#we will meet again in a full moon's night
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The next morning Adam woke up in a very nice apartment. On the night stand she found the mask of Tuxedo Mask. He realized what that meant, he was going to find out who Tuxedo Mask was. Just then the door opened and Lucifer stepped through. He had removed the the cape, jacket, and top hat.
Adam: You’re Tuxedo Mask? I think a part of me always knew which was why I was attracted to both.
Lucifer had a tray of breakfast that he placed on the bed.
Lucifer: It was the same with you and Sailor Moon. You even remind me of the Princess I dreamed of.
Adam smiled and moved closer to Lucifer. Lucifer held him making him feel safe. Their lips met in a kiss. Adam always knew he was attracted to both men and women so him kissing Lucifer wasn’t odd for him. In fact it felt so right.
Adam: Does this make us boyfriends?
Lucifer: If you want to be. I can assure you that I do want this.
Adam: Good because you are who I want.
They kissed again until he got texts from his friends wondering where he was and worried for him.
Lucifer: You should go to your friends to reassure them you are safe. You can also tell them who I am.
Adam nodded as Lucifer handed him a rose. He went to the place they all agreed to meet. Luna jumped onto Adam’s shoulders.
Luna: We have all the Sailor Scouts, the Princess should come soon.
Eve arrived holding a male white cat named Artemis and the young woman who was Sailor Jupiter. She was named Vaggie and had befriended Eve when she found out that she was a Sailor Scout.
Lute: So where were you?
Adam: I was with Lucifer, he was Tuxedo Mask.
Emily: So both guys you had a crush on were the same person that is very romantic.
Adam couldn’t help but blush at this.
Eve: The Sailor Scouts were created by the Queen of the Moon Serafina or Sera to help protect her daughter and help her fight evil thousands of years ago. A dark witch named Lilith attacked the moon because she was jealous of the princess who had the love of someone she coveted. Her love tried to help the princess, but was killed by the witch and in her grief the princess unleashed the power of the Silver Crystal on the moon. This made it so we could all be reborn now.
Emily: The Princess of the Moon is that powerful?
Eve: Yes and with us all together expect Lilith to attack soon. I believe it will be next week on the full moon as a way to mock the princess.
During the week everything was at peace. Lucifer and Adam started to date much to Adam’s joy. Rosie was very happy that Adam found a kind, intelligent, and handsome boyfriend. On the night of the full moon Lilith attacked the city killing everyone that came across her. Adam and the other Sailor Scouts arrived along with Lucifer as Tuxedo Mask. Now Emily had a portable computer that she could attach to her ear where she could contact Abel who could provide information to them through a holographic screen. Luna and Artemis saying it was technology from the old moon kingdom. Lilith glared at Adam.
Lilith: A man as a Sailor Scout, what a joke.
She sent an attack at Adam, but Lucifer jumped between them and took the brunt of the attack.
Adam: NOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!
Adam broke down sobbing as raw power was unleashed from him. His Sailor uniform turned into a white and gold down. The tiara turned into a crescent moon mark and on of his tears turned into a brilliant silver crystal.
Eve: Adam is the Princess reborn.
The power of the Silver Crystal brought the people Lilith killed back to life.
Lucifer: You are my princess from my dreams.
Everything came back to Adam. In a last life Adam was Princess Adaline of the Moon Kingdom. She fell in love with a Prince of Earth named Lucifer. Lilith who was jealous of their love because she coveted the moon. Lucifer was killed and in her grief Adaline caused them to be reborn so she could be with her love. She must have become a man to hide. Lilith used her magic to pull Lucifer to her since he was still injured. Adam sobbed as they left. He went back to normal and his friends took him home. They stayed with him for the night to comfort him. In the morning Adam awoke to see his hair had grown down to his knees and even though he still had his dick there was red between his legs.
@things-arent-what-they-seem66
(Sailor Moon AU)
Adam ran through the hallways of a palace like every dream he had recently. He looked outside at the surface of the moon outside. The palace was an area of the moon that thrived and had life. But he continued to run passing by his reflection that was of a beautiful woman with flowing long brown hair and in a gown that was white and gold. On his forehead was a crescent moon mark of gold. He found what he was looking for, he Prince, his one true love. But a woman hidden in the shadows stabbed him through the chest.
Adam: NOOOOOO!!!!!!
The crystal in his hands pulsed with power around him, but before he could see what happened next he woke up in bed. Adam stumbled out of bed. He was a tall and attractive teenager with short brown hair and honey brown eyes. He pulled on his school uniform and went down stairs. His mother Rosie was setting up breakfast for him and his younger brother Abel.
Rosie: Good luck on the exam today sweetie.
Abel: He is going to fail.
As much as Adam loved him, Abel could be annoying. As a response Adam stuck out his tongue. After breakfast he ran through the streets and saw a group of kids harassing a cat.
Adam: Hey you little shitheads, stop it.
Adam ran over and picked up the cat. There was a bandage on the cat’s head and he removed it to see a crescent moon marking. But what really caught his attention was the teenager that ran to him. He had to be a year or two older than Adam with golden blonde hair and blue eyes. His uniform was from a very exclusive high school for the gifted.
Lucifer: Hey is everything alright, I saw those kids harassing that cat and came to help, my name is Lucifer Morningstar by the way.
Adam: My name is Adam Kadmon.
Adam was sure he was blushing up a storm at this very handsome young man. But the cat jumped out of Adam’s arms and onto a fence, the cat looked at Adam and ran away.
Lucifer: My school is close to where your school is, do you mind if I walk with you?
Adam: Not at all.
Lucifer watched the beautiful young man walking with him. He remembered his dreams of a Princess that lived on the moon. This Adam felt so much like her in spite of the fact that Adam was a man. If it wasn’t for his nightly activities he would have asked Adam if he wanted to hang out with him. Once they made it to Adam’s school, Adam smiled and waved at Lucifer before walking towards the school building. Just then Adam’s childhood friend, Angel walked up to him. In spite of the fact that Angel was a boy he always wore the girls school uniform because he said it was cuter.
Angel: So who was that hottie with you?
Adam: His name is Lucifer, I am sure that he was walking with me to be nice.
Angel: With the way he was looking, I don’t think that was the case. He is definitely attracted to you.
For the rest of the day his mind kept drifting to Lucifer.
There was just something about him that drew Adam in, maybe it was his kind blue eyes or the way he smiled before going to his own classes for the day.
Whatever it was, Adam was smitten with Lucifer and hoped to see him again and soon.
When he got home from school he went to his room to do his homework, sitting at his desk there was a scratching at his window. It was the kitty from before with the moon crest on its forehead.
Adam: Oh, hello kitty kitty.
He opened the window letting her in, he gave her a few pats.
Kitty: Adam?
Adam screamed and fell over: DEVIL CAT!!
Kitty: Shhh! My name is Luna and I've been looking for you.
Adam: What?
Luna: Yes, I need to tell you your purpose and why I'm here to help you. You're Sailor Moon, you're meant to protect the world from evil.
Adam watched in awe as this kitty used some magic to make a wand appear, it had a moon crest design on it, the handle black and gold.
Luna: To activate your power, just hold the wand up and say "Moon Prisim Power".
Adam was skeptical and wondering if he was dreaming. Carefully he picked up the wand and held it, it was smooth and not too heavy.
Here goes nothing.
Adam held it up: Moon Prisim Power!
A colorful light came out and surrounded him, he was covered in ribbons that changed into different clothes.
He now wore red knee high boots, white elbow length gloves, a blue and white sailor top with a large red bow and a mini red skirt. And to top it off he had a good tiara in his hair.
He looked good.
Adam: ..... Why am I dressed like a chick?
Luna: I can't tell you that, you have to figure that out for yourself.
Adam sighed, at least he made it look good. Kind of reminded him of his dream.
#sailor moon au#hazbin hotel#adam#hazbin hotel adam#lucifer#lucifer morningstar#hazbin hotel lucifer#adamsapple#guitarduck
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The Yagami Team in KOF 96 / The Yagami Team in KOF XV
#yagami team#king of fighters#kofedit#the king of fighters#kof 96#kof xv#kof#iori yagami#mature and vice#vice and mature#vice kof#mature kof#our stuff#lgbt#lgbtedit#gaming#gamingedit#gamingladies#remember me when you look at the moon#we will meet again in a full moon's night#you reek of beasts#gay#queer#lesbian#bi#yagami#sapphic snakes#kyoiori#orochi hakkesshu#team best dressed
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when the. ww
(frothing at the mouth) huge spoilery ramble in tags
#gk#kikuposting#compensating for the lack of kirowilksofia official art and promo material#the EFFICIENCY in the way these two characters are introduced and fleshed out in tandem ooough#every time they interact we get revelations abt them and our perception of them as individuals and their relationship shifts#the toni hunt tells us theyre very familiar w eachother (tactically and personally) and seem to be on the same wavelength#the betrayal tells us abt their night in the trenches and how kiku seems to value that memory (by proxy their relationship) more than ipopt#their next meeting reveals kiku 1. is a spy 2. inconsiderate and self centered as hell 3. really really wants ipopte back at his side#and THEN we get the full flashback of what actually happened in mukden#cementing why this journey is so important to ipopte and his motive for the betrayal. exploring cultural identity and disconnect and regret#how kiku would have known but because of his guilt + avoidant coping mechanisms completely repressed this memory and romanticised it instea#so the memory of 'ariko tells me about how the death of his father (which i was involved in) left him lost and grieving'#becomes 'that night the two of us called out to eachother under the narrow sliver of the moon'#and when what truly happened finally resurfaces kiku realizes hes in the wrong#and the next time he meets ipopte and is rejected he finally understands and when he splits ways he tells him hell be waiting for him#lets go to a hot spring together sometime again T_T#AGHH its so good its so fun the amount of substance in this relationship w so little screentime between two minor characters#and how its used to flesh the two of them out#kiku as a character with realistic flaws aside from being dumb and how those flaws actually impact his relationship w someone he cares abt#ipopte who regrets distancing himself from his cultural id bcs of a desire to assimilate. his feelings resonated with me a lot#and i think its an experience many marginalized ppl can relate to but isnt often expressed in media#this long ass ramble didnt even cover half of my thoughts abt them#i need to know what noda was on when he wrote ch260-280 theyre so good I LOVE GOLDEN KAMUYYYYY
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Love of my Life
summary: the dagger squad meets hangman's best-kept secret
jake seresin x reader
word count: 1490
warnings: no editing, fluff
a/n: this popped into my head the other night... enjoy! also this gif makes me CHOKE ohmylord
song rec: love of my life - harry styles
masterlist
It wasn’t on purpose. Nights when you and Jake ended up at the same bar were never planned, mostly because your friends from work always wanted to go somewhere downtown, and Jake’s friends from work always wanted to go to the Hard Deck so there was never a chance for the two groups to intersect.
Tonight, however, your friends had enough of hearing about all your nights at the Hard Deck with your fighter pilot husband who drops by work every once and a while with lunch or a gorgeous bouquet of flowers. They decided to venture out to the Hard Deck tonight for your monthly get-together and you weren’t going to miss an opportunity to ogle at your husband from across the bar while he played darts and pool with his Dagger Squad friends who just so happened to be in town visiting.
And that’s exactly where you found yourself on this lovely Friday night. Your friend walked over to your standing table with another drink for you and you thanked her with a smile. She immediately started diving into some workplace gossip, keeping her voice quiet since so many of your colleagues had managed to make it out tonight. You half-listened to her go on how bad the break room refrigerator smelled the other day but your real focus was on Jake who was playing pool with Phoenix, Fanboy, and Bob. He had Bob on his team and you were surprised to see him actually give the man a chance to play without correcting or coaching him.
You knew all about the Dagger Squad, when Jake was first sent out here you followed him, even knowing this wouldn’t be a permanent duty station, and he talked about everyone he was competing against non stop. From the moment he came home after training you were getting a full rundown of the days happening (you were sworn to secrecy of the top secret events, of course). You learned quickly who was who, even if you never got the opportunity to meet them.
After the mission, you were pulling out boxes and getting ready to move what little belongings you brought over to the island when Jake came home and surprised you to your core. He accepted a teaching position here on the North Island and you were staying for the foreseeable future.
You were shocked but over the moon. Jake would be in one spot for at least a couple years and wouldn’t be off on deployments and missions so often. You could start a family and he could actually be there for all of it.
“Hello? Anybody home?” A hand waving in front of your face brought you out of memories and a trance you hadn’t realized you were in. You laughed and smiled at your friend, but not before catching the eye of Phoenix, who totally caught you staring at Jake.
“Sorry, sorry, got a little lost there.” You waved her hand out of your face and took another sip from your drink.
“I’ll say,” she laughed, “I mean, I get it.” Her eyebrows wagged and you laughed heartily, throwing your head back. She was always complimenting your choice of husband and you had to agree with her, he was fine as hell.
“Fuck, I think one of his friends just caught me staring,” you said once the laughter died down.
“Remind me again why he doesn’t tell them about you?”
“It started off as a joke,” you start, “he wanted to see how long it would take one of them to notice, and now it’s just an ongoing bet we have.”
“A bet I am about to win, by the way.” Jake suddenly appears behind you and you’re happy to see him until his words sink in.
“You’re not allowed to interfere!” You point at him and he just laughs.
“No interference, I promise.” He leans on the table you two are standing at and you almost forget about the bet for a second because his green eyes still captivate you even after all this time.
“Well, what are you doing over here then?”
“See now, that’s where it gets interesting because someone caught you looking at me,” he tips his beer over in the direction of his friends, who scatter like chickens when you turn your head to look at them, “and they bet me $20 that I couldn’t walk over here and get your phone number.”
“Hmmm, seems like fair play to me.” Your friend interjects, looking contemplatively between you and your cheating husband.
A noise comes out of your mouth, somewhere between disbelief and betrayal. You only had one month left before the bet was yours and you could claim your prize and now this happens, the perfect opportunity falls right into Jake’s lap.
“Did none of them notice the giant ring on my finger?” You hold up your wedding rings, which glint even in the dim bar lighting and Jake takes your fingers in his hand, bending them towards himself before placing a kiss on your knuckles. You swoon. It’s impossible not to. “Don’t try to distract me, you’re in trouble.”
“Come on darlin’,” His hand fell away from yours but moved slyly around your hip, where it curled around the belt loops of your shorts, and just then, while his face was inching towards yours, your wedding song came on.
“When did this song get added to the jukebox?”
“I may have put in a special request.” His smile did you in. You met him halfway and when your lips met that familiar kaleidoscope of butterflies took flight. Jake pulled away just to smile at you some more before pressing a few quick kisses to your lips. When he backed away enough, you took the chance to look over his shoulder and see what his friends thought.
The entire group was standing around, completely gobsmacked at what just occurred and you could only imagine what was running through their minds.
“After you, Mrs. Seresin,” Jake whispered in your ear. You gave him the best glare you could but he just laughed and grabbed your hand to walk you over to the group of people you already felt like you knew.
Jake chuckled as you got within ear shot. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet someone,” he pulled you under his arm and you automatically slid your own across his back, “this is my wife.” He said it with genuine pride, a stark contrast to his usual cocky tone everyone was used to.
“Wife?” Rooster repeated, dumbfounded.
“Pick your jaw up off the floor, Bradshaw.”
You ignored Jake and introduced yourself to everyone with a quick wave. “It’s nice to finally meet you all.”
There was a beat of silence while you watched everyone process what was happening, but Phoenix broke it with a laugh. “You’ve been holding out on us, Bagman!”
“Yeah, what the hell, man!” Rooster seemed downright offended that Jake would keep such a secret from them and you couldn’t help but laugh.
“It’s not all Jake’s fault,” You come to his defense, “we had a bet going, which I just lost.”
“What bet did you two have?” Bob asked, coming forward to introduce himself to you properly.
You shook his outstretched hand, smiling. “We wanted to see how long it would take for someone to figure out he was married.”
“You… you don’t wear a wedding ring?” Rooster seemed to be having the hardest time with this revelation and it was cracking you up.
