#well here he is the man the myth the legend

[nadas-dirthalen]

✨You asked for it: a delineation of my process! Chaotically!✨

(cut for length!)

So! How do I write 20k in a 5-day weekend?

Well, let's start with a couple clarifiers. The first of these are:

It's a weekend for me, and I have no other plans. Virtually no household duties (as I took care of those earlier in the week). I prepared to take this time to write, and do nothing but write.

I am privileged to have a support network of not only my partner, but also multiple friends who provide me encouragement, cheer me on, and help remind me to take breaks.

I am also privileged to have this long weekend in the first place, and to be physically in a position where writing for several hours per day is possible for me (despite chronic illnesses).

I am also, however, chronically ill and auDHD. I'm privileged in many ways, but struggle in some others. So with that: how do I make writing this much work for me?

Let's look at my next CasCal piece so I can show you all the steps!

1. I Plan.

To accomplish this many words, I try to make things easier on myself by building the bones of what I want to write first. For some people, this looks like brainstorming with friends in Discord (I love this too!). For others, it looks like writing stream-of-consciousness ideas in their journals/notes apps/wherever.

For me, while I do a lot of things, the one thing I almost always have to do before fully writing a story is mind map it.

You're gonna have to forgive me: I don't have my CasCal Magnae mind maps on me (I'm posting from a cafe, lol). But to give you an idea of what this part of this process looks like, here's two mind maps from the last two chapters of At Fanfare's End.

You can actually read both of these clockwise! I always start plotting in the top right, then move. You can also see that a lot of the events are numbered inside little circles.

In both cases, I overestimated how much I could fit in each chapter. You can also see cut content, and where it was meant to go. For instance, all of AFE Chapter 8 was supposed to be a Heinrix POV tacked onto the end of AFE Chapter 7.

2. I Fight My Perfectionism By Writing It Badly - On Purpose.

After I mind map, I move on to a zero-draft. This, I DO have for CasCal at present. The tl;dr here is that I write it in a stream-of-consciousness-ish fashion, not bothering to make any sentences pretty. I'm just describing a cutscene to myself, essentially.

This takes the pressure off, versus if I'd tried to plan the choreography and nail the prose/theme at the same time. Thanks to this, I get rid of most of the overwhelm that'd otherwise slow me down.

SOMETIMES I skip this step, but only if I've got a really solid image in my head and feel called to just write it right away.

3. I Draft. For Real.

Once I'm done zero-drafting (or otherwise just ready to begin) I work on the actual draft itself. For that CasCal zero-draft snippet above, here's the (so far) first drafted version.

You can see, right away, that it's longer.

He enters the foray from the back, on the side of the rabble, as he is wont to do. It puts fuel on the fire of his own myth: that he, misbegotten Winterscale scion, clawed his way up to excellency from the bowels of Footfall. There was once a time where he’d have to do some pantomime of that everywhere he went: shoving his way through the underbellies of the world, only his own heft to advocate for him. So much better, to cut the crowd without ever having to lift a finger, the force of his own legend enough to carve out a wide berth. Thanks to both the muscle and face at his sides, even the people who don’t know the story know to fear the man behind it. He is noble; he is unassailable; he has every right to be here, every right to march past, every right to strike down any who’d challenge his presence here. They don’t know—not even his Archmilitant, or his Seneschal—that he has not done this before. He has conquered, he has blustered, he has ruled… but never has the indescribable Winterscale fit himself into the workings of a Magnae Accessio. The ones of the houses beneath him were firmly beneath the value of his time. Asking his attendance would’ve been hubris on their part—and Calligos attending the Magnae of any of those lesser houses would’ve been a show of favour that implied some kind of obligation. He has no need for vassals, after all, and no want to bother with them. That, and it would’ve been poor form to attend Incendia Chorda’s crowning, probably. That war’s best left cold, as long as it can be left at all. The trio pass through the crowd without a whiff of dissatisfaction. Next, separating the lowborn from the elite, stands a row of tanks, polished to a bright sheen in the harsh light of almost-dusk. A clear show of strength: one that might’ve been more to Theodora’s taste than anyone else’s, and recreated in her image. As much an obituary for one Rogue Trader as the crowning of another. A smirk twists Calligos’ mouth. Centuries from now, will they drape xenobeast pelts across the mantle of his heir, neglecting the fact they were carved to fit his shoulders? “Look at the gold raining down,” Aerdrig remarks, wistful as some preening noble boy. The kind that he is, Cal supposes—or was, before he took the post on the Emperor’s Vow. A show of good faith to a governor, where the rest of his retinue was cut the same way as Calligos himself: rough-hewn on stations with barely enough room to spread one’s elbows without a fight. “Hard to believe that ten days past, this place lie half in ruin.”

But because I sketched out how it should look before I started writing it, it's okay that it did take more space. That's usually the way with my process: once I add detail, it grows!

4. I Edit.

Usually, I give my work a few hours or a day at the very least between when it's finished and when it goes up on AO3. This is because I edit it (and read it aloud to myself) before I post it anywhere! The CasCal Magnae chapter isn't at that stage yet (YET, give it 2 days lmao) but usually this will look like me polishing while I'm reading aloud to myself, tweaking sentences here and there or fully removing chunks that I don't feel add meaningfully to the story.

----

THERE YOU HAVE IT. I write a LOT of extra words a lot of the time, but I wouldn't trade my process for anything. I might be writing a lot of excess, but this also allows me to write more - and better, and more confidently - than I would be otherwise.

I hope that proved informative somehow! And if you have questions/comments, I welcome them! (Even if those comments are ".... Lore WTF why are you so wildly inefficient" because... yeah I deserve that one LMAO.)

would anyone be interested in hearing about my process as i do this massive 20k long weekend writing marathon?? is that a thing people would like?

[wayward-banana]

babe wake up I remembered to do a new years Takumi after 4 years

[jomeimei421]

GYAAHHH people are reblogging ANCIENT art of mine

[popqorn]

I'm doing a series of danmei D&D alignment polls. Here are the other polls, if you're interested. I'm open to suggestions for other characters, if anyone feels inclined ♡

[screampied]

#THE GRUDGE! g. satoru

☆ sum. perhaps screwing your ex-husband while the kids are out trick-or-treating wasn’t the best idea. but with him, the only treat he wants to trick is not in a basket—it’s right between your legs.. boo!

wc. 6.6k

warnings. fem! reader, ex-husband gojo, mentions of (2) kids, unprotected, pwp, mild hatefùcking, kakashi references eheh, gojo's still whipped, filthy dirty talk, prone bone, praise, implied bréeding, cunnīlingus / face sītting, bóob fondling, possessive themes, size kink, overstim, brat taming, fıngering, squırting, petnames.

➤ kinktober mlist

at the gojo’s, you mentally smack yourself as your feet step onto the scream-themed door mat that reads ‘step if you dare.’ part of you wished no one would answer the doorbell, but part of you solely wished he didn’t answer. it was about seven thirty at night, and with it being saturday, you had the kids for a few days. after that, you’d switch with satoru—your jeering hot-headed ex-husband. you decided since you got off early you’d take them trick-or-treating for a bit. but it’s to your utmost ‘surprise’ that satoru opens the door.

“oh! and who are you supposed to be pretty lady?” he’d hum, digging his hands into his pockets. satoru purposely tilts his head down, getting a good look at you while raising a brow. of course, he always went out for his costumes. this year, he’s wearing some sort of green flak jacket, a mask, and a long-sleeved shirt underneath with dark blue pants.

with a grump, you tuck your arms underneath your pits with your purse clinging onto your shoulder. “myself,” and your eyes flicker toward his messy frosted hair that’s spikier than usual. satoru’s wide headband partially droops below his left eye before you finish mumbling, “who are you even supposed to be.”

“uh, kakashi hatake. the man, the myth, the legend,” and satoru leans back against the front door, pulling out a fake kunai. a hand runs through his hair before he snickers at your unamused expression. tough crowd. “aw, you must be here for the kids, yeah? well, they’re out with nanami ‘n suguru trick-or-treatin’. just some blocks down,” and satoru stepped a few feet back once you trod your way inside, mutely cursing yourself that you’d probably have to wait until they got back. as long as they were with nanami and suguru—you didn’t have a problem. satoru shuts the timber wooden-made door behind him before speaking smugly. “oh. sure.. sure, just make yourself right at home, wifey.”

“don’t call me that.”

“just did.”

oh, brother.

the moment you stepped foot into your old spacey luxurious townhome satoru had built personally for you and your kids—the memories all came crawling back. the two of you didn’t end off on a bad note—divorces happen, and you both maintained a healthy relationship with the kids. you each agreed to co-parent, you’d get the week and he’d get the weekend - sometimes switching and vice versa.

“excuse the mess,” satoru hums, grabbing your coat. he tosses it over his shoulder before giving you another up-down glance. “if i knew you were comin’ over around this hour i’d clean a bit,” and he watches you struggle to keep eye contact. “hey. sweetheart, you’re lookin’ down again.”

with a scoff, you meet his gaze again. and fuck, does he look like he’s gotten even more handsome.

satoru gojo was always attractive—there was no doubt about it.

he was in his mid-thirties now, the two of you had settled down after college before having two kids of your own.

again, there wasn’t a reason for your divorce that was relatively a bad thing. you two just both decided to part ways - but of course, it was lots of unprovoked tension.

the costume that he wore was apparently based on some character named ‘kakashi’ whatever, and like always, he dressed the part. every year once the end of october would come around, satoru would wear an outfit just ‘cause. he stood tall, with serrated white hair that was jagged from all angles with the headband hanging off a side of his eye. in the middle part, the symbol was some kind of swirl that was never-ending.

satoru rambled to you that it was something . . something, a hidden leaf—honestly, you tuned out.

he wore the mask part too, covering up a good portion of his face from the nose down, and even had the red slanting scar that kakashi had near the left side of his eye that was probably makeup.

“i don’t wanna fight, gojo.”

“hmph. so it’s ‘gojo’ now,” he rolls his eyes, hanging your coat up near the rack. you take a quick peer around the room, seeing a plethora of toys and multicolored legos everywhere. it nearly makes you smile, remembering when satoru stepped on one of his youngest daughter’s legos. satoru leans against the glassy kitchen island, watching you take a seat near the crimson-red stool before humming. “and i don’t wanna fight either. in fact, i jus’ wanna talk.”

“so . . talk then,” you murmur, shifting your weight in your feet.

a brief smile creases against both sides of his lips before he grins. “soooo,” and it’s an awkward pause. you eye your ex-husband and he’s got somewhat of a bashful expression. rimy eyes of his dart toward your hand—your fingers specifically before he slyly coos. “i see you’re still wearin’ your wedding ring.”

shit.

he had a point.

after all this time, you still had your ring on. satoru did too—he also kept his ring on all the time, happily flashing it in front of countless numbers of women who’d try to hit on him.

you honestly don’t know why you still held on to it, let alone wear it, and to your surprise—you thought he’d stop wearing his those long seven months ago when the two of you officially split.

you bit the inside of your cheek before letting off a snarky, “shut up.”

satoru nearly snickers before he leans up close to you, only a few inches away. he’s so close that you get a loud wafting whiff of his citrusy cologne.

you remember the exact brand too, and it wasn’t exactly cheap either. he’d buy at least a dozen whenever the two of you went out shopping together - well, used to.

there’s so much tension between you both that you could cut it with a knife - the tension was thick, and the awkward dull pauses only made it even more intense.

there’s an annoying voice in your brain that’s screaming at you to just screw it - screw him, make up for lost time, and just . . . kiss him.

you did want to kiss satoru, and your eyes found themselves glancing toward his pearly pink lips that were almost always naturally glossed.

satoru’s eyes intently lock against yours for a few seconds before he casually brings a thumb up to the corner of your mouth, wiping away a bit of your lip gloss before cooing huskily. he expects you to pull away, but you don’t— in fact, you lean into his touch. once he notices, the only thing he replies with is a playful curt utter of,

“make me.”

so you do, but . . not in the way he expected.

not that satoru gojo was ever a man to complain though, especially with you.

and that’s when he found himself in quite a lewd predicament. satoru’s laid back against his cushiony padded mattress with you straddling his perfectly sculptured chin. a gloved hand of his grip near your right hip before he strums a thumb down your sopping wet entrance.

glossy - it’s prettier like he’s never seen it, and he can’t help but lick his lips like an animal preparing to feast the second you start to smear yourself against his chin.

“y’knowww baby, when you told me to shut up i didn’t think you meant sitting on my f—mmph,” and you cut him off mid-sentence by softly planting your cunt back on his mouth.

satoru grunts, bringing his free hand to wrap around the other unoccupied corner of your waist. he grunts, dipping his tongue inside before the familiar taste comes crawling back to his spiraling tastebuds. your taste, he missed your sweetness . . almost as much as he missed you.

as you sweetly moan within each dragging second, you glance down at him with hazed-blown pupils. shifting your wobbly weight and knees against his face, you start to feel his stubble rub on your skin. it almost tickles - but oh, you weren’t laughing.

his tongue had you doing quite the opposite.

“f- fuck,” you huff out, already starting to feel the plunging heaves of your stomach commence. sure, this was probably a bad idea, and sure, you and him probably needed to have an actual conversation at some point but now - you didn’t care about words.

you didn’t care about anything, and part of you kind of missed him.

perhaps his tongue was a majority reason for that part, and each time he rummages inside the deep secluded parts of your pussy, you let off cute individual mewling whimpers. satoru’s always been skilled, and he knew just how to please you.

his tongue always knew how to remind you of how much it’s missed its favorite meal.

curl after fucking curl, he’s leisurely spelling out letters and shapes and symbols with his tongue, taking every few seconds to swallow. satoru groans against your slobbering cunt, feeling you briefly thrust up against his nose and he can’t help but smell your tangy glacé coated sex.

it’s pleasantly sweet, and for a moment, scintillating blue eyes meet back up toward you. “h- heh, ‘s this why you came over? to shut me up ‘n use my fuckin’ mouth, sweetheart?”

“god, you talk t.. too much,” you moan, grabbing a fistful of his hair. in a way - that was true.

satoru was the definition of a blabbermouth.

he’d just talk and talk and talk . . yapping your ear off until you shut him right up in the best (and his personal favorite) way possible - sitting on his pretty face.

a pompous grin stretches across each corner of his lips whilst his jaw’s already dripping due to your slick that paints near the outer crevices of his thin lips. slow, it starts to slowly trickle down his chin at a snail-like pace, creating a shimmery coat of gloss that dribbles underneath his slack mandible.

satoru lays his long pointed tongue flat - savoring every single drop before he’s starting to suck against your clit.

“oh! fuck, right there ‘toru, riiiight there,” and he’s just sloppy. the mask part of his costume was pulled down to his neck as he was using his upper and bottom lip to munch against your sobbing pussy at irregularly paced intervals. your legs failed to stay still and you could already feel the carnal slope of your back starting to form an obtuse-like arch. “fuck, fuckin’ spit on it, ‘toru. pleasepleaseee.”

cute.

you’re calling him ‘toru again, and it makes him cockily grin knowing it was his tongue’s doing.

