold the tiny sliver of paper back onto itself as he hums a gentle tune. “..Ah!” He finally takes notice of her after she’s moved directly in front of him, “I’m trying to make a flower.”

Her first thought is to question why he’s chosen to do origami at Pothos fifteen minutes before closing, but she closes her mouth as soon as her eyes catch onto the redness of his fingers. If he wasn’t so focused, she’s sure he would feel the sting in an instant.

Although he doesn’t seem to care very much about that right now.

“You should take breaks too, you know,” she leans over the counter with a heavy sigh. “Need some help?”

His eyebrows raise a bit at the offer, and he’s quick to start nodding only a second after. “I want to surprise her,” his eyes visibly soften at the thought, “but I’m not sure how to make them look better.”

“Give it to me.”

She doesn’t bother trying to hide the smile that starts to tug at her lips when he reaches forward to drop a new piece of paper into her hand. His fingers are shaky, swollen red at the tips and she wonders how he’s even able to control them so well in such a state.

He’s really fallen hard for you.

“Don’t worry. Watch me,” she says through a grin, “it’s easy once you get the hang of it.”

“Is it?”

He’s practically bouncing in his seat, watching closely as she tucks a stray bit of hair behind her ear before she’s slowly moving to fold the paper, his eyebrows furrowed as he tries his best to commit the process to memory. “Be gentle when you shape the petals. Like this… and that’s it. See? It’s not so bad.”

“That’s no fair. You made it look so easy.”

Kotoha lets out a gentle sigh before glancing at her broom again. Usually she’d be finishing up by now…

“Wait— don’t leave yet. Watch me make the next one…please?”

She doesn’t have it in her to make him leave. “..Fine.”

Umemiya takes in a sharp inhale before he’s shakily taking another piece in his hands, cheek puffing out as he tries to replicate Kotoha’s flower. He just wants to make it pretty for you. Making you a paper bouquet wasn’t just some random idea that popped into his mind one day. He had been thinking about how to make you smile a little harder for a couple days now, and this seemed perfect.

He just hopes he can do it right for you.

It’s been almost one year since he’s picked up this routine of giving you a flower every time he sees you. They’re never the same either. On some days, he gives you one singular flower that he thought looked prettier than the others. On another day, he decides to give you a full bouquet that’s decorated with ribbons and bows.

The smile you always give him in response never gets old no matter how many times he sees it. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get entirely used to it either. There’s really only one issue, and it’s the fact that he absolutely hates to see your precious smile falter when you remember that flowers can’t live for eternity.

Every part of him wishes he had the power to change that for you.

“Haji..” your voice sounds beautiful even when it’s just a memory playing out in his head, “I’m a little sad. One of the petals fell off today— and I’m taking really good care of it too. I just wish the flowers you give me could last forever, you know?”

Maybe his paper flowers could make you smile for just a little longer. Even if it was only one second longer— he’s sure it would be worth it.

“Like this?” Umemiya raises his flower up, the paper wrinkled and crooked from making a couple wrong folds, but the shape looks almost identical to the one she made. “Mhm,” Kotoha smiles at him, “you got it.”

He loses track of how much longer he spends at Pothos after that. Time seems to fly by as soon when he starts to get better at folding, and at some point- he forgets the concept of time entirely. It’s so natural for him to get lost in the moment once he starts thinking of you again.

He thinks about what you might be doing right now. He wonders how you’ll react to his bouquet, and his face breaks out into a deep blush when the thought of you missing him comes to mind.

Kotoha doesn’t think she’s seen him this happy in a long time.

The scratches on his fingers don’t sting anymore when he finally gets to see his hard work pay off. It’s early in the morning— the first rays of sunlight illuminating your face perfectly, and you really look like an angel standing in front of him.

Your face lights up as soon as he offers it to you, his fingers brushing against your own when you bring your hands together to gingerly cup the gift. You hold it like it’s made of glass. You always hold him like he’s made of glass too.

“Haji… this is for me?” He feels his heart skip a beat when he hears his name roll off your tongue, and it starts beating a little faster once you glance at him again. He never really got used to your gaze either. “You made these?”

You bring them closer to your face to inspect each petal, and he can’t hide the sheepish smile he gives you at the sound of your cheerful voice. “How pretty! They must have taken you a while, huh? So detailed.”

It takes you a little more time to finally notice the wrinkles on them, and then the realization finally hits you. “Wait.. this really must have taken you a while. Haji… let me see your hands.”

He tenses.

“Ah, don’t worry about that!” Umemiya is quick to give you a dismissive wave of his hands, frantically moving them back and forth— but he freezes in place as soon as your fingers wrap around one of his wrists.

He falls completely silent when your brows furrow a bit, taking in the sight of bandages and scratches littering each and every one of his fingers. They look swollen too.

“The bandages make them look a little worse… doesn’t it? I know. But don’t you worry! I can’t feel a thing. Not one thing-”

He forgets how the concept of time works again the second he feels your lips ghost along his fingertips. It’s gentle. You’re always this gentle with him, and he starts to think the world might be treating him a little too kindly. What good deed did he do to warrant someone like you falling for him?

You kiss each finger. Slowly.

His cheeks heat up more at this, and he’s suddenly aware of just how loud his heart sounds when it pounds against his chest like this. He doesn’t even realize that his mouth has fallen open into a surprised ‘o’ until you start laughing at him. Your laugh is soft too.

“Thank you, Haji. I love you.” You smile at him, and he swears for the thousandth time that day that he’d rather die than fail to protect that angelic smile he’s fallen so hard for.

dividers by @cafekitsune <3 how cute !!!

[always-just-red]

Heya! Rafayel with a reader who's slightly afraid of deep water because she doesn't know how to swim? Fluff please!

Thanks for the request! Hoping this is the perfect balance of heartfelt moments and utter silliness. It's Raf, after all! Gotta have fun with it! ❤

Practice Makes Perfect

Rafayel x Reader 🎨

Summary: "I'll teach you how to swim!" he said. "It'll be fun!" he said. Let's be honest: the warning signs were there from the very start.

Genre: Fluff

Warnings/Additional tags: gn!reader, established relationship, one instance of swearing, a mild panic attack, humour, Raf bullies you ('out of love!!'— his words, not mine 🙃)

| Word count: 2.3k | Masterlist | Opt-in to my taglist here!

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Love and Deepspace. All work is my own, so please don't repost or plagiarise!

“Rafayel, can you stop that? Please?”

You watch as Rafayel bobs around in the water in front of you. “Swimming?” he asks, pushing slick hair back from his forehead with a lazy smile. “Nah. I’d drown.”

“No, I—” you suck in a sharp breath to keep yourself from wasting it. He knows exactly what you meant. He knows what he’s doing, too: making everything look effortless when you can’t even get out of the stupid boat.

It tips you a little closer towards the ocean, as if responding to your criticisms. You’re done with this. Done with him. Swimming lessons with Rafayel had seemed such a promising idea a few months ago, but now? You’re thinking it would have been better to go it alone. If you’d have drowned, you’d have at least drowned in peace.

He calls his teaching style ‘motivational’, which is to say he spends every lesson trying to motivate you to lunge at him, regardless of your personal safety. It was funny at the local pool. It’s less funny here, on a rickety boat in a deserted bay, where the only witnesses to your demise would be a setting sun and an insufferably smug Lemurian.

You glance up, seeking the familiar half-oceans of his eyes. They’re taunting you to the point of distraction: heating the blood in your veins that had just been running cold. Look at me, they gloat, alive with shimmering reflections, you’re mad at me, remember? 

And they have a point. You are. “Stop showing off.”

“Can’t help it.” Dark water laps at the pale of his collarbone. “It’s just so easy.”

“Says the actual mermaid.”

“Merman!”

“Oh whatever!”

He pouts. Then he strokes his chin thoughtfully. “I was worried about this,” he muses, as if he has actually masterminded a teaching plan, and hasn’t just been winging it from the start. He clicks his fingers, signalling a lightbulb moment. “Lucky for you, your super duper swimming teacher came prepared. Check my bag!”

He sinks until he’s peering out from the water, the lower half of his face submerged so you can’t see his smile. You can, though; it’s obvious. You roll your eyes and take the bait because it’s better than sitting here questioning your life decisions and your own mortality. Your hands rifle through his bag until they stumble upon something unusual. Smooth. Plastic. Is this what he meant?

You pull the package out into the evening light, narrowing your eyes.

Inflatable arm bands. Brand new. A toddler beams at you from their cover, seemingly thrilled by its extra buoyancy, and its parents are watching on with unbridled pride. You tilt your head as you read: suitable for ages 2-5! “Not funny, Raf. Not funny at all.”

“What d’you mean?” You flash the photo at him, tapping the toddler’s face. “Yeah? What about it?”

“These are for kids! You’re making fun of me now? Really?”

“No…” His hand leaves the water to scratch at the back of his head. “I thought that was a suggestion? It was kinda confusing, actually. You humans have such weird stuff to help you swim.”

“Oh don’t you dare play the Lemurian card right now!” you seethe, in the middle of retrieving an arm band from the packaging. “You knew! I know you did.”

Set on making your point, you blow air into the arm band’s nozzle. It’s so infuriatingly small; it takes all of three breaths to fill it. “I mean, look at it!” you exclaim, holding it out to him.

He barely keeps his act together. “I think it’s, like… stretchy, yeah?” His bottom lip is caught between his teeth: he’s biting back laughter. “Try it on, maybe it’ll—”

Smack! The arm band hits the water in front of him, and he blinks down at it, shocked.

“Wooooow,” he enthuses sarcastically, “nice throw! I bet the Wanderers just run for the hills when they see you comin—”

Thwack! Another half-inflated arm band strikes his face, and he reels backwards.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“You’re so full of it, Rafayel!” you can’t help leaning towards him, and the rowboat lurches. You clutch at the side of it, but you’ve had enough. “Ugh. Screw it.”

Your adrenaline is lurching too, and you make the most of the momentum: taking a deep breath and swinging your legs over the boat’s side. The chill of the ocean steals that breath away as you lower yourself into it. You’re going slowly, so slowly, your fingers still latched to the boat. But this is… something. You’re in the water. Oh gods you’re in the water. Don’t think about it. Don’t.

“Raf…” you squeak, because how can you not think about it when it’s cold and around your neck?

“I’m here,” he reassures from behind you, and he’s not close, but he’s close enough.

You look at him over your shoulder, gently tugging at the boat until you’re afforded a better view. He chuckles as he flicks the offending arm bands back into it: a calculated arc that sprinkles saltwater over your head. You wince, but you don’t mind.

“You just gonna… hang out there, then?” Rafayel enquires as you wipe a stray droplet from your eye.

“Yep.”

“Nice,” he grins, and it’s weirdly sincere. “Kinda wish you were over here, though.”

“Yeah?” You don’t move.

“I miss you.”

“Aww.”

You’re still not moving, but it doesn’t crush the embers of amusement that glow within his eyes. He’s thinking up ways to drive you crazy again, you just know it. “You could totally make it over here if you wanted,” he says flippantly. “It’s just swimming. If jellyfishes can do it, you definitely can.”