Jake pulled his dog tags out from under his shirt, proudly turning them around to display his gold wedding band that perfectly matched the one around your finger. They both belonged to his grandparents and he was so proud to give you his grandmother's band on your wedding day.
Phoenix studied the two of you for a moment, watched the way you started to sway to a song and Jake immediately joined in, watched how his attention always drifted back to you, and how his entire cocky dimenor melted away as soon as you were near.
“So, what’s the story? How did you manage to bag Hangman?” Natasha asked, leaning her hands on the pool cue in front of her.
Jake pretended to be offended. “I’m not that wild.”
You roll your eyes affectionately before diving into the story of how you and Jake met. It was nothing spectacular or anything you would want to make a movie about, but it was a whirlwind romance that ended in the two of you married in the Seresin family’s backyard three summers ago.
When you finished your story, all smiles for your husband, Rooster raised his beer in a toast. “Welcome to the family, Mrs. Seresin.”
Jake couldn’t help but smile. It felt good to let the team in on his best-kept secret, even if he was gonna pay for her losing the bet later on tonight.
---
thanks for reading ily
Requests are open 🫶🏻
#top gun maverick#jake seresin#hangman#seresin#top gun#jake seresin x reader#hangman x reader#reader insert#top gun x reader#fanfic#top gun fanfic#fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfic#glen powell#top gun imagine#top gun fanfiction#Jake hangman Seresin
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“YOU WOULDN’T LIKE ME WHEN I’M HUNGRY!”
“Just warm? I thought you meant I was hot, hot.” “Hot, hot?” “Yeah, I guess I’m a handsome guy, am I not?” You snort. “And so full of yourself.”
pairing: werewolf! satoru gojo x f!reader | kinkoctober
summary: since you were kid, you’ve been friends with satoru gojo. having grown up in the same village, it’s perfectly normal to meet up, laugh in front of a campfire and reminisce about the good old days, isn’t it? not the place or the time to confess your true nature, hmm?
warnings: +18 only, smut, nsfw, childhood friends to lovers, both lived in a small village, firecamp mood, sex (p in v), fingering (f!receiving), doggy style, handjob, bredding kink, full moon, nipple play, dirty talk, talking about being parents, fluff, (if you wanna picture werewolf like it’s same as jacob in twilight).
wc: 3,568
“I’m a werewolf.”
Those words, whispered in the silent night — or almost silent. Unless you count the cicadas’ songs that break the inaudible, sacred stillness of the dark. Under a sky where stars shimmer and the village campfire is the main source of light, casting a fiery glow in Satoru's eyes as he looks at you.
The dry, earthy ground, the scent of pine trees, roasted marshmallows, and the laughter of other young villagers — all back for the famous autumn full moon.
And you, sitting beside your childhood friend — Satoru Gojo.
Who utters words you never thought you’d hear from him, whispered without a care about being overheard. His azure gaze fixed on yours, as though searching the depths of your soul for any reaction besides your obvious shock.
With his hands pressed against the dry ground, his long legs stretched out, his torso turned toward you — every ounce of his attention captivated by you and only you.
As it always has been, hasn’t it?
And out of all the things he could have confessed, this declaration is what passes through his lips, cutting short your laughter and turning it into a gasp.
Then nothing. Silence.
“You— Satoru, what?”
And oh, how he could have fallen for that little frown of yours, so confused, so lost, so utterly adorable.
But he doesn’t repeat his words. He just watches you, lips flat but eyes replacing the smile you knew so well. The glow of the flames licking the campfire’s wood casts orange hues across his face like a phantom’s shadow.
Swallowing hard at his lack of reaction, you glance around, disoriented — your village, your family, your friends, your neighbors. No one seems the least bit troubled, nor does it seem like they’re paying attention to your conversation.
“Sweetheart.”
The nickname makes your panicked heart swell, and Satoru gently anticipates your next move. His rough, warm hand rests over yours, silently asking you not to worry.
“I always thought you’d figure it out on your own one day,” he murmurs.
“What do you mean?” you reply, and he can’t help but chuckle — a low, rumbling sound that almost seems wolfish.
“All the stories since we were kids.” He pauses, giving you time to process. “Our parents told us, and it’s also the history of the village.”
“A story is just a story, Satoru.” You pull your hand from his and prepare to stand up.
Enough with the tasteless jokes.
“This isn’t funny.” And his little heart breaks, because he hates the annoyed tone you take, though he still tries to salvage the situation.
Why the hell did he blurt it out like that?
“Wait, sweetheart,” Satoru pleads, his voice low and husky. His large, warm hand gently catches yours, urging you to sit back down. But as you persist in pulling away, he ends up confessing in desperation, “Am I disgusting to you?”
This time, it’s not the night’s silence that overwhelms you but Satoru’s puppy-dog eyes. Like he’s afraid you’ll walk away from him forever.
“Disgusting? Satoru…” You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. “You know I hate your jokes, and—”
“I’m not lying.” He presses his hand desperately over yours, tugging slightly to make you sit down again. “Do you want me to show you?”
Your eyes widen. “Excuse me? Here? In front of everyone?”
“Everyone already knows. You’re the only one blind to it,” Satoru breathes, standing gracefully without ever letting go of your hand.
“What are you even talking about? And where are you taking me?” you protest, stiffening your legs so he won’t drag you away. But he only chuckles softly, turns toward you, and suddenly hoists you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes (yes, really — nothing more, nothing less).
Only a chuckle answers your protests as you weakly pound your fists against his perfectly sculpted back under his white t-shirt, hiding so much more beneath.
“Satoru fucking Gojo!”
“Hmm, so Satoru is gay and he fucks Gojo?” He bursts into laughter at his own joke, tightening his grip to keep you from falling as he carries you further into the forest of tall pines that have watched you both grow up.
Yet you persist, thrashing about to make him let go — but in vain.
He walks surprisingly fast, as if guided by some instinct, knowing exactly where he’s going. Or maybe he’s been here countless times when you weren’t around — or when you were asleep?
When he finally stops, Satoru carefully sets you down and presses his lips together to stifle his laughter at the sight of your disheveled hair and utterly defeated expression.
Heat rises to your cheeks as you turn your back on him, trying to fix your hair. Your gaze lands on the river running through the forest, its surface shimmering under the moonlight tonight.
Lips press a kiss to your cheek, and you shove Satoru away as he laughs, delighted by your tomato-red face.
“Stop it.” You punch his chest, though he doesn’t budge an inch.
It’s like hitting solid concrete — only slightly softer.
He takes advantage of your moment of confusion to step back and peel off his t-shirt, revealing his muscular chest, pale skin, and far-too-defined V-line.
Your eyes dart away from the sight he’s offering, one even the moon seems to embellish with its rays. But then the sound of a belt buckle clicking open makes your eyes widen.
“Satoru, don’t you dare—”
“Relax, I just don’t want to tear my clothes while transforming. How else am I supposed to get back home after?” He chuckles, giving you time to turn around and offer him some privacy.
You can feel his damned smirk, but you swallow down yet another sharp retort.
It’s always been like this with him. He’d tease you, you’d say you didn’t like it, and then chase him around while convincing yourself it wasn’t funny — ignoring the laughter that always bubbled in your chest.
At school, it was the same story. You were practically glued to each other, one always with the other. A constant war between two friends competing over anything and everything. Who would leave the haunted house first, who would blink first, or who could sleep without a nightlight after yet another story about the village’s werewolves.
Since you were kids, you hardly ever kept secrets from one another.
So why does this unpleasant sound of bones cracking and flesh tearing behind you feel both so new and so familiar?
Has Satoru always carried this secret within himself when you spent your evenings together watching movies? Had he tried to tell you, leaving hints for you to eventually uncover the truth?
All those times he managed to climb impossible places no ordinary human could, or when he walked past you and, with one sniff, could tell if you’d changed shampoo?
Or how he seemed to turn into your personal bodyguard at least once a month, and anyone who dared hurt you ended up with a broken limb?
Since middle school, he had always seemed more mature despite his jokester nature. And his physique — how drastically it had changed when he turned 18. If it hadn’t been for the Satoru you knew, you would never have guessed that back then, he was just a young adult.
And now in college, the two of you seemed like proper adults.
Real, young adults, still friends.
Even if kissing your friend on the cheek isn’t exactly common?
Even if sleeping in the same bed with nothing but cuddles and hugs isn’t normal?
Even if you’d both seen each other practically naked under the right circumstances without either of you daring to ogle the other?
A bark snaps you out of your thoughts, and you turn around with a start.
Standing before you is a massive wolf-dog with snow-white fur tinged with silvery hues, and cerulean blue eyes piercing through the forest's shadowy darkness.
You freeze in place, staring at the creature before you. It is both majestic and terrifying.
“Satoru?”
The white wolf barks and rushes toward you, affectionately nuzzling his nose against your stomach before moving up to lick your chin. If it weren’t for his sheer size, he might’ve been mistaken for a puppy.
A tender smile spreads across your lips, and you stroke Satoru’s head, his fur so soft and cool you can’t resist planting a small kiss on it.
“You’re gorgeous.” Another kiss on his snout earns a bark that sounds like joy. “And so cute, and so big, I’d hold you like a plushie all the time if I could.”
He lets out a soft growl against you, lifting his front paws to rest them on your shoulders. In the background, his bushy white tail wags happily.
You cup his face in your hands, noticing the glint of his sharp teeth as he opens his mouth slightly.
“You’re not scary,” you coo, kissing the top of his head, and he squeals in appreciation. “And you’re not disgusting at all, I swear.”
He barks happily once more before bounding away, running around wildly before stopping to howl at the moon.
The sound is so powerful that a shiver runs down your spine.
~~~~
Back in the village, Satoru is already back in his normal form, and you scream in terror when you find him standing completely naked in front of you, a mischievous smile playing on his lips before he puts on the clothes he had tossed onto a fallen tree trunk.
No one seems to notice that you’ve just witnessed a werewolf transformation. According to Satoru, it’s simply because you haven’t realized that nearly half the male population of the village shares the same condition.
On this full moon night, new werewolves are being initiated, others are transforming just for fun like Satoru (since it’s the only time he can do it freely without going mad for the rest of the month while waiting for the next full moon), while some are engaging in reproduction.
Because, as he tells you, a full moon means mating season for werewolves.
But tired of it all, you head back home, with Satoru following closely behind—where no one will return for quite some time.
You collapse onto your bed, immediately curling up under the blanket before scooting over to make space for Satoru.
He doesn’t waste any time.
He slides in beside you, wrapping his strong arms around you to warm you with his naturally higher-than-average body temperature.
“You’re going to be useful in the winter,” you giggle, closing your eyes with a smile, your back pressed firmly against Satoru’s warm chest.
“I’m pretty hot, huh?” he murmurs into your hair, placing a welcome kiss there. No need to wonder what he means anymore, right?
“Mh-hmm,” you hum. “Like a warm comforter.”
Satoru frowns. “Just warm? I thought you meant I was hot, hot.”
“Hot, hot?”
“Yeah, I guess I’m a handsome guy, am I not?”
You snort. “And so full of yourself.”
His embrace tightens around you, and he grazes his lips against the shell of your ear. “Am I?”
“Admit that you aren’t just hot in both ways,” you mutter.
“Because there is a third?” he asks, his breath tickling you.
“Don’t act innocent.”
He settles his head fully onto the pillow, the moonlight filtering through your window caressing his flawless face. “Never said I was.”
And he chuckles when you huff.
Then he returns to his original position, pulling you closer to his chest before gently running his hand along your forearm. His touch is warm, inviting, mischievous—yet affectionate, asking for nothing but a little more closeness.
You sigh, closing your eyes, slightly parting your lips as you let the back of your head rest against his neck.
He takes advantage of your vulnerable position, sliding his arm around your waist and closing any remaining space between you. His thumb traces slow, soft, patient circles over your stomach. Each motion makes you crave more.
So you shift slightly, freeing your torso to give him access to your neck, where his warm, steady breath teases your skin. He must feel it by now—the way your heart races in your chest, how your breathing grows quicker, shallower.
And Satoru, in his sly delight, doesn’t react more than you desire.
He simply lowers his nose to the hollow of your neck and shoulder, brushing his lips against your skin, resisting the primal urge to claim you as his. To mark you as his own.
So you move again, giving him full access to mark your bare neck or shoulder, your ass pressed firmly against him, wriggling just a bit to adjust—or perhaps not.
Satoru presses his lips together as he feels a surge and a quickening heartbeat in his pants, blood rushing to the area. Giving in, he sinks his mouth onto your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses, the wet, noisy sounds of his lips against your skin sending shivers of pleasure through you.
You press yourself impossibly closer to him, guiding one of his large hands to your breast. Your back arches so deliciously against him as he cups the soft mound in his palm.
Between the kisses that turn into hickeys along your trapezius and his hands kneading your breast, teasing your hard nipples, you reach for his other hand with a soft whimper and guide it under your shorts.
He doesn’t waste a second, his already warm hand finding its way to your already puffy clit. He rubs slow, torturous circles, spreading your wetness over it to make things easier. You are now reduced to shallow pants and lewd, adorable noises.
“F-Fuck, Toru,” you whisper, looking up at him with pleading eyes.
“Let it go, sweetheart,” he murmurs, toying with your intimate area, using his middle finger to spread your lower lips and gently pat your drenched entrance, the tight little ring of resistance testing his patience. “Will you let me take care of you?”
You nod, your eyes fluttering shut as you moan his name again when he breaches the soft, wet resistance of your entrance. His middle finger slips inside you, gently parting your walls as he seeks out that one sweet spot that makes your toes curl.
When he finds it, he rubs it gently, drawing gasps from you while his forefinger plays with your clit, his other hand busy tugging and twisting your nipples under your shirt. He bites down on your neck, slurping your soft skin before pumping his finger into you.
“Feels good?” he asks in a hoarse voice. The sound of him like this — taking care of you while pressing his hardness against your ass — is almost as good as what he’s doing to your body. You squirm against him, relishing the way your movements draw a throb from his length. It feels like he’s about to cum in his pants.
“Such a tease, hmm? Didn’t know this side of you,” he whispers into your ear, sliding a second finger inside you. He thrusts both digits knuckle-deep, curling them perfectly.
You mewl, letting him feel your walls tightening and clenching around his fingers every time he brushes your sweet spot. The slick, wet sounds of your arousal make him groan — did you just throb?
“Close,” you warn, your body folding as the knot in your stomach tightens, teetering on the edge of release. You wince, struggling to control your shallow breaths as your orgasm approaches. “Please, Toru.”
“Cum, baby, cum,” he coaxes, his voice soft and encouraging as he thrusts his fingers deeper into you. His grip tightens on your breast, and his fingers work your clit with relentless precision.
A second later, you come undone, cumming hard on his fingers. Your walls spasm around them, coating them in your warm juices. You bury your face in the pillow, gasping for air as the pleasure courses through you.
Satoru carefully withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to taste you. “Hmm, tastes as good as I thought you would,” he hums.
“You thought?” you repeat, your voice feeble.
“I never said I was innocent,” he says, echoing his earlier words with a smirk.
“You thought about how I’d taste?” you ask, raising an eyebrow with a skeptical pout.
“Not exactly that dirty, but…” he presses a soft kiss to your temple, “Can you blame me?”
You chuckle softly, sliding your shorts and soaked panties off under the blanket, your thighs damp with sweat and slick. As you shift, Satoru pinches the soft flesh of your rear.
“Didn’t you say tonight was the werewolves’ breeding night?” you tease, a smirk playing on your lips. The mere sight makes him want to cum in his pants.
“Would you let me?”
“I’m just waiting for you,” you say, blowing out a breath.
At those words, he wastes no time, undoing his belt and sliding his pants and boxers down. A damp spot betrays how hard and ready he is, his tip already leaking.
You reach out, wrapping your hand around his flushed, twitching length. It jumps slightly as you stroke him gently, a naughty smile playing on your lips — a sight that nearly drives him wild. You lower your head, giving him a perfect view of your bare ass as you tease him.
Each stroke of your hand makes him bite his lip harder, suppressing a moan. He’s trying to stay composed — he’s a man, after all.