“wifey’s still as nasty as ever,” satoru whispers against your leaky folds, sliding a thin middle finger near your wet entrance. with a loud ‘psh’ you end up gushing out a bit abruptly and you whine loudly. your thighs rapidly snap together as you blink thrice, feeling his swollen lips glue against your pussy. “mmh, still a wet girl too. my wet girl.” you peek down at satoru who’s the literal epitome of the word smug.

he’s smearing his entire face against your teary slabbering cunt, spitting on it before lapping it right back up again.

you missed his nasty mouth - badly, and it makes your eyes shamelessly roll backward as you start to frailly rut your rickety hips into his mouth.

satoru brings two willowy fingers toward your slit before sliding the icy jewel rock of his wedding ring against your dribbling cunt.

wet, you were soaked and you let off shivering labored breaths once he started to toy with your saturated slick entrance.

with widened doe eyes, you meet his esurient-filled gaze and he hums at you. “listen to how damn wet she is,” he huffs, and you moan at the ridiculously drenching sounds of your pussy. he’s playing with you from between your thighs, chin still dripping with insane amounts of your syrupy juices. “mhm, i know, i know,” and you feel the feeble weight of your thighs quiver the second he’s focusing his attention primarily on your cunt now and not you.

all six eyes were fixated between your legs—

satoru strums the pad of his thumb down your drooling slit before gradually rolling his tongue from top-to-fucking-bottom.

he’s nasty, slithering the tip of his tongue everywhere until your toes curl and you’re letting off the cutest shrilling sounds. satoru even starts to spell out ‘m-a-r-r-y m-e’ and as lewd as it was, he’s proposing to your pussy. he needed you, and satoru knew the both of you divorcing was nearly inevitable, but he missed you.

he especially missed the way you tasted - so sweet, he could eat you out for hours even with his jaw sore ‘n locked. satoru’s a pussy pleaser, making you draw out sweet cries of more as he slurps you clean, his tongue occasionally sliding toward your puckering hole.

“satoru… ngh,” you whimper, the grip of your hand against his hair getting stronger. you’re fucking his face, grinding your slick against his mouth while watching his pretty frosty lashes flap. you’re squelching profusely, and each sloshing slosh of your pussy makes his dick twitch in his pants. “goddd, ‘m gonna cum. make me cum, fuck.”

“let’s see what she thinks,” he purrs, lustrous polished lips flushing into a pearly coat of clear once he licks them. satoru’s entirely pussy drunk, and you shudder once he slowly inserts a lanky middle finger. with a loud ‘pop!’ sound, it dexterously slides itself in, rummaging past the tight ring of your entrance.

fuck, he had such long fingers.

you almost forgot - satoru always joked with you how being ‘the strongest’ came with having six-inch fingers and he wasn’t fucking kidding . .

“hm, should my baby cum? does she deserve it?” and your lips curl up into a pout. he’s serious, having an entire conversation with your pussy. you moaned, maintaining a stiff grip on his hair before satoru started to smear circles against your cunt.

again, you’re just wet. your slickness amused him and satoru can’t help but playfully pat your pretty soddened pussy with the center of his palm once he doesn’t get a reply. the only reply he does get is the cute sloshing sounds that repeatedly gush between your poor quivery thighs.

you’re slowing yourself against his mouth as you straddle him, whimpering at the feeling of his thin digit piercing its way inside of you. you’re close, and you can feel yourself glitching and spasming the second the tip of his finger grazes past your g-spot.

already, he’s located it like ‘x’ marks the spot. your jaw was dropped, and you were on the verge of euphoric death.

satoru stretched your cunt out perfectly with just one finger, and sure . . you’ve had your fair share of intimacy with your ex-husband, but fuck did it always feel like the first time.

you couldn’t help but start to drool a bit, weakly rutting your hips against his face as you’re leisurely getting closer to the brink of your edge.

it’s carnal, you’re stupidly crisscrossed with your eyes flickering back and forth like turning signals before satoru starts to playfully nibble against your cunt again. this time though, he’s adding in another finger and the spongy pressure that’s being played with inside of you earns out a sweet honeyed gasp that sounds like a breathy shriek!

“toru, sato—fuck, ‘m cumming, ‘m gonna cum,” and your words repeated themselves over and over. you’re like a broken recurrent record on a looping vinyl. your cunt continues to sloppily rest against his perfect crooked lips the entire time as you’re blissfully coming undone.

satoru’s staring at you the entire time, practically undressing you with his eyes. he grunts, spotting how your perked nipples noticeably prodded through your silvery blouse. “ugh, fuuuck.” and it hits you like a crashing wave that slams its way into shore.

satoru’s still heartily pumping two slender digits in and out of your splashing cunt whilst you gush right on him, weak defeated hips losing their stability.

you were whimpering, tasting your candied orgasm on your tongue—it felt that good to where it’s like you could taste every nerve against your salivated tastebuds.

only satoru could make you cum on his tongue like this. you were speechless - frantically panting as you released your hand from his ghostly white strands. he’s still leaking your juices from the crannies of his lips before he exhales deeply.

“yeaaah, atta girl. lay it on me,” and you moan as he’s still sliding his long tongue in between the sopping folds of your sensitive cunt, gradually pulling out his lengthy digit pillars of fingers. “fuck, y’r so hot when you try ‘ta put me in my place, sweetheart.”

“stop talking,” you pant, getting off of him. satoru raises a pallid brow, and he grows amused once you suddenly push him to lie flat against his back. with a raspy ‘ugh’ he lands back against the velvet-colored pillows, a sly smirk marinating against his complacent features.

like a slut - he merrily manspreads just for you, long legs spread wide apart with a huge bulge sticking out of his pants.

he’s still got the shinobi headband on, part of it slumping down his left eye. “oh, what’s this?” he lowly gruffs, eyeing you from head to toe again.

this time though, it’s more sensual. satoru’s taking in every piece of fabric that’s protecting your skin, watching as you slowly undress yourself.

he could feel his boner excruciatingly rubbing against his pants the more he watched. he’s taking in your appetizing presented curves . . so pretty. especially after having two kids - his kids.

“gonna ride me, yeah?” he jibes, continuing once you were now left in nothing but a matching set of panties and bra.

coincidentally - the colors matched his exact eye color, and satoru always had a thing for you wearing clothes that matched his eyes. but like always, he just kept on talking. he was too cocky for his good, and maybe one more fuck was just what you needed. what you both needed.

just . . one . . more,

right?

well, that’s what you told yourself.

but all that went out the window the second you’re aligning yourself on his cock. satoru takes a sharp three-second breath, ogling at your every move. it’s like a game of chess. he’s waiting for you - for your cunt to make its move against his throbbing mushroomy tip.

two big hands of his wrap around your waist and he grunts lowly. feeling your slick cunt maneuver itself against his angry reddened tip makes his head slightly toss back in feral rapture.

his tip—it’s got a coral blush, and you let off a moan at feeling his hooked fat plump crownhead try to plummet its way in.

it’s rude, not caring to introduce itself to your cunt but slam its way in instead, asking if your insides remember him.

and it does - it definitely does.

“ohhh fuck,” you sob out a needy moan, your hips eagerly making two solid taut bucks against him.

satoru groans against your ear, swollen sack peeling back as you’re still straddling him. your body, it was in his arms again and he couldn’t help but feel you everywhere.

starting at your hips, he holds them tight, tracing the callused scarred tips of fingers all around the curvature of your body before trailing down toward the juncture of your rear. “god, don’t know how much i missed you ‘n your smart mouth,” and as you let off a surprised gasp, satoru grabs a nice chunk of your ass. “missed this ass just as much.”

“bet you did,” you puff, full lungs already on the verge of collapsing. he’s huge - and barely the tip was in and you could already feel your pussy starting to throw a fit of tantrums. satoru’s girth made him stretch more, and for a second you let off another sweet moan before meeting his gaze.

he’s got a delicious curve to him that always makes your insides twist and churn. it’s a feeling you’ll probably never get used to.

“what’s with the smirk? somethin’ funny?”

“you, baby,” satoru titters, giving you a haughty head nod. you feel your cunt throb as you’re trying to continue to lower yourself down on his cock but the stretch - fuck, pretty soon your poor cunt was about to be met with max fucking capacity.

satoru’s sparkly heavy-lidded eyes linger on you before he cups your chin, swiping a thumb across your wet quavering lips. “all that talk ‘n you still can’t take me. thought i trained my wife’s pussy good,” and with a teasing pout, he shrugs. “guessss not!”

“fuck you.” you moan, mentally groaning the second you felt yourself getting more soaked, just from his words alone.

pathetic - and yet, you wanted more.

satoru clicks his tongue, and with a blink of an eye, he now has you flipped over. you gasp, landing flat on your chest as he’s got your wrists restrained against your back.

satoru rolls his eyes, sprawling out your weak-kneed legs all the way apart to get a good glimpse of your sopping pussy from the back.

god, in his mind - it should have been a crime to be this wet. your sopping, pearly translucent molasses of your slick stream down your pulsing entrance and he grunts.

“fuck you,” he repeats, although he says it cheekily. even though you weren’t even facing him anymore you could almost visibly see the annoying shit-eating grin plastering on his face.

from ear to ear with each of his dimples piercing each wry crevice of his mouth, he's so smug--bastard.

your back arches and you moan the second he starts to smack his rotund tip against your pussy. “myyy, what a fuckin’ mess,” and you suck your teeth, feeling satoru’s loud spanks hit louder. each time his fat cockhead thumps itself against your wet outer folds, the vibrations make you shiver from the waist down.

the tingly tenderness makes your toes immediately curl up once more and your canorous-like moans start to become muffled once you dig your teeth into the edge of a nearby pillow. “still wet after alllll this time like a good messy girl,” he grits. with another smack of his tip, your leg twitches in response. “ooh, she likes that,” and satoru softly spreads your saturated cunt lips apart with two fingers just to see your pulse throb in full filthy action. “fuuck, she’s achin’ for it. look at that pretty ‘lil throb. so cute.”

“are you gonna fuck me or n—”

“listen, honey,” and you moan at the sudden husky drop of his voice. satoru softly wraps a few fingers around your throat, pressing his slim body right against your own. he drops your wrist, watching you sink into the mattress as limp-like. he’s so close that you could feel the outline of his abs prods against his shirt.

inching his lips near the shell of your earlobe, he starts to pant. heavy, sinister breath that ends up making you throb ten times harder. “i’m gonna fuck you,” he grunts, feeling your ass cutely try to jerk its way against him. the costume part of his pants was lazily pulled down, reaching the low area of his ankles. with a husky sigh, satoru brings his tip near the dripping entrance of your sloppy doused cunt. “might as well fuck that bratitude out of ya too while ‘m at it,” and you moan once he’s slowly starting to sink his way in.

satoru grabs ahold of your torso, lifting you slightly to a certain degree. your ass was raised just a few meters with your face smushed against the satiny made bedsheets.

his eyes dart down your body for another time and now, he’s just openly gawking at your exposed skin - your gorgeous physique.

satoru could stare at you all day if he could. “f- fuh—fuck,” you croak, plump lips forming into a hoop-like ‘o’ the moment he’s easing his way inside. there goes his ridiculous girth again, there goes his fat length that never fails to rearrange your clingy needy insides.

your tummy dips from each inch that’s gradually disappearing inside of you like a never-before-seen magic trick until he’s starting to gruffly groan. satoru’s already breaking a frigidly cold sweat.

it was just him feeling your covetous wet cunt voluntarily swallow him up - squeezing him tightly like a vice until you wring him dry. your pussy’s holding him hostage, and with the tight firm grasp you had against him, you never wanted to let go. “ ‘toruuu, ‘s fuckin’ big.”

“allll for you,” he drags out his words through raspy breathy sentences. chalky white brows of his compress together as he’s starting to feel the brief twinge of pleasure that courses through his beefy clenched thighs. with hooded cunt-drunk eyes, satoru already heard your gargling pussy trying to get more bratty words in. “all. for. you,”

and he punctuated his words just like he punctuated his merciless, sloppy thrusts.

the first thrust was rigid, the second thrust was sensual, and the third was damn near powerful. .

you moan loudly, feeling him caress tender circles near the exposed nape of your neck with his thumb as he tries to start up a sufficient pace. it took him a moment before he was fully in, making sure you felt and remembered every single inch.

satoru expands through your cunt like a domain.. the more carnal lewd way though.

it makes you shiver, and with his weight pressing into your ass that was your last fucking straw.

satoru’s got you in prone bone - a position like doggy but better, and he’s got his chiseled hips just barely hovering over your ass. with pounds and pounds of skin against skin—each smack against flesh had your mind going for a whirl ride.

you were already surrounded by his sweltering warmth from the inside and the feeling alone was enough to make your mouth water.

heavy airy pants drew out from your full lungs like you were some sort of animal, then again—it’s satoru gojo, and his dick was just one of a fuckin’ kind..

his cock was heavy, driving through your cunt like it’s been ages, and it kinda has.

with a hypnotic pivot of his askew hips, satoru makes you arch just a bit further. it’s a pretty arch, and he skips a few fingers down your curling spine. he watches you trying to wriggle away but with a cocky, “ah ah. where ya goin'?” he reels you right back into him. he’s so thick, and he only imagined how pretty you looked with your eyes lulling toward the back of your skull. “aw, don’t get shy on me now, sweetheart,” he purrs lowly, and you moan once he gives your ass a rude spank. “wanna hear my wife’s pretty voice. y’r sloppy pussy’s nice but i wanna—ngh, hear you.”

“ex-wife,” you correct him again, and you know he’s just addressing you as that just to tease you. you start to whimper as his rhythm starts to pick up, ploddingly dragging his keen hips further and further into you. “hnghh. stupid-,” you blurb out another weak squalling whimper, gluey lips starting to stick together.

you almost forgot how mean his dick game was, and satoru knew how to fuck.

he had the type of dick where it’d make you question your life choices—so good, each curve of his hips had you getting more and more stupid.

you’re pronounced cock drunk within milliseconds, and it doesn’t even take you long before your eyes were as wide as saucers, tongue lolled, and your back arches to its very limit.

and his stamina . . oh,

it never changed once he aged—he had the stamina of a fucking stallion, and his hips proved the horsepower to back it up.

“whaaat’s that?” satoru chirps, adding a bit more pressure around your throat. it’s safe - but you let off a tiny crooning moan once his strokes become deeper. you feel him reach at unimaginable angles, and your eyes start to roll back again.

satoru’s got you right where he wants, in his bed, the bed that used to be shared between you both.

he’s amping up his delirious pace, striking his feral hips into you quicker before groaning against your ear. in a hoarse tone, he licks a stripe down your neck. “such a brat, bet you don’t slut this pretty pussy out for anyone else, huh?”

you moan, feeling him breathe down your neck. cloudy hot puffs of air aerate against your skin before satoru starts to suck against your shoulder. “mmh. maybe i do. ‘s none of your business.”

“oh girl, please,” satoru replies, and his sass was enough to make your thighs quake.

you still couldn’t get used to his size - the fat fucking size of his cock that nearly makes both of your thighs clamp shut.

the shirt part of his costume snags against your skin as he’s still fucking you raw, buried balls fuckin’ deep before satoru starts to slow down.

with a wet ‘plop!’ he grunts, feeling his dick slip right out of you. “fuuck,” and he takes a moment to stare at the sight underneath him.

you, his pretty ex-wife all arched and hunched over.

your pussy’s pitifully drooling for more - sniveling wetly from the sheeny flaps as you clench around the air for a few seconds.

as a soft needy moan leaves you, you whine out an inaudible noise that sounds almost like you’re saying ‘what happened?’