What? What? “They’re sea creatures!”

“Yeah, but they’re soooo stupid.” He taps his head. “No brains, y’know?”

You turn to the boat, pulling yourself impossibly closer to it. “Raf, c’mere,” you beckon, reaching back to him— grabbing at air.

“Why?” He draws nearer.

“So I can hit you.”

You swing a hand at him, but he dodges it, laughing. “If you wanna hit me, you have to reach me.”

There’s movement in the corner of your eye, so you twist to see it. His thumbs and forefingers have met as a square; he’s making a viewfinder. “What are you doing?” you speak from inside the frame.

“Making sure I remember this. I think I’ll paint it.” A corner of his lips lifts as he reveals a prospective title: “Cutie braves shark-infested waters.”

“Sharks?!”

“Who said anything about sharks?”

He’s messing with you— you know he’s messing with you— but you hide your face against your arms, all the same. You squeeze your eyes shut, trying to stifle your senses and your spiralling thoughts. You’re feeling everything too keenly: the water licking at your throat, the darkness beneath you, around you, waiting to pull you under and fill your mouth.

You never feel further from Rafayel than when you remember he calls that darkness home.

“Rafayel?” you call out, because you need him to tell you you’re being ridiculous. You need him to laugh with you, at you— you don’t care so long as you can hear it.

The only sound is water, and it’s cold and dispassionate.

“…Rafayel?” You glance behind you, and he isn’t there.

What do you do? What do you do? Your mind is in contest with your heart; they’re both trying to see who can race faster. You still can’t move. Shit. What can you do?

“Hey.” Rafayel’s voice makes you jump. He’s next to you all of a sudden, water streaming down from his hair and running over his shoulders. He rests an arm on the boat, too. “I’m here, ok? I’ve got you. Just breathe.”

Breathe? “Don’t do that!” you force out of aching lungs, and then your mouth is trying to catch up with the rest of you. “I thought something happened to you! What if something did happen to you? I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t help you. What if—”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey,” he cuts in. “Nothing’s gonna happen to me. I’m not going anywhere.”

Your eyes are watering and he’s so close, but it’s not enough. You reach out, pulling him, urging him to close the distance, and he leans in, pressing his forehead to yours. You can feel the heat of his breath and it’s deep, slow: one, two. One. Two. You hold him until you can match it, and almost everything’s still— the ocean, your mind— but not your heart.  

The waves break softly against the boat and they’re breathing with him, too.

“You ok?” Rafayel murmurs. His wet hair is clinging to your skin.

“Yeah,” you sigh.  

He pulls away and gives you a smile. “Wanna know what I’m thinking about?”

Always.  

“The claw machine,” he continues, because it was, as you suspected, a rhetorical question. “Remember that time you took, like, a hundred goes to get that one plushie? We were there for, what— an hour? Maybe two?”

You sniffle, and you’re just leaning on the boat, now— not gripping it. “That’s because it was a peach blossom birb, Raf. They’re super rare.” Another sniffle. “And the only reason I got it is because you kept buying more tokens.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Because I knew you’d get it eventually. Just like I know you’re gonna get this. We’ve got all the tokens in the world, yeah? So it’s just like before. One go at a time.”

His gaze is full of faith, and you want to be worthy of it. “One go at a time,” you repeat. “Thanks, Raf. Really.” You tilt towards him again, set on kissing his cheek, but he swerves away like it’s another attack.  

“Nuh-uh.” He propels himself backwards. “You wanna kiss me? You gotta meet me out here, cutie.”

And he’s so far already. “C’mon, Raf,” you whine.

“C’mon yourself! Look at me!” He runs a hand through his hair— beads of water sliding and sparkling across his skin. “I’m a total catch.”

“More like catch of the day when I get my hands on you.”

“Cute,” he quips, treading water. “You gonna come get me then, or what?”

You eye up the distance between you. You’re willing yourself to cross it; it won’t be good, it won’t be graceful, but you can do it, right? You just have to go for it. Three. Two. One… Go!

Nothing happens. Rafayel laughs quietly, and it’s warm— so passionate.  

“Here,” he says, meeting you in the middle. He holds out his hand.

You can’t trust the boat; it rocks beneath your touch and at the behest of every wave. It is just a thing, like you, at the mercy of something so much bigger than itself. Not Rafayel, though. He’s a part of all this, maybe even the heart of all this. The ocean will not betray him. It needs him to beat for it. To bleed.

Your hand grasps his and you let him guide you into the open water. You’re borrowing him. Stealing him, if only for a moment. He isn’t living for his ocean right now— he’s looking at you. Just you. There are canvases back in his studio, awash with cerulean waves and his love for Lemuria, but there are sketchbook pages, too: you, asleep on his couch. You, with a lily in your hair.

A few days from now, there’ll be a new one, etched eagerly in dark pencil. This.  

Rafayel smiles as you tread water with him. Your movements are clumsy, half-frantic, but you’re keeping yourself afloat. He gives you time to adjust, to find some semblance more of a natural rhythm, but your muscles ache and you’re getting tired, so he draws your arms around his neck.

“What d’you think?” he asks, because you’ve captured him. “Better than a beach bottom bird, right?”

“A peach blossom birb,” you giggle into his shoulder.

“Yeah, that too.”

…

The sky is full of stars, and the sun has sunk behind the wine-dark horizon.  

Rafayel rests his chin on his arms, staring down into the ocean from the edge of the boat, and he’s deep, deep below those waters too. You don’t have to see his eyes to know the faraway look they’re harbouring. There’s nostalgia for all the things he cannot show you. Grief. Rage. Regret.

He thinks you don’t see it, but you do. Especially on nights like this, when the azures of the waves turn black beneath the moon, and they could just as well be blood-red.

“Thanks for waiting for me, Rafayel.”

You’re not sure what compels you to say it, but he glances up at you, his gaze a brief storm of turquoise before settling to its usual amethyst. “Waiting for you?” he asks warily.

“To get all of this swimming stuff. I know it must seem silly to you.”

He relaxes, sitting up straight with a smirk. “Most of what you do seems silly to me. Not this, though. Change can be… scary sometimes.”

“Yeah.”

He slouches back down, but he’s on his side this time— still looking at you. “What made you decide you wanna swim, anyway?”

You mirror him, laying your head against the boat’s edge. “I don’t know. I guess—” waves are sloshing beneath you— “I guess it’s because the sea is a part of you. It’s in your paintings, your stories, and I’ve always felt… disconnected from it. Like it’s fiction— something I could only ever hear about second-hand. But I want to feel it for myself. To know it. All of it. All of you.”  

With a sigh, you give your hand to the ocean and draw mindless shapes in the water. Rafayel watches. You both know you’re only touching the surface.

He smiles, bittersweet. “Wanna go home?” he says.

Home. You pull your hand out of the water and smile back.

It’s been a long day. Yeah, you wanna go home.

[fangdokja]

They’re not heroes. They’re your tormentors, and you’ll love every second of it.

❤︎ Synopsis. Four men, each consumed by a darkness that binds them to you, will stop at nothing to claim your soul. In their world, love is a twisted cage, and you’re the captive—lost in a nightmare where escape is impossible and desire is the cruelest torment.

♡ Book. Forbidden Fruits: Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires.

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Mr. Reca x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Mydei x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Anaxa x Fem. Reader, Yandere! Phainon x Fem. Reader

♡ Headcanons. The Game of Surrender - Part 2

♡ Word Count. 4,707

♡ TW. dom + top + older + slightly sadistic yandere, general non-con + manipulation, suggestive themes, psychological + mental conditioning, fear play, emotional manipulation and abuse, hints at rough play and sex, psychological + emotional trauma, isolation, monitoring, lack of boundaries, non-con kissing and/or touching, forced relationship, BDSM, manipulation of circumstances, threats, Stockholm Syndrome

♡ Note. This was made before the official releases of characters, so be warned that some information may be inaccurate once additional lore comes out.

♡ A/N. Not me not knowing fully who these characters are. So... not sure if I did this right hahaha. It's too early to judge the unreleased characters but oh well. And, I did put this into my usual style... idk adjskaskd Take this like a brief hypothesis, I suppose. I am thinking on getting back to Genshin and HSR... maybe. Probably not though. Idk. Anyways, I personally thought I cooked with this. Just not sure with personalities askadsdakldsm

♡ Mr. Reca.

"Every thought you have, every breath you take, is a scene in my film—my masterpiece. And don't worry, darling, I'll make sure you never forget your lines. Not even when you're screaming them in your sleep."

The universe had always been a canvas to him—a vast, writhing tapestry of chaos and order, the kind of unpredictable beauty that Mr. Reca found utterly magnetic. He had always been a collector of moments, a Memokeeper who consumed emotions, gestures, and unguarded thoughts with the same fervor a drowning man gulps air.

But you—oh, you—you were not just another fleeting spark in the vast night of existence.

You were an anomaly, a glitch in the dreamscape, a hauntingly real smear of imperfection across his perfectly constructed illusions. And so, he watched you, studied you, devoured the fragile lines of your every expression. It wasn’t obsession, not at first. It was curiosity, a scientist’s hunger for understanding. But curiosity, as it often does, rotted into something far darker.

It began subtly. At first, you didn’t even realize you were his subject. The assistant frog—so innocuous, its mechanical chirps like a child’s toy—hovered too long in your presence. That thing recorded the barest twitch of your lips, the dilation of your pupils when you dreamt, the cadence of your breath when you were lost in thought.

He played those recordings back again and again, crafting you into the centerpiece of his mind’s latest film, a work of art that no audience but him would ever see. Each flicker of your gaze, each half-whispered syllable, was dissected with a surgeon’s precision and woven into the dream bubble of his fantasies.

You had not agreed to this, of course. You would not have, had you known. But consent had never mattered much to Mr. Reca, not when reality itself could be edited, overwritten, and reshaped to suit his narrative.

He didn’t fall in love with you in the way mortals understood love.

No, it was something far more grotesque. You were not his equal. You were not even human, not to him.

You were a role to be perfected, an actress bound to his script. And he—he was the director, the puppeteer pulling the strings of your existence with a touch so light, so surgical, that you didn’t notice your autonomy dissolving until it was too late.

He didn’t approach you like an ordinary man. Ordinary men didn’t cloak their words in riddles, their intentions in shadows.

“Your dreams are fascinating,” he said once, his tone light but his eyes dark, predatory. “I could make a masterpiece from them. Would you let me?”

His gaze burned into you, not with affection, but with hunger—the kind of hunger that consumes, destroys, leaves nothing but ash in its wake.

When you hesitated, when you stammered out a polite refusal, his smile curved sharp and cruel. “Ah, but do you really have a choice?”

You didn’t, of course.

The dream bubbles began soon after. Vivid, horrifyingly real landscapes where you were no longer yourself but a marionette dancing to his whims.

The first time you woke screaming, trembling from the phantom pain of dream wounds, he was there. He shouldn’t have been—your door had been locked—but there he was, sitting on the edge of your bed with his head tilted and that damned frog-camera clutched in his gloved hands.