But when you guide his shaft to your swollen lips, rubbing his reddened tip back and forth against your slick entrance, it nearly breaks him. You coat his mushroom tip with your cum, then press it against your tight, dripping hole.
Satoru exhales a trembling sigh, gripping your hips as if to ground himself. His fingers tighten, promising marks that will bloom later on your skin.
“Lemme fuck you, please, sweetheart,” he groans, his voice desperate as he struggles not to buck his hips into you.
And you smile. Such a naughty girl.
You sit up, slipping off your top to feel freer, and then position yourself on all fours, lifting your hips to give him full access to your dripping pussy, which aches to be filled.
You giggle softly, wiggling your hips, burying your face into the pillow.
Satoru takes it as an invitation. He positions himself at your entrance, stroking himself a few times before sliding into you. The stretch is delicious, like something out of a dream.
Your whimpers fill the room, rising into melodic, lewd moans — music to his ears.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Satoru hisses, gripping your hips to pull you closer, sliding his cock all the way inside until his tip kisses your womb. When he bottoms out, he knows it.
Even though he’s on the verge of cumming, Satoru wants to make sure you cum with him — to breed you thoroughly. His babies. Making you a mom.
The thought makes his thrusts gentle at first, letting you adjust to his size. But when you push your hips back and babble for him to fuck you for real…
He snaps.
He’s pounding into you, his heavy balls slapping against your clit, adding to the obscene wet sounds filling the room. Your ass meets his hips again and again, your walls gripping him tighter each time he withdraws, only to pull him back in harder.
It’s not just your bodies syncing but your hearts too. Breathless pants, gasps, pleading moans, and filthy whispers intertwine, creating something sacred between you.
“Toru, ah, please, deeper,” you whine, your hands gripping the sheets as he fucks you so perfectly.
“Deeper?” he repeats, his voice teasing as he grabs your hair gently, pulling your head back to arch your spine. It gives him even better access to the sweet spot he intends to flood with his seed. “You want me to be a daddy? And you a mommy? Cute little werewolf babies?”
“Fuck,” you moan, clenching tighter around him. “I want it. I want to be full of your cum and have babies.”
“So good, so tight,” he groans, his thrusts relentless. “Promise. You’re mine, remember?” But your nod isn’t enough for him. “Say it, sweetheart.”
“I’m yours, I’m all yours, Toru,” you sob, tears streaming as you teeter on the edge. “I-I’m close,” you babble, your hips moving in tandem with his.
Satoru leans over you, his chest pressing against your arched back. His cock twitches as he growls, “Gonna take my load? Gonna cum so fucking much, yeah?”
One final thrust sends you both spiraling.
You cum hard, clenching so tightly around him that it’s a miracle his length fits inside you. He fills you with his warm seed, so much that it spills out in thick spurts.
Heartbeats pounding, breaths ragged, Satoru softens inside you, slowly pulling out. He kneels to watch the mix of your juices and his spill from your stretched hole.
He slides two fingers back in, gently pushing his seed back inside. “Need it to stay here,” he murmurs, patting your ass and pressing a kiss to your back. “Wanna go back to the village later?” Satoru asks.
You shake your head. “Just stay with me. With the future mother of your children.”
“Hmm, I think I can get used to this. Or maybe ‘wife’ is a better title?” He collapses beside you, a tired but peaceful smile on his face.
“Husband too,” you whisper, your voice filled with warmth.
a/n: thank you guys to have read this silly fic <3 on my period rn and it sucks but anyway. lot of tests coming so i think the stress is the reason haha. this time i don’t have a lot to say, just that writing about satoru is the best thing lol. some memes about wolves come to my mind i just wanna add them somewhere lmao
like and reblogs are always appreciated as comments <33
tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @elliesndg
@drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @cybersomniq @sanemistar
@monokaix
#[azra masterlist]#[azra kinkoctober]#[dividers by me]#kinkoctober 2024#[dividers by @/strangergraphics]#jujutsu kaisen smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk smut#jjk x reader#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#jjk#jjk x you#gojo x you#x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru x y/n#satoru gojo#jjk satoru#satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#jujustu kaisen#jjk gojo#satoru gojo imagines#gojou satoru x reader
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Frat Boy!Gojo
Cosmopolitan: sober thoughts
Word Count: 6.1k Contents: their first date, cursing, a little angsty, but mostly fluffy, not proofread (barely skimmed this so again, dunno how much sense it makes)
“Before you get any bright ideas, just know I’m sharing my location with at least ten people.”
Whistling, the biggest pain in your ass saunters over to you
The moon is full, a big white orb that would otherwise bring you a lot of peace to look at but right now, only pisses you off for reasons you’d rather not spend too much time pondering. Rarely anyone comes around these parts; it’s at the very edge of the city, a half-hour drive from campus, and surrounded by miles of dull, old suburbia. You’re standing in front of a metal gate, slightly taller than you, with vines wrapping around the pickets. It swings slowly with every gust of wind, creaking before it meets the stone wall with a bang.
Gojo grimaces.
“Seriously, did you have to choose the scariest place in all of Eden? I mean, I respect the commitment to the aesthetic, but this is just crazy,” he grumbles, eyeing the cathedral from its huge marble pillars to the sharp spires piercing the night sky.
You roll your eyes. Trust him to leave the date planning to you just to complain every step of the way. You’re already regretting playing along with whatever games he’s conjured up this time, but at least you’ve got home turf advantage; you know this place like the back of your hand. There won’t be any surprises happening tonight.
Without replying, you walk off, heading straight through the gate.
“Hey, wait! Don’t leave me here. I don’t want to end up as a statistic.”
Shrugging, you say, “If you’re scared, you can go back home.”
When he doesn’t say a thing and follows you, you smile. You win. But that feeling of victory doesn’t last very long because then he starts muttering about the cobwebs and how they’re everywhere, then about the tombstones, how they’re so messy with moss covering the engravings and that ‘the spirits must definitely be like so mad about all that’, and when you don’t respond to any of his musings, he even complains about the eerie music foreshadowing his pending doom, like in Jaws.
There is no music.
“Where are we even going?” He pokes your shoulder, snatching his hand back faster than you can swat at it. “I thought we were going to, I don’t know, have a picnic under the stars and cuddle on top of someone’s grave, like Mary Shelley did.”
“How the fuck do you even know about that?”
Gojo lifts one shoulder. “Must have heard it online or something.”
You roll your eyes again — you have a feeling you’ll be doing a lot of that tonight, maybe even for the rest of your life if things go the way your parents plan. When you had first found out the village idiot is the president of the most sought-after fraternity of the most prestigious university in the country, you thought maybe no one else had stepped up. But then you found out he’s a Legacy --the Gojos have governed that fraternity since its conception -- and well, the pieces fell into place.
Mischief no doubt sparkling in your eyes, you look at him over your shoulder. His eyes are full of suspicion and when they meet yours, he becomes even more doubtful of your intentions. With a grin, you whisper, “We’re going someplace no one will hear you scream.”
“Kinky.”
That didn’t have the desired effect. How annoying. Though you don’t fail to notice how he moves in closer to you, his warmth radiating to your body through your black, fur cloak. You don’t shift away.
Gesturing for him to follow you through a gap in a wooden fence, you squeeze through to avoid splinters, pulling at your dress when a piece of lace catches on a nail. Just as you’re about to offer advice on how to contort his body to get through, he climbs over the fence and lands on his feet without stumbling, all in one quick sweep, like he’s who wanders these hallowed grounds at night and not you.
“What?” He asks when he spots your glare.
Not even those stupid sunglasses are out of place. Very annoying, indeed.
“Come quickly,” you bark, fixing your silk gloves to cover more of your skin as the chill settles in. It’s only six in the evening, and yet there’s no hint of light in the broad expanse above you, just the moon and the stars lighting your way, and occasionally your companion’s phone flashlight when he needs to look at what he’s stepped in.
He laughs. “No one’s ever said that to me before.”
“Do you make it a habit to talk about your sex life with a girl on a first date?”
“You’re the first, so not a habit. Not yet anyways.”
Screeching to a halt, your hand clutches his elbow to still him. Your jaw is slack and you’re staring, completely disbelieving. “There’s no way this is your first date. You took that girl to the casino.”
Gojo stares off into the distance as he ponders the notion, fingers tapping his chin. Then, he insists, “No, it really is my first date. And anyways, I don’t consider that night a date; she pretty much invited herself along. It was more like I was just taking her to the casino as her escort. Or maybe that does count as a date. If so, then I’ve been on a lot of dates. But none where I’ve actually used the word date. Does that even matter because —“
You wave a hand in front of his face to cut off his rambling; he talks way too much. “So, you’re telling me, I’m the first girl you’ve ever asked out on a date? That’s insane, Gojo. You hate me.”
“I don’t hate you,” he protests with a frown.
“You sure acted like you did for months,” you counter.
He insists, “I don’t hate you. Never did. I just acted out but yeah, I’m sorry. I was a dick.”
Clearing your throat, you straighten up and continue walking. “It’s fine. Water under the bridge.”
“You sure? ‘Cause I can get on my knees and beg.”
“Don’t tempt me, Gojo.”
He catches up to you and hums a playful tune, his light mood returning; Serious Gojo is gone like he never existed. “Guess that’s what you’re into, huh?”
“You’ll never know,” you snort, pushing a branch away from your face and letting it snap back into his chest, he yelps.
His hand reaches past you, lifting a thicker branch high above the both of you, before leaning close to your ear and whispering conspiratorially, “We’ll see.”
Disregarding the shiver than runs through you, you push on, moving almost on muscle memory alone. Your mind is attempting to distract itself by scanning the area, being careful not to be caught on church grounds after hours, pushing through the woodland to get to the clearing tucked away at the very back, where you go for peace and quiet.
Truthfully, you have no idea why you decided to have this date here, of all places. This place is sacred. Literally but also figuratively — this is the place you always ran to when the world got a little too loud, a little too busy and bright for you. No one else knows about this haven as far as you’re aware and you always thought you’d do anything to keep it that way. And yet, you’re showing it to him. Actually, guiding him to the place.
You should have at least blindfolded him so he couldn’t memorise the way.
Maybe you wanted to spite him by living up to his expectations and being the gothic monster that he thinks you are -- you want to scare him off before he lets his curiosity take him too close to something that might scald him. He needs to be afraid of you.
Or maybe you recognised that shadow in his eyes, the ones that suggests he’s lost as much sleep about this whole farce as you and thought he could do with a little silence.
You both arrive at a thick bush, a massive wall of a shrub towering over even Gojo. Behind you, the cathedral is only a blob, lit up by lanterns, whereas you’re both submerged in darkness; there are no streetlamps here.
“I’m totally going to be murdered here, aren’t I?” He whistles as if to say, ‘it’s been a good life, and I’ll have to just accept my fate’.
“Yeah, I was lying when I said it was all water under the bridge. I’ve actually been colluding with the devil to sacrifice your white ass.”
Gojo laughs.
He laughs a lot, but rarely like this, you note. He chuckles when his friends do something stupid like push him into the fountain, and he snorts when he reads the most recent article on The Bulletin. But you’ve never really seen him throw his head back and clutch his stomach, at least not with anyone but you. He does it when you get caught texting him under the dinner table, when you give him the middle finger from across the Quad, and that one time you bumped into him in the hallway and almost apologised before you realised it was him.
It’s the kind of laugh that’s infectious, and you hoped every time he does it that you’re somehow immune. However, when he looks at you with a brightening sparkle in his eyes, you realise you’re very much not.
You clear your throat again.
“Through here, is a very special place. You must swear you will not desecrate this place, lest the Mother Crone curse you for your treachery,” you announce, wiggling your fingers at him for extra flair.
Placing a hand on his heart, he stomps his foot like a soldier and swears, “I would never. I will take this secret to the grave.”
Satisfied, you grab the loose part of the hedge wall and pull it aside to reveal the little doorway to your secret hideout. He throws you a side glance before he ducks down and enters. You follow behind him, tucking the disguised door behind you.
He doesn’t say a thing as you zoom to the side where you grope for something in the grass, right under part of the hedge. When you feel the smooth, cold plastic, you don’t hesitate to switch it on.
Long wires of fairy lights light up, bulb by bulb, along the top of the hedge and down, like a really wide Christmas tree circling the hidden clearing. You hear him mutter a ‘woah’ under his breath as he scans the area — there’s only one thing here on the flat ground, it’s also lit up fairy lights along the top pole. It’s your most prized possession.
“You have a swing?” He shouts incredulously. Giggling like a child, he makes a run for it, jumping onto one of the two seats where he rocks back and forth on his feet. Then he’s whooping as he swings higher and higher, hair whooshing back and forth as he grins, taking in the cold autumnal air and the growing warmth of the lights. “This is freaking awesome!”
Sitting on the spare seat, you kick your feet gently so you can swing a little. Deep down there was a worry festering within, anxious that he would find this place boring, that he’d scoff at your idea of fun especially on a first date, but looking up at him, still hollering and grinning, you think, that was such a silly thought.
Gojo slows to a mild back and forth momentum and wonders, “Are you sure I’m allowed to be here? This place seems pretty private, like your own mancave or something. Do girls have a version of a mancave? ‘Womancave?”
In the corner of your eye, you see him clamber down to sit as you answer his question. “I wouldn’t have taken you here if you weren’t allowed, dumbass.”
“Yeah, well, I’m still not convinced this isn’t an elaborate scheme to murder me and hide my body in a grave.”
“Neither.” You shrug.
He laughs.
Eventually, you both swing side by side, alternating up and then down. The wind is howling a little, rustling the trees surrounding you and the moon’s obscured by dark cloud. Neither you nor he say anything to break the silence. You were also worried that you’d come to hate his presence in your safe space, finding his tall, lanky presence an irritation, but surprisingly, you don’t mind it.
It’s nice to have company.
Especially when that company is keeping his mouth shut.
“How often do you come here?”
Or not.
With a sigh, you reply, “Like twice a week. I can’t come as often as I’d like because of all the classes and stuff, not to mention all the wedding planning we have to do.”
“Guess you have it worse than me since I don’t even need to be fitted for a suit; they already have my measurements,” he muses.
“For whatever reason, it’s always the women who have to plan these things, even though it’s the men that propose.” You accidentally make eye contact with him. “Or at least, that’s how it usually goes.”
Gojo hums, a little sheepishly, before he changes the subject. “So, how did you find this place?”
“We buried my grandmother in the graveyard when I was fifteen. We were close and I took the loss pretty hard. I couldn’t stand all the people pretending they cared so I ran off, got lost and found this clearing. Well, I actually fell through the hedge, but I found it, nonetheless. And this swing was here already. I don’t know how long it’s been here or why it’s here, but it is.”
“That sounds like a fairytale.” He swivels, swinging a long leg over to straddle the seat, facing you as he leans back against the metal chain. “I’m sorry for your loss, by the way. I lost my grandmother too and it was rough.”
You saw that on the news years ago, it was one of those private family events that make the national headlines by complete virtue of the family name. Your parents grieved in public like it was their own loss and you didn’t understand why. Of course, as you got older, you became more and more acquainted with the idea of ‘reputation’ and ‘public image’, but you still feel that same distance to the concept as you did when you were but a child.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” you repeat back to him.
He shrugs. “It’s alright. I’ve got my gramps. We’re best buddies.”
“You have a lot of best buds, don’t you?”
Gojo strikes you as the kind of guy who makes friends easily, thought you question the depth of most of those friendships; sincerity is a rare phenomenon in your world.
“No,” he huffs, “I have Suguru, the girl that gave you my number, and gramps. I have lots of close friends, though.”
Considering his words, you realise you don’t have any best friends. Sure, you have friends you hang out with often, people that share your interest, that you can party with, but none you feel as strongly about as he does with those three people. You can hear it in his voice, the conviction, the pride, the confidence. And when you glance at him, you know he doesn’t even realise how defensive he sounds about his people.
How nice it must be to have someone like him as a friend.
“We could be friends, if you’d like,” he offers, and when you look at him with confusion, he adds, “You said it out loud, silly. You think I’m a good person to be friends with. Which, of course I am. I’m like super awesome.”