“so . . fuckin’ hot,” satoru groans, re-aligning himself back against your slick-flooded entrance.

he heard your melodic ‘oooh’ leave from your lips as he was back inside, a content sigh departing from his chest. satoru can’t help but lean himself against you, bringing his hands toward your bouncy tits. “ah, can’t forget about my favorite girls,” and you let off a plethora of whiney whimpers, feeling him drag his thumbs over your sensitive nipples. satoru’s hips start to get sloppy and his cock’s just lazily swerving its way through every filthy orifice. “so pretty ‘n plump. . all mine.”

satoru continues to fondle your breasts as he’s ruthlessly pounding into you, swinish hands desperate to feel every part of your round soft tits. he’s moaning against your ear right with you, and satoru’s starting to feel himself steadily reach toward his vulgar demise.

his cock’s rude, repeatedly hitting itself against your precious beloved g-spot. it’s smothering it with a multitude of sloppy kisses with his tip, making sure it savors every wet smooch. “fuck, fuck me,” you moan, lying in a puddle of your drool that starts to dampen the pillow that rests underneath your chin.

“greedy ‘lil thing,” satoru huffs, and as he’s still playing with your tits, his pumps start to slow down. satoru’s massaging your walls so good that it’s like he’s putting a wicked spell on your pussy.

you could barely even sit up anymore, and he’s holding your hips firmly. “mmhhh, gettin’ me all soaked, baby. should make you lick me right up.”

“how about you stop talking-”

“how about i edge you ‘n let you finish this sloppy pussy yourself, huh?”

radio silence.

you moaned in response and satoru shook his head with another smarmy sneer squeezing across both corners of his pink lips.

“uh huh. ‘s what i thought,” and satoru groans the moment he feels himself starting to shrink up from the inside.

his testes were nothing but wrung out, plump, and swollen underneath you, pap papping against your ass - preparing to be milked full.

the lewd imagery alone makes him grunt, feeling a vein prod down his shaft. satoru’s abs flex through his shirt before he sighs, bringing a kiss near the back of your neck. “hah, tell me where sweetheart. where do you want it, tell me.”

“fuck,” you moan, losing count of each time his pointed tip thrashes itself against the gummy barrier of your cervix.

satoru lowly chortles, panting heavily before making you lie straight down against the bed. “heh, fuck? that’s not an answer, silly.”

“inside, fuckin’ finish inside, ‘toru,” you blurt out, hearing your voice start to strain.

you’ve been moaning your head off, and your chords were starting to sound like they’ve had just about enough.

“nuh uh, manners sweetheart. don’t act brand new,” he teases, tracing a palm over the curved shape of your perked ass. he was in so deep, you felt the pressure press down on your tummy and it gave birth to an entire school of butterflies. you slip out another moan once satoru’s slowing his impactful thrusts down, still filling you to the brim before bringing his hips to a sudden halt. he’s back up against your ear before he whispers hoarsely, “ ‘pretty pleaseee’, c’mon baby. talk to me nice.”

with a guttural whine desperately trying to rip out the back of your throat, you grumble out a bratty, “fuck you.”

“hah, you’re a trip, y’know that?” and you gasp, feeling satoru snake a hand in between your thighs.

as he drags it down to where it stops near your stuffed pussy, he starts to rub his open palm against you. you moan, arching ever further as your ass presses into him. “it’s ‘fuck me’ ‘n yet you’re bent over for me, wet for me, sloppy for fuckin’ me,” and you felt yourself starting to throb quicker the more he spoke.

within each filthy sentence, his words drip with more erotic bass in his voice—

it’s sexy, and satoru’s feeling you trying to weakly grind your ass back against him so he could finish. it’s cute, the way how you’re so impatient but such a brat.

the woman he always knew - his wife.

“sato—satoruuu,” you mewl out, another whimper flying past your spit-slick lips. the gradual sounds of skin slapping resound against the walls of the spacious bedroom before it echoes. you moan once his cock stills itself inside - waiting for you, and with a defeated moan, you huff, “fine, pretty please.”

“pretty please what, sweetheart?”

he’s annoying, and yet here you were shamefully pulsating for him, arched over for him, and babbling his name over and over again like it’s some repetitive sacred mantra.

with a pouty scoff, you grumble out a subtle, “pretty please . . cum inside, ‘toru. please.”

“atta girl, use those words,” he purrs, and you moan once he gently grabs both of your unsteady hips. satoru braces your body underneath him and he grunts once he focuses back on his release. “god, this tummy,” he rasps, and you whimper once you feel his bare hands creep underneath your warm flat body.

satoru’s body remains on top of you - pounding you ruthlessly, and that’s when he softly presses a hand against your stomach. right there, he feels a tiny bulge of himself and it makes him grunt.

you were squeezing around his cock tight, slathering the entirety of his fat cock with your slimy slick before he groans. “mhm, you’d look so pretty plump ‘n round again for me, baby,” and satoru’s starting to feel it. his body - it shakes, damn near erupting as his high’s approaching at a hasty speed. “prettiest fuckin’ mommy. fuck, ‘m gonna give you so much.”

white lashes of his snap shut as he whines into your shoulder, still pumping thick inches into you from behind—skin slapping meanly and resounding off the walls of the room before he groans out a growling, “fuck!” you’re moaning right with him, his heat radiating against your skin. satoru’s strokes were hypnotic, his hips jerk against your ass as you’re barely keeping up. your insides felt churned all the way out as he still had a hand lying on the center of your tummy, drooling at the thought of filling you up again.

when it arrives, it’s quick - it takes him only a few long drawn-out seconds before he finally lets go. white brows of his twist together as he’s slowly pumping you full of ribbons ‘n ribbons of cum.

pearly slimy globs shoot into you, and you moan out a content sigh of your own as the muscles in your shoulders relax. “fuuuck,” you breathe, hearing satoru’s groans overshadow your noises. he’s always been far louder than you, especially whenever he was finishing.

he sounded pretty, angelic almost. satoru’s eyes flicker down toward the mess that’s being made, hearing the sloppy sounds of your pussy gargle and all.

bubbles of ivory-colored seed coat the outer folds of your entrance and you feel his warmth.

gristly silky ropes dribble into you all at once, creating a milky white ring that starts to form around his base. he’s missed filling you up like this - so so bad.

satoru nearly slips out a whine as he’s dumping his all into you—casually filling you to the brim, and that’s when his hips start to get even sloppier.

he was a mess, and you’ve milked him dry. he watches as your pretty pussy’s all filled and glossed - oozing with such amounts of cum.

a bit of stringy strands started to stick and glue against your thighs like adhesive, and he couldn���t help but pull out. it’s a squishy lewd ‘pop’ that sounds the second he drags his weighty cock out from between your creamy flaps. “god, look at how pretty she is after a good fillin’,” he huffs, and you’re still catching your breath once satoru flips you over. you’re lying on your back, meeting his gaze.

you’ve never seen him more in love - oh, he was whipped.

he didn’t even have to tell you those known words because his eyes already spoke for him. satoru rubs his leaky white-coated tip against your cunt, smearing his cum all over your entrance before sighing. after he does that, satoru licks his lips and that’s when you watch his head starting to disappear, going lower.

“can’t . . let it go to waste,” he grumbles, and you moan the second you feel the tip of his tongue starting to create a slope up your right thigh.

slowly, he’s lapping up the remnants of his cum that’s spilling down your skin. you almost forgot just how filthy he was. satoru had no shame, and he even moaned once the taste of his mess met against his tastebuds. “mmh.”

“s- satoru,” you heave, a hand finding its way through his strands again. his lips were soft, and he then started to create sloppy kisses. you moan, writhing against the stained sheets before gingerly bringing his head back up.

with a sleazy grin, his eyebrows raised before you finish your sentence, tangled fingers still fishing through his snowy unkempt tresses. “kiss me.”

“heh, that’s my girl,” he hoarsely, gradually closing the distance between you both. he’s been longing to kiss you, to plant his lips against yours. satoru groans in your mouth, feeling your arms wrap around his slim waist.

he starts grinding his hips against yours, his angered reddened tip blushing the more cold air sets against it. you’ve never felt more hot, and you could feel a smirk carve against satoru’s lips as he’s making out with you.

it’s intense - his tongue explores throughout your mouth, demanding entry as you moan.

satoru’s sweating pinballs, and he presses his forehead against yours. “fuckin’ woman,” he whispers, his voice getting more and more raspy.

you could taste himself on his tongue and so could he.

it was lewd - and yet, he only wanted more. more of you and so much of it..

satoru leans into your touch, sucking on your tongue as pairs of teeth occasionally clash and smash together before that’s when you abruptly pull away.

“h..hey,” he huffs, and he’s entirely flustered. satoru’s got heart eyes in his pupils, and he’s very much whipped. of course, though, he tries not to show it by keeping up his smug, arrogant façade. “what’s— ah.”

like earlier, you switch positions and push him lightly to where he lands on his back. pretty soon, you were sure trick-or-treating was gonna be over soon for the kids—satoru mentioned earlier how they were staying out for about maybe two hours.

as you straddle his lap again, finally listening to that annoying voice in your head, you made up your mind.

fuck it.

fuck him - literally.

“lie back,” you murmur, and you watch as satoru grows sheepish. you’re getting under his skin, and your sudden change in demeanor makes him hard for what was probably the umpteenth time of the night.

like a dog – he’s obedient, going manspread again before a groan escapes out of him. as your drenched flooded cunt hovers over his tip again, you lean in to pepper chaste kisses near his neck.

“oh, finally gonna ride me now, yeah?” satoru raises a brow, though you could tell how his cockiness was fading. he was sensitive - very.

it was almost painful, and now you were just teasingly grinding the entrance of your cock back ‘n forth against his flaccid length that rests against his tummy. “shit,” he swallows, idly bringing a hand toward your waist. he sees the look in your eyes before dryly chuckling. “f- fine. but this means . . you’ll give me another chance?”

you deadpan, playfully flicking his chest back before humming. “we’ll see.”

“i’ll take it,” satoru pants, trying to flash a smile but he ends up moaning the second you’re starting to align himself against his throbbing tip.

he’s still leaking gleaming white droplets from the sides of his dick, his veiny shaft being decorated with globs and globs of pre. with a guttural groan, satoru’s abs flex through his costume before he grabs your ass, giving your left rear cheek its nth spank.

“do your worst fuckin’ then,” satoru stares up at you, a whine desperately trying to leave his slick-spit lips before he squeezes your ass. as you moan, watching his swollen tip gradually disappear between your sappy folds, gojo sighs.

as your unstable hips try to steady themselves against him, you feel satoru rub the front jeweled part of his wedding ring on your sopping cunt one more time right as you prepare to ride him.

“m- make your husband proud, wifey.”

[erinwantstowrite]

while im here im going to try and convince you guys to write more "Tim Drake joining the Batfam late" aus because it's underrepresented

like, i love the fics where he joins early. that's cute! but a fic where he joins late for whatever reason??? i eat it up like a cat starved for attention. i want Tim Drake being the "perfect" heir to Drake Industries and being known as the polite, well adjusted young man that everyone knows. and then turn around and find out that Tim has not only been stalking the Bats under their radar since he was, what, 9 years old? but on top of that, he's started solving cases that they can't get to. Tim who stalked so hard he learned where they learned their martial arts and went "backpacking across europe" only to have actually been learning from Shiva. Tim who has become an urban legend to the Batfam because they can't tell if this vigilante exists or not, since they never catch him, they don't have footage on him, etc. Or if they DO know him, they don't even think to put Tim Drake in the suspect pool because Tim Drake whined for an hour when he broke a nail at a charity event once. the kid is smart, sure, but he's not going out at night fighting crime and solving cases that Batman didn't know about yet.

even better if Tim named his vigilante persona an adjacent name to the Robin mantle. him knowing he can't BE Robin (perhaps Jason hadn't died in this au) but he could be a hero that helps them from the shadows

and obviously he makes a mistake of some kind... maybe he saves someone at an event as Tim Drake and Bruce sees how little hesitation he had. or maybe he gets injured and can't get up himself, and that's when a Bat or a Robin or someone finds this vigilante they almost thought was a myth: bloody, broken, and needing help. pick him up and take him home and then there are endless possibilities to what happens next but the ending BETTER be Tim finding his home with his people

[moonlight-presence]

Will ye go, lassie, go?

Remmick X Female Reader

Summary: After saving you from a life of pain and loneliness, Remmick and you become connected for eternity. Amid the misty backdrop of a river at night, you sing "Will Ye Go, Lassie, Go?", a song that stirs deep, forgotten memories within Remmick. Drawn to your voice and the bond you two now share, you succumb to your carnal pleasures.

2,251 words

Notes:

🩸 stór = my love/my darling 🩸 stóreen = my little darling 🩸 foc = fuck 🩸 anamchara = soulmate 🩸 Cén guth álainn = what a beautiful voice

!SMUT CONTENT!

The world was only half lived before he came into your life. Every plant was pretty to look at, not overwhelming to your senses, humans were good company, not drumming heartbeats begging you to have a taste, and the night was dark and terrifying, not welcoming like a mother's embrace. 

 The more you tried to remember how your life was before Remmick turned you, the more you forgot. Why bother? You had been miserable. Time was torture and living your punishment. Now? Well, now you could taste the metallic blood on your tongue, dance with goblins and devils, and sing freely.

Oh, the summertime has come

And the trees are sweetly bloomin'

The wild mountain thyme

Grows around the bloomin' heather

Will ye go, lassie, go?

You let the last note linger on your tongue longer than usual. The enjoyment of freedom was like poison in your veins, and you wanted nothing more but to drown yourself in it. 

 You were sitting by a river, the cold breeze of night holding you and the memories of those turned roaming inside your head. Everything was connected, and you were everything. 

 You were an orphan boy, forced to steal. A woman made slave. A man whose father was taken from him by the righteous hands of sinners. A Chinese girl, an ancestor of the chief of a tribe long gone, a bureaucrat, a soldier. You were all, and they were all you. 

 It felt good not to be alone. Comforting. 

 And it was in that comfort and singing of old melodies from a land across the ocean, one filled with magic creatures, that Remmick found you, once more, as he had years ago. 

 “You really fancied that old tune, uh?” he said from behind you. 

 You turned to meet his red eyes, and you couldn't help but show him your fangs. It was becoming a habit. 

 “It's gorgeous. I know how much it means to you,” you replied. 

 “Then be sure to sing it as loud as you can.” Remmick walked towards you. Mist wrapped around his body with each step, making him seem like a myth from the old legends. His red eyes, glowing in the pitch black, mirrored yours.

 He sat next to you, and you smelled the blood on his mouth immediately. It was fresh; he had fed recently. 

 “Who was it?” you whispered, moving your knees to touch his. 

 Remmick smiled, not a good old smile but one of those that made your bones all jiggly, before saying, “You askin’ if I turned them?”

 You nodded with a guilty smile and brought your fingers to his lips. They were clean, but you could still feel the moisture of the blood beneath the skin. 

 “I wanted to free him, baby, I really did, but his blood was so sweet…” Your breath quickened as you saw, inside your head, what he had seen. “Well, I couldn't resist.” 

 “Let me taste it,” you begged as you wetted your thumb with his saliva.

 Remmick's lips stretched into a grin, and you felt his teeth, sharp and still throbbing from his kill. You couldn’t resist the urge as you brought your thumb to your lips and sucked on it. 

 You closed your eyes briefly, trying to intensify the flavor, but it was far too faint to ease your desire. You needed more.