“Fascinating,” he murmured, as if you were a specimen under glass. “You feel it, don’t you? The fear, the thrill, the pain. Tell me, how does it taste?”

In bed, he is not a lover. He is a creator, and you are his medium.

His touch is clinical at first, cold and calculated, his gloved fingers trailing down your spine as if mapping the curve of your body for a sculpture he plans to carve later.

But there is heat beneath that coldness, a violent, consuming fire that erupts when he lets himself indulge. He does not make love. He takes. He presses you into the mattress as if trying to merge you with it, his weight oppressive, suffocating. His hands grip your wrists too tightly, leaving bruises like the ink stains of his artistry. His breath is hot against your ear, his voice a low murmur that mixes poetry with threats, promises with lies.

“Do you feel it?” he whispers, his tone too calm for the frenzy of his movements. “The way your body betrays you? The way it obeys me, even when your mind doesn’t want to?”

His teeth graze the shell of your ear, and the sharp pain that follows is not accidental. “I could keep you here forever,” he says, his voice thick with sadistic delight. “Inside the dream, inside me. Would you even know the difference? Would you even care?”

You would care, of course.

You fight him, or at least you try. But he’s relentless, unyielding, a force of nature that smothers your resistance with sheer willpower. He doesn’t let you hide from him, not even in the sanctuary of your own mind.

His powers as a Memokeeper ensure that every thought, every secret, every fleeting desire you’ve ever tried to bury is laid bare before him. He uses them against you, weaving them into the narrative of his control.

“You want this,” he says, his voice a velvet knife. “You want me. Your body knows it, even if your mind refuses to admit it.”

His lips trail down your throat, his teeth leaving marks that will linger for days, physical proof of his dominance. “And when I’m done with you, when there’s nothing left of you but what I’ve created, you’ll thank me. You’ll beg me to keep you.”

The horror of it all is that he doesn’t just break you physically. He breaks your mind, piece by fragile piece, until you can no longer tell where the dream ends and reality begins. His dream bubbles seep into your waking hours, twisting your perception until even the memories of your resistance feel like fabrications.

He tells you that you’re his muse, his masterpiece, his greatest work. And despite the revulsion, the terror, some part of you begins to believe him.

Because how could someone so brilliant, so meticulous, be wrong?

And yet, in the darkest corners of your mind, you know the truth.

You are not his muse.

You are his victim, a living doll trapped in the nightmare of his creation.

But no one will ever hear your screams.

He’s made sure of that.

After all, reality itself is just another film to him, and he’s already written your final scene.

♡ Mydei.

"You belong to me, just as I am bound to this blood-soaked fate. No one will ever take you from me, not in this life, not in the next. I’ll carve my name into your soul, and you’ll learn to love it, even if it takes a thousand deaths."

It begins as a hum in the back of his throat, a low vibration that settles into his chest like the resonance of a beast stirring in its lair. He watches you, not from afar, but from the corner of your vision, where his shadow seems to stretch and curve unnaturally—always larger, always darker than the dim light allows. His gaze is not mere sight; it’s weight, pressure, suffocation. He sees the tremor in your fingers as you pour water into a glass. He catalogues the way your breaths hitch when his footsteps echo closer, closer still.

And when he speaks, his voice is a razor dragged slowly, deliberately, across raw nerves. “You’re trembling,” he says, though there’s no concern in his tone.

It’s an observation, clinical yet laced with something sharper, something akin to hunger.

He doesn’t touch you yet, but the proximity is suffocating—his presence a noose tightening with every passing second. His breath brushes your ear as he leans closer. “Are you afraid of me?”

You flinch but say nothing, and he chuckles. It’s low and guttural, almost amused, but there’s an edge of cruelty there, a promise that he’ll savor every inch of your fear.

He feeds on it, you realize, and the thought sends a chill racing down your spine. “You should be,” he murmurs, the words dripping like venom. “Fear keeps you alive… but not from me. Never from me.”

He lies, of course.

The predator in him is far too obvious, a wolf cloaked in something barely resembling humanity. He doesn’t see you as prey to consume in haste.

No, he sees you as a possession—a rare, precious thing to break slowly, to shatter and rebuild in his image. He thrives on control, on the knowledge that every shiver, every gasp, every cry is something he owns, something he’s dragged out of you inch by agonizing inch.

When he finally touches you, it’s with the precision of a surgeon dissecting his subject. Fingers glide over your skin like scalpels, drawing phantom lines where his teeth will follow, where his hands will linger. There’s no tenderness in the way he grips your wrist, the bruising force of his palm a warning, a declaration.

He doesn’t need to speak for you to understand: you’re his.

The room is suffused with a kind of tension that seems alive, thrumming in the air like an electrical charge waiting to snap. His lips curl into something that might resemble a smile if not for the sheer malice in it.

“You can fight,” he says, voice as smooth and cold as glass, “but we both know how this ends.”

And then he moves, swift as a predator pouncing, pinning you against the unyielding surface of the wall.

The impact drives the air from your lungs, and before you can catch your breath, he’s there—everywhere. The heat of his body seeps into yours, the solidity of him a cage that leaves no room for escape. His hands are firm, unrelenting, roaming with a kind of obsessive thoroughness that feels both maddening and humiliating. He maps every inch of your body as if it’s a territory to be conquered, claimed.

The words he whispers into your ear are sharp, biting things, designed to slice through your defenses. “Do you know how easy it would be?” he breathes, his voice a silken thread woven with danger.

“To tear you apart. To ruin you so thoroughly you wouldn’t even recognize yourself. And you’d thank me for it, wouldn’t you? By the time I’m done, you won’t want to remember what it felt like to be whole without me.”

His grip tightens, and you can feel the latent strength in his hands, the power that could snap bone without effort.

And yet he doesn’t.

Not yet.

He revels in the anticipation, in the way your body reacts—fear mingled with something darker, something you refuse to name. The way your breath catches, the way your pulse races beneath his fingers… it’s a symphony to him, a melody of submission he’s determined to conduct to its crescendo.

When he finally takes you, it’s not an act of love—it’s an act of dominance, of ownership.

His movements are deliberate, almost cruel in their precision, each thrust a reminder of who holds the reins. He doesn’t allow you to close your eyes, doesn’t let you escape into the safety of darkness.

No, he demands your gaze, demands that you see him, that you acknowledge the monster who has reduced you to this trembling, gasping wreck. And when you do—when your eyes meet his, wide and glassy with tears—he smiles. Not with joy, but with triumph, with the satisfaction of a hunter who has cornered his prey.

His words during these moments are a mix of degradation and adoration, a twisted litany that leaves no doubt of his intentions. “You’re mine,” he growls against your skin, the heat of his breath searing like a brand. “Every breath, every scream, every drop of blood in your veins—it all belongs to me.”

And yet, even as he tears you apart, there’s an undeniable allure in his madness, a magnetic pull that keeps you rooted to the spot even as every instinct screams at you to run.

Because beneath the cruelty, beneath the overwhelming force of his obsession, there’s a flicker of something more—a need so desperate it borders on pathetic, a craving for connection that he can’t voice but demands nonetheless.

When it’s over, he doesn’t release you.

His arms remain locked around you, a vice that refuses to loosen. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his breath ragged, his body still trembling with the aftermath.

And in that moment, you realize the truth of it: he doesn’t break you because he hates you. He breaks you because he loves you, because the thought of you existing without him is unbearable.

But love, for him, is not soft or kind. It is a blade, honed to a deadly edge, and he wields it without mercy.

“You’ll stay,” he whispers, and it’s not a question.

It’s a command, a promise, a threat.

“You’ll stay because there’s nowhere else for you to go. No one else who could ever understand you the way I do. And if you try to leave…” His voice trails off, but the unspoken consequence hangs heavy in the air, a silent vow etched in blood.

You nod, because what else can you do?

And as he tightens his hold on you, his lips brushing against your temple in a mockery of a kiss, you feel the full weight of your reality settle over you.

There is no escape. There never was.

And in the dark recesses of your mind, a small, terrified part of you wonders if you’ll ever want to leave at all.

♡ Anaxa.

"You think you can escape my mind, but you're already tangled in my thoughts—your every breath, every movement, is an echo of me. You belong to me, and I will never let you forget that."

The air around him was always cold, as if reality itself recoiled in his presence, drawing its warmth into the void of his indifference. Anaxa moved like an unfinished thought, fragmented, deliberate, yet ever disquieting.

You felt his shadow linger before you saw him, a chilling weight that settled on your skin like frost, sinking into the marrow of your bones. His eyes—one bared to the world, the other concealed beneath the eyepatch—were an unforgiving tapestry of contradictions: icy intellect simmering beneath the calm veneer, an endless labyrinth of thoughts that spiraled toward madness.

He whispered your name like a sacrament and a curse. Each syllable, spoken in that low, velvety cadence of his, seemed to unravel you, a knife peeling back every layer of resolve.

"You think knowledge can shield you," he murmured one night, his breath as cold and intimate as the edge of a scalpel. "But even wisdom has limits. I’ve seen them. I’ve transcended them." He would circle you like a predator savoring the hunt, his movements calculated, his proximity suffocating.

Anaxa was not a man who shattered the soul through brute force.

No, his torment was subtle—a slow dismantling, piece by piece, until you became something unrecognizable to even yourself.

You didn’t notice how he had claimed your life until it was too late. The quiet manipulation seeped in like poison—so gradual, so insidious, you mistook it for safety. Every book you touched, every whisper of thought you dared to express, every step you took outside the prison he called your sanctuary…all of it traced back to him. You'd look up from a page of text only to find him leaning in the doorway, a slight smile curling his lips, the sort that spoke of secrets too profound and too damning to voice.

"You have such a beautiful mind," he'd say, his gloved fingers brushing the side of your neck in a touch that was almost reverent.

"It’s wasted on anyone else. They’ll never understand you—not like I do." The words were honeyed, dripping with a sincerity so intoxicating you almost believed it.

Almost.

Until you noticed the way his gaze lingered on your trembling hands, on the ink smudges on your skin, on the way you recoiled yet stayed rooted in place. He liked the way fear made you fragile, and though you hated him for it, you hated yourself more for the flicker of thrill that bloomed in your chest.

Anaxa didn’t need chains to hold you down; his words alone were shackles. His intelligence was a web, intricate and all-encompassing, and you were the fly ensnared at its center.

"I don’t want to hurt you," he whispered once, late into the night when the room was too quiet and his voice was too close. "But I will, if it’s the only way to make you stay."

And you knew he meant it—not as a threat, but as a promise, a truth spoken with the same certainty as an immutable law of the universe.

The moments of intimacy—if one could call them that—were no less haunting.

His touch was clinical, precise, like a scientist studying a fragile specimen. He knew where to press, where to hold, where to carve into your soul with a calculated cruelty that left you yearning and dreading in equal measure.

His lips on your skin felt like frostbite, burning cold yet addictively sharp. His hands, those hands that wielded intellect like a blade, seemed to map every inch of you with the precision of a scholar dissecting sacred scripture.