You burst out laughing. What he said isn’t even funny and he certainly doesn’t mean for it to be, but for some reason it is. So, you laugh, throwing your head back and clutching your stomach. He makes noises of complaints, telling you it’s rude to laugh at people. That makes you laugh harder.
“Gojo, be serious for a second. We can’t be friends, idiot,” you push out between puffs of laughter.
He frowns, lips twitching to fight back a smile at your flushed face. “Why not? We’re getting along fine right now, aren’t we?”
“Yeah, for now. But we’re going to be married. Or at least, we’re supposed to be. And think of all the complications that brings, it just doesn’t provide the conditions for a healthy friendship, especially considering our beginning. Think of all the people in our circle who had arranged marriages. How many of them get along? Like, really get along. Hell! Think about our parents.”
“Well, we could be different. We don’t have to end up like them. We can break the cycle or something.”
You stop laughing.
Something shifts in the air, like the moon’s reappeared, the wind’s slowed down, and his eyes shine just a little brighter. It’s sudden and you almost don’t notice it, almost shrug it off. But there’s a sincerity lingering between you and it demands your attention.
Fixing him a solemn look, perhaps similar to the one he gave you before, you assert, “That sounds an awful like an admission of surrender, Gojo.”
“Maybe it is.”
The speed at which he concedes, the sheer resolution in his eyes and the way he doesn’t falter when he says it all scream at you something you won’t accept. Can’t.
He grips your elbow, his long fingers wrapping around the limb with ease, demanding your attention. The sombre expression on his ghostly face haunts you. It’s like he’s shifted into a different person, into someone years older, a man burdened with great responsibility.
“I’m sorry. About how I started this year off. I regretted everything I said as soon as I said them. I can’t even remember why I said and did those things, but I definitely don’t have a good reason,” he rasped, a desperation lacing his words like he needs you to understand, like he tosses and turns over it. “I know you’re just as much a victim of this as I am, but I was facing a problem I didn’t know to solve, and I lashed out. At you. At someone who didn’t deserve it. And I’m sorry.”
You reel back, snatching your arm away. His touch burns the way ice does, and you have to rub warmth back into it, despite the layers between your skin and his. The sincerity in his eyes is alien, revealing far more about the ongoings of reality than you can absorb in one night. Confusingly, your heart is pounding to the beat of a song you’ve never heard before.
This date thing, taking him to your secret haven, giving him the opportunity to see you not as the enemy but rather as a woman was a mistake. It’s all one big mistake. It would have been fine if he had stayed as the Gojo you knew, the boisterous, obnoxious party animal that cares only about immediate gratification. But the man in front of you is not someone you can marry. He isn’t the type of man you can be around and feel absolutely nothing for.
“I’m hungry,” you mutter, standing abruptly.
He looks up at you, something passing in his eyes, almost akin to disappointment or sadness, and you can’t bear to think about what that could mean, so you simply gesture for him to follow you.
In silence, you walk back the way you came, using your phone’s flashlight to navigate through the thick haze of darkness. This was a mistake; you let him in for a second, gave him a glimpse into your life, and you aren’t even sure why. Was it because you could hear your mother’s voice telling you to do whatever it takes to drag the man to the altar or because, despite yourself, you actually wanted to see what going on a date with Gojo means?
Maybe it was both.
Or neither.
You’re losing more and more of yourself these days, doing things you’d never thought you’d do for one reason or another, and you no longer even know what you want. Your pride or your family? A marriage with Gojo or the friendship he’s offering? Is there’s a third option.
“What’d you wanna eat?” He asks, rocking back and forth on his feet as he stares up at a streetlight.
You’ve both made it back onto the main road, the swings a mile away. He didn’t press the topic more, simply walked beside you and pushed branches away like before.
It’s nearing eight in the evening and your stomach growls.
“Who said I’m eating with you?”
Gojo rolls his eyes and pokes your shoulder. With a sulky tone, he groans, “Don’t be mean. You’re hungry, I’m hungry, let’s eat. Simple!”
“Can you cook?”
He beams, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose as he looks at you over them, bright eyes sparkling with what you can only guess to be mischief. You realise you really should think before you speak.
—
That’s how you find yourself in his frat house kitchen, cloak discarded, hair up and gloves off. His frat members are out, partying, he claims, so the whole house is free. When he suggested it, you looked at him like he was insane, but he only wiggled his brows.
“You scared?” He cocked his head, grinning at you in a way that made you want to punch his teeth in.
Narrowing your eyes at him, you responded, “No, of course not.”
Gojo bent his arms and rocked his head, making clucking noises that echoed in the empty street. Every note pierced your body, mocking and goading. You knew exactly what he was doing, and it was fucking working, the stupid bastard. Without responding to his accusation, you stomped over to his car and gave him a glare. He fetched his car keys and spun them on his finger with a victorious whistle.
“Grate this,” he orders.
His kitchen is huge, which is understandable for the size of the house and how many people live here. Apparently, there’s three more kitchens in the damn place, not that you believe even a quarter of the guys that live here know what a cutting board is. The kitchen is surprisingly clean, however. It’s sparkling clean.
“We have cleaners that comes in every other day,” he chuckles, noticing your looks of complete judgement whilst he boils some pasta. “But we are pretty strict on cleanliness, regardless. And everyone knows, I’m not afraid to crack the whip to keep everyone in line.”
Scoffing, you clarify, “You? Cracking whips? I find that hard to believe.”
He leans against the island you’re stationed at, the sound of water simmering filling the small space between you. Watching you grate the cheese, he hums, fingers fiddling with the lace of your sleeve. He mutters, “I know how to be serious when I need to be.”
You hum too.
Still fiddling with the fabric, you ignore his wandering hand, fingers slipping under to roll the soft lace between his fingertips. Goosebumps rise on your skin. His touch is tentative, hesitant and gentle — one would think he’s just afraid to snag the fabric, acknowledging the craftsmanship, but one glance up at him, seeing his gaze fixated on your exposed skin more than your sleeve, you know otherwise.
“Hands to yourself, Geralt.”
“If I’m Geralt, that must make you Yennefer,” he retorts. With a laugh, he pulls away, returning to the stove to tend to the pasta sauce. You don’t realise how much warmth he generated until you feel a sudden draught.
The smell of frying onions and garlic is delicious and you’re becoming more and more starved by the second. He’s agile, moving swiftly and on muscle memory as he opens drawers and cabinets to gather the things he needs.
“How often do you cook?” You ask, arm getting tired from the motion of grating the block of cheese.
Gojo shrugs and admits, “Not as often as I’d like. Weekends are for parties and pizza and all the other days, everyone’s doing their thing, studying or whatever, and eating by myself is kinda sad, so I just eat out usually.”
“How is it possible that you eat out so often but still remain so skinny?”
That was apparently the wrong thing to say because the next thing you know you’re being spun around and pressed into the island with a hard body. His arms are caging you in, keeping you still as he grins at you.
He had thrown his jacket by the door when you both walked in; his biceps bulge as he flexes. They’re so much bigger now, or maybe they were always like that. And he’s pressed so close his Adam’s apple is right in front of you, bobbing when you tilt your head back so you can meet his eyes.
“I’m plenty jacked, actually,” he brags and to add salt to the wound, he leans down, cheek brushing against yours to whisper against your ear, “wifey.”
You shove him off, snorting at his lame line. He back away with little protest. Trying to hide the heat in your face, you wash your hands, turning away from him completely.
The rest of the hour passes by in a blink of an eye, and you finally sit down at the dining table across from each other. He’s a decent cook and you pay him a compliment even though it physically hurt to do so.
“Do you not cook very often?”
“I make sandwiches and ramen, that’s as far as I know how to do,” you admit with no shame.
He pours you a cup of water and asks, “Do you not have a chef to pre-make meals for you? My father insisted I have one, but I complained to my gramps about the lack of privacy and independence, and he gave up pretty quickly.”
You pause. It’s a stupid question to ask someone, from anyone else it’d drip in condescension, but you know he’s genuinely asking and it’s a valid question, just not one you’re ready to answer. So, with a careful shrug, you say simply, “I’m fine with the way things are.”
Gojo doesn’t sense the tense quiver of your voice, or if he does, he has enough tact to ignore it, so he continues the conversation. He talks to you about what being a frat president entails, and you tell him your experiences as the Treasurer.
He also shares stories of his friends: the time ‘the gang’ snuck into the gym to put shaving cream in Toji’s locker after he had his room bubbled wrapped down to every single pair of boxers, each and every one of his friends’ drunk habits, and how he’s actually a lightweight so he sticks to beers most of the time but he hates the taste and actually much prefer cocktails.
“Wait, wait,” you say between laughs, “you drink cosmos in secret ‘cause you don’t want your frat mates knowing their president actually hates beer?”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up. But it isn’t my fault those things taste like wheat piss!”
You laugh harder. “They do! They totally do!”
“Has anyone ever said you have a pretty la—“
“Woah!” A voice yells out. “What’s going on here?”
You both turn to look at the wide-open door. Two men walk in, they’re in gym clothes, wide toothy grins on their faces as they stare between you and their president. You recognise them as second years, often hanging around Gojo in pictures or loitering in the Quad.
One guy, a fake blond, wolf whistles when he sees you. “Satoru, you didn’t tell us you were having a girl over. It’s been a while; we rarely even see your bestie nowadays.”
“Yeah, this is a sight for sore eyes. This place was getting too much hotdog and not enough buns, if you know what I mean.”
When they both guffaw, you grimace. Their voices are grating, like sharp notes, and despite yourself, you cower in your seat. You hate the way they’re looking at you, in half desire and half repulsion — they’re enjoying the sight of a woman in their space, but they don’t know what to make of your attire. Usually, you don’t let people like them get to you, not their comments and not their stares. But something’s different, you’re more sensitive, less guarded.
“Isn’t she your fiancé? We’ve heard all about her. The girls from Delta Sigma said she dresses like a witch, and well, they aren’t entirely wrong.”
“Get out.”
Three heads turn. Gojo’s standing; you hadn’t seen him move. He’s leaning on his fingertips, head hanging as he stares at his empty plate. No one says a thing. There’s no air in here anymore. Only silence, a grim, gut-wrenching silence.
They stammer. “H-hey, man. What’s wrong?”
“Get. Out.”
“Come on, we’re just messing around,” the fake blonde chuckles nervously.
Gojo looks up, slowly, like a creaking door. When his eyes settle on them, they stagger back with the force of his disappointment, and again with his wrath. Though you feel the tendrils of that infinite space between you, you don’t bear its impossible weight.
With his body tense, veins bulging along his arms, broad shoulders pushed back ready for something you can’t quite grasp in this moment, you realise he really is jacked. And those muscles aren’t just for show or pressing girls against marble countertops.
As great as it would be to be his friend, it’s even greater to not be his enemy. You didn’t realise it then, but you do now, if Gojo had ever really wanted to make someone disappear, he probably could have done so.
“You would do well to remember that I, as descendent of the founder of Alpha Phi Delta, have a right to terminate any fraternity brother’s membership without a need for sufficient cause. Just because I’ve never exploited that clause doesn’t mean I’m above it. So, get out. Now.”
Cheeks red and heads hung low, they walk back out without sparing you another glance.
Gojo sits back down, shoulders still tense.
The silence hasn’t disappeared, but it has lightened, much more tolerable now. With an uncertainty in your movements, you push your knife and fork together and pat your lips dry.
“Well, this has certainly been an eventful night,” you say. “I really ought to go, though.”
Gojo nods and takes your plate, leaving to go to the kitchen whilst you freshen up in the bathroom.
When you come out, he’s already waiting outside with his hands tucked in his pockets, staring up at puffs of clouds he breathes into the night sky. There’s a sombre air around him, like you’re better off not disturbing him, but when he spots you from the corner of his eye, that air evaporates and he beams, literally brightens, practically shadowing the moon.
“Hey, come on, I’ll drive you to your dorm,” he asserts with a smile.
And he does. You get into his car for the second time of the night and watch the campus blur past you. Through the ten-minute car ride, he sings along to the pop songs on the radio, bopping his head to every beat like they’re coursing through his veins.
“You don’t know these songs? Really?”
He’s completely incredulous, looking at you as if you’ve grown two heads. You roll your eyes and jokingly explain you’re committed to the aesthetic. He finds that funny. The rest of the ride continues wordlessly.
“Alright, this is me,” you announce when he parks. He climbs out the car with you, leaning against his door as you shuffle awkwardly on your feet. “Despite certain parts of the time being…stiff, should we say, I had a lot of fun. Surprisingly.”
A tinge of red colours the tips of his ears. “Yeah, me too. I expected to lose my life, or at least a few limbs, at that graveyard, so I’m pretty happy with the turnout.”
You roll your eyes. “And I’m very happy I’m not covered in pig’s blood coming out of your frat house.”
“No, closest we had to that was the pasta sauce,” he chuckles.
“Which was surprisingly delicious, by the way. You should cook more often instead of the junk food you eat.”
“Says you?” He pushes your shoulder lightly. “Miss Cup Noodles.”
“Whatever.”
The conversation dies there, laughter fading as both of you eye the doors of your dorm building. You pull your cloak tighter around you, irritated that, even though he’s just in jeans and a plain graphic tee, he’s seemingly unbothered by the temperature drop.
“You should go in,” Gojo suggests, voice softer, barely louder than a whisper.
You nod and make a step to go, but then a warm hand wraps around your wrist, tugging you back. He’s carrying the weight of it in his palm, thumb grazing your wrist. There’s electricity thrumming where he touches and you’re about to snatch your hand away before he tightens his grip.
“Just a second,” he mutters, before pulling out something from his pockets. Something black.
Your gloves.
You forgot to put them on, having left them in the kitchen.
He’s taking his time, smoothing the material over your knuckles, ensuring your fingers are tucked in properly. His thumb lingers on the curve of each finger, exploring the slopes. Your breath hitches as his hands envelope yours completely, his touch deliberate and light and there’s no other way to describe it: it’s positively reverent.
The glove slide snugly into place, a second skin but they feel new, as if fresh from the machine, still warm.
You shouldn’t let him reach for your other hand, shouldn’t just watch as he unfolds the other glove, slipping it on with much more care than you yourself had ever done. His eyes are watching the fabric consume more and more of your skin, until they meet the ends of your sleeve, and no skin remains.
“Gojo,” you breathe out.
He shakes his head, brows furrowing. “Satoru. Call me Satoru.”
When he finally looks up, your eyes meet and your pulse quickens, quick and short breaths pulling your chest up and down. You didn’t even realise one hand is clutching his shoulder whilst the other remains in his grip. And you certainly don’t notice that you’re standing much closer than before, only a hair’s breadth from finding out whether his lips are as soft and plush as his touch.
“You smell really nice,” he whispers, thumb running across your knuckles, like he’s willing warmth into your hand.
You’re so close it only takes one gust of wind to push you together, to taste what a future with him could mean, to seal the first date with something that’ll keep you up at night. Just one kiss, one bad decision and everything could fade away for a second. You could pretend he’s just a boy and you’re just a girl and this is a normal date, that you have a normal relationship and tomorrow you could go back to being arranged lovers.
His lashes flutter, so long and wispy and you’re jealous. Flickering between your eyes and your lips, you know he’s searching for any sign that you might want this just as bad as he does. You’re craning your head back, back arched to reach him, and when your chest rubs against his for a millisecond, he shuts his eyes with a groan.
“Hey! If it isn’t Gojo,” a gruff voice bellows.
You step back, gasping for air and desperately smoothing your skirt down as you give a shaky smile to the newcomer. He’s a tall, buff man wearing shorts and carrying a basketball. He pats Gojo on the back, oblivious to the tension, to the way his friend is pouting, grumbling about how he ‘ruined the moment.’
The man looks at you with a friendly enough smile, eyeing your appearance with nothing more than curiosity before he gives you one of those manly nods.
“Whatcha doing at my girl’s dorm?” He asks.
Clearing his throat, Gojo answers, “Just dropping my wi—I mean, my friend off. Yeah, just stopping by.”