 “Oh, darlin’, that’s quite alright… Come here,” Remmick said, voice hypnotizing and layered with honey. 

 Your lips met then, and the sweet taste of blood met your tongue like an old friend. A groan escaped your lips, and you felt his own desire resonating with yours. You deepened the kiss, swirling your tongues together in a fiery dance. 

 Remmick hummed, clearly pleased, and grabbed the back of your head, tangling his fingers with your hair. His nails were grown now, scratching your scalp and making the sweet dance of your desires pick up its pace. 

 It wasn’t the first time you had taken him for a lover, and certainly wouldn’t be the last. The others weren’t quite the same as you… They respected Remmick, worshipped him even for immortalizing them, but your connection to him was far deeper. When your bodies blended and your blood pumped at the same pace, that was when you truly were complete. 

 “Stór, I can feel your fire,” Remmick whispered, breaking the kiss. You whined at the loss and he smirked, fangs poking from his top lip. 

 “I want you so bad,” you said, grabbing his shoulders and hoisting yourself to his lap. He looked up at you, and you held the back of his neck. “Make love to me.”

 Remmick hummed, feeling your desire inside him as wildfire. “Keep singin’, stór. I wanna hear your beautiful voice, baby.”

 You nodded as his hands went underneath your skirt. You shuddered as his fingers traced your skin and went up your legs. The words found you then.

Oh, the summertime has come

And the trees are sweetly bloomin'

The wild mountain thyme

Grows around the bloomin' heather

Will ye go, lassie, go?

And we'll all go together

To pull wild mountain thyme

All around the bloomin' heather

Will ye go, lassie, go?

“Cén guth álainn,” Remmick whispered. 

 You continued singing softly as his fingers finally found your arousal, and your breath quickened. He had always had such a way with his hands during such moments. 

 “Oh…” you moaned between verses as he spread your folds and traced them up and down, coating his fingers with your moisture. 

 “Ssshhh…” he said, although a smirk stayed on his lips. He was hard beneath his pants, you could feel that. 

If my true love, she won't come

Then I'll surely find another

To pull wild mountain thyme

All around the bloomin' heather

Will ye go, lassie, go?

And we'll all go together

To pull wild mountain thyme

All around the bloomin' heather

Will ye go, lassie, go?

He began stroking your clit, making you bite your bottom lip and almost draw blood. Remmick’s pupils dilated, and the glow of his eyes intensified as he reached for your lips and briefly kissed them. 

 “Let me fuck you now, baby,” you begged, feeling his thumb on your clit. “I wanna feel you inside me.”

 “Baby, how could I ever deny you?” he asked with a raspy voice that made your skin tingle. “Take my cock out, stór.”

 You immediately obeyed, reaching for his belt and undoing it before you put your hand underneath his pants and found his hard shaft. Remmick hissed, fangs growing as you took him out, staring at his flushed head. It was glistening, pearly drops of cum running down his shaft, and you collected the moisture and stroked him up and down softly. 

 “When I first laid eyes on you, darlin’, I knew you were different,” Remmick confessed. His voice was a bit strained as you stroked him slowly. “I could feel your pain, baby. Hell, I knew that pain.”

 “You saved me from it, baby,” you cut him off with an urgency. You had to reassure him. 

 “I know, stór, I know… You needed savin’,” he whispered. 

 You looked into his eyes and saw the reflection of who you had been there. You hated that person, but still, you looked. He wanted you to remember. 

 “Are you happy now, stóreen?” He removed his hands from your arousal and held your thighs up. “Do you see how grand life can be?”

 You lined the head of his cock with your entrance but not before rubbing him up and down your folds and making his breath quicken. Your skirt was covering your love making, but you wouldn’t care if anybody saw you. You wanted them to. 

 “I’m so happy, darlin’,” you confessed. You began sinking on his cock, feeling the beautiful pain of the stretch. “Ah…”

 “There we go… Beautiful,” he praised you as his cock entered you. 

 You bit your bottom lip and held onto his shoulders until every inch of his shaft was inside you and you were sitting on his thighs again. Remmick let you adjust to him for a few seconds before pushing your skirt aside and holding your ass. 

 “Fuck yourself on it, stór. Make love to me,” he growled as the drool fell down his chin. It reminded you of the first time you had met. 

 You began moving your hips, feeling his cock hit all the right places inside you. Moans spilled from your lips, and you grabbed the back of his head again, pulling his hair. Remmick liked that by the way he squeezed your ass and brought his lips to your neck. 

 You felt his fangs trace your skin, and your lips stretched into a satisfied smile. 

 “Your cunt is so tight,” he groaned against your neck those sweet words. 

 “It’s always like that for you, baby,” you said, breathless, as you picked up the pace. 

 Remmick hummed and started kissing your neck. Then, you felt a slight sting of pain as his two fangs pierced your skin and drew a bit of blood. Vampire’s blood wasn’t any good, but he seemed to enjoy it like a virgin's blood. 

 “Fuckin’ hell,” you moaned with a laugh, feeling him lick your blood. 

 Remmick raised his head, lips stained with redness, and crashed your mouths together. You moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed your sounds of pleasure. 

 When the fire of your passion rose to wildfire, burning the mist around you, you felt your nails grow. You wanted to fuck him harder, to take him harder, to feel him harder, so you picked up your pace and squeezed around his cock. Remmick moaned your name in his tongue, and you understood him in yours. That was the beautiful gift of immortality: the knowledge of the past, present, and future. 

 “You are takin’ me so well,” Remmick whispered against your mouth. You felt his nails pierce your flesh. “You’re a sinner, baby. Mine.”

 “Yours.” You whined his name and nearly cried out when his cock hit a special spot inside you. The sudden peak in stimulation made your fangs pierce your bottom lip, cutting yourself. By instinct, your tongue went to clean the blood, but Remmick spoke first. 

 "No. Let me taste it," Remmick said, looking at the blood dripping down your bottom lip. You nodded and he licked the blood before wrapping his lips on your bottom lip and sucking on the flesh. The sensation was so familiar to you.

“Remmick.”

 “Foc,” he cursed under his breath, licking his own lips clean. You met his red eyes and pulled his hair back roughly. Remmick groaned with a short laugh and then stared at your mouth. "Spit."

 You didn't have to ask him where, having done this so many times before. 

You smirked and let a string of saliva mixed with blood fall between his parted lips. Then, when he swallowed it as if it were a nectar from the sweetest fruit, you kissed him again. In the middle of rough kisses, his fingers found your clit again and he began slowly stroking it. That made everything ten times more intense and you squeezed around his cock.

 “I’m close. Oh, anamchara, I’m so close,” you warned him as the familiar pull of your orgasm appeared on your lower belly. 

 “Come on, beautiful. Come on, stór. I wanna feel you,” Remmick encouraged you. You pulled his hair again, and he groaned. 

 Your body began dripping with sweat, and you closed your eyes, throwing your head back and holding onto his head for support. After a few more seconds, your orgasm washed over you. 

 It began like a slow wave, until it built and drowned you in pleasure. Your legs started shaking, your clit throbbing and you squeezed around his cock making him hiss. That must have sent him over the edge because you felt his cum spill inside you. 

 “Foc… Shit…” he cursed, breathless. 

 You collapsed against his body then, too exhausted to think or move, as your orgasm began dying down. He still throbbed inside you, and you licked your lips and kissed the side of his sweaty neck. He smelled so sweet. 

 “You drive me mad, baby,” he said between breaths. You felt him remove his fingers from your clit. “Give me a kiss.”

 You kissed him immediately, pulling his head back so you could be slightly over his face. Remmick smirked against your lips and deepened the kiss before you two had to pull away to catch your breath. 

 “Don’t leave me, baby,” you whispered against his lips. “I was here all alone for hours. I couldn’t feel you properly. I was so frightened that you were hurt.”

 “I’m sorry, baby… Sing for me again. That’s gonna make it all alright. I promise,” he said. 

 You kissed him again, briefly, before pulling yourself from his softening cock. Remmick put himself back in his pants, and you pulled your skirt down, covering yourself. 

 You remained on his lap, though, and continued humming that sweet old song that his father used to sing to him before bed. It made you at peace.

 

And we'll all go together

He closed his eyes and put his head on your shoulder. You brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead before running your fingers through his hair and letting the night be filled with the song.

And we'll all go together

To pull wild mountain thyme

All around the bloomin' heather

Will ye go, lassie, go?

[harrysfolklore]

the carlos sainz roast

summary: it's carlos' 30th birthday and what a better way to celebrate it than roasting him. wc: 2.8k

folkie radio: happy birthday to the smooooth operatorrrrr. i hontesly LOVED this idea that randomly popped in my head and writing it was sooo much fun, i hope you like it !

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

Carlos Sainz was turning 30. The big 30.

You wanted to do something special to celebrate it, something out of the ordinary that he would never forget. After spending multiple hours on the internet looking for ideas, a brilliant one came to your mind: A roast.

"So all of you will take turns roasting me? Like making jokes about me?" Carlos asked, looking at you from the couch as you pitched him your idea.

"Exactly, baby, It's going to be so much fun!"

The next few weeks flew by in a whirlwind of preparations. You sent out invitations, coordinated with the other drivers, and gathered embarrassing photos and funny stories about Carlos.

The night of the roast, you transformed your living room into a makeshift comedy club, complete with a small stage and a spotlight. Each driver that arrived at your house complimenting your effort.

As everyone settled into their seats, you stood up and tapped your glass with a spoon to get their attention.

"Welcome, everyone, to the Carlos Sainz Roast!" you announced, catching Carlos's eye and winking at him. "We're all here to celebrate the man, the myth, the legend... the one who always leaves the toothpaste open - Carlos Sainz Jr. on his 30th birthday. And what better way to show our love than by mercilessly making fun of him?"

Laughter rippled through your friends as Carlos playfully rolled his eyes, "Thank you, amor, that's very nice of you."

You playfully blew a kiss his way before speaking again, "Now, before we start, let's remember the rules: keep it funny, keep it respectful, and try to speak slowly so Max can understand." You shot a teasing glance at Verstappen, who grinned and shook his head.

"First up, we have Charles Leclerc, Carlos's teammate and the only person who can make Carlos look slow on a good day. Charles, the floor is yours!"

Charles stood up, straightening his jacket as he approached the makeshift stage. He cleared his throat dramatically, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

"Thank you for that introduction," Charles began, "You know, when I first heard Carlos was joining Ferrari, I was excited. Finally, someone to make me look good! But then I realized, with his luscious hair and chiseled jaw, he was going to steal all my sponsorship deals. So I had to step up my game."

The room erupted in laughter, Carlos included.

"But seriously," Charles continued, "working with Carlos has been an experience. He's like a Spanish version of Google Maps – always recalculating, never quite sure where he's going, but somehow ends up in the right place eventually. That's why I had no doubt in my mind he was going to find an amazing car to drive next season, my bet was on the Safety Car but he opted for an even slower car, a Williams!"

Everyone erupted in laugh again, making Carlos shake his head with his eyes closed, "That one was low, Leclerc."

Charles took a moment to catch his breath, then added with a grin, “And Carlos, now that you’re 30, you’re officially a veteran in the sport. But don’t worry, no matter how many years go by, you’ll always be the guy who can make a Ferrari look like it's in a constant state of panic. Cheers to you, mate!”

You grinned at Charles as he stepped down, patting Carlos on the shoulder. "Alright, that was pretty good, Charles," you said, "But let's see if Lando can top that. Norris, you're up!"

Lando bounded up to the makeshift stage, his trademark cheeky grin plastered across his face. He adjusted the microphone, clearing his throat dramatically.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't the birthday boy, Carlos 'Smooth Operator' Sainz," Lando began, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You know, when I first met Carlos at McLaren, I thought, 'Wow, this guy's got it all – talent, looks, charm.' Then I realized it was just his hair products messing with my senses."

The crowd burst into laughter, Carlos included, you ran a hand through his famous locks and he gently grabbed it to place a kiss on your palm.

"If I'm being completely honest," Lando continued, "Carlos taught me so much during our time as teammates. Like how to perfectly time a dad joke in team radio, or how to look devastatingly handsome while finishing P7. Essential skills in F1, really."

The room erupted in laughter once again, with Carlos shaking his head in amused disbelief.

"Carlos, you're one of my best friends," Lando's tone softened slightly, "Even if you did spend most of our time together trying to teach me Spanish pickup lines that work about as well as Ferrari's strategy team."

"But I have a girlfriend and you don't, mate. Even with my bad pickup lines." Carlos jabbed, making you throw your head back in laughter.

As the laughter died down, Lando raised his glass. "To Carlos, the man who proves that you can be devastatingly handsome, irritatingly talented, and still somehow likeable. Happy 30th, mate. May your midlife crisis be as smooth as your overtakes."

Lando stepped down from the stage, approaching Carlos who stood up from his seat to give him a hug.

"Love you, mate," you could hear Carlos say, making you smile.

"Next up, we have Fernando Alonso, Carlos's longtime mentor and fellow Spaniard!" you announced, making everybody clap as Fernando took the stage.

"Ah, Carlos. I've known him since he was just a little karting prodigy. Back then, I thought, 'This kid's going places.' Now, 20 years later, I realize I was right – he's gone to every midfield team on the grid!"

The crowd roared with laughter as Fernando continued, "But seriously, I always thought Carlos had potential, and I was right, he's got the potential to be the second-best Sainz in Motorsports!"

Carlos playfully rolled his eyes, taking a sip from his drink.

"But let me tell you something, Carlos," Fernando's tone softened slightly, "You've made all of Spain proud. You've shown that with hard work, talent, and a famous last name, anything is possible in F1. Well, almost anything, winning a championship might still be a stretch!"

As the laughter died down, Fernando raised his glass. "To Carlos Sainz Jr., the man who proves that you can be a great driver, a fan favorite, and still be overshadowed by your dad at family dinners. Feliz cumpleaños, amigo!"

Fernando stepped down from the stage, approaching Carlos who stood up to give him a warm, laughing embrace. As they parted, you stood up to introduce the next roaster.

"Now, let's hear from someone who's known Carlos since their early days in Formula 1. Please welcome to the stage, the reigning world champion and certified cat lover, Max Verstappen!"

Max sauntered up to the stage, he adjusted the mic and grinned at Carlos.

"If it isn't the new old man of the grid," Max began, earning chuckles from the crowd. "You know, Carlos and I go way back to our Toro Rosso days. I remember when we first met, I thought, 'Wow, this guy's got great hair.' Then I realized that's all he's got!" everyone laughed once again, "Back at Toro Rosso, Carlos was always so dedicated. He'd spend hours studying my telemetry, trying to figure out how to be as fast as me. Spoiler alert: he's still trying!"

The crowd roared with laughter, Carlos included, as he playfully threw a napkin at Max.

"But in all seriousness, Carlos," Max continued with a grin, "you've always been one of the most hardworking and determined drivers on the grid. You never give up, no matter how many times you've been dropped by your teams mid season."

Carlos laughed, raising his glass to Max in a mock toast. "Thanks for the reminder, Max."

"Carlos, you're one of the best guys in the paddock. With your resting bitch face and all, you're always there with a helping hand. Even if your driving skills are debatable," he added with a wink. "Happy 30th, mate."

Max stepped down, and Carlos stood up to give him a hug, both of them laughing. You took the mic once more, "Thank you, Max, for that trip down memory lane. Now, let's welcome to the stage a man who's known for his infectious smile and his matchmaking skills. Please give it up for Daniel Ricciardo!"