"You’re beautiful," he would say, the words an oxymoron of tenderness and possession.

"Beautiful because you’re broken. Broken because you’re mine." He traced the curve of your throat with a gloved fingertip, lingering on the places where your pulse betrayed your terror.

His gaze bore into you, unrelenting, as though he could peel back the layers of flesh and bone to reach the essence of you. "Do you know what the Titans whispered to me in my dreams?" he asked once, his voice a mix of wonder and madness.

"They said I’d find divinity in ruin. And here you are."

The nights were the worst.

In the darkness, you felt him even when you didn’t see him.

The weight of his presence pressed against you, suffocating, inescapable. His words would echo in your mind, winding through your thoughts like a parasite. He’d appear at your bedside, his figure shrouded in the dim glow of moonlight.

"You should sleep," he’d murmur, though his tone carried no warmth. "You’ll need your strength. Tomorrow, we’ll unravel the secrets of the cosmos. Together."

And though you tried to resist, you found yourself clinging to the edges of his words, desperate for the clarity he promised, even as it led you deeper into his labyrinth.

When he finally claimed you, it was an act of calculated brutality disguised as love.

Every kiss felt like a conquest, every caress a branding. He whispered to you like a poet reciting his magnum opus, his voice soft yet unyielding, every syllable carrying the weight of his obsession.

"You belong to me," he said, his lips brushing against your ear as his hands pinned you beneath him. "Not just your body. Your mind. Your soul. Everything. No one else is worthy—not even you."

And as his touch became more demanding, more consuming, you realized that he wasn’t just unraveling you. He was recreating you, piece by piece, reshaping you into something that existed solely for him.

And though every fiber of your being screamed in defiance, a small, treacherous part of you wondered if this was love—or if it was something far darker, something that transcended the bounds of human understanding.

"You’ll never leave me," he said, his voice a blend of certainty and desperation as his lips ghosted over your trembling skin.

"Even if you try, even if you run…I’ll always find you. You’re the only constant in my chaos, the only light in my darkness. And I will burn the stars themselves before I let that light fade."

And so, you lay there in the cold embrace of his obsession, trapped between terror and desire, caught in the orbit of a man who would dismantle the heavens just to keep you by his side.

♡ Phainon.

"Every strike I make, every victory I win—it’s all for you. So don't be afraid when you see the blood. It's just a little sacrifice to remind you: you're mine, and I will burn this world to the ground before I let you go."

The moments he craves most are the quiet ones when the two of you are entirely alone, but tonight, silence isn’t kind.

It’s oppressive, weighted by the looming presence of the man before you—the Deliverer, the Nameless Hero, a man who wears the name Phainon like an armor of light.

Yet beneath that golden radiance, a storm of obsession churns, relentless and unyielding.

He stands over you, the faint luminescence of his ichor-stained veins pulsing faintly in the dim, cold air of the temple chamber. You can feel his gaze before you see it—heavy, glinting with something raw and unspeakable.

His voice, when it finally breaks the silence, is soft but unshakable, carrying the weight of a promise that makes your blood run cold.

“You don’t understand, do you? You’ve never understood.” A smile curls at the edge of his lips, serene yet terrifying. “I don’t want to save the world, not anymore. I want to save you. Every step I’ve taken, every blow I’ve struck, has always been for you.”

His claymore rests at his side, its edge gleaming faintly with an unsettling crimson, dried remnants of the battle from earlier still clinging to the blade.

He hasn’t cleaned it.

He hasn’t even sheathed it.

The weapon is as much a part of him as the air he breathes.

You can’t help but wonder if the blood that stains it belongs to someone you knew, someone who once stood too close to you for his liking.

He takes a step closer, the sound of his boots against the stone floor echoing like the toll of a funeral bell.

You back away instinctively, but there’s no escape.

His pace is slow, deliberate. He knows exactly how far he needs to push you before your resolve shatters.

“Run if you want to,” he murmurs, his tone almost gentle. “I won’t stop you. But you’ll come back. You always do.”

There’s no malice in his words, only certainty—a chilling, inescapable truth that wraps around your throat like a noose.

His hands are stained too.

Not visibly, not this time, but you can feel it in the way he reaches for you.

Fingers meant for wielding destruction now hover over your cheek, trembling slightly with restraint.

You flinch, and the flicker of hurt that crosses his face is almost human—almost.

“You’re afraid of me,” he whispers, his breath brushing against your ear as he leans closer.

“And I... I hate that. I hate that you make me this way. But I hate it even more when you’re far from me.”

When his lips press against yours, it isn’t a kiss—it’s a conquest.

His desperation seeps into you like venom, intoxicating and suffocating all at once. He tastes like metal and fury, his ichor burning faintly where his tongue grazes yours. His touch isn’t tender; it’s possessive, frantic, like he’s trying to carve his existence into your very bones.

His hand tangles in your hair, tugging hard enough to make you gasp, and the sound only seems to spur him on. “You’re mine,” he growls against your lips, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous timbre. “Say it.”

You don’t.

You can’t.

And that’s when his patience snaps.

His grip tightens, dragging you against him until there’s no space left between your bodies. The heat of him is overwhelming, a furnace of ichor and madness that threatens to consume you whole. His other hand presses against the small of your back, forcing you to arch into him as he lowers his head to your neck.

His breath is hot against your skin, and when he speaks again, it’s a guttural rasp that makes your stomach twist. “You don’t understand how far I’d go for you. What I’d destroy. Who I’d become.”

He sinks his teeth into the curve of your shoulder, not enough to break the skin but enough to leave a mark—a brand, a reminder of his claim. You cry out, and he exhales sharply, almost like he’s savoring the sound.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “That’s the truth of it, isn’t it? You’ll scream for me, cry for me... but you’ll never leave.”

And he’s right, isn’t he?

Because even now, as fear and anger coil in your chest like a viper, you can’t bring yourself to push him away.

His presence is suffocating, his obsession terrifying—but there’s something about the way he looks at you, like you’re the sun in a world of endless night, that makes it impossible to resist him entirely.

It’s sick.

It’s wrong.

But it’s real.

Phainon knows it too.

He knows you better than you know yourself, and that knowledge is his greatest weapon.

He wields it with precision, unraveling you piece by piece until there’s nothing left but the parts of you that belong to him.

“You’ll stay,” he whispers, his lips ghosting over your collarbone. “You’ll always stay. Because no one else can have you. Not the Titans, not the Trailblazer... not even yourself.”

When he finally pulls away, his eyes lock onto yours, glowing faintly with the golden ichor that courses through his veins. There’s something hauntingly beautiful about him in this moment, a tragic god draped in shadows. He tilts his head, studying you like a puzzle he’s just solved.

“You’re mine,” he says again, softer this time. “And I’m yours. Whether you like it or not.”

And you believe him.

────────────

If you want to be added or removed from the tag list, just comment on the MASTERLIST of Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. Thank you.

General TAG LIST of “Forbidden Fruits”: @uniquecutie-puffs , @belovedoftheanemoarchon , @tnsophiaonly , @mokingbrd78k , @cooldeermagazine , @mimitk , @xileonaaaa , @acacia-koi , @purple-obsidian , @waterfal-ling , @jjune-07 , @jsprien213 , @crimson-kisses , @tinandabin , @sashakittycloud , @songbirdgardensworld , @monamuskay

———

❤︎ Fang Dokja's Books.

♡ Book 1. A Heart Devoured (AHD): A Dark Yandere Anthology ♡ Book 2. 🔞Forbidden Fruits (FF): Intimate Obsessions, Unhinged Desires. ♡ Book 3. World Ablaze (WA) : For You, I'd Burn the World. ♡ Book 4. Whispers in the Dark (WITD): Subtle Devotion, Lingering Shadows.

[rainba]

Desperate Kairos ❤

I mentioned some of the kinks of my sillies in a previous ask, but I wanna write/expand on them just a little bit.~

For this one, I wanna focus on Kairos’ praise + worshiping kinks. ((Mostly praise.)) So... Same as always, Kairos being Kairos.

To be honest, this is kind of just me rambling lol

There are two versions here! First one is a fem darling, the second one has a male darling.

18+ NSFW, MDNI

Kairos would typically imagine himself being the one to do the worshipping, but he absolutely loves the idea of his love worshiping him, too. The thought of being praised for anything still sounds like such a foreign concept to him– so when you do it, he becomes instantly obsessed.

If you praise him once, he’ll beg you to do it some more, asking you to repeat yourself over and over just so the sentiment can settle in. And if you worship him during sex just once, he’ll do absolutely anything to have you do it again. He’ll get on his knees and plead with you, he’ll give you all of his money, draw you anything you’d like– whatever you want from him, he’ll give you it.

Just… Please, please, please, worship him again.

Let him sit on the edge of the bed with his cute cock out as you toy with him. He’ll wear whatever you want– thigh highs, cat ears, a bunny suit, literally anything. Kairos gently pets you as he begs you to praise him.

“I’m… I’m your good boy, right..? Y-you love me, right? Only me?”

Call him your master. Call him your owner. Call him an angel. Tell him he’s the only person in this world for you, and that nobody else can compare to him. Those words alone might be enough to make him cum on the spot.

“P-please, keep going,” he’ll pathetically whimper as he tries to guide your mouth to his throbbing cock, desperate for you to give it love and attention. If you tease him too much, he might grip the back of your head and force you to take his entire length at once. He’ll be apologizing while he does so, but the guilt doesn’t outweigh the carnal need to fuck your tight throat.

Part of him so badly desires for you to tell him just how much you love it. If you tell him something along the lines of, “your dick looks so tasty, so perfect,” he won’t be able to stop thinking about it for weeks after. And every time he thinks about it, he becomes incredibly hot and bothered.

Sucking on the tip and licking up and down his length will have him gripping the sheets and mewling. It just feels so, so good. He’ll beg you to kiss it as well, and he’ll also tell you to lick up the precum that’s leaking from his needy cock. Then he’d ask you if it tastes good.

And when you answer with a yes, his entire body will tense up as he stifles a high-pitched moan.

Kairos won’t make you do all the praising, though. He can’t help but praise and worship you as well.

“G-good girl, you’re… You’ll b-be a perfect wife! I… I love you s-so much!” 

When he’s desperate to make you feel good, he’s always quick to use his mouth rather than his hands. He just loves to taste you– it feels so personal, so loving. He absolutely loves eating you out, but there’s also something else he loves: sucking on your breasts.

The first time you let him suck on your tits, it’s like he gets addicted. They’re so soft in his hands, and so soft in his mouth. Kairos gets all hot and shaky as he sits on your lap and loves on your tits… It’s one of his deepest fantasies coming to life.

Kairos closes his eyes in bliss as he warmly sucks and licks them, occasionally leaving tiny love bites. He moans sweetly the entire time, all while grinding his cock against your thigh. If you ever want him to stop, you basically have to force him off of you. When you push his head away from your tits, he’ll immediately dive back down and start sucking on them again while mumbling the words "n-no, please, more."

The only times he pauses is when he wants to praise you.