The guy doesn’t look ready to stop talking. So you take the initiative to excuse yourself with an awkward kiss on the white-haired boy’s cheek and you whisper, “Goodnight...Satoru.”
You don’t wait for him to reply.
Just as you’re about to enter your dorm building, you hear a distinct, “Dude, I totally cockblocked you, didn’t I? Fuck, put that thing away. You’re gonna poke my fucking eyes out!”
You smile just as your phone pings.
#jjk fluff#Gojo x reader#gojo fluff#gojo x reader#jjk x reader#jjk crack#jjk x you#gojo satoru#modern au
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— [3:53am]
AUTHORS NOTE ; this is a repost from my old blog ( chrisbahng-old ). this is the only place this has been reposted and any other reposts are not me nor are they allowed. I am hoping to have new content soon and appreciate all the support so far <3
warnings ; chan is called alpha, breeding, petnames (puppy, angel, baby)
“Channie, it’s s’ big,” you wined as your boyfriend filled you only halfway full of his thick cock.
“I know, baby.” Chan cooed, bringing his hand to rest on your cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears that threatened to fall. “But look,” he brought his eyes from yours to where you two connected. “Alpha’s already halfway in you.”
“Only half?” your gaze left Chan’s as you peered down to see if he was telling the truth. A moan escaped your lips at the sight of him slowly pushing the rest if himself into you.
“You’re taking me so well, pup.” Chan groaned as he nearly bottomed out in you. “Taking my cock like it was made for you, yeah?”
You whimpered in response; hearing him praise you was something you would never tire of hearing.
“That’s my good puppy,” Chan whispered as his hips met yours for the first time that night. Chan let out a blissful sigh and brought his attention back up to you, your puppy-dog eyes watering with tears again and Chan leans his forehead against yours.
“C’mon, I know you can take it, love. I haven’t even properly fucked you yet.” He said, closing his eyes as he starts to pull himself out of you.
“Hurts, alpha, it hurts,” you finally mumble out and Chan smiles down at you softly.
“Shh, angel, you’re gonna be alright. I’m here, alpha’s here.” Chan kissed your lips before pulling out to the tip and thrusting himself back into you. “Shit, puppy,” he cursed as his hips met yours. “How the fuck are still this fucking tight,”
His words made you tighten the grip you had on his shoulders, your nails digging into his soft skin and leaving little moons. “You think your little cunt would be sloppy and messy, but fuck,”
You clenched at his words and whimpered when he pulled himself back out again. Chan repeated his motions, pulling out to the tip before slamming back into you, but progressively got more and more merciless.
Your mind went hazy, trying to think of any coherent thought or word to say was like reaching for something that wasn’t there. The only thing you knew is that you were reaching your end.
“Channie,” you croak, “‘m close,”
“Aww, is my puppy gonna cum? Hmm?”
You nodded, not knowing how much longer you could hold on. “Please,” you begged. “Please let me cum on your cock,”
Chan’s jaw clenched at your words. He hears you mutter them enough, but it still gets him every single time.
“Fuck, pup. Alpha’s gonna cum,” he said through gritted teeth, leaning his head on your shoulder.
“Cum in me, please,” you whine, bringing your hips up to meet his.
Those four words was all it took for Chan to lose it, he thrust himself into you harder than he’s ever done and bit down on your supple flesh. You could feel his cock twitching as he let go inside you. You felt warm, not hot, but warm.
A soft smile spread to your lips when Chan pulled out of you for the final time that night.
Chan sat up on his knees, admiring his work. “You look so pretty, my love. All my cum spilling out of you like this. You’ll be even prettier when you’re all pregnant with my pups, yeah?”
Chan leaned down and pressed a kiss to your lips, then nose and forehead. “Thank you, alpha,”
“Of course, pup. Now why don’t we run a bath, get us cleaned up a bit.” He replied.
You nodded in return, stretching your arms out for Chan to pick you up, not trusting your legs at the current moment. Chan lifted you up and kissed the top of your head. “You did so well tonight, I’m so proud of you.”
#stray kids#stray kids x reader#stray kids smut#stray kids fanfic#skz#skz x reader#skz smut#bang chan#bang chan x reader#bang chan smut#bang chan imagines#bang chan scenarios#skz fanfic#skz imagines#stray kids imagines#stray kids drabbles
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彡 NO GARDEN CAN BLOOM WITHOUT THE SUN
☆. contains: bf!satoru gojo x gn!reader; fluff fluff fluff!!!! they're in love!!!!!! satoru is the king of acts of service!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! wc: 1.5k
"c'mon, show me those chompers, baby!"
sat on the bathroom counter, you watch your boyfriend bare his fangs at you in the most adorable way. his eyes are pressed shut, his smile so wide that it's almost reaching his ears – he's showing how you should do it.
unable to contain the sleepy chuckles that bubble up your throat, satoru's eyes crack open. he's sleepy, too. but he's still here; he's still determined to make you happy, to make you feel good, to make you smile. he's determined to take care of you no matter what.
he ushers you with a laugh of his own, showing you the lump of toothpaste sitting on your new toothbrush.
(he bought you matching ones the other day. he's very proud of himself.)
(you love him.)
you can't say no to him. his free hand squeezes your waist, a sign that he's here and he's waiting. he's not being impatient, though – no, never that. he's just reassuring; skin on skin, he wants you to know he's never leaving.
to him it isn't dramatic to be thinking about his everlasting devotion while doing a menial task like this (if you can even call it that) – it's more than normal actually. he simply cannot stop; you're eating him from the inside and he's grateful.
you do as he says and clench your teeth together while pulling your lips back. you're sure you look a little silly but satoru couldn't disagree more.
"there we go! you look like a little tiger!" he leans in and brushes his nose against yours, making it scrunch up and that makes him giggle in turn. he feels giddy around you, he feels like he's in heaven.
he wets the toothbrush before bringing up to your mouth. he takes his hand from your hip and places it on your jaw instead, gently guiding your face up so he can see a little better.
bristles brush against your enamels and you peer at satoru. he looks awfully concentrated – he's cute like this. there's a small crease between his brows, his crystalline eyes glued to your canines as he watches your mouth fill with foam.
blindly, you play with the hem of his shirt; your fingers graze his marble skin and he shudders at the light touch. the fluorescent light coming from behind you illuminates his face and you waste no time in counting the freckles that adorn his skin. again. you've done it a thousand times before and you'll do it a thousand times more. they're your stars – his smile being the sun and his pretty blue eyes the equivalent of the moon in the sky. he's your guide during the day and the night, you'd be utterly lost without him.
he's your world.
satoru wipes the corner of your mouth, collecting some of the extra toothpaste that's threatening to trickle down your skin and smears it into his shirt, laughing loudly when you gasp at his antics. you smack his stomach and watch his head loll back with a dopey grin. his chest rumbles, hearty giggles bubbling up his throat. his adam's apple bobs before he lowers his head back down, his gaze meeting yours. he's so full of love, he just might burst.
"was gonna wash it anyway."
he looks proud of himself and you snort at his answer.
"yersuchachild."
the toothpaste in your mouth is making it hard to sound serious, your words coming out all muddled and slurred as you splutter at him. he doesn't care for your lecturing – his mind is filled with hearts and sparkles and rainbows and kittens and puppies and pastries and warm blankets and glitter and roses and the color pink and the color red and your eyes and everything else that could possibly be associated with the word love. he watches your mouth move and he sees flower petals falling, he watches you blink and he sees shooting stars, he watches you breathe and he feels at home.
he's your air.
you're a perfect match – you breathe him in and he makes a home inside your lungs. you keep him safe, you cradle him with your gentle hands and hide him from the cruel world. and he in turn takes care of your heart; he warms it, he tends to it like it's a garden. he waters and he weeds, he plants new seeds and he reaps what he has sowed with the softest smile in the world.
no garden can bloom without the sun.
satoru places the toothbrush in your mouth before yanking the dirty t-shirt off of his body. he raises his brows, seeking for praise. "better?"
you nod sleepily and the brush between your teeth bounces up and down, making satoru laugh again. you give him a smile and his breath hitches just a little. all foamy and pretty – he loves you so fucking much.
he goes back to his job, carefully brushing over your front teeth and then the sides. he gives your cheeks a squeeze, telling you to open up again and then he's leaning in so close that you almost choke on the paste in your mouth. a smirk tugs on his lips as he squints his eyes, glaring at your teeth like he's a proper dentist.
your fingers itch for him and you refuse to suffer when he's right there; you trace over the scars that cover his tummy, his whole body, and you hum. finally, you decide to just rest your hands on the waistband of his pyjamas – you need to be touching him, always and forever.
but the sleepiness is starting to take over; your eyes feel heavy and satoru doesn't miss your slow blinks. he speeds up his movements, whispering for you to show him your tongue. he quickly cleans it, intent on giving you his hundred percent.
when he deems that he's finally done, he takes the brush from your mouth and leans back, taking a good look at the masterpiece before him; half-asleep, mouth covered in toothpaste & content. he couldn't wish for anything else.
without giving you time to react, he lunges forward, pressing his plump lips against yours. he holds your cheeks like you're made out of glass and you grasp at his skin like he's about to fade away—
— but you won't break and he won't disappear.
seperating from him, you're met with the most bashful fucking smile in the world. his hands rest on his hips and he really couldn't be more proud of himself. frothy lips and sparkling eyes, you simply stare at him and just let the butterflies fill your stomach. there's no stopping them anyway.
"okay, c'mon, sleepyhead." satoru taps your thighs. "wash your mouth."
he comes up close again, his nose touching yours. "or do you want me to do that for you, too?"
he's a little cocky and he's a little smug and you think it's only fair; he has every right to be – you're wrapped around his finger like honey around a dipper. but alas, you plop off the counter and press yourself flush against him before turning around and facing the sink. he doesn't move, staying glued behind you like it's where he's meant to be.
(it is.)
his arms snake around your middle, patiently waiting for you to finish cleaning up. satoru sways his hips, gently, as if trying to lull you to sleep. he stares at you through the mirror, unable to tear his eyes from you. his own shirt drapes over your figure, soft skin peeking from under the collar, just waiting for him to press his lips against it. you feel like putty in his hold, like his own personal plushie and he has never been this excited to go to bed. he can't wait to sleep with you – to curl around you, to hug and kiss, to feel your heartbeat under his heavy head.
(every morning he wakes up already dreaming about spending the night with you again. you rest together, you heal together.)
you raise your head from the sink and satoru is already handing you a towel. you thank him with your eyes and dry yourself off. he rests his head on your shoulder and your fingers crawl between his messy white strands, you rub at his scalp and he closes his eyes. a purr reverberates through his body and then through yours and another smile makes it's way onto your face. it's inevitable; he just makes you so fucking happy.
hearts beating together, you stand there in your bathroom. it feels special, it is special – he always makes you feel like this, no matter where, no matter when; like a lock and a key, like a blanket and a pillow, like a piece of paper and a pen, like rain and thunder, like the ocean and the beach—
— like a ray of sunlight and a blooming flower.
+ hii my beloved satoru lovers just felt like tagging you guys bc... i felt like it<333 @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat @staryukis @mossmurdock @neptuneblue @lxnarphase @nkogneatho @cockaiine @kentophilia @sugulani @13curses @blankwashed i love you
#very sappy#very lovey dovey#poetic?#idk this is my love okay#he's my sweetheart i wanna kiss him so bad:((((#angel boy#gojo#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo fluff#gojo drabble#wtf mickey can write#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#gojo satoru fluff#gojo satoru drabble#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#jjk drabble#jjk gojo#satoru gojo#satoru gojo x reader
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b.b. | With child
Summary: He was so absorbed by his own created misery; he hadn’t actually thought about what you could be thinking. How hard was it for you to congratulate all of your friends on their pregnancy, to watch over all of his nieces and nephews? It was all within easy reach and never really yours.
Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x f!reader
Warnings: angst ('cause I can't write anything else), alluding to sex (no description whatsoever), discussions around pregnancy, pregnancy, mention of alcohol.
Words Count: 2.1k
Author's Notes: Had this in the work for the longest time. I was actually thinking to publish it for his season (#4 I hope!). But we got new stills of Season 3 and it's nearly Valentine's Day so... Enjoy!
“Are you-” you asked when you noticed your sister-in-law had let her glass of wine and her plate untouched.
Your words stayed lost on your tongue, yet Daphne, sat in front of Benedict and next to you, knew exactly what you were about and nodded slightly, tears in her eyes. You let out a small cry of excitement and leant in to hug her. While you wore the most delighted expression, Benedict’s heart sunk a little at the news.
His sister was with child. Again. She was the second women of his family to be expecting this year, while he had yet an exciting news to share himself.
You both had wed a little over than a year and a half ago now and were yet to be blessed with a child. You were doing your best, of course, but none your efforts had been fruitful so far. Benedict did not mind; he had waited his whole life to meet you, he definitely could wait a little bit longer.
He did not mind, or so he thought…
Tonight, he thought life was particularly unfair to him. Every pregnancy announcement was only nourishing this harrowing feeling in his chest. All he could feel was his siblings’ bliss and it made him sick to the stomach. Yes, he was sick with jealousy - and ultimately selfish. He just couldn’t wait to feel your belly growing, to hold your children, to watch them playing around with their cousins, for them to grow older and become adults themselves. Just this simple thought made his very own heart felt extremely heavy.
Politely and quietly, he raised his glass wishing his sister a healthy pregnancy, before drinking away his sorrow.
The ride home that night was particularly quiet.
Silence had never been a thing between the two of you. Benedict was usually the most talkative, telling you about his days, about whatever painting he was going to paint, about that book he had been reading. You would listen, looking back at him with your big bright eyes and a soft smile onto your lips. Other times, he would watch you pacing back and forth in his study while passionately debating about politics. He would be drawing imaginary circles on your soft skin as you were lying in bed, you telling him about another one of your days chaperoning one of his sisters. He would listen to your laugh at one of his jokes. Even your fights would be followed by soft apologies, quiet words, whimpers, and love.
On the contrary, that night, the air was thick with something he couldn’t quite describe, and the coach was wrapped up in dark clouds, a genuine storm in the awakening. Sat on the opposite side, you were looking through the window, your face only light up by the few shines of the full moon. Benedict was so focused on his own thought that he didn’t realize you hadn’t had a word for the rest of the night.
He was so absorbed by his own created misery; he hadn’t actually thought about what you could be thinking. How hard was it for you to congratulate all of your friends on their pregnancy, to watch over all of his nieces and nephews? It was all within easy reach and never really yours. It only made him angrier at the entire world. Why couldn’t they let you live this as well?
He would have liked to discuss this with you - his regrets, his hope - but he was too afraid you would realize what a failure he was. How disappointed with him you were. How you would hate him for not being able to offer you this. So, he sat back in his seat and watched out of his own window.
When the coach stopped in front of your residence, Benedict got out first, offering his hand to help you getting down the small step like he always did. You smiled at him, thanking him politely, and let go of his hand as soon as your two feet were on the ground. It didn’t mean anything, he tried to reassure himself, you needed both of your hands to grab the tissue of your dress to prevent the hem from getting wet and dirty. Yet, he couldn’t help the sharp pain in his chest.
Silently, he followed you inside, hat in his hands, jaw locked. You were welcomed as usual by your housemaid, who got both of your coats and stayed there, in the uncomfortable silence, arms full, waiting for one of you to dismiss her. As you took off your gloves and didn’t dare look at Benedict, he nodded sharply to let her know she could go and watched her somehow disappear in an instant.
Suddenly, it was only the two of you again and it was all too much for him. He couldn’t breathe properly; his chest being crushed by the invisible weight of his sorrow. He couldn’t bare staying with you one more second. He needed to get out of here.
“Good night,” he said firmly, before walking to his study.
Would he have looked back he would have seen you watching him disappear in the corridor. You, all alone in the middle of the hall, arms dangling. He would have seen the frown on your face and the hurt in your eyes. Would he have looked back he would have run back to your side. Instead, he did none of that. He continued marching, head up high, trying to escape his own misery.