Daniel bounded onto the stage with his characteristic enthusiasm, flashing his famous grin.

"G'day, everyone! Carlos, mate, happy birthday!" Daniel began, "You know, I've known Carlos for years, but my proudest achievement was introducing him to his lovely girlfriend, YN," you smiled at this, feeling Carlos squeeze your hand, "I thought to myself, 'This bloke needs someone who can put up with his golf obsession and his constant need for mirror checks.' And boy, did I deliver!"

The crowd erupted in laughter, with you and Carlos exchanging amused glances.

"I remember the day I introduced them," Daniel continued, "I told YN, 'Look, he's a great guy, but be prepared for endless conversations about tyre management and the perfect hair product.' Little did I know, she'd be nodding along enthusiastically!"

You playfully rolled your eyes as the audience chuckled.

"But seriously, folks," Daniel's tone softened slightly, "watching these two together is like watching a perfect pit stop - smooth, efficient, and occasionally involves someone getting sprayed with champagne."

Carlos pulled you closer, placing a kiss on your cheek as everyone 'aww'ed.

"Carlos, mate," Daniel concluded, raising his glass, "you've found yourself a keeper. Someone who can navigate your mood swings faster than you navigate Eau Rouge. YN, love, you've got yourself a man who's smoother than a freshly paved track... at least when he's not tripping over his own feet trying to impress you."

Daniel stepped down from the stage, approaching you and Carlos. You both stood up, enveloping him in a group hug, all three of you laughing and thanking him for his words.

"Alright, that was brilliant, Daniel. Now, let’s hear from let's hear from someone who's about to get very familiar with Carlos's driving quirks. Please welcome to the stage, Carlos's new future teammate, Alex Albon!"

Alex strode up to the stage with a playful grin, adjusting the microphone as he faced the audience.

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my new teammate, Carlos Sainz," Alex began, "You know, when I heard Carlos was joining Williams, I thought, 'Great, someone to help push the team forward!' Then I remembered his time at Ferrari and realized he's just as confused about strategy as the rest of us."

The room erupted in laughter, with Carlos good-naturedly shaking his head.

"But seriously, Carlos," Alex continued, "I'm excited to work with you. I mean, who wouldn't want a teammate who's been through more teams than I've had podiums? Toro Rosso, Renault, McLaren, Ferrari... Williams is just the latest stop on the Carlos Sainz World Tour, isn't it?"

Carlos raised his glass in mock salute, chuckling along with the audience.

"I have to say, though, I'm a bit worried," Alex said, feigning concern. "I've seen how competitive you are, Carlos. I just hope you remember that at Williams, we're usually racing against the clock, not other cars. But hey, at least you'll always beat the safety car... probably."

"You know, Carlos, I just realized we have something else in common besides our great hair and questionable career choices. We're both proud members of the 'No Appendix Club'!"

The room burst into laughter, with Carlos nodding in amused agreement.

"That's right, folks," Alex continued, "Carlos and I have both had our appendixes removed. I like to think it makes us more aerodynamic, but let's be honest, in Carlos's case, it's probably just made room for more hair product."

Carlos playfully patted his hair, eliciting more chuckles from the audience.

"But seriously," Alex said, "I suppose this means we're perfectly matched as teammates. We're both down an organ, so when Williams inevitably asks us to give 100%, we can honestly say we're already giving everything we've got - minus an appendix, of course! Happy birthday, teammate, here's to a season of driving a tractor, but at least we'll be together."

Alex stepped down from the stage and approached Carlos, who stood up to give him a hug patting his back.

"Now, let's welcome to the stage a man who needs no introduction, but I'll give him one anyway. Seven-time world champion and fashion icon, Lewis Hamilton!" you said and everyone clapped.

Lewis sauntered up to the stage with his characteristic cool demeanor. "Carlos, my man," he began, "I've got to hand it to you. You've had quite the career. Toro Rosso, Renault, McLaren, Ferrari, next year Williams, it's like you're collecting team merchandise,"Lewis grinned mischievously as he continued, "You know, Carlos, I've got to thank you. You've done such a great job warming up that Ferrari seat for me. It's like you were my personal seat heater all along!"

The crowd roared with laughter as Carlos playfully buried his face in his hands, and you rubbed his back comfortingly while chuckling.

"But seriously," Lewis continued with a grin, "You've made that Ferrari seat look good. I just hope I can live up to your legacy of looking devastatingly handsome while trying to figure out what on earth the pit wall is thinking."

Carlos laughed, shaking his head in mock despair. "Thanks, Lewis. I appreciate the… kind words."

"You know, Carlos, I've always admired your ability to stay positive," Lewis continued his roast, "No matter how many times you've been dropped from teams, you always manage to smile for the cameras. It's like you've mastered the art of looking happy while screaming internally. I'm taking notes mate!"

After a few more jabs Lewis concluded his roast, several other drivers took their turns at the mic, each adding their own flavor to the celebration. George joked about Carlos's infamous beach photos, Pierre told some stories about their Toro Rosso days and even Oscar joked about being surprised about being invited since him and Carlos always push each other off the track.

Finally, it was your turn. You stood up, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness as you approached the stage. Carlos looked at you with a huge smile.

"Well, well, well," you began, locking eyes with Carlos, "what can I say about Carlos Sainz that hasn't already been said? He's talented, he's handsome, and he's the only man I know who spends more time on his hair than I do."

The room filled with laughter as Carlos nodded in mock pride.

"But seriously, living with Carlos is an adventure," you continued, "He's always talking about smooth operations, but let me tell you, there's nothing smooth about the way he leaves his socks all over the house. It's like living in a minefield of sweaty foot prisons."

Carlos threw his head back in laughter along with the rest of the guests.

"And don't even get me started on his competitiveness. Everything's a race with this guy. Brushing teeth? Race. Getting dressed? Race. I'm surprised he hasn't tried to overtake me in bed yet!"

The room erupted in cheers and wolf whistles as Carlos turned a shade of red.

"But in all seriousness," your voice softened, "Carlos, you're the most incredible person I know. You're kind, passionate, and you never give up, whether it's on the track or trying to convince me that paella is a breakfast food."

You raised your glass, "To Carlos, the love of my life and the smoothest operator I know. Happy 30th birthday, mi amor. May your future be as bright as your smile and your pit stops be faster than your hair routine."

As you finished, Carlos stood up, his eyes shining with laughter and love. He pulled you into a tight embrace as the room filled with applause and cheers.

"I love you so much," he whispered into your ear, kissing your temple softly.

"Well, folks, I think we've successfully roasted Carlos to a crisp," you said with a grin. "But before we wrap up, I think it's only fair that the birthday boy gets a chance to respond. Carlos, amor, the floor is yours!"

"Wow," he began, his accent thicker than usual, "I'm not sure whether to feel honored or insulted. But I guess that's the point of a roast, right?" He paused as chuckles rippled through the room. "First off, I want to thank all of you for being here. It means a lot that you'd all take time out of your busy schedules to come and insult me."

Carlos thanked each of his friends with a blend of humor and sincerity, making everyone laugh. He playfully teased Charles about making him look good on track, jested with Lando about the success of his Spanish pickup lines with you, and expressed gratitude to Fernando for his mentorship while vowing to become the best Sainz in motorsports.

"And finally, to my beautiful girlfriend," Carlos's voice softened as he looked at you, "Thank you for organizing this amazing night, and for putting up with me every day. You're the real smooth operator here."

The room erupted in cheers and applause as Carlos stepped down from the stage. You met him halfway, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug once again.

"Happy birthday, amor," you whispered in his ear, pulling away to kiss him softly.

[emperordinozenmon]

Celebration

A little something for y'all

Cube’s end-of-the-year party was a bizarre event shrouded in mystery, a legend whispered about in hushed voices among trainees and industry insiders. No one outside its invite list had ever confirmed what went on inside, but that didn’t stop the rumors from spreading like wildfire.

Your friend group had spent years speculating, each person pitching their own wildly different theory. You leaned toward the idea that it was some kind of exclusive, over-the-top karaoke party where idols got blackout drunk and embarrassed themselves in front of their seniors. Nathan suggested a big aphrodisiac induced orgy where idols and staff let off steam and fucked rapaciously. Danny swore up and down that it was a cosplay event, where the biggest names in K-pop dressed up as anime characters and took part in elaborate skits. And Q—well, Q liked to claim it was an annual ritual sacrifice, though whether he actually believed that or was just being Q was anyone’s guess.

It had always been harmless fun, something to gossip about late at night when you were all exhausted from work and just hanging out and needed a distraction. Until now.

The door burst open, and Nate strode in, looking equal parts exhilarated and overwhelmed. He ran a hand through his hair as he shut the door behind him, as if he needed to physically close himself off from whatever whirlwind had just hit him.

“Guys,” he started, breathless, his eyes flicking between you. “You’ll never believe what I got invites for.”

Q scoffed, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. “What, the Cube end-of-the-year party?” he said, grinning. “Nice try, Nate.”

The air in the room shifted when Nate didn’t immediately laugh or roll his eyes. Instead, his face went completely still, his hands tightening around the strap of his bag.

“Wait…” he said slowly, voice deadly serious. “How did you know?”

A silence settled over the room, thick and unnatural. You felt your pulse pick up as you and the others exchanged glances.

Dani leaned forward. “Nate,” she said carefully, as if afraid of spooking him, “you’re joking, right?”

But he wasn’t. You could see it in his face.

He swallowed hard. “No,” he said. “I got us invites. All of us.”

The words sat heavy in the air. For years, the Cube party had been nothing more than an untouchable myth, a fun mystery to poke at from a safe distance. But now, the distance was gone.

“How did you nail that?” you ask.

Nathan blushed and said, “well there's been thig girl I have been Nailing,” he stammered before he said. “Her name is Nayoung.” the name reminds you of something buy you can't place why. Regardless you were excited to go.

Here’s an expanded version of your scene, adding more detail, atmosphere, and character moments:

Over the next few days, Nate drip-fed information about the party to the rest of you, each new detail adding another layer to the mystery. The most surprising revelation came from Nayoung—apparently, the party was both costume and karaoke-themed. That, at least, explained the secrecy. If a single photo of top idols drunkenly belting out power ballads while dressed in ridiculous outfits got out, it would be chaos.

With that in mind, you and Dani wasted no time in deciding on your costumes: Persona protagonists. The moment Q heard, he took it upon himself to make sure your outfits were perfect.

“Alright, if we’re doing this, we’re doing it right,” he declared, cracking his knuckles like a man preparing for battle.

You hadn’t expected him to be so skilled at costuming, but over the next few days, he guided you and Dani through every step of the process—choosing fabrics, cutting out patterns, even distressing certain parts to make them look more authentic. Watching him work, you realized he had a real talent for it.

“You’re scarily good at this, Q,” Dani said one evening, watching as he sewed intricate silver buttons onto your jacket with precise, practiced hands.

Q shrugged, eyes focused on his work. “I used to help my sister with cosplay when we were younger. And, y’know, I have to live vicariously through you two since my costume options are limited.”

Neither of you missed the way his tone dipped slightly at the end. It was an unspoken reality—Q’s darker complexion and broad frame meant that many of the characters he admired weren’t ones he could easily portray, at least not without running into criticism. But instead of letting it get to him, he poured his enthusiasm into helping you and Dani.

By the time the night of the party arrived, you, Dani, Nate, and Eraqus were ready.

The four of you stood outside the venue, a sleek, high-end building that didn’t look like the kind of place where chaotic karaoke and costumed idols would be running around. You adjusted your jacket, trying to shake off the nerves, while Dani smoothed down her gloves. Nate was already bouncing on his heels, the anticipation buzzing off him in waves, while Eraqus stood a little more stiffly, scanning the entrance like he half-expected security to turn you all away.

Then, the doors swung open, and a tiny blonde woman stepped out. You barely had time to process her sharp eyes and confident stance before she grabbed Nate by the collar and kissed him, right there in front of all of you.

Your jaw dropped. “Oh.”

It all made sense in an instant.

When she finally pulled away, Nayoung turned her attention to the rest of you, a smirk playing on her lips. “You guys look great,” she said, giving you all a quick once-over. “Now get in. Before someone sees you.”

She stepped aside, motioning for you to follow, and just like that, the four of you were stepping into the legendary Cube end-of-the-year party—where, for better or worse, the mystery was about to unravel.

The party was already in full swing by the time you stepped inside. The air buzzed with energy—idols in elaborate costumes laughing over drinks, half-shouted conversations competing with the pounding bass of a remix that someone had taken too seriously. Neon lights flickered in hypnotic patterns against the walls, casting shifting shadows over the chaotic mix of people.

Eraqus (Q) quickly found himself enmeshed between a couple of well known idols praising his zombie costume.

“Wow those exposed ribs are so good how did you do that?” Chowon from Lightsum asked asked.

“How did you find glowing contacts?” Sakura of le Sserafim asked.

“Ah well you know…” Eraqus stammered not used to all the attention. While this was going on you couldn't sense the encroaching presence behind you

You barely had time to take it all in before someone appeared beside you, slipping into your personal space so smoothly you almost didn’t notice until she spoke.

“You clean up well.”

You turned your head and found yourself face-to-face with Karina.

She looked effortlessly cool, dressed in a sleek, all-black ensemble that could have been a costume or just an excuse to look devastatingly good. The sharp contrast of dark fabric against her fair skin made her seem even more striking under the shifting lights.

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh—”

Her lips quirked up at the corner, amused at your hesitation. “Yu Narakami the Persona protagonist, right?” She reached out, barely brushing the lapel of your jacket between her fingers before letting go. “Nice choice. Thought I was the only one who cared about good taste.”

Your brain scrambled to keep up. You had never really spoken to her before—at most, you’d been in the same rooms during fan events, maybe exchanged a polite nod in passing. But now, here she was, looking at you like you were the only person worth talking to in the room.

“Thanks,” you finally managed, fighting to sound casual. “Didn’t think anyone here would notice.”

Karina hummed, tilting her head slightly. “Oh, I notice a lot of things.”

Before you could figure out what that meant, she took a step closer, her voice dropping just enough to send a shiver down your spine. “How about you ditch your friends for a bit?”

You hesitated, glancing over your shoulder where Dani and Ersque were deep in conversation, completely oblivious. Nate was off somewhere with Nayoung. No one was paying attention to you.

Karina smirked, reading your hesitation like an open book. She leaned in, just close enough that you could smell the faint trace of perfume clinging to her skin.

“Come on,” she murmured, eyes gleaming with mischief. “Let’s have some real fun.”

Then, before you even had a chance to agree—or process what was happening—she took your hand, lacing her fingers through yours, and tugged you deeper into the party.

And just like that, you were gone.

Here’s an expanded version of your scene, adding more emotion, tension, and atmosphere:

Karina led you through the maze of hallways until she found an empty practice room, slipping inside without hesitation. The moment the door shut behind you, the noise of the party outside became a distant hum, leaving just the two of you in the dimly lit space.

She turned to face you, her expression unreadable for a moment, before a small, playful smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

“So,” she said, leaning against the mirror with her arms crossed, studying you with open curiosity. “Which Persona is your favorite?”

Her eyes gleamed, pupils slightly dilated—not just from intrigue but something deeper, something hungrier.

You hesitated for half a second before answering, “Persona 4. I had a similar experience when I was younger.”