“Th-they’re so beautiful,” he’ll mumble as he softly flicks one of your nipples with his wet tongue. “A-and they’re mine… All mine.”

Right before he’s about to cum, he’ll ask you permission to do so. 

When he genuinely wants to fuck you, though, he’ll become a reckless mess. Kairos will fervently push you into the bed and pin you down as he practically tears off your clothing. He loves all the foreplay, truly, he does– but sometimes he yearns for more. He can’t help but feel that he needs to be deep inside of your soaking wet pussy immediately.

Oh, and… Please, pretty please, praise him as he fucks you senselessly into the bed. When he’s desperate, his thrusts become messy, and his pace is inconsistent– he’s just doing what feels good at the moment- but he’s trying his best...! 

All he craves is to feel your inner walls squeezing his cock and milking it dry. He desperately needs to fill your cunt to the brim with his seed.

“So warm.. So t-tight… Ah…” He harshly bites down on his bottom lip. “Please, tell me you love this… P-please.” 

The more you praise him, the more erratic he becomes. His small hands will grip your shoulders as he ruts into you like crazy. He might wrap his hands around your neck and choke you instead– if you’ll let him.

“S-such… Such a perfect pussy… You’re so… So perfect.” Kairos leaves little kisses all over your chest as he keeps going.

His left hand will then reach down and lovingly rub sloppy circles around your clit. There’s nothing more he wants in the world than for you to both cum at the same time. It’d just be so romantic!

He’ll do anything to please you. He’ll do anything to be worthy of your praise.

Since he’s not that experienced, he might accidentally make you cum first– which makes him tear up, because he so badly wanted to cum in unison with you. So, if this happens, he might just end up overstimulating you until he climaxes himself.

But if he cums first..? God, he will be extremely embarrassed.

He mumbles a long line of apologies as he cums deep inside of you, panting heavily as he still tries to make you climax too.

If his hand isn’t enough, he’ll spread your legs apart and bury his face between your thighs, excitedly and sloppily eating you out. It doesn’t matter that his cum is dripping out of your pussy as he does so– in fact, he secretly likes it. He’ll try to push his cum back inside of you with his tongue as he looks up at you for encouragement.

And as a way to apologize, he’d make you cum twice, all while praising you. He’d also be thanking you for letting him fuck you.

But he’d also be begging you to forgive him.

 “Y-you’re so kind to me… Y-you’re like an angel, I… I don’t deserve you,” he slowly runs his tongue over your slit as he pushes two fingers inside of you, curling them and gauging your reactions the entire time. He’s determined to memorize all of the things that make you come undone.

And Kairos also loves watching you orgasm on his fingers– the sight of it drives him crazy. Plus, it gives a tiny boost to his ego.

For weeks and weeks after that, he’ll constantly find himself replaying lewd scenes of you in his head, sometimes even drawing it on paper. Then he won’t stop thinking about how he’s gonna make you cum even harder the next time he fucks you.

(Male Darling)

Kairos would typically imagine himself being the one to do the worshipping, but he absolutely loves the idea of his love worshiping him, too! The thought of being praised for anything still sounds like such a foreign concept to him– so when you do it, he becomes instantly obsessed.

If you praise him once, he’ll beg you to do it some more, asking you to repeat yourself over and over just so the sentiment can settle in. And if you worship him during sex just once, he’ll do absolutely anything to have you do it again. He’ll get on his knees and plead with you, he’ll give you all of his money, draw you anything you’d like– whatever you want from him, he’ll give you it.

Just… Please, please, please, worship him again.

Let him sit on the edge of the bed with his cute cock out as you toy with him. He’ll wear whatever you want– thigh highs, cat ears, a bunny suit, literally anything. Kairos gently pets your hair as he begs you to praise him.

“I’m… I’m your good boy, right..? Y-you love me, right?”

Call him your master. Call him your owner. Call him an angel. Tell him he’s the only person in this world for you, and that nobody else can compare to him. Those words alone might be enough to make him cum on the spot.

“P-please, keep going,” he’ll pathetically whimper as he tries to guide your mouth to his throbbing cock, desperate for you to give it love and attention. If you tease him too much, he might grip the back of your head and force you to take his entire length at once. He’ll be apologizing while he does so, but the guilt doesn’t outweigh the carnal need to fuck your tight throat.

Part of him so badly desires for you to tell him just how much you love it. If you tell him something along the lines of, “your dick looks so tasty, so perfect,” he won’t be able to stop thinking about it for weeks after. And every time he thinks about it, he becomes incredibly hot and bothered.

Sucking on the tip and licking up and down his length will have him gripping the sheets and mewling. It just feels so, so good. He’ll beg you to kiss it as well, and he’ll also tell you to lick up the precum that’s leaking from his needy cock. Then he’d ask you if it tastes good.

And when you answer with a yes, his entire body will tense up as he stifles a high-pitched moan.

Kairos won’t make you do all the praising, though. He can’t help but praise and worship you as well.

“G-good boy, you’re… You'll be s-such a perfect husband! I… I love you s-so much!” 

When he’s desperate to make you feel good, he’s always quick to use his mouth rather than his hands. He just loves to taste you– it feels so personal, so loving. He absolutely loves sucking you off. The feeling of your cock invading his small mouth is one of the best feelings ever to him. And when you choke him with it? It makes him so fucking hard. But there’s also something else he loves: sucking on your nipples and leaving marks all over your body.

The first time you let him suck on your chest, it’s like he gets addicted. Every time he leaves a small mark on your skin, it feels like he’s marking his territory. He’s letting the entire world know that you belong to him.

Kairos closes his eyes in bliss as he warmly sucks and licks your chest, occasionally leaving tiny love bites and large hickeys. He moans and whimpers the entire time, all while rubbing his cock against your thigh. If you ever want him to stop, you basically have to force him off of you. When you push his head away from your body, he’ll immediately dive back down and start sucking on your skin again while mumbling the words, “n-no, please, more. I… You look so p-perfect, covered in marks.”

The only times he pauses is when he wants to praise you.

“You’re so perfect,” he’ll mumble as he softly flicks one of your nipples with his tongue. “A-and you’re mine… All mine.”

Right before he’s about to cum, he’ll ask you permission to do so. 

When he genuinely wants to fuck you, though, he’ll be a reckless mess. Kairos will fervently push you into the bed and pin you down as he practically tears off your clothing. He loves all the foreplay, truly, he does– but he craves more. He can’t help but feel that he needs to be deep inside of your tight ass immediately.

Oh, and… Please, pretty please, praise him as he fucks you senselessly into the bed. When he’s desperate, his thrusts become messy and his pace is inconsistent– he’s just doing what feels good at the moment. But he’s trying his best...! 

All he yearns for is to feel your inner walls squeezing his cock. He desperately needs to fill your hole to the brim with his seed.

“So warm.. So t-tight… Ah…” He harshly bites down on his bottom lip. “Please, tell me you love this… P-please.” 

The more you praise him, the more erratic he becomes. His small hands will grip your shoulders as he ruts into you like crazy. He might wrap his hands around your neck and choke you instead– if you’ll let him.

“S-such… Such a perfect body… You’re so… So perfect.” Kairos leaves little kisses all over your sweaty skin as he keeps going.

His left hand will then reach down and sloppily stroke your cock, occasionally squeezing and giving extra attention to the tip. There’s nothing more he wants in the world than for you to both cum at the same time. It’d just be so romantic!

He’ll do anything to please you. He’ll do anything to be worthy of your praise.

Since he’s not that experienced, he might accidentally make you cum first– which makes him tear up, because he so badly wanted to cum in unison with you. So, if this happens, he might just end up overstimulating you until he climaxes himself.

But if he cums first...? God, he will be extremely embarrassed.

He mumbles a long line of apologies as he cums deep inside of you, panting heavily as he still tries to make you climax too.

If his hand isn’t enough, he’ll simply flip you onto your back and ease your cock into his ass, happily riding you until you cum. He tells you to just relax as he bounces up and down, a look of pure ecstasy plastered on his face.

And as a way to apologize, he’d make you cum twice, all while praising you. He’d also be thanking you for letting him fuck you.

But he’d also be begging you to forgive him.

 “Y-you’re so kind to me… Y-you’re like an angel, I… I don’t deserve you,” he tightens around your cock as he tries to play with your nipples, pinching and rubbing them between his fingers. He’s determined to memorize all of the things that make you come undone.

One of his favorite things in the world is the feeling of your hot cum filling him up. It’s borderline addicting. So, please– use him all you like. He’ll worship you even more if you fuck him until he can’t move.

For weeks and weeks after that, he’ll constantly find himself replaying lewd scenes of you in his head, sometimes even drawing it on paper. Then he won’t stop thinking about how he’s gonna make you cum even harder the next time he fucks you.

[gibberishfangirl]

WIND BREAKER | when they have a gamer girlfriend

Synopsis ✰ head cannons of how the boys react/feel after learning your love for video games (+ what game you play/are addicted to)

Characters ✰ Haruka Sakura, Hajime Umemiya, Hayato Suo, Akihiko Nirei, Jo Togame, Choji Tomiyama

Contains ✰ sfw! just cute content, the boys being cute boyfriends who support their girlfriends interests

Haruka Sakura ᡣ𐭩

❤︎ MINECRAFT LOVER, you can’t help it you love minecraft you can’t trust anyone who doesn’t it’s insane!

❤︎ your love for minecraft got so bad you literally paid around 1k for a pc set just to play minecraft

❤︎ of course you have all the cutest mods downloaded in your system you just can’t have it any other way

❤︎ sakura doesn’t understand the concept of minecraft so you forced him to spend an all nighter at your place in order to show him the wonders and joys of Minecraft

❤︎ you even let sakura build his own world on your pc

❤︎ he adapted a very emotional relationship with his virtual pet wolf — it died within that same hour after he accidentally pushed it off a cliff (yes he mourns over it forever)

❤︎ his obsession for minecraft grew and even goes to your house just to play minecraft sometimes (not that you mind, you LOVE watching him play and think it’s adorable how much he tries in his world)

❤︎ he downloaded minecraft on his phone and the two of you play on there in your shared world with your cats and dogs

❤︎ yes you two have matching skins, he claims they’re lame but he loves it

Hajime Umemiya ᡣ𐭩

❤︎ sadly you have fallen victim to being an overwatch addict

❤︎ you hate the game but you’re so addicted to it and have simply committed too much time to quit

❤︎ you love team based games and always fall into the curse of being a support main

❤︎ the rage gets so bad sometimes Umemiya is always there to comfort you after you get dragged through the mud by other players

❤︎ Umemiya finds it cute how you play team based games considering he’s a leader

❤︎ loves to watch you play, finds it fascinating to be honest

❤︎ he loves to hear you ramble about the game, the hero’s, the buffs, the nerfs, has no idea what you’re talking about but listens regardless

❤︎ he eventually also falls victim to the overwatch addict syndrome

❤︎ you pocket him in games and get accused of edating

❤︎ he’s a dps/genji main (i said what i said)

❤︎ yes you two get especially flamed whenever playing the mercy/genji duo (LMAOO goodluck)