You sighed before turning in the opposite direction and to your shared bedroom.
Benedict went to bed less than an hour after you.
He had been haunted by guilt as soon as he had reached his study, sadness evaporating once he had stepped inside the room. Instead of turning back and chasing after you, he had tried to put his head in order. He then had tried painting whatever he was feeling, but he could only stay in front of his white canvas, terrified of laying his brush on the cotton. He had tried writing it, but he couldn’t concentrate enough; his thoughts always drifting to you, alone in your bedroom. He had then settled on having a drink to wait long enough for you to fall asleep before he could go to bed - his other option would have been to sleep in his study if he got too drunk, which he did not.
He had thought long about the whole situation. It wasn’t like you were not trying. Sometimes, even with doing the right things, it didn’t happen. He would need to accept this. And he couldn’t continue being a terrible husband. It wasn’t your fault; it wasn’t anybody’s fault actually. What he knew more than anything though was that he loved you. Whatever would happen, he could not afford to lose you.
He had decided he would come clean tomorrow, but for now, he only wanted to sleep with you by his side.
In the dark of your room, Benedict undressed and lied besides you as silently as possible.
All he could hear was your uneven breathing; whatever dream you were having did not seem to be pleasant. He reached out to your arm, hoping that you could feel his presence through his touch and know he would always be there for you.
It wasn’t until your body was rocked by a hiccup that he understood that you were not having a bad dream, you were crying.
“Y/N?” he asked, lying on his side to face your back.
“I am so sorry,” your voice was only a whisper.
He gently made you roll on your side. Even in the dark, his right hand was able to find your face and his thumb to rub the tears away. Before he could ask what was wrong, you spoke:
“I am so-” You chocked on – yet – another sob and it took you a couple of seconds to even out your breathing so you could speak properly: “So sorry- for not being able to get you- get you what you ever wanted.”
“My love,” he sighed, grabbing the back of your neck to bring you closer. Instinctively, you hide your face in his chest, and he started stroking your hair to try and calm you. “My love, do not ever feel guilty on this.”
“I have tried every tea, every method that is supposed to help,” you cried some more.
It broke his heart to realize the burden on your heart - of course, if he was feeling it, you would have too. He finally understood how selfish he had been, how centred on his own pain he was and so oblivious to yours. It had never been a subject between the two of you, but it was slowly crushing you both.
“My love, this is not your fault.”
“You don’t see the pity in their eyes. You don’t hear them whisper.” You sniffled against his chest, arms wrapped around his waist. “We are even blessed Lady Whistletown has not written about us.” He heard the frustration in your voice and the ton of it made him understand how you had tried to suppress the guilt but failed. It pained him that out of all of this, it was you who were the one being charged guilty by everyone - you included. As if you couldn’t imagine it being his own fault. As if you couldn’t imagine it being anyone’s fault but yours.
“Perhaps, I-” he stopped, running a hand through his hair out of frustration. “I drink loads of Colin’s stupid tea; I paint with all sorts of chemicals substance. Perhaps, I can’t-”
“Ben, of course, no!”
“Perhaps we won’t ever-” he confessed, but he couldn’t even say it out loud. It was all too much.
You moved against him, and he felt both of your hands grabbing his face, your forehead resting again his. He felt your hot breath against his skin, and he hugged you tighter, crushing your bones, making sure you were close.
He had you, he kept repeating himself. It was all that mattered. Of course, it was a dear wish of his to see mini versions of yourselves running around, but not at all costs. He wasn’t willing to sacrifice what you both had, right here, right now.
“We are both healthy, it is more than all I could ever wish for.”
“Will this ever be enough for you, though?” you asked so quietly he nearly did not hear you.
Benedict frowned. Was it really what you thought? That he would leave you? That your own self was not enough for him? He had been an even more terrible husband he had thought to lead you thinking this. He had failed you on so many levels.
“I was so absorbed by my own desire of having my own family,” he whispered back like he was telling you a secret, “I never asked if you also desire to have children of your own.”
“Ben, of course, I want your children!”
Benedict wanted to express how grateful he was to have you in his life, but no words came to his mind at that moment. He only reached out to your lips, trying to express how much he loved you.
If he could not tell you, he could still show you…
Hours later, while you were lying in bed, your head on Benedict’s chest, his left hand drawing invisible love words on your back and the other holding you close, he thought that there was nothing else he would like to do than stay with you, like this, forever.
“We should just take some time away from here.”
“What do you mean? The season only began-”
“To hell with worldliness. Some time away, just the two of us.” The sun was slowly peeking through the blinds, its yellow light was painting on your naked skin a glowy spectrum. “I heard South of France is particularly beautiful, this time of the year.”
Your chin on his chest, you looked back at him, eyes bright. He was looking at you the same way you had catch him do a million time: a soft smile on his lips, his eyes filled of this spark, shinning only for you. You didn’t care how beautiful France would be, he was the most beautiful view you had ever laid eyes on.
His hand brushed some hair out of your face, and you grabbed it to kiss his knuckles.
“France, it is then.”
Little did you know, you would be coming back home a few months later, bearing your own little miracle.
One of the many to come.
#benedict bridgerton x reader#benedict bridgerton x you#benedict bridgerton x y/n#benedict bridgerton x fem!reader#benedict bridgerton#benedict bridgerton imagine#bridgerton x reader#bridgerton x you#bridgerton x y/n#bridgerton x female reader#lea's writing#benedict bridgerton fanfiction
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Pleaseee Vampire James x pregnant reader?? A surprise dhampir babyyy
Just Mine
Vampire!James x pregnant!reader
Summary: “Did you know I never imagined anything could be more beautiful than you?” he murmured, his blue eyes shining like sapphires in the silver light. “But here you are. You… carrying what we created together. A piece of me, inside you.” The reverence in his voice was almost devastating, each word laden with an intensity that seemed to heat even the air around them.
Warnings: blood (nothing serious) - a possessive James
A/N: anon, hope you like it <333 - have I mentioned how much I love vampires?
Masterlist
The night seemed more alive to James, as if every shadow danced in celebration of the miracle you carried. The silver light of the moon entered through the window, bathing the scene in an ethereal, almost supernatural glow. He was there, lying beside you, one of his large, cold hands resting on your rounded belly. His long fingers moved gently, tracing slow circles over the fabric of your thin nightgown, as if engraving in his memory every curve that your pregnancy had shaped.
“You look beautiful like this, you know?” he murmured, his voice low and husky, carrying that tone that always made your skin tingle. His blue eyes shone intensely, fixed on you with a reverence that made your heart race. “So full of me... our life growing inside you.” He smiled, his white teeth standing out as his sharp fangs showed, a sensual and dangerous reminder of what he was.
“James,” you whispered, your voice slightly breaking with emotion. Your hand covered his over your belly, your fingers warming the cold skin that seemed to bring an inexplicable comfort. “You always say that. You always make me feel like I’m the only thing in the world that matters.”
“Because you are.” He leaned in, his black, rebellious hair falling forward as his lips found your belly, leaving a cold kiss there. His eyes lifted to meet yours again, the vibrant blue contrasting with the darkness of the room. “You and him... you’re everything. Every day that passes, I only become more certain of that.”
You laughed softly, the sound low and cozy, as your fingers slid to touch his face, tracing the perfect contour of his jaw. “And who takes care of you, James? I don’t want you to forget that... you’re mine too, you know?”
He closed his eyes for a moment, as if absorbing your words. When he opened them again, there was something even more intense there, something almost devastating in his devotion. “I’m yours. In every sense, forever. But taking care of you is what keeps me alive. Knowing you’re safe... knowing I can give you everything. That’s enough for me.”
He moved closer, pressing his forehead to yours. “You understand, don’t you? What you mean to me? My light in the darkness... my whole world. If I could, I would keep you here forever, where no one can touch you, where I know you’re protected.”
“I know, James,” you replied, your eyes filling with tears that he quickly wiped away with the tips of his fingers, gently. “And I trust you. With everything I am.”
There was something in the scent you now carried that drove him mad—something warm, sweet, full of promises and love. He often pressed his face into your neck, inhaling deeply, as if each breath were vital to him. And there was always that satisfied, possessive smile. “You have no idea how irresistible you are... how it feels knowing you belong to me, in every sense.”
“James,” you called him again, your voice soft but filled with conviction. “I’ll never belong to anyone but you. Not even before all this... before us. You know that, don’t you?”
He chuckled softly, his expression overflowing with pride and a joy that seemed impossible for someone like him, a creature made of darkness. “I know. And I swear I’ll spend every moment of our eternity reminding you of that.”
With that, he pulled you closer, enveloping you in an embrace that was both protective and intimate, while his hands gently caressed your belly once more. “Our son. My blood. Our eternity,” he whispered, and there was a promise in his voice that seemed to echo forever into the vastness of the night.
“Did you know I never imagined anything could be more beautiful than you?” he murmured, his blue eyes shining like sapphires in the silver light. “But here you are. You… carrying what we created together. A piece of me, inside you.” The reverence in his voice was almost devastating, each word laden with an intensity that seemed to heat even the air around them.
You smiled at him, your hand covering his. “It’s the most precious piece. I never thought I could feel so complete, James.” Your voice was soft but firm, full of sincerity.
He tilted his head, the smile taking on a more predatory edge, though still filled with tenderness. “And that’s exactly why you need to take care of yourself. You need to be strong. For you. For him.” The way he looked at you—as if you were all that existed in the world—made your heart leap.
Before you could respond, he gently pulled you closer, positioning you in his lap with an ease that betrayed his supernatural strength. His cold fingers caressed your face as he tilted his head to the side, his eyes fixed on yours. "It's time for you to feed." He didn't phrase it as a question, but rather as a statement, as if he already knew your body craved what only he could provide.
Your heart raced, not out of fear, but because of the familiar and inexplicable excitement these moments always brought. You didn't hesitate — you never did. Instead, you watched with palpable hunger as he raised his own wrist, the pale skin highlighting the veins. With a precise movement, he made a small cut, dark blood beginning to surface. The scent reached you almost instantly, rich, seductive, impossible to ignore.
You carefully held his wrist, but the urgency in your touch did not go unnoticed. He watched every movement, his blue eyes locked on you, glowing with something bordering on fascination. When your lips closed around the cut, he let out a low sigh, satisfied.
"Good girl," he murmured, his voice low and laden with a tone that made your skin tingle. His fingers moved to the base of your neck, his touch almost possessive as he kept you close. "That's it... that's right. You need this. You need me."
You couldn't deny it. You didn’t want to. The taste was indescribable, a mixture of need and pleasure, and the way he watched you only made the moment more intense. He encouraged you, whispering soft and seductive words, his hand now sliding to your back as he pulled you even closer.
"You're perfect like this, you know? So hungry for me... as it should be," he whispered against your hair, his voice deep and filled with an almost palpable satisfaction. The other cold, firm hand moved up to caress your belly again, his long fingers tracing slow, reverent circles on the stretched skin. "Everything about you is mine. It always has been." The low timbre of his words vibrated in the air, as possessive as it was passionate.
He tilted his head slightly, his blue eyes burning into you like two cold flames. Your heart, already racing from the intensity of the moment, beat even faster, and he could hear every pulse with supernatural clarity, like a song composed just for him. "I can hear it," he murmured, a smile forming on his lips, revealing the tip of his fangs. "Your heart. So fast. It's beating for me, isn't it?"
You couldn't answer, but the way your fingers tightened slightly around his wrist was enough. He laughed, a low sound, almost a purr, that seemed to reverberate through your body. "Ah, my sweet girl. So dependent on me... and I love it." The words came out laced with pride, but there was something deeper there — a fierce desire to protect you, to keep you always within his reach.
As you drank, he adjusted his position, pulling you even closer to his body. The way he held you was a perfect contrast between strength and care. His fingers, cold but comforting, slid down your back in slow caresses, while his other hand remained on your belly, as if needing to feel the life growing there to believe it was real. "My child," he murmured almost to himself, a glimmer of adoration in his eyes. "My blood. Our blood. You're giving me the greatest gift anyone could."
Minutes passed, but he showed no rush to stop. Every sound you made — the soft sigh, the way you adjusted against him — seemed to fascinate him even more. He tilted his head, his lips brushing your temple lightly as he whispered, "That's it, love. Take as much as you need. You know I would never deny you anything."
Finally, when he realized you had fed enough, he gently pulled his wrist away, his blue eyes never leaving yours. "That's enough for now, my dear. You're strong, but you need balance," he said, his voice sounding like a mix of authority and affection.
Before you could protest, he raised his wrist and used his thumb to wipe the remnants of blood from the corner of your mouth. "So beautiful," he murmured, his eyes roaming your face with an intensity that was almost predatory. "Now... show me." He pressed his stained finger against your lips, a satisfied smile forming as you obeyed without hesitation, licking the traces as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
"Good girl," he said, the tone laden with pleasure as the smile on his lips widened, revealing his sharp fangs. He leaned in, capturing your lips in a deep kiss, as if he wanted to taste a bit of himself in you. When he pulled away, his eyes were shining with something almost dangerous. "You know I love this, don't you? This power... this submission. It's exactly where you belong."
You could barely find words, but he wasn't expecting any. He pulled you back into his arms, holding you against him as if he wanted the entire world to disappear. "Mine," he murmured, caressing your belly one last time. "My eternity. My perfection." And in that moment, you knew that, for him, nothing existed but you.
#james potter fanfiction#james potter fic#james potter marauders#james fleamont potter fanfiction#james fleamont potter#james x you#james potter#james potter x reader#romance#ao3 writer#writers on tumblr#atj#aaron taylor johnson#fanfiction#atj x reader#vampire!james potter#pregnant!reader#vampire
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A Series of Firsts
𓂅 𓄹 Summary: You and Miguel are ready to become parents and you must now go through a series of firsts together.
𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader
No warnings. Just pure fluff. Mentions of pregnancy. Dad girl Miguel. Protective dad Miguel.
First Kick
“What colour should we have on the walls?” Miguel asked one day.
“Beige?”
“Boring.”
“Red?”
“Too much.”
“Red and blue?”
“That’s too… spidey.”
You giggled at his remark. “We’ll just pick a neutral one and let her decide as she grows up.”
“That’s settled, then,” he murmured, resting the side of his head on your baby bump as both of you lay comfortably on the bed.
“Fingers crossed for a zebra pattern in purple and green,” you teased.
“She can have whatever she wants,” he said simply and you knew he meant it.
Warmth spread in your heart, realising Miguel would give her anything she’d ask for. Even the moon.
As you rolled a single strand of his hair around your finger, you gasped abruptly and halted.
Miguel shot up straight in full alert mode. “What is it? Are you okay?”
You nodded, running both hands along your belly, waiting to feel it once more.
He immediately picked up on the meaning of your sudden silence and placed a splattered hand next to yours.
It didn’t take long for a second kick to be felt and you watched his face awe. “Does it hurt?”
“No,” you whispered adoringly at his concern.
He paused briefly. “That was a strong kick.”
You placed your hand atop his. “She’ll take after you, then.”
First Time Meeting
Jessica placed the little bundle of joy into his arms as soon as the spider-nurses were done checking the vitals and dressing her.
“What is this?” Miguel asked with a light scowl, shifting to have the sleeping baby face you.
Even through your post-labour exhaustion you managed to giggle.
She was dressed in a red and blue suit-like onesie that had Peter’s face printed onto the fabric as rainbow coloured words read ‘my 1st spider suit’.
“Remind again me why we let him choose.”
“You know how Peter is,” you said softly. “It’s a very cute gift.”
“Right.”
Miguel didn’t seem all that convinced, but brought her back against his chest protectively.
You watched as Miguel’s hardened face immediately softened in adoration and, for a couple of minutes, he just stood there, rocking her lightly in his arms.
“She’s… tiny,” he concluded, fingers probing around her hand. “She’s perfect.”
He raised her slowly up to his face and he planted a soft kiss to her forehead, earning a sudden yawn.
“Welcome home,” he whispered to her, completely transfixed. “I’ll always protect you.”
Something inside you stirred. This big grumpy man with volatile moods had just been disarmed by a tiny baby.