Karina arched a perfectly shaped brow. “Oh? You fought demons and gods in a shadow world?” she teased, tilting her head slightly.

You huffed out a small laugh, shaking your head. “That’s not what I meant… I had to spend a full school year with extended family because my parents were having issues.”

Her teasing expression softened, her gaze turning more thoughtful. “Where at?”

You shrugged, answering offhandedly, “Oh, [redacted].”

The reaction was immediate. Karina’s eyes went wide—wider than before, not with curiosity but with something bordering on shock. Her posture stiffened, her body leaning forward slightly, as if she needed to be closer to confirm what she was hearing.

“No way,” she breathed, searching your face with sudden urgency. “I went to [redacted] too. What year?”

Your brows furrowed, a flicker of confusion passing over you. “Uh… 20XX.”

Karina gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. “Wait—” Her voice caught, her breath hitching as realization dawned in her expression. “Ace?”

Your entire body locked up. Your pulse pounded in your ears as your brain scrambled to catch up.

She knew.

She knew.

Your eyes widened, the breath stolen from your lungs as everything snapped into place.

“Yu???”

The name tumbled from your lips before you could stop it, the childhood memory flooding back in full force.

The long afternoons spent wandering the quiet town, the laughter shared over convenience store snacks, the whispered conversations about dreams and fears, the silent understanding that had always existed between you—until life had pulled you apart.

Karina—Yu—stood there, her face a perfect mix of shock, nostalgia, and something even deeper, something raw.

Neither of you moved for a moment. The air in the room was thick with tension, an electric charge crackling between you like a live wire.

Then, before you could second-guess yourself, you reached for her.

She met you halfway, surging forward as your lips crashed together in a desperate, almost frantic kiss. Karina made a soft, breathy noise against your mouth, her hands gripping the front of your jacket as if she was afraid you might disappear again.

You felt her hunger, her longing, the years of separation dissolving in the heat between you.

“I missed you so much,” she whimpered against your lips, her voice trembling with emotion.

You pulled back just enough to look at her, your forehead resting against hers, trying to ground yourself in the reality of the moment.

“Holy hell, Yu,” you murmured, your hands cupping her face, your thumbs brushing against her flushed cheeks. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

She swallowed hard, her fingers tightening against you as if she was afraid to let go.

Here’s an expanded version with more romance, affection, and warmth:

“Well,” she whispered, her breath fanning against your lips, her voice barely above a murmur, “you found me.”

Her eyes shimmered with something between teasing amusement and deep, unfiltered joy. The kind of joy that only came from reconnecting with someone who had once been your whole world. Her fingers traced light, ghosting touches along your jaw, as if she were memorizing the feel of you all over again.

A slow smile spread across your face before you leaned in, capturing her lips once more. The second kiss was softer, more intentional—less of a desperate reunion and more of a lingering promise. Her lips felt just as you remembered, warm and inviting, but now there was a sweetness to them that hadn’t been there before. Maybe it was her lipstick, or maybe it was just her.

Emboldened, you gently nipped at her bottom lip, earning a surprised, breathy laugh against your mouth.

“Okay,” she murmured, her forehead resting against yours, “as much as I love this, I gotta ask… what are you doing now?”

You exhaled a small chuckle, still a little lost in her touch, before pulling back slightly. “I’m a stuntman and stunt coordinator now. Director too, for some projects. The last one we worked on was Train to Busan III.”

Karina’s eyes widened so much you were worried they might pop out of her skull.

“No way!” she gasped, pushing against your chest lightly as if to confirm you were real. “You—what?! That’s amazing!”

Her excitement was contagious, and you felt heat creep up your neck at the way she looked at you—like she was genuinely proud.

“I remember how obsessed you were with Taekwondo when we were kids,” she continued, her fingers now absentmindedly tracing patterns on your sleeve. “You were always practicing, always trying to perfect your form… and now you’re actually doing something huge with it. I love that.”

You shrugged, trying to play it off, but her enthusiasm made your chest feel light.

Then, with a cheeky glint in her eye, she smirked and nudged you. “So, think you could get me a role as an action heroine? I am a rocket puncher, after all.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I don’t know, Yu… I haven’t seen you in six years. Might be a little rusty.”

Karina let out an exaggerated gasp, her hand flying to her chest as if you had wounded her. “Wow. Abandon me for six years and then insult my skills? Unbelievable.”

Her pout was devastating, and you immediately felt bad—not that you weren’t enjoying the way she was hamming it up.

You sighed dramatically, then softened. “Alright, alright. I might be able to pull some strings,” you conceded, and she grinned victoriously.

“But enough about me,” you added, giving her a look. “You’re, like, a world-famous idol now. That’s insane.”

Karina smirked, tossing her hair over her shoulder in mock arrogance. “Yeah, I’m pretty savage, right?”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. Without thinking, you leaned in and kissed her nose.

Karina blinked, stunned for half a second before a warm, slightly bashful smile took over her features. Her hands curled against your chest as she tilted her head, gazing up at you.

“So…” she murmured, quieter now, her voice holding something a little more vulnerable. “Are you back forever? Or is this just a visit?”

The weight of her question settled between you, the unspoken hope lingering in her eyes.

You reached up, gently tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, your thumb brushing against her cheek.

“I don’t know yet,” you admitted honestly, watching as something flickered across her expression.

Karina studied you for a moment before exhaling softly, then resting her head against your chest. “Well… I hope you stay,” she whispered.

You wrapped your arms around her, holding her close, breathing her in.

“Me too,” you murmured, meaning every word.

While you and Karina were lost in your own world, elsewhere in the building, Eraqus was being dragged through the dimly lit hallways by none other than Magenta from QWER, whose mischievous grin practically glowed in the dark.

“Magenta,” Eraqus hissed, glancing around as they weaved between corners, avoiding wandering partygoers. “Why are we sneaking? You do realize you’re famous, right? You literally can just walk places.”

Magenta turned, still moving backward like some kind of rogue in a heist film. “Shhh, Eraqus, you’ve gotta commit to the bit.”

“What bit?”

“The vibe of sneaking! It makes things more exciting.”

Eraqus pinched the bridge of his nose but followed anyway, resigned to the fact that Magenta operated on a wavelength no one else did.

“Why are we even looking for a practice room?” he asked.

Magenta shrugged. “To talk.”

“You dragged me through this whole building like we’re infiltrating a government facility just to talk?”

“Exactly,” Magenta replied, completely unbothered.

Eventually, they stopped in front of a practice room door, and Magenta leaned in dramatically, pressing an ear against the wood. Eraqus, arms crossed, raised an eyebrow.

“Magenta, I swear if someone is in there—”

Ignoring him, Magenta slowly—oh-so-slowly—turned the doorknob and peeked inside. Then, with all the grace of a cartoon character, Magenta took a single step in, turned to Eraqus, and whispered, “Oh, yeah, someone’s in there.”

Eraqus groaned. “I told you—”

Before he could finish, Karina’s sharp voice cut through the room.

“…Are you two gonna stand there and gawk, or do you wanna come in?”

Eraqus grimaced and finally stepped into the room to see Karina still nestled comfortably against you, both of you staring at the intruders with varying degrees of amusement.

Magenta blinked, then grinned. “Ohhh, we totally interrupted something, huh?”

Karina sighed dramatically but didn’t move from your side. “A little, yeah.”

“We’re so sorry,” Magenta continued, not looking sorry at all. “Should we leave? I feel like we should leave. Eraqus, should we leave?”

Eraqus, who was already turning to walk out, nodded. “Yeah, I think we should.”

Before they could escape, you waved them off. “Nah, it’s fine. You guys can stay.”

Eraqus hesitated. “…Are you sure? We really don’t wanna intrude.”

Karina rolled her eyes but smiled. “Just sit down before Magenta gets another idea to sneak into someone else’s room.”

Magenta gasped in mock offense. “I would never—okay, I would. But that’s beside the point.”

With that, the four of you settled onto the floor, forming a loose circle. There was a beat of silence before Magenta, ever the instigator, grinned and leaned forward.

“So… you two childhood lovers reunited by fate or something?”

Karina scoffed, but her cheeks warmed slightly. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”

Eraqus, who had taken one glance at the way you two had been sitting when they walked in, deadpanned, “Yes.”

You chuckled, wrapping an arm around Karina’s shoulders as she nestled in a little closer. “Yeah, turns out we knew each other as kids.”

Magenta gasped, hands clutched over their chest. “That’s adorable.”

For a moment, the conversation drifted, with Karina and Magenta comparing industry horror stories, Eraqus chiming in with his usual dry wit, and you just sitting there, enjoying the moment. The tension from earlier melted away, replaced by something lighter, easier.

Eventually, Magenta stretched dramatically, flopping against Eraqus, who let out a long-suffering sigh but didn’t push them off.

“This is kinda nice,” Magenta mused. “Just… sitting and talking.”

Karina hummed in agreement, her fingers lazily tracing patterns against your knee. “Yeah, it is.”

Eraqus, always the pragmatic one, muttered, “I still don’t know why we had to sneak here.”

Magenta cackled. “Because it made for a way better story, obviously.”

Everyone laughed, the room filled with an easy warmth. And for the first time that night, it felt like the world outside didn’t matter—just the four of you, lost in the comfort of old and new friendships, in a quiet little room where, for a moment, time didn’t exist.

As the conversation lulled, Eraqus stretched his arms over his head, letting out a dramatic sigh. “You know, for all the mystery and hype, this party is… kinda cute,” he mused. “I was fully expecting chanting, ritual sacrifices—maybe even a secret underground fight club or something.”

Magenta snorted. “Right? With the way people talk about it, I thought we’d at least have to swear an oath of secrecy.”

Karina, who had been lazily tracing circles on your knee, perked up at that, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Oh no, that’s SM’s flow,” she said, her tone casual but far too knowing. “They bring in a bunch of boys for the female idols to pick from so they can blow off steam the whole night.”

Eraqus and Magenta froze.

A long, stunned silence filled the room as their expressions contorted into a mix of horror and disbelief. Magenta’s jaw practically hit the floor, while Eraqus blinked rapidly as if trying to reboot his entire thought process.

“…You’re joking,” Eraqus finally said, voice wary.

Karina held his gaze for a beat longer, face completely serious—then she cracked, bursting into laughter. “Oh my God, the look on your faces!” She clutched her stomach as she doubled over, shaking with laughter.

Magenta smacked Eraqus’s arm. “Dude, I believed her! My soul left my body for a second!”

Eraqus, still recovering, rubbed his face. “You can’t just say things like that, Karina!”

Watching them lose their minds, you couldn’t help but chuckle, shaking your head fondly before turning to Karina. “God, I missed you.”

She tilted her head up at you, her laughter softening into something more tender. Her fingers curled lightly around your wrist as she murmured, “Well, I missed you more.”

The teasing bickering between Magenta and Eraqus faded into the background for a moment as you and Karina just sat there, basking in the warmth of familiarity.

Eraqus, regaining his composure, finally exhaled. “Alright, I think I’ve had enough emotional whiplash for one night.”

Magenta, still fanning themselves dramatically, nodded. “Same. But I gotta admit, this is way better than a ritual sacrifice.”

Karina grinned. “Glad I could keep things entertaining.”

You squeezed her hand gently, meeting her gaze. “You always do.”

And just like that, the four of you fell back into easy conversation, laughter echoing through the practice room, turning what was supposed to be a legendary, mysterious party into something even better—something simple, warm, and unforgettable.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

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Starring: True from! Sukuna in a cabin in the woods... Synopsis: You don't see the point in it; chasing myths on Halloween night, going deeper into the woods than you ever had before. You'd rather be at home than chasing ghosts. But, your best friend insists on finding evidence of the local urban legends, and surely she won't abandon you the moment you find what shes been hunting, right? Content Warning: Tonight we are serving True form (two dicks) Sukuna, double penetration, tummy bulges, cunnilingus, kidnapping, marking, slight dubcon, and a soft Sukuna if you squint. reader discretion is advised

“So, remind me again why we’re taking a walk in the woods on Halloween night?” You asked your friend, narrowly avoiding a thorn vine as you pushed past the brush. 

“Because, historically speaking, people tend to see it on Halloween!” She explained, holding up her camera, “It’s our best chance of finding evidence of the spider demon.” You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at her optimism.

“I don’t know if “Historically” is the right word to use there,” you grumbled softly as you continued your walk together. Ever since the two of you had started taking that Folklore Studies class for an extra college credit she had become obsessed with the local urban legend: The Spider Demon. To her credit, it was a genuinely interesting topic. 

As far back as town hall kept records of, there were sightings of the beast: a giant humanoid man that was covered in ancient markings, with four arms, four eyes, and a giant mouth on his abdomen. Rumor has it, he was the one at fault for all the disappearances that plagued your small town, dragging poor, innocent souls into some far off lair and feasting on their flesh. 

The sane people knew the real reason for the disappearances though; most of those kids hopped a train and got the fuck out of that dying town while they still could. You couldn’t say you blamed them. If you didn’t go to school here, one of the cheaper colleges around, you wouldn’t be here either. 

Your thoughts came to a halt as the two of you came up on an old stream. You knew it well as the boundary between where it was acceptable to play in the woods, and where was off limits. Everyone in the town had followed this rule. Your great grandparents had this rule engraved in their soul as kids, just as your parents and grandparents had, just as you had. And just as your kids would one day. No one really knew why you weren’t supposed to cross the water, just that you weren’t.

And your best friend was trying to hop across. “Hey! What the hell do you think you’re doin’?!” You yelled as you grabbed her arm and pulled her back. She looked at you as if you had just grown two extra heads.

"I'm crossing the stream?" She asked as if you were the insane one here.

"Yeah, I can see that dipshit!" You snapped, "Why the hell would you do that?!"

"To get to the other side?"

"What are you, a chicken?! You know we're not supposed to cross this stream." Your friend dramatically rolled her eyes, making her annoyance clear.

"The only chicken here is you Y/n." She scoffed. "Come on, it's just water. It can't hurt you." She said in a tone meant to mock assurance. It grinded your bones and made you wonder why you were friends to begin with.

"Don't be like that. Everyone in this town has been told since birth not to cross that stream, there has to be a reason why."

"The reason why is probably so little kids don't drown." She explained as if it was the most obvious thing in the entire world. It made you want to rearrange her teeth. "I'm going to cross the stream and keep the hunt going, are you with me or not Y/n?" She asked.

You took a deep breath. You absolutely were not with her. Every fiber in your being was setting off red flags, you could hear your ancestors screaming at you to turn around, somewhere from the great beyond, both Cain and Abel look at you and say "girl, don't do it." 

And yet, you started to jump across the rocks. As annoying as your friend was, she was still your friend, and you couldn't let her go alone. Your ancestors all collectively face palm, your nerves explode, Cain turns to Abel and shakes his head. There's no saving you now. You swore the air temperature dropped by at least three degrees as you made it to the other side of the stream. You cursed softly as you wrapped your jacket tighter around you, and rushed to catch up with your friend.

“See? We crossed the water and we didn’t explode! Some rules are just made to be broken.” She seemed confident in that, but you still weren’t. Something was so…off. Wrong. But you couldn’t figure out what. The moon was still as full as ever, lighting your way as the two of you walked. Your friend seemed fine, as chatty as hell even. And you were physically okay. Leaves crunched under your shoes, and the crickets chirped-

Wait. No they didn’t. “Hey, shush.” You demanded of your friend.