Hayato Suo ᡣ𐭩

❤︎ you’re an animal crossing lover

❤︎ you work hard in your world trying to make everything cute, literally spend hours perfecting the cuteness

❤︎ YOU GET SO LUCKY ?! actually have the cutest villagers as well

❤︎ you carry your switch EVERYWHERE, you never leave the house without it

❤︎ you even own the pink nintendo switch lite that you use for your travel/daily use

❤︎ suo finds your habits adorable and loves to watch you fiddle away on your switch when you two are killing time

❤︎ you obviously had to give him a tour of the village and show him all your hard work

❤︎ he loves to hear you rank your villagers from least to most favorite

❤︎ even watches some videos on his own time to understand the game more and surprise you with his own knowledge

❤︎ lets you sit on his lap while you play and he watches

❤︎ goes around abusing your villagers with the butterfly net when you let him play

❤︎ whenever he comes over you both catch butterflies and animals in the game trying to see who can find the best one

Akihiko Nirei ᡣ𐭩

❤︎ your a sims player, it can’t be helped

❤︎ when you and nirei started dating you even created a world with the two of you and planned out a sims wedding

❤︎ he wasn’t creeped out at all he actually found it to be very sweet and charming

❤︎ he has no idea what the sims is originally so you HAD to introduce him

❤︎ once he understands the concept he is HOOKED seriously sign him tf up

❤︎ you let him create worlds on your account

❤︎ you helped him create a world that has both of you AND his all his friends

❤︎ you both spend hours torturing the boys virtually on the sims

❤︎ spend all your time laughing and giggling at the game

❤︎ he goes down the deep rabbit hole of all the crazy and unhinged sims challenges that were popular on youtube years ago (if you know you know, the 100 babies challenge, etc.)

❤︎ kept this a secret but he also created a sims world on his own with the two of you where your sims got married, had kids, and lived happily ever after

❤︎ is manifesting that same future for the two of you in reality

Jo Togame ᡣ𐭩

❤︎ you’re the biggest fortnite FIEND to exist, a massive sweat and a pro builder

❤︎ you challenge everyone and anyone to a 1v1 just to show off your building skills

❤︎ he was instantly intrigued once he saw how good you were at the game

❤︎ not to mention you literally own every single skin in existence; the cute ones, ugly ones, freaky looking ones, questionable ones, anime ones, ALL OF THEM

❤︎ he purchased a console just to play with you and i kid you not you play with him almost every single day. it’s apart of the daily routine

❤︎ you LOVE to 1v1 him and make him rage just because you’re that much better

❤︎ you get extremely sweaty once he actually starts getting good

❤︎ yes you two have matching skins AND MATCHING GAMER TAGS

❤︎ you had to change your gamer tag just to please your boyfriend

❤︎ his gamer tag: ifistfight , your gamer tag: fight

❤︎ yes you two shit on the entire lobby in duos, sometimes you two dabble in online trolling

❤︎ your matching skins are the shark skins cozy chomps (if you know you know, THEYRE SO CUTE)

❤︎ you always have vbucks on deck

❤︎ you also own every emote to exist

Choji Tomiyama ᡣ𐭩

❤︎ you’re the raging toxic cod player

❤︎ specifically a civilized one who isn’t a complete piece of shit

❤︎ you rage so easily in the game

❤︎ ofc you have a pink load out you wouldn’t have it any other way

❤︎ you straight up purchased the nicki minaj skin not because you like her but because hello?? it’s a pink skin WITH A PINK GUN THAT SHOOTS GLITTER ?? consider yourself sold

❤︎ first saw you play when he went over to your house unexpectedly while you were in the middle of gaming

❤︎ he’s super impressed by how good your aim is

❤︎ he usually sits on the ledge of your bed while being captivated by your movement in the game and your skills

❤︎ ofc you’re a sniper and he finds that even more impressive to see you clip bitches in less than a second

❤︎ sometimes he’ll sit on your gaming chair and you’ll sit on his lap while you play

❤︎ he likes to watch your hands fiddle with the controller while you game

❤︎ he’s tried it out himself but much rather prefers watching you play than playing himself

❤︎ if anyone else ever mentions that they play cod he hypes you up and instantly starts bragging about how his girlfriend could smoke them in a 1v1

a/n <3 : this was so much fun to write. might make a part 2 with different games ? not sure yet lmk if yall want that

[nausicaamusiclover20]

heyyyy I hope you feel well❣️

Can I request fluff fic reader (f) x current kirk hammett? they’re watching some horror movies and reader is so scared that she covers her face in his arm

I'm feeling good, thank you for asking, I hope you feel good too❤ I hope you like it!

Safe in his arms

 The room was dim, the only light coming from the flickering glow of the TV. It was one of those perfect nights—quiet, cozy, and calm. Kirk and I were curled up together on the couch, a blanket wrapped around us, a bowl of popcorn between us. We’d chosen a horror movie—something dark and creepy that would get under your skin, but I figured I could handle it. I loved a good scare. It wasn’t until the opening scene that I realized how real this one was going to be.

The movie had a slow, sinister start. Shadows crept across the screen, and the music was that kind of eerie, spine-chilling soundtrack that seemed to seep into the air, making everything feel tense. My heartbeat began to quicken, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling as the figure in the dark, the nun, started to make her appearance.

I tried to focus on the movie, but my nerves were already getting the best of me. Every creak, every whisper on the screen made my breath catch in my throat. The sound was deafening. The atmosphere in the room felt thicker with each passing minute. The nun—her dark figure, that terrifying face—was creeping into my thoughts, making me tense up every time the music swelled.

I shifted, leaning closer to Kirk. His warmth was a welcome comfort, but the air in the room had changed. The fear was building, rising with every second of the film. I tried to shake it off, but my body was betraying me. The tension in the air was almost unbearable, and I felt my heart thumping harder, faster.

Kirk must've noticed, because his gaze flicked over to me. "You alright?" he asked, his voice soft, but with that teasing edge he always had.

I smiled, though it felt forced. "Yeah, I’m good," I said, trying to sound more confident than I felt. The last thing I wanted was for him to know how easily I was getting spooked. But the feeling in my chest, the unease that had started to creep up on me, wouldn’t go away. Every time that figure appeared in the dark, my pulse would spike, and I’d find myself looking away from the screen, unable to shake the feeling of dread building up inside me.

It wasn’t long before it happened. The figure—the nun—loomed in the shadows again, and this time, the camera lingered on her face for just a beat too long. The silence was suffocating. The tension was unbearable. I could feel myself tense up completely. I didn’t know how much more I could take.

Then the music exploded—sharp, jarring—and I felt my body jump, my hands instinctively shooting up to cover my face, eyes squeezed shut as if blocking it out could make it stop.

But it wasn’t enough. The fear flooded my chest, overwhelming me. And before I even realized what I was doing, I turned toward Kirk, burying my face into the crook of his arm, my hands gripping his sleeve tightly.

Kirk’s arm was around me instantly, pulling me closer, his warmth flooding through me like a shield. The sound of the film, the low, menacing growl of the music, still vibrated through the air, but I felt a little less afraid with him holding me. I buried my face deeper into his arm, seeking the comfort I needed to escape the overwhelming fear that gripped me.

"Hey, it’s okay," Kirk’s voice was low and reassuring, his fingers brushing through my hair as he held me tightly. "You’re safe here."

The words did something to calm me. I still felt the fear crawling beneath my skin, but with him so close, I could breathe a little easier. The movie was still terrifying, but it didn’t seem as powerful when I was wrapped up in his arms. I took a shaky breath, letting his steady heartbeat against my ear ground me.

"I’m sorry," I mumbled, feeling a little embarrassed by how easily the film had gotten to me. I hated the idea of being so afraid, especially with someone like Kirk who always seemed so calm and in control.

He shook his head, smiling softly. "Don’t apologize," he said gently. "It’s just a movie. I’m right here, okay?"

I nodded, but I didn’t pull away from him. I couldn’t. The film was still full of those dark, ominous moments. The shadows in the room seemed to feel darker now, the silence stretching on longer, as though something terrible was waiting to leap out at me from the dark. I felt that terrifying sense of unease creeping into my chest again.

The figure on screen reappeared. This time, the nun was closer, moving silently through the dark, her face twisted in a grotesque smile. The music swelled again, the sound of her footsteps echoing, loud and sharp in the stillness. I flinched again, and this time, I buried my face deeper into Kirk’s arm. I could feel him holding me tighter, his presence a grounding force in the storm of fear that threatened to overtake me.

"You’re not alone in this," he whispered, his lips brushing the top of my head. "I’ve got you."

His words wrapped around me like a blanket, and somehow, I felt like the world outside us didn’t matter as much. It was just me and Kirk. The terrifying image of the nun, the creeping fear that had been suffocating me, started to fade into the background. As long as I had him with me, nothing seemed as scary.

I pulled back a little to look up at him, my eyes wide with a mixture of gratitude and affection.

"You’re really doing a great job of keeping me safe," I said, half-laughing, my voice still a little shaky.

Kirk smirked, adjusting his arm around me. "Well, it’s my job," he said with a wink. "Keeping you safe from movies and bad vibes—easy."

I laughed softly, the tension finally easing. "I guess I’ve got a pretty good bodyguard."

He chuckled, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead. "You bet you do."

For the rest of the movie, I stayed close to him, every time a scary moment came up, I buried my face in his arm again, but now there was a little less fear and a lot more laughter between us. His calm presence was enough to make the horror movie feel a little less terrifying, and every time I tensed up, Kirk was right there to calm me down, making me feel safe.

When the movie finally ended and the credits rolled, I let out a long breath. The tension that had been winding inside me slowly began to loosen, but I didn’t move right away. I stayed close to Kirk, my head resting on his shoulder, letting the safety of his embrace wash over me.

"That was... intense," I said, still a little breathless from the adrenaline.

Kirk smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from my face. "I think you were more scared than I was," he teased, but his voice was gentle, full of affection.

I laughed, the sound shaky but genuine. "Yeah... I guess so," I admitted. "But I’m really glad you were here with me."

He squeezed me a little tighter, his voice low and sincere. "I’ll always be here for you," he said, pressing a kiss to my forehead. "Nothing’s getting past me, babe”

"Awwww, thank you, Kirky," I murmured, giving him a soft, quick kiss on the cheek. His skin was warm beneath my lips, and I felt the corners of my mouth curl into a smile as I pulled away.

Kirk smiled back, his eyes softening as he rubbed the back of my neck. "Anything for you," he said, his voice low and sincere.

With him by my side, I knew I’d always be safe. The world could throw all the scares and shadows it wanted at me, but with Kirk, I was never alone in facing them.

[amiableness]

OK SO SO HEAR ME OUT we love Remus but the poor boy is so insecure because of being a werewolf but what if... reader also happens to be a werewolf. She over hears Remus talking down on himself about being a werewolf (him being an ugly scarred monster who doesnt deserve love *WHICH BY THE WAY ABSOLUTELY NOT YOU BEAUTIFUL KIND SOUL*) And reader is like so that must be how you feel about me too and when Remus hears her say that hes like WAIT A MINUTE HOLD ON NOW NO NO YOURE BEAUTIFUL AND PERFECT AND DESERVE THE WORLD and shes just like well then so do you because we are the same ❤

remus lupin x werewolf!reader | wc: 422

“Remus, I just think-” James begins to speak, only to be swiftly interrupted by Remus, who scoffs and reclines into his armchair.