That was definitely a sight to behold.
First Sleepless Night
“We’re not having another baby.”
“Agreed.”
“Ever.”
Miguel let out a measured sigh in agreement. “Ever.”
The two of you lay sprawled across the large bed, facing the ceiling as the first rays of sunshine began to lit up the room.
Your daughter had finally fallen asleep after hours of fighting against it, nearly driving both of you crazy in the process.
As you readied yourself to slide off the mattress, you felt Miguel’s hold on your wrist stilling you.
“Don’t move,” he whispered. “Please.”
You groaned inwardly. “I need to go pee, Miguel.”
Sleepy and bloodshot eyes met yours. “It took us hours to drain her energy… hold it in for a while,” now that was a desperate tone if you’d ever heard one from him.
You heaved a long and heavy sigh, feeling his thumb gently rubbing at your pulse point in sheer gratitude.
“Yup. No more babies, O’Hara.”
“Maybe one more?”
You shot him a death glare and he swallowed hard.
“… or not.”
First Scare
You paced around the apartment, having already lost count of the amount of baby monitors that Miguel had spread all over the place.
“This is a bit too much, no?”
Miguel was checking on the sleeping baby through the orange-tinted screen of his dimensional travel watch when he turned to glare at you like you had just said the most abominable thing ever.
“You can never be too careful,” he said in disbelief.
It was to be expected, really. Miguel was always obsessed with security no matter the context, so you couldn’t really say this surprised you.
“Even the watch?” you asked in awe.
“Of course. It’s a looped system that transmits directly to both our watches,” he said with a nod. “Any alteration in her bedroom trigers an alarm.”
Ever the scientist.
His eyes dropped to the hologram on his wrist and he let out a gasp.
“What?”
“She’s gone!”
Your heart nearly collapsed as a feral Miguel immediately set himself on all fours towards her bedroom, clawing at floor.
“Miguel!” you called after him in a hurry.
Once you reached the open door, you were presented with Peter holding your daughter as Mayday chuckled happily, seated on his shoulder.
“Peter!” Miguel growled, yanking your daughter from his hold and bringing her close to his chest defensively.
“Miguel! We were just paying a visit,” he chuckled. “Cute baby, by the way,” he turned to you with a smile and a flick of his fingers.
But Miguel was having none of that. “Out!”
Mayday stuck out her tongue at him right away, a habit she had yet to let gonof whenever Miguel was around.
“Lyla, why wasn’t the alarm triggered?”
The AI appeared by his shoulder at once, filing her nails. “You forgot to activate the security system, boss.”
First Word
“Pa~pá! Say it. Paaa~pá!”
“Cheater!” you exploded as you entered the kitchen in large steps.
Miguel turned to face you as your daughter giggled.
“We promised to let it be something spontaneous,” you lifted an accusing finger at him. “Cheater!”
He lifted both hands defensively. “I’m just giving her some help.”
In truth, you weren’t upset with him in the slightest. He had been such a constanr presence in his daughter’s life even through an exhausting amount of work around Nueva York.
You feigned indignation crossing your arms across your chest.
Miguel picked her out of the baby chair and walked towards you with a tentative smile.
“I’m sorry.”
Your front broke right away as he leaned to nudge his forehead against yours. “You’re still a cheater,” you accused, not able prevent your lips from curling into a smirk.
“I’ll make it up to you.”
Your daughter started clapping enthusiastically. “Petaah~” and then burst into laughter.
Miguel looked down at her in shock. “What?”
It was almost comedic irony that the first word your daughter said was Peter, which had Miguel sulk for a couple of days.
First Steps
You missed kissing Miguel with no interruptions. Having some alone time in between taking care of your daughter was not easy to come by.
So whenever there was an opening, you’d both make it count.
He had your back pressed against the cold surface of the bedroom wall in no time, framing your face with both hands to deepen the searing kiss.
You melted into his touch right away, yearning for more.
Miguel broke the kiss momentarily to check his watch, panting lightly. “She’s still in the living room.”
You sighed in relief as he took your lips in his once more, hungrier this time. Both of your hands were resting on his firm chest, enjoying the way his muscles rippled under your touch.
Miguel hummed into you, swallowing your gasps and moans.
Your eyes were about to flutter shut when you detected movement out of the corner of your eye.
Panic took over and you immediately pushed Miguel away with a yelp.
Standing by the door was your daughter, gripping the frame with tiny hands, barely able to keep her balance.
Miguel offered her a kind smile. “Hey, you… come here.”
Your heart was hammering hard in your chest as you struggled to even your breathing.
She broke into an amused chuckle, wobbling in Miguel’s direction as he dropped to one knee. “Come here,” he encouraged.
But she would only take a couple of steps before her legs gave out under her to have her sit on the floor.
This was evidently very amusing as she kept trying to mimic her first attempt in between laughter
Miguel exchanged a proud smile with you and, for the first time in a long, you didn’t mind being interrupted.
Masterlist
#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara fluff#miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara x you#miguel ohara#miguel ohara x reader#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel o’hara x fem!reader#miguel o’hara x y/n#miguel ohara imagine#miguel o’hara imagine#miguel x reader#miguel o’hara oneshot#spider man 2099 x reader#spiderman across the spiderverse#atsv miguel
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Gale and Tav’s wedding HCs
It is a truth universally acknowledged that Gale Dekarios cries at his wedding.
The moment he sees Tav—either waiting for him at the altar, or walking towards him as he waits, depending on how they wish to do the ceremony—his eyes fill up, and his lip starts quivering, because he realizes it’s actually happening. He can’t help but get emotional when he feels that overwhelming sense of relief and joy.
He might pull himself together for proclaiming his vows, but when Tav begins their vows and Gale hears how much they love him, it makes him realize yet again how he never received that level of affection and love from anyone, and how thankful he is that Tav found him, and how he still can’t believe that someone so wonderful is actually his and—*tears rolling down his face*
Tara (who is a combo of Best Man/Tressym of Honor/Ring Bearer) is constantly loudly whispering “Mister Dekarios, your eyes are wet again! Please pull yourself together! Chin up!”
If Tav enjoys dancing, Gale ‘mine-was-a-popular-hand-at-the-Blackstaff-ball’ Dekarios would be delighted to oblige.
If Tav would like to dance but never learned how, Gale would happily teach them before their wedding OR just straight up enchant them to be able to dance perfectly the day of. Perks of marrying a wizard etc.
If Tav is too shy and/or would not like to dance, no matter. Instead of a ‘first dance’, they will have a ‘first song’ in which Gale will serenade them later that night, as they lay together in their marriage bed. Softly singing into their ear, pausing every so often to press his lips to their neck, shoulders, chest… (spoiler: he does not make it through the entire song without….interruption.)
The song would have to meet with Gale’s exacting standards and perfectly represent his love, which means: NO reference to gender, be 10000% about loyalty and devotion, and mention/declare love AT LEAST TWENTY-FIVE TIMES.
….allow me to present Gale’s Wedding Song.
If Tav is an illithid, Gale WILL insist on serenading them in front of the gathered guests. Just to reinforce how much he loves his mindflayer spouse, in case anyone had doubts.
Gale and Tav will of course get their wedding portrait painted, and Tara will be happy to offer instruction on Gale to the painter: “Don’t paint his tears in! Make him as stoic as you can! And don’t paint that THING on his chin, either, if you please.”
After the ceremony, Gale will not let go of his new spouse’s hand unless he absolutely has to. The moment Tav’s hand is free again, it will be recaptured and their fingers interlaced with his once more.
Gale will give Tav ample forehead kisses, cheek kisses, and kisses on the back of their hand throughout the evening, but if Tav tries to pull him into a full kiss he’ll break it the moment he feels them try to deepen it, their tongue starting to tease his lips open...
He’ll press his forehead to theirs and whisper, “My love, do you wish to torment me? Only a few more hours until we can be alone …unless, of course, I decide to dimension door us both away from the festivities…”
Gale’s mother Morena is over the moon for the entire wedding, and just like Gale, her affection is not lessened a bit if Gale’s beloved is an illithid.
If any of the guests dare say anything even slightly derogatory about her new family member, they will be getting a verbal flaying from her the likes of which they will not be recovering from anytime soon.
The cake will be three tiers and decorated/enchanted to look like the night sky (to match their wedding invite, of course), and Gale will make sure there are exactly 1,000 stars as a symbol of their everlasting love. Yes, he will count them all.
If Tav is an illithid, they will have their own tier that has a layer of whipped brain filling included. I don’t make the rules, Gale insisted on this.
And last but not least—the catering will all be handled by fifteen copies of this guy:
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"I'm sorry."
It's the first thing Steve says after everything.
After getting Vecna Cursed. After nearly dying. After a hallucination of Eddie saved him. After running through a looped forest. After finding sanctuary in Steve's memory of that Starcourt bathroom. After Eddie reveals himself as Eddie.
It's the only thing he can think of. It's not big enough to fit everything, but it's the only thing that fits in his mouth.
"Don't be."
Maybe that's the only thing Eddie can think of too. The only thing Eddie can bear to say.
Because don't be can't stop Steve's eyes from watering when he sees the vest in his closet. Don't be can't stop Steve's feet from dragging him to the cemetery every evening to clean Eddie's graffiti-covered tombstone. Don't be can't stop Steve from sitting beside Wayne and listening to him talk about the Eddie he remembers. Don't be can't stop Eddie's body from showing up in Steve's dreams, nor Eddie's corpse from his nightmares. Don't be couldn't keep the pain away enough, didn't stop Vecna from latching onto it while Steve was walking alone in the woods.
Don't be isn't enough for what Steve wants to hear. But even stuck here waiting, hoping, for someone to get Steve out, there just isn't enough time.
"I miss you."
"...Why?"
Eddie says it back so quickly, so quietly, like it's just unfathomable to him. Maybe it is, considering their last memories. But their eyes meet and he looks just as sad, just as longing, as Steve.
"You were my friend."
Steve can't help but say it like that. Like they were friends for years instead of days. Like Eddie was that important to him in their final moments. Like his heart really aches for Eddie every second of the apocalypse.
Can't help but say it like he means it.
"I wish we could've had more time..."
Steve's voice cracks a little there as he turns away, hiding. It's all he wants. It's all Vecna used to entice him with. It's all that's keeping him going, to finally fulfill the last request Eddie made. It's all he has left to feel close to Eddie.
The Eddie that's sitting right next to him, silent, his sight weighing on Steve's skin. Conscious and aware and the real Eddie. Trapped in Vecna's head as a backup power source, yet who still risked everything to come save Steve. Who Steve will never see again because killing Vecna means killing Eddie for good, and his heart doesn't want it, is begging for another solution...
But for once, his broken head overpowers his shattered heart.
"Maybe we did."
Eddie takes Steve's hand. Meets Steve's surprised look with his own small smile of hope. They're both suddenly tearing up, eyes glistening with life in this gray stall.
"Maybe in another world, we got a second first chance. A first second chance. Maybe even a third, or fourth. Maybe in a different life, we had everything we wanted. Because you, Steve Harrington, are too good for me to be doomed to meet just once."
And for a moment, Steve sees it. Feels it. Versions of them connected through the universe.
Little kids playing in the lake. One with bruised skin and shaved hair, loud but unfathomably lonely. One with a bruised heart and soft eyes, timid but stubbornly hopeful.
A rockstar with glittering chains, center stage in the spotlight. A set of eyes in the crowd or behind the curtain, watching only him.
A werewolf and a vampire, two cryptids of horror, meeting in the dead of a full moon night to feel safe with the only other one who understands.
A future where they won, where the only death was the one that mattered. A process of healing and learning, coming home to a family every single day.
A world without pain, without their hell, where two high schoolers found freedom from their shackles and company in each other. Hiding away together in the dark corners of the town.
Steve even sees other versions of them. Versions that he knows were originally never supposed to meet, yet forces so much greater than them pulled them together.
A metalhead drug dealer, constantly getting into trouble with one nail-bat-weilding cop.
A criminal's fugitive nature leading him to a rugged trailer park, and the dangerous owner within one such home.
An eccentric king in an old coliseum, always choosing one particular warrior as his champion.
A young programmer being pulled away from his work by sobs above his apartment, running upstairs to check on the law student that recently moved in.
Two actors, finding an easy friendship in the months of filming one season of a show that would change their lives.
In that moment, Steve's overwhelmed by the closeness he suddenly feels with the soul beside him. Falling into tears, he pulls Eddie into a tight hug, holding him so so close to convey everything he can't say. Feeling Eddie hold him back, hearing everything Eddie can't say in return.
Familiar music comes on outside the stall. Robin's voice calls out to him, telling him to come home.
And when he does leave, Steve hopes that someone out there will understand that he never can. Because here in Eddie's arms is the only place that will ever truly feel like home.
"Thank you... for everything, Eddie."
Thank you, Steve. For everything and more..."
--------------------
- List of AUs, in order, after, "Versions of them connected through the universe": Childhood Friends / Rockstar!Eddie / Werewolf!Steve & Vampire!Eddie / Eddie Survives / No Upside Down & High School
- List of Multiverse Steddie AUs, in order, after, "...yet forces so much greater than them pulled them together": Eddie x Gator / Baron x Michael / Geta x Sean / Keys x Eric / Quinn and Keery
#dude i dunno what possessed me#i was thinking about multiverse steddie again and came up with that “maybe in another world” paragraph#then suddenly Empty Bed by Cavetown was playing on loop and this was in front of me#so have fun with this weird mesh of steddie angst#could be platonic or romantic but either way it's requited and doomed#also shoutout the lovely 2jihiir0 here on tumblr for introducing me to the steddie multiverse i thank you immensely my friend#also also yes im still working on writing veronica harrington i promise i just keep hitting roadblocks and getting distracted i'll get ther#stranger things#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things au#steddie#steve x eddie#gonna try and get all the other characters and their place of origin bear with me here#fargo#gator tillman#marmalade#baron marmalade#hoard movie#michael hoard#gladiator 2#emporer geta#finalmente l'alba#sean lockwood#free guy#keys mckey#a quiet place day one#eric a quiet place day one
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4:08 pm Memphis TN / 1:21 Am Texarkana TX
Mahogany tables beneath bourbon walls and a black ceiling as Carl, the saint he is, pours sweet tea and recommends the dry ribs. He holds himself as a gentle man, moving slowly with a little extra weight on his left as he steps towards the kitchen to fetch more of the drink. Damn the sweet tea—tables full of that honey nectar, the water of the South—brought swiftly over worn hardwood floors that have known the feet of many joyous, dancing folk. Folk with soft voices that end each phrase in kind words and affirmations, folk that meet and hold a gaze loyally, just like a deer is loyal to the headlights of its end.
For a moment, I dread the harsh hiss of my peers in the West; anxious fools we all seem in comparison to these tender souls of Memphis. The land of B.B. King, the land of the blues. “See you boys next time,” Carl seems to sing as we step back to the road and begin again. Soon the sun has expanded until she floods everything in sight with a color just like that of the sweet tea. Train yards, groves of locust, drowned fields of soybeans, a sandy full moon low to the horizon, and suitcase towns all burn up in her hand as we fly west.
With time, the snow slips back into the landscape, and just past 10 p.m., we arrive at a deserted navy hospital perched above Hot Springs Arkansas. A thousand windows lay dark, like the eyes of some terrible creature of the sea. The building feels alive, restless to sit drained of the life and death that once filled its halls. Towns like this make me rejoice for my destination, and I swear I saw envy in the eyes of those bound to stay as we stopped for coffee and waffles—“just passing through” written all over us.
Now, an hour past the reset of the day, we stop to sleep in a Texas hotel “under renovation,” or so a greasy fox of a man says, as I am sure he has said each night for years now. I’m not sure how one could fix anything with the sad sum we cough up, and so I turn my head away from the missing drywall and stained mattress and write of the day’s unfoldings. Austin tomorrow.
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You look like a fun place to sit.
Gif credits
Pairing: Neighbor!Frankie Morales x f!reader
Words count: 2667
Rating: + 18, MDNI
Summary: You decide to enjoy a night at the movies, your neighbor Frankie ruins it all. Or maybe not?