“What!? Why should I-”

“I said Shut. Up.” You snapped, an unfamiliar edge to your voice taking even you by surprise. She shut up, and you struggled to listen to the sounds of the forest. Except, there were no sounds of the forest. No crickets singing, no owls hooting, not even the rustle of a field mouse in the grass. The woods were completely silent, filled with nothing but the sound of your breathing. 

“Do you hear that?” You asked your friend.

“I don’t hear anything.” She scoffed.

“Exactly. We need to turn back.”

“What?! No way!” She protested with a stomp of her foot. You were really starting to think that Darwinism would not look kindly upon your friend.

“The woods are completely quiet.” You pointed out, “That doesn’t happen unless it has a reason to be quiet. We’re not welcome here.” You tried to argue. You would have been better off arguing with the moon itself. Your friend just shook her head as she continued to walk.

“The woods are always quiet Y/n, its what makes it so peaceful, or whatever.”

“But not this quiet!” You pleaded as you chased after her, still not willing to let her die out here alone. “Dude, please, we need to go-!”

“Ooo, whats that!” Your “best friend” quickly changed the topic as she pointed out a building off in the distance, running off to check it out. You felt your stomach fall to the floor. Who would build anything out here? You ran to follow her, deciding to just drag her back home if you had to. 

“Its a house!” She pointed out with a laugh as the two of you reached the edge of a lawn, “And they even decorated for Halloween, how sweet.” You looked at the house, an old wooden cabin that looked like something a pilgrim would have built back in the 1700s. You were shocked to see lights glowing in the window, indicating the building had electricity. That wasn’t what unnerved you the most though.

That would be the bones littering the yard. Animal and human alike, some looking older than others. All strewn about as if thrown there without any care, or sense of design. They looked more like discarded trash than they did decor, and a morbid part of your brain forced you to ask; do those maybe look a little too real to be made of plastic? You blood felt colder than ice as your throat contracted, an unseen anaconda choking you as your knees threatened to give out.

This place was cursed. “You should go knock.” Your friend smirked.

“I would rather die.” You whispered.

“I’m serious!” She laughed, “Go trick or treating! You’d probably be the first one to do so here.” 

“No way, this isn’t right. Why would they “decorate” for Halloween all the way out here? Why are they out here to begin with? It doesn’t make sense, we need to go.”

“Well, I’m not leaving until you go knock on the door.” Your friend shrugged as if she wasn’t signing your death certificate. “These kind people deserve trick or treaters, and I deserve to take a picture of you scared shitless as you knock on the door.” She laughed.

“That’s not funny!” You snapped, your patience growing thinner as your anxiety grew.

“Oh come on Y/n! Don’t be such a bitch, just go knock on the door and then we can go, okay? I promise.”

“...Swear?” You asked softly, at this point willing to do whatever it took to leave these woods and go home.

“Swear.” Your best friend smiled, locking her pinky with yours. Her smile as angelic, enough to trick you into a facade of ease. You took a deep breath as you approached the door, carefully avoiding the skeletons as you walked. Did they looked chewed on? You didn’t want to think too hard about it. You could feel your heart in your throat, the false courage of your friends pinky promise fleeing faster and faster with every step you took closer to this house. It radiated death.

Climbing the creaky stairs was harder than you anticipated, your jittering joints protesting the very act. You reached a trembling fist to the splintering wooden door, knocking as soft as possible. “H-Hello?” You called out, hating the way your voice quivered, “Trick or Treat!” Your entire body tried to collapse in on itself, the only thing keeping you from doing so was the primal instinct to maintain your ability to run should you so need.

You waited a few seconds, then let out a shaking breath as no one came to the door. As you turned back to your friend, you were blinded by the flash of a camera, freezing you in your place. The sounds of her cackle filled you with rage. You really needed you friends. 

You rolled your eyes. “There I knocked. Are you happy? Can we please go home no-” your words died in your throat as you heard the door open.

“Trick.” a rough deep voice said, deeply unfamiliar to you. You watched your friends face contort into fear and her jaw unhinged itself into a scream as she scrambled to get away. Though, you weren’t able to hear her panic, the ringing in your ears becoming deafening as you felt your feet fall from underneath you, a python of an arm squeezing your stomach as you were lifted into the air, and into the house. 

You tried to grab the door frame as you were dragged into hell, becoming aware of your own screaming ripping through your throat as the frame was ripped from your fingers and the door shut in your face.

“Quite mortal.” The voice said again, and you almost instantly shut up. Something primal in your DNA sequencing knowing better than to piss off this devil. The monster turned you over in his hands, turning you to face him. Your soul left your body. You took in the visage of the beast, your panicking brain struggling to process what was in front of you.

 A giant humanoid man, with four arms, four eyes, and a face and chest full of ancient markings. He was holding you too close to properly see it, not to mention the fact that he was wearing a regal robe, but you would bet an unreasonable amount of money he had a sickening smile on his belly. You were in The Spider Demons claws.

And worst of all, he was kinda cute? Like, maybe it was the unshakeable sense of death that rattled your soul and turned your brain into mush, but if he was like- a normal guy with a normal amount of arms and eyes, you would have been smitten! You were kinda smitten now, even if you didn’t want to admit that. God you…really really hoped this whole experience wasn’t awakening something in you. This would be something to unpack in therapy later- if you survived this.

The demon took your chin in a free hand, turning your head as he examined you. You smelled divine. If you had been a sacrifice for him, he would have given whoever picked you out an A++ for finding you, and a bit more leniency for a while. But, he knew you weren’t a sacrifice. The townsfolk had declared him their enemy long ago, and had been facing the consequences ever since. So, that begged the question.

“Tell me, whats a pretty thing like you doing at my doorstep on the most haunted night of the year?” He asked, turning your head to look him in the eye. 

“Wishing you were a myth.” You went with the first thing that came to your head and instantly regretted it. That might have been a little too honest for this situation. But, at least he seemed to find humor in it, snickering at your quip.

“Keep wishing then human, I’m all too real.” He chuckled darkly. 

“Yeah, I-I see that…Are you going to kill me?” Your voice was shakier than you intended as you asked. You hated it, but the anticipation of what he was going to do was more painful that anything he could have actually done.

“I haven’t decided yet.” He mused as he continued his examination of you. He smiled cruelly as he felt your pulse quicken under his hands. He could smell your fear, and it was intoxicating. Your eyes, blown wide with fear, were stirring something deep down inside of him, and making you far more interesting than any other human he had come across in years.

Or, maybe it had just been a while since he had anyone to fuck. Granted, he had stolen plenty of mortals from your small town, but most of the time they died in the process. Corpses held no interest to him for anything other than food. But you? You were alive and warm, and vulnerable in his claws. That fact alone made the notion of keeping you alive for a little longer far more enticing than killing you just yet. 

“Um, anything I could do to help you make that decision?” You asked softly.

“The decision to kill you?” he questioned

“Well, the decision not too!” You quickly clarified, “Dying sounds kinda, well, not fun  and with you being like, a real thing that kinda makes me question well everything as far as mythology goes and that makes dying really fucking scary and-”

“You’re rambling mortal.” He sneered in annoyance.

“Right! My bad I just- please don’t kill me. I’ll do anything not to die.” You begged, tears prickling the corners of your eyes as you grappled with being forced to face the unknown. You had the beasts attention though, an eyebrow raising at your offer.

“Anything?” He purred, his eyes falling to the swell of your chest and making you greatly regret your word choice. “Anything at all?”

“Anything.” You whispered softly. You reasoned with yourself that this was for your life and definitely not because the thought of getting railed by a blood thirsty demon made you squish your thighs together in anticipation. You for sure didn’t feel a rush of arousal as the thought of something meant to kill you making you cum instead crossed your mind. That didn’t happen, no way, not at all. You weren’t wondering if his dick was as monstrous as he was, or if his markings graced it as well.

“Alright then Human, deal.” He grinned wickedly as he brushed a stray hair behind your ear. “I’ll let you live, if you give your body to me first.” You felt your face burn at his proposal. Something felt fundamentally wrong about spreading your legs for a demon. You weren’t religious or anything, but that had to be some sort of sin. But, if it was for your life, surely you could indulge- I MEAN- endure. 

“Before I agree, we’re not talking about possession, right?” You had to clarify. He smirked at your words. You were cleaver to ask, it showed a familiarity with the supernatural. Maybe you weren’t as foolish as you first seemed after all.

“Smart girl. But no, we’re not talking about possession.” He confirmed. 

“Okay, cool, just checking.” You chuckled nervously. “You got yourself a deal.” His smirk turned into a dark grin as his free hands rushed to your clothes. You panicked, knowing he was going to rip them off and you’d be forced to walk back in the nude. That would have been mortifying.

“Wait wait wait!” You yelped, holding up your arms to stop his hands. 

“What?” He growled, annoyance flooding his tone.

“Let me undress myself.” You requested, “Please? I’ll make it worth your while.” He seemed intrigued and amused, setting you on the ground with an almost unnerving gentleness. 

“Will you now? Lets see.” He hummed. You nodded, taking a few steps back. You took a deep breath and shrugged your jacket off your shoulders. You had never been particularly good at being sexy, at least not in your opinion. But, The monsters eyes could have convinced you otherwise. The way he watched you undress, as if he was a starving man looking at a thanksgiving feast, or a hungry demon looking at his next meal. It gave you the confidence to put on a proper show, teasing him as you slowly shed your clothes.

“I’m Y/n by the way,” You said as your hands reached to unhook your bra, “You got a name, or is it just spider demon?” He huffed humorlessly at your quip. He never liked that title. 

“Ryomen Sukuna,” He said, his eyes setting fire to your skin as you finally dropped your bra for him, “you can call me Sukuna.” 

“Noted.” You nodded as you dropped your panties. His lustful grin showed off his incredibly sharp fangs as he dropped his own robe, the only thing covering him. You confirmed the mouth theory, seeing it spread and hungrily panting across his toned abs. Your breath hitched when you saw when he was working with. 

His dick- or rather, dicks- looked human enough despite the markings, but they were longer and thicker than anything you had taken before. And again, there were two of them. They stood hard and proud against his stomach, twitching to be inside you. You didn’t know if the buzzing in your hands and legs was from regret, or excitement.

You didn’t have time to figure it out either before you were taken back into the demons arms, this time with less violence and more neediness. He pressed you to his stomach, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist and leaving you open to him.

“You’re pretty brave for a human, you know that?” He complimented as a large tongue lolled out of his stomach mouth and against your soaking core. He chuckled darkly as the muscle shoved itself into your weeping cunt, making you gasp at the sudden stretch, “And such a slut too.”

“Hey, this was your idea, not mine.” You reminded him though breathy moans, trying to ground yourself as your hips bucked against his giant mouth. Every movement of the tongue felt like being touch for the first time, a ripple of pleasure coursing though your stomach and legs, and making you wonder there was something supernatural going on to make a demonic act feel so heavenly.

“True,” He agreed, “But you’re the one that's gushing for a monster when I’ve hardly touched you.” he reminded you, watching the way your face contorted with pleasure as you dropped the act of innocence. He didn’t know what was more arousing to him, watching your resolve dissolve, or just how sweet you tasted as you desperately you rode his tongue. “I was going to kill you just a few moments ago, you know that right?” He growled into you ear.

“Yeah, but you’re fucking me instead. Sounds like a win to me.” You grinned and he laughed at your sudden audacity. He knew he liked you.

“You really are a whore, Aren’t you?” He teased as his tongue slipped out of your cunt and into your ass instead, watching the way your breasts bounced as you flinched and moaned at the sudden intrusion. 

“Not a whore if it’s for my life.” You whined, digging your nails into his shoulders. You were starting to feel light headed from the pleasure pooling in your stomach, your cunt clenching around nothing, pissed off from the loss.

“Whatever you have to tell yourself.” He chuckled as his face fell to the crook of your neck, taking in your intoxicating smell. He could feel his dicks twitch with need as he kissed you there, fighting every instinct in his body to keep from digging his teeth into the thin skin. He tasted your sweet slick as it dripped from your cunt and onto the middle of his tongue, and finally he withdrew the muscle. 

You whined as he did, head dropping to his chest, both holes now clenching around nothing. “No, fuck-” You whimpered, only for him curl a clawed finger under your chin and lift your head to face him. “Sukuna..” You whimpered as you looked into his fire red eyes, darkened by lust. His lips crashed into yours, capturing you in a heated kiss. You sighed against his mouth, hands rising to tangle into his soft pink hair as his tongue tangled with yours.

You screamed into his mouth as you felt him shove both of his cocks into you at once, one for each hole. He growled, biting down on your lip as you clenched around him. “Sukuna!” You gasped as you pulled back from the kiss, your body trying hard to push out the sudden intrusion.

“Relax for me Darling,” He groaned softly, the pet name slipping out without his permission. He pressed his forehead to yours as he rubbed your stomach, trying to ease your pain.

“I-I can’t. Too big..” You panted, trying desperately to release the tension in your shoulders. The stretch was searing you from the inside out. You felt overwhelmed, the pleasure in the pain feeling like static shocks. “It’s soo much..”

“You can handle it,” He assured you, extremely (perhaps overly) confident in your ability considering you had met less than an hour ago. You shook your head, tears slipping from your eyes. He lapped them up from your face, then captured your lips in a much softer kiss this time. Slowly, your body came to accept his, the tension melting away as his tongue tangled with yours and he eased his way further into you. The burn faded, leaving just the pleasure there, pulsating through you as he pushed deeper. 

He groaned into your lips as he bottomed out into you, stilling both to give you time to adjust and so he didn’t immediately cum in you like a fucking virgin. It was almost embarrassing how good you felt around him, taking him better than any other being had before. You clenched and fluttered around him in a sinful way, bringing him closer to his climax than he would like to admit.

“Told you.” He smirked as he pulled away from the kiss, licking at the string of saliva that connected the two of you. You whined as you looked down to where the two of you were connected, watching a bulge in your stomach appear and disappear with every thrust of his hips. It should have hurt, but no- quite the opposite.

 Every thrust of his hips electrified you with pleasure, sending wave after wave of intoxicating bliss through your nervous system. You had never felt so full before, so complete. You could feel his cocks rub against each other, against your walls inside of you, a dizzying sensation that you had never experienced before. Your hips bucked against him greedily as he fucked you, chasing your high.

“Look at me Y/n,” He demanded, pulling your head up so your eyes connected with his again, “I want you know the demon making you feel so good.” 

“Ryomen-” You whined, forgetting in your sea of lust that wasn’t the name he told you to use. His eyes widened a bit from shock. Mostly because he wasn’t filled with rage by your insolence, but instead a surge of lust from hearing his name fall from your lips. It really had been awhile, he was feeling himself getting attached far too easily. If he knew what was good for him, he would have finished and disposed of you as quickly as possible. He wasn’t interested in what was good for him.

“Say it again.” He demanded, a hand slipping in between you to rub circles into your clit. 

“Ryomen..” You whined, staring at him with fucked out, lust clouded eyes as you trembled in his arms, thighs clenching around his abdomen as the ecstasy crashed through your core and through out your body. You felt your muscles ripple and tense in anticipation. 

“Again,” He growled, pulling you closer to him, and dropping his forehead down to yours. “Who does this cunt belong to?”

“Ryomen..” Your brain was too clouded to make out the rest of his command, your body buzzing and bliss building up inside of you. He picked up his pace, chasing his own high and making you scream out his name in a truly embarrassing and needy moan. 