“I don’t want to hear it. There’s no girl out there that’s going to find out what I am and decide to be with me.”

“You don’t know that, mate! You’ve never given anyone the chance to prove you wrong.” James argues desperately, his voice rising a little louder than he intended, frustration evident in his tone as he confronts his best friend. Just twenty minutes prior, he had burst into the common room with news of a Ravenclaw girl who had requested James's assistance in setting her up with Remus.

“I don’t need to. I see the way people look at me and-”

“I’m gonna stop you there,” Sirius leans forward, casting Remus a pointed look. Sirius had followed James into the room, equally enthusiastic about the idea of Remus finally going on a date. However, as Remus continued to argue with them, Sirius grew increasingly irritated. It was disheartening to witness his friend constantly belittle himself, particularly when he knew that Remus deserved the world. “You’ve got girls who practically throw themselves at you. Yet you’re not giving anyone a chance. I don’t understand!”

“Why would I? They’re not going to stay. Once they find out what I am they’re going to leave. Plus, the scars don’t help.”

“Is that how you view me then?” Your voice slices through the tense atmosphere, catching the boys off guard. They hadn't noticed your presence until then, so your sudden interjection startles them all.

“Merlin, no!” Remus sputters, jolting upright to face you, his eyes widening in panic, “Y’deserve the world! And your scars, they’re beautiful. You’re easily the most gorgeous girl at Hogwarts.”

“Has is ever occurred to you that others see you the way you view me? Minus the most gorgeous girl at Hogwarts part.” You tease, and Remus visibly relaxes as he realizes that you aren't offended by his words.

"I, uh, well, no?" Remus stammers, his uncertainty obvious in his response.

“The same goes for you, Remus. There’s going to be a girl that loves you for who you are, even with the scars,” You assert, and Remus flushes, his cheeks coloring a pretty shade of pink, as you turn to ascend the stairs to your dorm.

As you reach the stairs, you turn to look back at Remus, feeling all the boys' eyes still fixed on you, “By the way, I think your scars are cute.”

[frownyalfred]

What if the reason Bruce rarely shows emotions is because his perfect control over his body makes any facial expression seem insincere to him?

Anytime he's too detached from his feelings via dissociation or compartmentalization, and he notices feeling happy or sad or worried, he doesn't make an expression unless he wants to specifically communicate something to somebody else, turning his facial expression into a tool he can use. Only if he's caught unprepared or he's lost in the moment, is his expression not intentionally crafted (even then, it's up for debate).

Bruce remade himself into a hundred different masks, hiding the boy beneath who only peeks through in split-seconds of surprise and that rare ignorance of his surroundings, forgetting for once about those goddamn sneak attacks (when he's enjoying the moment and not guilt-spiraling about the fact that he is enjoying the moment).

(You may be wondering where this came from and the answer would be:

this line "He let his pupils dilate, feigning lust." from your fic "and the light eluded all"

enjoyed the fic a lot, btw ❤❤❤❤ )

I love this! Such an interesting discussion of what he’s able to show/not show externally. And thank you!

(Side note I went to go check on that fic and these tags…they’re so funny for such a dark, sad fic)

[tenjikyu]

𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘰𝘪𝘥 - 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘢𝘵𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘤

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ gn!reader , reader is biologically related to izana , reader is 15 years old , reader has a family complex (wants to make the perfect family) kakucho is aged up to nineteen in this (i REFUSE to believe he’s fourteen, and he is NOT aged up for sexual reasons, only for peace of mind.)

౨ৎ ⋆｡˚ SPOILERS FOR TOKYO REV - S3 - TENJUKU ARC

❤︎ at the ripe old age of 15, you had already become one of the most respected members of one of the most dangerous gangs around.

❤︎ not only were you insane with your fists, you were a master with using weapons such as bats and longer tools, effectively making them extensions of your own body. there’s only one person you have to thank for all of your insane talent and agility.

❤︎ your big brother, izana kurokawa.

❤︎ while izana is more agile and quick with kicks and hits, easily outdoing his brother manjiro sano, he utilised his knowledge and whacked it into your skull at a young age, intent on having you able to defend yourself should you need it.

❤︎ growing up in the orphanage wasn’t easy, but your big brother and his servant (who you deemed your 2nd big brother, much to the distaste of izana, but he got over it eventually) made it a smidge easier.

❤︎ eventually, a man by the name of shinichiro sano came into your lives, claiming to be your big brother. at this stage, izana was 8, kakucho was 9 and you were 5 years old.

❤︎ of course, izana instantly attached himself to shinichiro, seemingly getting the big brother he had always craved.

❤︎ you also liked shinichiro, you went on walks with the two constantly and he spoke to you about the two of yours half little sister, emma.

❤︎ this went on until izana was 14, when he found out that shinichiro had been lying this entire time. that’s the day that you lost a few of your screws.

❤︎ the betrayal you felt was not that of izana’s, but the pure heartbreak of seeing your brother loose the thing he craved in life so much. from that day forward, your 10 year old mind was made up.

❤︎ if you couldn’t have blood family, you would simply build your own.

❤︎ and when izana formed tenjuku, you seemed all of the members, old and new, out like a dog.

❤︎ you examined every delinquent around you, pondering how good of a brother they would make, big or small.

❤︎ the entirety of tenjuku knew to never question you. not when you came back with blood mixed in your hair, not when you came back smelling of tequila, not when you came back sobbing and begging for your big brother, knocking anybody else out who tried to console you.

❤︎ izana’s word was law and by extension yours was too. izana rarely left you alone and whenever you had to run an errand without him, if you didn’t have kakucho to follow you around then he would throw a huge fit, screaming about how you’re going away.

❤︎ you hated seeing your big brother in such a horrid state, and with issues of abandonment of your own, you also hated not being by his side. the both of you shared everything, and any moment spent apart felt like agony and fear.

❤︎ of course, izana did give you freedom, he’s not fully whack after all, his allowance of you leaving his side is very.. selective.

❤︎ the 4 most trusted with you are as followed:

❤︎ kakucho, your 2nd big brother and his most loyal follower. if anything where to happen to izana then you’d be left in kakucho’s care.

❤︎ 2nd is kokonoi. while he may be relatively new and was brought here by force, he can see the treasurers mind slowly fork into how he had wanted it, therefore making him loyal, not to mention the two of you are the same age and get along quite well.

❤︎ shared third and fourth place are the haitani brothers. they’re fellow siblings who share overprotective tendencies and also work side by side, so he trusts them enough if the previous two aren’t available. you also get along well enough with ran, and pretty well with rindou.

❤︎ when izana eventually forms a plan to kill emma sano, your originally believed-to-be little sister, it was your word that saved her life. you told izana that you didn’t want her to die, how you wanted to keep her for the family you were trying oh-so-hard to build for him. it only took a few words and some teary eyes before the plan was completely discarded without negotiations.

❤︎ izana could never bring you to tears, and today was not going to be the day he broke that promise to himself. kisaki was pissed at you, however he knew he couldn’t do a thing about it. and so, he kept quiet…

❤︎ until he found the perfect time to strike back.

❤︎ the battle of tenjuku vs toman was lead by manjiro sano, as he wasn’t mourning his sister. he was more concerned, however you assured izana that victory would still come to the both of you.

❤︎ you had izana, and izana had you.

❤︎ that’s all that mattered once izana finally met with mikey.

❤︎ the face off between the two brothers, manjiro sano and izana kurokawa was in full swing. instead of mourning and loss, manjiro had determination in his eyes. he vowed to himself that he would bring his two lost siblings back home with him.

❤︎ fighting commenced, arguments broke out, there was nothing but yelling and screaming.

❤︎ as the punches and kicks continued to fly, the two boys gave eachother the appearance of death. they were sore, bloody and you wanted nothing more than to support your big brother, however you stayed up high, doing as izana commanded.

❤︎ it was only when izana broke the ice to mikey, giving him an opening, that you finally had your presence known.

“IZANA DON’T DO IT” your screeches were held by the entire battlefield. you were dressed in a long black hoodie (yk the one senju wears? yeah one like that) and had your legs poking out of it, designed in mind of your safety and concealment.

you raced down towards the brothers, affectingly blocking the two off from eachother.

“big brother, let’s hear him out”. you whisper, afraid of what izana might consider this as. would he see you as a betrayal? would he disown you? would he throw a fit and strike you?

no, izana put his hands down. he walked over gently towards you, and held you in his arms.

he heard out mikey, listening to his speech on how despite their lack of blood, the fact is shinichiro decided to take him in and therefore are family.

❤︎ because of you, i firmly believe that izana would not be as batshit as he canonically is. i think his brotherly instincts would kick in and his sanity is stronger then it originally was. because of this, izana is more open to welcoming manjiro into his heart. in his head he thinks that maybe, just maybe…

❤︎ taking his frustrations with shinichiro out on mikey isn’t the right course of action.

❤︎ and as that thought is processed through his head, the sound of a gunshot can be heard ricocheting through the hair.

❤︎ it strikes not izana, not manjiro, not you…

.

. .

❤︎ it strikes kakucho right between his ribs.(please someone get this reference)

❤︎ yours and izana’s horrified screeches are heard throughout the entire arena. tears were welling up into your eyes as you hid yourself into izana more.

“KAKUCHO NO!” izana’s throat hoarsed out from all of the screaming, holding onto his servant brother tightly, cradling him in his arms.”

you feel your own body being grasped, however it wasn’t izana. no, mikey held you into his chest and silently cried, looking at kisaki with a glare so sharp it could cut him clean.

just when mikey thought he had finally completed his mission, kisaki once more ruined EVERYTHING.

kisaki goes onto his speech about how nothing goes his way, and how takemichi was a repetitive flaw in his plans and was nothing but a nuisance. he finished the speech by saying this:

“(y/n), you’ve been a nuisance since the beginning. if it wasn’t for you, emma would be dead and manjiro sano would’ve been MINE to mold, my perfect manjiro. i refuse to acce-“

before he’s swiftly knocked in the head by an oh-so farmilliar baton.

“the day we allow you to lay a finger on that kid is the day we’re dead”. ran scorched, his eyes burning with hatred. like that, the higher ups of tenjuku, as well as takemichi and draken, chased kisaki into the streets, where his life would soon cease to exist.

you stay with your two brothers, cradling kakucho as the life left his eyes. you always loved kakucho’s eyes, you thought they were the most mesmerising thing to look at. they were the eyes of your big brother, the one who swore to bash in anyone who dared wrong you.

as kakucho’s last breath was taken, he held your hand on one, with izana’s hand in the other.

only then, could you finally register the return of the tenjuku members, as well as the sound of the police force and an ambulance on the way.

dragging you away from kakucho’s deceased corpse was one of the hardest things izana had ever done, but with the help of his new little brother, mikey was safely able to relocate the two of you back at the sano household.