Tags: pov second person, no use of y/n, fluff, sort of romcom vibes (?), smut, enemies to lovers, age unspecified but they are both full grown adults, Frankie is annoying but also cute and lovely and fucking gorgeous, reader has hair, breasts and vagina, other than that no other description of her is given, fingering (f receiving), sexual acts in public places (again? Again. I'm not even particularly interested in doing that irl I don't know what to say to you, please forgive me), pet names (honey, baby, princess), arguing, kissing, no use of Spanish because I terribly suck at it and I don't want to butcher another language LOL. If by chance I realize I forgot something I'll add it right away.
It’s my first Frankie ff and I’m so incredibly nervous to post it you all! I really hope it doesn’t sucks because I had so much fun writing it today in one sitting ‘cause I’m just an impulsive impatient mess. (Leo sun and Aries moon, what do you expect from me if not chaos? I had nothing a few hours ago, I even skipped WIP Wednesday and btw thanks for the tag @almostempty 🩷)
Title comes from a gif of Karen Walker from Will and Grace that I saw last night, it made me laugh a lot and this thing was born LOL
As usual, English is not my first language so please be gentle, no beta and no proofreading, it’s tiny and it’s all my fault, I’m sorry 💀 Thanks to anyone who will read this!
Archive tags: @pedrostories ♥️
“Excuse me, you should stand up, that’s my seat”
Frankie turns, looking at you with a surprised expression “I don’t think so, you’re wrong” he replies.
Ugh, your neighbor.
Frankie lives two houses away from you. Last winter you had a fight at a neighborhood meeting because you pointed out that he keeps forgetting to put the recycling bins back in, and he told you to mind your own business and called you an hysterical witch.
A stupid fight that ended up with you not saying hello to each other and various other arguments about your flashy Christmas lights or his overgrown yard. You and Frankie fight constantly, about everything. And now he's here.
You glare at him “I’m not wrong at all, look” and you wave your ticket under his nose “P10, see? It’s my seat and you’re rude”.
A grin spreads across his face “listen, honey, I don’t know where you got this ticket, you probably made it yourself, I bought it a moment ago and it’s the same seat”
He takes a card out of his pocket and hands it to you, remaining comfortably seated with a large popcorn box.
You look at the ticket, him again, the ticket again “how the hell is that possible?! I booked it on their website a week ago”
He sneers “I told you! It must be a system error, I don’t know, I’m not getting up from here”
You are furious. The theater is filling up and you absolutely don’t want to leave, you have been waiting for this movie for months and you have inspected the theater map choosing a seat that would guarantee you the very best view.
“I bought it first, so I have more right to be here than you do,” you say firmly and Frankie laughs.
“Where are we, elementary school? Listen, honey, go buy yourself another ticket and leave me alone.” He replies crunching on popcorn.
The way he calls you “honey” irritates you deeply, it sounds like an insult.
“I’m not going anywhere, YOU get the fuck out of here” you hiss.
“No” he simply replies and then he turns back at the screen pretending you’re not there.
“Truly a gentleman, as usual. I have no words.” you roll your eyes and search for an usher to ask for help. No one is there.
The movie starts in 5 minutes and you don’t want to miss anything you paid for. If you went to the box office right now to complain it would take forever to get back in.
“Fuck” you exclaim and sit down next to him huffing. You are sure that someone will make you get up very early and it pisses you off.
Frankie continues to nibble on his popcorn and looks at you with an extremely amused expression, it seems like the show has become you.
“Why do you care so much about this movie anyway?” he asks you. “Does any of your relatives happen to be in it?“
You’re fuming.
His teasing tone, his vaguely Spanish accent, his smirk, the sound of him chewing, everything bothers you.
“No. Shut the fuck up” you tell him with a death stare.
You won’t tell him that your favorite actor stars in it, that you have every photo from the set of this movie saved on your phone, that you’ve read every article about it, and that you couldn’t wait to enjoy it on the first day of screening.
You can already hear his raucous laughter. No, you would never tell Frankie anything like that.
“You're not one of that guy's crazy fans, are you?”
“What guy?” you ask him, pretending not to know what he's talking about. “Gladiator is one of my favorite movies, that's all. I just wanted to watch the sequel in peace. Someone is stopping me, though”
“That guy, I bet you like him, what’s his name? Paul Pascal?” he stares at you searching for every little involuntary movement on your face that might give you away.
“Oh for God’s sake, what are you doing here anyway? Do you even know what you're about to see? They are Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal, two different people, you uncultered swine.” You yell. This guy is impossible.
“Yeah, whatever, so which one do you fancy?”
“Fucking nobody” you lie “I just want to watch a movie after a horrible week at work, okay?” You try to play on his guilt. If he has one, you think.
“Well, I've had a rough week too, okay?” he shrugs without stopping to give you that annoying little smile. “And it's not my fault that this theater is having problems with its computer system.”
You glance at him, wondering if he's telling the truth, it's impossible to guess from his face.
People keep sitting in the front rows and you start hoping that luck will be on your side and that no one will make you get up.
“Okay, look, now we're going to watch this movie and then we'll go our separate ways, please don't bother me anymore"
“As you wish, princess” he replies ironically.
You don't even answer him, you're too busy checking that no other people come in.
Finally the opening credits start to roll and the doors close with a dull thud.
You made it, despite this unbearable guy, you feel victorious.
You begin to relax in your chair and you don't know why you turn to look at him, lingering on his face for the first time in months.
His eyes are fixed on the screen. In the dim light you observe his raven curly hair tucked under his baseball cap, his dark eyes, the line of his prominent nose, his scruffy beard, his mustache, just above a pair of lips that seem made for kissing.
Really, truly, gorgeous.
You're so busy arguing with him all the time that you never realized how handsome he is.
He's wearing a grey t-shirt and a pair of jeans, you can’t help but admire the way the fabrics hug his body so deliciously.
He’s just your type, built up in all the right ways, you find yourself unable to take your eyes off him until the last second. Then the movie starts and you look away.
He’s still your number one enemy, what the hell were you thinking?
When Pedro first appears, you shift in your seat, crossing your legs.
“FUCK” you scream internally “here we go”
Unbelievably stunning in his armor, you’re basically drooling.
You try to stay as composed as possible but Frankie is next to you and notices.
He comes closer to you and whispers in your ear “So it was all about this guy… the fuss before” You feel one of his large hand brushing your arm that is resting on the armchair and you try with all your strength to remain still even if he causes a storm inside you and especially in your panties.
“Shut. Up.” You hiss, without moving your gaze. You feel his breath on your skin and it’s intoxicating.
He chuckles “Yeah, that was I was thinking” and throws another popcorn into his mouth.
Your cheeks burn and you're thankful you're in the cinema, in the dark.
“What’s so special about this guy?” Frankie approaches again “is his penis platinum by any chance? All my female colleagues at work are crazy about him”
You turn to look at him with the desire to slap him “Shut. The. Fuck. Up.”
“Okay, okay, I was just asking”
You hate people talking at the movies. You wonder if you could have a more annoying guy than Frankie next to you. Probably.
Hotter? Probably not.
This dude hits on your last nerve but he makes you horny at the same time.
Terrible combination.
Frankie settles back into his seat and resumes watching the film.
You can't help but look at him from time to time and your desire grows. even if you're offended that he didn't even offer you his popcorn. Rude.
His mouth pouted and his eyebrows furrowed as he seems all focused on the movie makes you want to cup his face and kiss him.
You can still feel the warmth of his hand on your arm and his breath on your neck.
Concentrate, you tell yourself, it's the neighbor you hate, the neighbor you hate, the neighbor you hate. Fuck. You want him so bad. This revelation drives you crazier than Pedro half naked on screen.
At a particularly bloody scene you involuntarily turn around and hide your face on his shoulder.
You feel his arm around you “hey, it’s okay. I’ll tell you when it’s over” and he holds you tight the whole time.
He smells clean and fresh, like citrus and sage with a light hint of cigarette that you assume he smoked right before entering.
Your mind goes fuzzy and your pulse races at an impossibly high rate.
“You can look now” and it takes you a few seconds too long to register his words.
“Th-Thanks” you mutter, shifting back to your place.
Halfway through the movie the lights come back on and Frankie bursts out laughing looking at you. “What?” you ask him with wide eyes “what is it that makes you laugh so much?”
“Your face” he grins “it's clearly painted on it how much you want that guy. He turns you on, huh?”
You roll your eyes “Oh my God! Can't you go sit somewhere else? Two rows down, look how many free seats there are”
“I like it better here”
You cuss, there’s no way to get rid of him.
He has something magnetic that destabilizes you, your eyes fall involuntarily on his neck, slide along his broad chest and stop at the crotch of his pants. From the way he sits you can clearly see that he is quite big.
“What are you looking at?” he asks you amusedly.
You immediately look up. “Nothing”
“Nothing my ass. Did you like what you saw?”
Fuck. He noticed. You're done for. You hate to make him understand that after all, yes, you like what you saw. He seems pleased, proud, you would so much like to wipe that little smile off his face. As much as you struggle to admit it to yourself, you like him.
“Well, maybe…after all, you look like a fun place to sit”
You can't believe you actually said that.
Frankie's response is not long in coming, his eyes immediately darken and his smile twists in a mischievous way.
The lights go out again and you feel him tug gently on your arm “come here, pretty”
He sits you down on his lap and as the movie starts again he whispers “was that what you wanted the whole time? Were you offended that I didn’t invite you?” you can clearly feel his smile spread across your skin just before he places his lips on your neck.
You would like to say something back but his closeness makes you confused and excited.
He sucks your skin like he's hungry and you moan in the dark "shh baby you gotta stay quiet while I give you what you want”
You don't know how but you find the strength to reply, "God, you're so arrogant.”
He tightens his hands on your hips, pulling you towards him, now you are practically sitting on his cock. You feel it pressing against your ass, trapped in his pants.
A rush of pleasure wets your pussy and you bite your lips to hold back another moan, you hear his hoarse voice in your ear “Maybe. You like it though” You hate to admit that he is right.
The heat of his body envelops you pleasantly, he raises a hand to one of your breasts and squeezes it over your shirt. You like his hands. They are big, expert and eager to touch you, they make your head spin.
You completely forgot about the movie, which seemed impossible to you, if they had told you you would have laughed in their face. In no universe would you have expected this.
“God” you whine “oh my God” His hand slides under your shirt and reveals your breast pulling down your bra, it is still covered but now you can feel his skin against yours. His fingers gently grasp one of your nipples, pulling and twisting it.
“Open your eyes, baby. Watch the movie like a good girl” his voice sounds authoritative, it irritates you and another rush of pleasure floods you at the same time.
“It’s not that easy” you mutter between your teeth as you feel his other hand dangerously approaching the hem of your skirt. He slowly goes up, as you try to hold back and make sure no one notices what he’s doing to you. Luckily, everyone seems enthralled by the film.
At this moment you don't even know why you started arguing so fiercely, if you had known before you would have tried to smooth things over a long time ago.
His fingers reach your panties, you feel them barely touching you and you already feel yourself burning with anticipation.
They move under your skirt, pushing your panties aside, grazing at your outer lips and then dipping inside you “Fuck, you’re soaking”
He moves them up and down between your folds, gathering your wetness towards your clit.
You feel his heavy breathing on your neck, his tongue running over your skin and his teeth nibbling on you.
“Fuck, Frankie” you cry
“Eyes to the movie”
You want to turn around and straddle him but there isn't enough room and Frankie holds you firmly anyway.
He applies pressure on your clit just right, starting to move two of his thick fingers in circle over it, the motion of his hand is partially hidden by the fabric of your skirt and your moans die in your throat one after the other. Frankie is rubbing away your sanity, you feel possessed and delirious under his touch.
Your last shred of control is torn by his fingers entering inside you, claiming your cunt as his, curling and scratching at your spongy spot.
Your eyes are still fixed on the screen but your vision is totally blurred, you see nothing, you understand nothing, you only feel Frankie pumping incessantly inside you while continuing to rub your clit with his thumb.
You feel the soft reverberation of his voice behind you, close to your ear “good girl, you're taking me so well”
The subtle Spanish accent in his voice now seems to you the most erotic sound in the world, sweet, melodious, addictive.
He takes you to the edge, you throw your head on his shoulder, shutting your eyes so everything goes black and you only feel him, until even biting your lips doesn't help anymore. He covers your mouth with his hand as you explode in a devastating orgasm, you moan against his skin, between his thick fingers that have just left your breast and you already miss them, feeling full and satiated by him.
He uncovers your mouth and kisses your neck, pressing his hand to your hip to keep you from slipping off his lap as your body trembles against his.
“Shit” you mutter “Frankie…oh my god”
“Do you think we can stop arguing all the time now?” He playfully says as he nuzzles at your hair.
“I don’t like being told what to do unless I’m naked, you know, I’m just like that” you reply, grinning and turning around to finally fix your eyes on his.
“I noticed it”
You take off his cap laughing and put it on backwards and before he starts to protest you kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth, tasting butter and salt on his tongue.
“Take me home”
“The movie isn't over yet,” Frankie observes, and you reply, “that means you'll have to take me to see it again and you’ll pay”
“Fine to me, princess”
#pedro pascal#frankie morales x you#francisco morales#frankie morales fanfiction#frankie catfish morales#one shot#frankie morales x reader#frankie morales smut#pedro pascal character fanfic#pedro pascal character fanfiction#ppcu
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When Did Blitzø Fall In Love With Stolas?
I just re-watched Helluva Boss S1 so i could numb the pain from Full Moon (it didn't work i'm not okay) and I had a few thought about Blitzø.
We all know Blitzø has a massive crush on Stolas and that he KNOWS that. Or at least he knows that he likes Stolas enough to enjoy his company and pay attention to certain things he likes even if they are just based on sex that is still a lot of effort for BLITZØ of all ppl bc he barely shows that level of affection to anyone except Loona.
But this begs the question; when did Blitzø realize he was falling in love with Stolas?
Looking at timelines he had to have starting falling for him before this picture was taken, because no way Blitzø would have taken that picture if he know that he wanted Stolas in a "more than sex" way. The way Blitzø's head works is that even if he can't admit to Stolas that he likes him (for fear of ruining their arrangement and any sort of "normalcy" that comes with it as well as fear of ruining Stolas' life) so taking and revisiting this picture is a way to feel his feelings without having to confront them head-on (see my post on Stolas symbolizing blitzø with the moon).
So now that we've established that it had to have happened before Ozzie's but also during one of their "meet-ups". When could that have been? Oh wait...
Blitzø fell in love with Stolas off-screen. During the post-TruthSeekers "thank you for the rescue" thing. If you think about it, this makes perfect sense. This wasn't a planned meet-up where Blitzø had to be reminded of Stolas' power over his business, it was Blitzø CHOICE to fuck him that night and Stolas did not have any tangible leverage over that decision. Additionally, Blitzø has never been protected ot cared for in the right way, he has always had to protect himself either because there was nobody to back him up or he didn't want to feel dependent or weak. He is constantly in survival mode and prides himself on protecting others.
The day TruthSeekers took place, Blitzø was protected, Blitzø was cared for. By Stolas of all people. Stolas saved him and the people Blitzø cares about when they were in a tough spot but also didn't make him feel weak by interfering immediately (before I.M.P got to kick most of D.H.O.R.K's ass). Stolas' timing was perfect and made Blitzø realize how nice it was to be taken care of, if you don't believe me:
So. Blitzø was falling in love with him JUST before Ozzie's....
That's why Blitzø almost cried when he dropped of Stolas at his house. Because he was finally learning to love again, and look where that got him....
IM REALLY SORRY STOLITZ SHIPPERS IDK WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME
#helluva boss#helluva boss stolitz#helluva boss stolas#helluva boss full moon#helluva blitzo#helluva boss blitzo#helluva stolas#hellaverse#blitzø#helluva boss truth seekers#helluva boss ozzie#stolas x blitz#stolitz#stolas#blitzo#helluva boss season 2#full moon episode
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