❤︎ the funeral was 4 days after his body was found, and his ashes were buried into the grave of the sano’s. mikey himself insisted that your family was his, and since he had no remaining family to claim his ashes, he would take them into their family grave.

❤︎ that was the moment izana accepted mikey as his little brother.

❤︎ after kakucho’s passing, it took a long time for things to get back to normal. emma welcomed the two of you in with open arms, missing the two of you dearly. she sobbed for three hours straight before she knocked herself out, promptly put into her bed by you.

❤︎ it turns out, the two of you fit in with your siblings quite well! since emma didn’t die in this timeline, mikey is still as joyful as he was before the battle. he would tease you and izana, surprise hug you and beg izana to go riding with him.

❤︎ emma loved having her two brothers back as well, she loves practising different makeup styles on your face, as well as teaching izana how to cook!

❤︎ kokonoi and inui had also rekindled their friendship, and welcomed you with open arms! nowadays, the three of you are a (WORKING) trio, as well as making friends with many different members of toman.

❤︎ izana also made peace with toman, and was welcomed with open arms. he is often seen with chifuyu reading manga together! (you tease him for it but love how he’s found a passion, as well as a buddy to share it with.) (chifuyu also called izana “brother” once and izana burst into tears bc he thought it was adorable. chifuyu is now promptly invited to the sano/kurokawa dinners)

❤︎ of course, the two of you are still rarely apart. you shared a bedroom for the first month of living with your family before finally moving into a bedroom of your own.

❤︎ on izana’s 19th birthday, a year after joining with the sano’s, you gifted him a baby picture of the three of you at the orphanage you had managed to dig up. he didn’t let you go for the rest of his birthday.

❤︎ you visit kakucho at least once a week with your brothers and sister, as well as bringing snacks and insence to light. these moments are your favourite, as they aren’t spent in mourning.

❤︎ they’re spent with your entire family, laughing, chatting and updating kakucho on big news.

❤︎ time spent with YOUR found family ♡.

[socialfakes]

the devils in the details- luke hughes

chapter 4; part 5: fools in love

nhl x platonic!fem!reader

luke hughes x fem!reader

the masterlist

Liked by lhughes_06, bboeser, elblue6 and 7,125 others

yourinstagram | oops. finger slipped 🤷🏻‍♀️ but i don’t regret it at all. love you more than you could even imagine luke ❤   tagged: lhughes_06

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lhughes_06 i love you too ❤

bboeser congratulations on finally going public. you guys have such a solid relationship and it’s only going to get stronger as you get older ❤

user03 wow i love this

nicohischier honestly glad it’s always been him. he treats you exactly how you deserve to be treated and if that’s not the true definition of a ‘perfect boyfriend’ then i don’t know what is 😊  | yourinstagram ❤

_quinnhughes now aren’t you glad we got you back home? 😊❤  | yourinstagram absolutely ❤  luke is my home 🥰

user12 so glad someone loves luke as much as the fans do 😊

elblue6 my babies ❤

trevorzegras you managed to hook all the brothers on your line at some point, huh? respect 😉  | trevorzegras but in all seriousness, congratulations to the both of you. the journey to where you are now was far from perfect but you managed to get there and hopefully you’ll stay on that path for the rest of your lives ❤  | yourinstagram that’s the plan trev 😊

user07 can we get some context to the pictures? please?  | yourinstagram of course! first pic: the dinner where he asked me to be his girlfriend, second pic: us goofing off one night a while ago, third pic: a very recent kiss we shared & probably one of my favorites, fourth pic: the most gentleman thing luke offered to do was tie my shoe even though i can do it myself, fifth pic: thought we needed a random kiss pic, last pic: we were at a park and luke decided he needed a nap. he looks so cute, don’t you think? 😊

jackhughes picture perfect couple. so glad you finally posted about it. was starting to feel like i had to do it myself 😂

Liked by jackhughes, yourinstagram, _quinnhughes and 398,914 others

lhughes_06 | you have my whole heart and i plan on giving you the whole world next 🌎❤   tagged: yourinstagram

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jamie.drysdale the goofiest and also sweetest couple i have ever known 😊

jackhughes remember the rule, luke. break her heart and you’ll have to deal with me and quinn 😏  | lhughes_06 luckily i don’t plan on breaking her heart 👍🏻 besides, i am not scared of you. quinn maybe but not you 😂

trevorzegras the luckiest dude alive honestly 😏  | yourinstagram right? 😉

user12 i really love seeing this 😊

colecaufield was actually not expecting this but i love it

edwards.73 you guys are such a perfect couple

bboeser love this a lot. never seen either of you so happy before 😊

_quinnhughes you’ve got the best girlfriend ever so if you screw this up, i will never forgive you 😏

user04 the boys being incredibly protective of y/n makes me wish i knew someone like them 😔 they’re perfect

elblue6 soulmates 🥰

user08 so luke how did you finally make it official? we need to know  | lhughes_06 it’s a long story  | yourinstagram when i got back from vancouver, he made me a nice romantic dinner and he got me a ring i've been wanting forever. then he made a big speech about how much he loved me and he started rambling so i shut him up with a kiss and then he asked me 😊  | user08 awe so cute 😊

Liked by lhughes_06, yourinstagram, _quinnhughes and 399,817 others

jackhughes | you guys, this was BEFORE they started dating. we decided to take the boat out one night and they sat like this the entire time  tagged: lhughes_06, yourinstagram

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_quinnhughes they’ve always been super close so it can’t really be a surprise that this happened 😊

lhughes_06 in our defense, it was the first time in a while we had actually been able to see each other. i was not about to let the opportunity pass me by again ❤

edwards.73 they’re lucky they’re a cute couple

nicohischier 😊

trevorzegras if they weren’t such a cute couple, i would hate how lovey-dovey they are 😊

colecaufield this was the trip that you broke up with julia, wasn’t it?  | jackhughes yes. couldn’t stand her hating on my best friend anymore. had to be done  | yourinstagram oh so i'm your best friend now? how sweet 🥺🥰  | jackhughes oh don’t act so surprised. you've known this forever 🙄

user13 and people ask me why my standards are so high. i mean you broke up with your girlfriend because she didn’t like y/n, both you and quinn as well as a few other hockey boys are so protective of y/n and have threatened to kick luke’s ass if he hurts her, and luke does anything for her. she deserves happiness and you guys are doing everything you possibly can to make sure she feels loved. And that is why my standards are so high ❤  | yourinstagram they just do what any guy is supposed to do when they care. if nobody can show you that same amount of love, then they don’t deserve you. you deserve happiness too, love 😊❤

user09 i love that y/n gets along with not just the other hockey boys, but the fans as well. she is truly the best  | lhughes_06 the love of my life for sure ❤

taglist: @worldlxvlys @bunbunbl0gs @jacktoria4ever @callsignwidow

[dramalove247]

Favorite Things: Lovely Runner

This show gave us so many reasons to love it! I still am shocked at how well the pulled off the storyline and the ending was perfection. I am really looking forward to a rewatch someday.

To keep it organized, here are some of the Lovely Runner posts we love (spoilers ahead):

The "I remember everything" scene!!! Thank you @iamacolor for these gorgeous gifs!

"You never dates Sol?" This scene was HILARIOUS!!!! Thank you writers for including this scene! And his acting was great. Post by @boyz2baekhyun

Loved this post by @vibecheckmate

Great post by @fireheart-ak21 about the fate of Sun Jae and Im Sol 👇

Post by @tokkiheart about the male leads from Lovely Runner and W both questioning the story ending with them forgetting their love:

These gifs... man I LOVE this show! Thanks for the amazing post @dramaism, even if it gave me all the feels:

Unbelievably gorgeous Lovely Runner gifs by @dazzlingkai 😍

What are your favorite Lovely Runner posts? We want to see them too, so share in the comments!

[eltystuffs]

🌼My friend, you have met a terrible, terrible demise🌼

I went urban exploring for the first time with my bestie and brought Mr. Hippo with me to brighten the atmosphere! The floors were creaky, the air was filled with dust, and it was the perfect place for our favorite Mediocre Melody! This guy will be going to @crayfurbs as part of an art trade ❤ It was so fun making Mr. Hippo come to life as a Furby fr

My allergy symptoms will never recover from this I think I have mold spores and dust particles in my brain

If you need Mr. Hippo brainrot, read more

"My friend, you have met a terrible, terrible demise. But, uh, you know, I-I don’t feel too bad about it. After all, if- if it weren’t from me, it would have just been from someone else, ya know? I guess what I’m trying to say is life, life goes on. W- well, from- for everyone else, life goes on. Not- not for you, you’re, you're dead. But that’s neither here nor there. It reminds me of one summer day in the park, I was having just a delightful picnic with my good friend Orville. And I said to him, I said, “Orville, I-I have a story,” And he said to me, “What’s the significance of the story?” I said to him “Orville, not every story has to have significance, ya know? Sometimes uhh, you know, sometimes a story is just a story. You try to read into every little thing and find meaning in everything anyone says, you’ll just drive yourself crazy. Had a friend do it once - wasn’t pretty - we talked about it for years. And-and not only that, but, you’ll likely end up believin' something you shouldn’t believe or thinkin' something you shouldn’t think o-o-or assumin' something you shouldn’t assume, ya know? "Sometimes," I said, "a-a-a story is- is just a story, so just be quiet for one second of your life and eat your sandwich, okay?" Of course, it was only then I realized I made sandwiches and, poor Orville was having such difficulty eating it! Elephants have those clumsy hands, ya know? A-Actually, I-I suppose that’s the problem; they don’t have hands at all, do they? They've, they’re all feet! A-an I-I couldn’t imagine someone asking me to eat a sandwich with my feet. Now, if I recall correctly there was a bakery nearby. I- I said to him “Orville, l-let me go get you some rye bread.” Now, I-I’m unsure if elephants enjoy rye bread, but I assure you that Orville does. Now this was on a Tuesday which was good because rye bread was always fresh on Tuesday. They made sourdough on Monday and threw it out Wednesday. O-or rather they sold it at a discount for people wantin' to feed the ducks and then, probably at the end of the day finally they threw it all out, I-I don't recall. I do remember a man who would being his son to the bakery every Wednesday, and-and go feed the ducks. He would buy all of the sourdough bread. Of course, you know, you’re not supposed to feed the ducks sourdough bread at all. It swells up in their stomach and then they all die. At, ah, at least, at least that’s what I’ve heard. Ya know, I never saw any ducks die myself, but I did notice a substantial decrease in duck population over the course of a few years. I just never thought to stop the man and tell him he was killing the ducks by feeding them sourdough bread! And if you want my opinion on the matter, heh, and I told Orville this as well: if you wanna feed ducks or birds or any kind for that matter, especially buy seed. I mean, when you think about it, breads of any sort don’t occur in nature. They don’t grow on trees or spring up from the bushes! I don’t think birds know what to do with bread. What was I saying? Oh, oh yes yes. So I bought Orville some rye bread. What a fine day it was."