You clung onto his shoulders and neck, digging your nails into the soft skin there as the euphoria in your veins finally boiled over and hit the fire inside of your stomach, igniting it in an explosion of ecstasy and lust. Your vision exploded with stars and your brain officially clocked out of work as you melted into a puddle. Your legs shaking around him as you leaned against his strong body, unable to keep yourself up any longer.

Your velvety walls quivered around him and sucked him in impossibly deeper, needy and lustful for him. It drove him mad. He watched as your face scrunched in pleasure, your body reacting to him greedily as you melted into the pleasure he he was gracing you with. 

It send him over the edge watching you cum for him, feeling you cum over him, feeling you gush around him. He couldn’t hold himself back any longer, holding you in a grip tight enough to bruise. His fangs buried themselves into your neck, marking you as his and his alone as he came deep inside of you, the warm strings gushing in you and filling you to the point of spilling over.

He held you close to him, head hung back as you both tried to catch your breath. Your mind was starting to clear the fog out, looking up to ask him to put you down before you felt him move inside you again. Your breath hitched as you realized he didn’t even get a little soft. You looked at him with almost horrified eyes as he bucked into you, only acting to encourage him. He looked back at you with lustful and wicked eyes, nipping at your lip as he set his pace and grinned.

“Whats wrong Darling?” He asked, the pet name now fully intentional in its use, “You didn’t think I was done with you yet, did you?” 

🎃🎃🎃

You were warm when you woke up, despite still being in the nude. Probably because of the huge body pressed against yours, radiating heat and holding you close as he slept. Visions of last night ran though your head, making you almost painfully aware of the cum still dripping from between your thighs, and sending another wave of arousal through you. When did you pass out? When did Ryomen?

You stayed still for a few seconds, listing to your bedfellows steady breathing. The bed, despite being made from feathers and thin quilting, was surprisingly soft, and the late afternoon sun filled the old home with a warm hazy light. You realized you couldn’t stay here any longer. You couldn’t get attached to an urban legend. 

You slipped out of his arms, freezing as he groaned and only breathing again once he was softly snoring. You sighed as you slipped out of the bedroom and found your clothes again. You quickly got dressed, and went to open the front door. It didn’t budge. Your eyes furrowed in confusion as you pulled the knob again. What the hell? You pulled with all your might, almost screaming with frustration as the door didn’t even move a centimeter. 

“Don’t bother with that Dove.” You gasped as you heard Ryomens voice behind you, a wave of dread blanketing you as you spun to face him. He was leaning casually against the door frame of the bedroom, a content smile painted on his face. “It has my seal on it. I’m the only one that can open that door.”

[catiuskaa]

missed me, missed me, now you gotta...

SUMMARY: minho wasn’t grumpy, nor he was jealous. but he hasn’t been the same ever since he fell in love with you.

REQUESTED! by a sweet annonie right here. pookie, your idea was lovely to write! lil grumpy minho, im melting… it’s a bit short, but I hope you like it! <3

CW: use of (crack) text messages to convey the plot, starring: han quokka as cupid + reader’s bsf, clingy minho as king of my heart, and ngl, type 1 diabetes fluff ahead. keep insulin shots close just in case! lol

WC: 1.1k

A/N: i love how i’m slowly turning into a minho blog/page lmaoo, only minho: the man, the myth, the legend!

[🪻☆🌫️☆🪻]

The same ringtone buzzed again during rehearsals. Its ding had sounded so many times already that it had started to get repetitive really quickly.

Minho frowned as he looked in the mirror, retouching his rolled sleeves just once more for what he secretly knew it had been more than twenty times. In the span of ten minutes. Maybe even less.

But Minho wasn’t ‘grumpy’.

He so wasn’t.

His day had been normal so far. He had no reason to be grumpy. Not one what-so-ever.

He had woken up in between your arms, and even if he had ‘complained’ about it, he loved being the little spoon. And also, his cats jumped on the bed and, just for once, none of them landed on his face.

There had been just one thing.

…

Well. Technically more than one.

You had rushed outside this morning. You claimed you didn’t have time to have breakfast with him, because you were late for something he didn’t really get. Because of that, you hadn’t come over to the JYP building with him. He had to drive over alone. And you hadn’t pecked him goodbye at the entrance like always.

But he. Wasn’t. Grumpy.

Not. At. All.

> sunggie: girl, did you hide his cats or smth?

< minho’s owner: lol, wdym dude?

> sunggie: he looks like he’s going to kill me.

> sunggie: And he loves me! Wtf??

“Jisung-ah.”

Han shrieked in his place in the sofa, his phone almost falling off his hands. He quickly turned it off, hoping that the grumpy dancer hadn’t seen the old or new messages.

“Who were you texting?” Minho frowned, deeper this time.

“Oh.” Jisung chuckled. “Just checking in on noona.”

“My girlfriend?” The way Minho enunciated the title felt a bit possesive. Jisung eyed at him weirdly for a second. Even he felt weird himself.

Jisung nodded sheepishly, turning his phone back on but quickly opening a random app.

“Yeah. I owed her a call back.” He shrugged, nonchalantly accepting that he had opened Subway Surfers, and started to play.

As the catchy music came from Han’s phone, Minho shook his head.

Not grumpy.

Not at all.

But the thought that you had been texting Han and didn’t text him —instead of him— did funny things in his chest.

Now, keep in mind that Minho would never describe himself as a jealous man.

He trusted you with his cats, of course he trusted you regarding your relationship. But he had barely got a hold of you all day. And Han had. By call and text. Like he was doing now.

Not grumpy.

Sure.

< minho’s owner: you dead yet?

Jisung groaned.

> sunggie: no! you made me lose my score!

> sunggie: and I don’t have any keys! ㅠㅠ

< minho’s owner: sucks to suck, lol

< minho’s owner: but what’s wrong with my future husband? did you do something?

> sunggie: he’s moody since he came in this morning.

> sunggie: you weren’t here tho. smth wrong between ya?

< minho’s owner: no…? just had to run to work early…

And then, something in Jisung’s paboracha brain connected. Probably because of how he had named your contact in his phone.

> sunggie: omg

< minho’s owner: what?

> sunggie: that corny dumbass

> sunggie: he’s so stupid

< minho’s owner: bitch what is it???

> sunggie: he’s moody bc u didn’t come in with him today!

You hesitated. Could that be it?

< minho’s owner: really? u think so?

> sunggie: bitch I know so!

> sunggie: imma go get boba for the boys, get your ass here and come w/ me

Jisung’s brain started to work at cupid’s speed.

< minho’s owner: omw. be there in 5’

“Guys, I’m gonna go get boba. Do any of you want something?”

The rest of the gang blabbered something while some kept going over the steps of the choreography and the others rested on the couch, doozing off or on their phones. Han quickly noted down everyone’s orders, not before being squinted down by Minho. He held back a shiver.

“Clingy prick…” Jisung mumbled, leaving quickly.

He walked out of the JYP building, waiving and half bowing to the staff members and other artists in the building.

< minho’s owner: just parked! ^^

Jisung entered the boba place next to the building, smiling at the cashier as he read down the orders on his note app, and stood aside, waiting for the drinks.

“Hey!” You smiled widely at him, taking off your scarf, merely leaving it hanging on your shoulders. He clapped your hand, playfully slapping your back.

“Working hard?” Jisung snickered, pointing at the bag on your other hand.

You side-eyed at him, giggling softly.

“Took some snacks before heading off.” You shrugged. “We can sneak these in, right?”

Jisung scratched the back of his neck. “We’ll… come up with something.”

You both struggled carrying the drinks, teasing each other and betting who’d make a mess first. But all giggles came to an end when the security guard stared at you.

“Name and business?” He asked in a low huff.

Your body stiffened.

“She’s my sister,” Han chimed back. You were in fact far from being his sister, but that didn’t matter when the guard seemed to nod. “She’s just helping me carry the drinks inside.”

“And the bag? What’s inside?”

You cleared your throat, smiling. “Clothes for him to change once he finishes training.” You lied.

Thank God for his imagination. And for his stupid idea of shoving your scarf and his hoodie into the bag of snacks.

“Ok. You may come in.” The guard smiled politely.

Only after the both of you had gotten into the elevator you allowed yourselves to let out a sight full of relief. You two then smirked, high-fiving.

“Thank you, bro.” You teased in a snicker.

He cackled. “You’re welcome, sis.”

You both laughed and joked until you reached the training room.

“The person you dream of is back!” Han cackled.

“Noona!” Felix grinned happily.

“Yeah, that’s me!” You cackled at Jisung’s faked frown.

You smiled and greeted everyone as you entered, leaving a certain bunny boy for last.

You sat next to him on the couch, and without missing a beat, he took your legs and layed them on his lap.

You took a sip of his drink, and he stared at you, almost with a squint.

“You’ve made me jealous of fucking Han Jisung.” He stated matter-o-factly, making you practically choke on the tapioka pearls.

You coughed. “What?”

“You texted him all evening. And me? Not even a good luck kiss this morning.”

“Aw, are you grumpy, kitten?” You grinned teasingly, speaking only towards him in a soft tone to his ear. You pecked his cheek.

He needed more of those.

Grumpy, huh?

“Yes. Very.” He mumbled, hiding his blushed and pleased grin in the crook of your neck. “Need more kisses.”

“Well, you know how it goes.” You mumbled in a snicker. He hummed at you, waiting for you to explain.

You kissed his forehead softly, his hands stroking your thighs.

“Missed me, missed me, now you gotta kiss me.”

~Kats, who can write this in one sit, but can’t figure out how chemistry works (yes have exams, why did I choose this for myself, help)

[kashverse]

some say let your hands and fingers do the talking. not like that, you perv! i mean by playing the guitar. what did you think? anyway, when your boyfriend pulls out a guitar, it’s a moment of pure suspense. it can either go very, very good—think angelic strumming, a voice so smooth it makes you question if he’s been hiding a secret record deal—or very, very bad, like an out-of-tune massacre that makes your eardrums file for divorce. there’s no in-between. he’s either serenading you into a nicholas sparks movie, or you’re suddenly trapped in a hostage situation where the ransom is pretending to enjoy his soulful (read: painful) rendition of wonderwall.

ah, gojo. the man, the myth, the self-proclaimed musician. he played the guitar once—once—in high school, butchered wonderwall in a way that made even noel gallagher cringe from a distance, and now he tells everyone he’s a ‘part-time guitarist.’ you don’t have the heart to tell him that whatever note he’s playing isn’t in the known musical scale of this universe. he strums with the confidence of a rock god but with the technique of a toddler discovering sound for the first time. the worst part? he believes in it. “music transcends rules,” he tells you with a wink, completely unaware that he’s transcended harmony, melody, and all known music theory altogether.

then there’s geto. now, he looks like a guy who plays the guitar—cool, effortless, the type to lean against a wall with a cigarette dangling from his lips while plucking out a song that makes everyone in a ten-mile radius fall in love. and technically, he does play. but does he play songs? absolutely not. geto is a man of riffs. he’ll pick up a guitar, pluck out a legendary lick that would make jimi hendrix’s spirit shed a tear, and then… stop. no full songs. no verses. just a 15-second snippet of greatness before he casually shrugs and says, “eh, i never learned the rest.” it’s infuriating. masterful, but infuriating.

choso, on the other hand, is eager. enthusiastic, even. and the shocking part? he’s patient with it, which you didn’t expect given his general aura of broody silence. but the man loves to learn—he already had a thing for keyboards, so naturally, guitar was the next step. and he’s good. so good, in fact, that you have to physically restrain him from playing in front of random people. because let’s be real: if choso sits down with a guitar, strums even a single melancholic tune, women (and men) will descend upon him like he’s the last attractive man on earth. you’re not dealing with that. not again.

does sukuna play the guitar? please. your big, beefy, borderline villainous boyfriend doesn’t do “basic” instruments. he plays the shamisen. yeah, that’s right. while everyone else is fumbling through 'hotel california,' sukuna is out here commanding an ancient instrument with the kind of raw, aggressive technique that could send every mainstream musician straight into retirement. the way he plays is nothing short of feral—sharp, powerful, sending sound waves through your soul like he’s calling forth a battlefield. you don’t know whether to be turned on or to fear for your life. possibly both.

toji, bless his heart, tries. he wants to play the guitar. he knows it looks cool. and, honestly, the intent is there. but here’s the thing—his hands are the size of dinner plates. the pick disappears between his fingers like a lost sock in the laundry. fretting a chord looks like he’s trying to delicately handle a teacup with boxing gloves on. it’s not a skill issue. it’s a size issue. the guitar wasn’t built for a man whose hands could palm a basketball and a toddler’s head at the same time. but he keeps at it, convinced that if he just tries hard enough, one day he’ll stop making the guitar sound like it’s being physically assaulted.

and then there’s nanami, the dark horse. the unexpected legend. you find out, completely by accident, that he plays guitar—not just plays, but plays it well. sings with it, too. every night, he softly strums lullabies for yuuji, an act of pure paternal love that no one would expect from the stoic salaryman. but when you ask him about it? he shuts that conversation down. you don’t get details. you don’t get demonstrations. and you definitely don’t get to see the video of 17-year-old nanami covering ‘pocketful of sunshine’ with embarrassing sincerity. it exists. he won’t admit it. but one day, one day, you will find it.

[dxrlingluv]

IM OBSESSED WITH EPIC RN, TOO. I have so many suggestions but I don't wanna blow up your box so I'll just send one for now. HEAR ME OUT, telephone introducing his s/o to his dad! Complete tooth rotting fluff. Maybe Tele and his s/o can also be married? up to you!

Cheers

A/N : Not my best, but definitely not the worst! Idk about making them married hmmm… Telemachus art belongs to Duvetbox! Line gifs belongs ti @cafekitsune. Thank you for requesting this!

WARNING : Fluff, GN!Reader, the suitors are dead yippie

Word Count : 1k

The great hall of Ithaca, once a place of chaos and unwanted suitors, now echoed with a different sound: the joyous murmur of reunion. The air, thick with the scent of victory and the promise of peace, swirled around Telemachus as he stood beside you, his hand resting gently on your back.

The suitors were gone. Vanquished. Justice had been served, and the kingdom, finally, was his own to shape. But more importantly, his father had returned. Odysseus, the king, the legend, was back on his throne, and by his side, Penelope, his mother, radiant with a love that had endured twenty long years of separation.

Telemachus watched them, a profound sense of completeness washing over him. His journey had been long and fraught with peril, but it had led him here, to this moment, to this hard-won peace. And it had led him to you.

He remembered the day he'd met you. It was after his visit to Nestor and Menelaus, still reeling from the tales of his father's adventures, his heart both heavy with longing and ignited with a newfound sense of purpose. You were a calming presence in a world of turmoil, a steady hand in the storm. You had seen him, not as the son of Odysseus, but as Telemachus, a young man searching for his place in the world.

And you had loved him.

Now, with his father finally home, Telemachus felt a pull, a desire to share this part of his life, this profound happiness, with the man who had been a myth for so long.

"Are you ready?" he asked, turning to you, his voice a low rumble.

You met his gaze, a soft smile gracing your lips. "As ready as I'll ever be," you replied, your voice filled with a quiet confidence.

He squeezed your hand, his thumb tracing a gentle circle on your skin. "He'll love you," he said, the words a promise, a reassurance. "He has to."

You chuckled softly. "He already seems to. From the stories you've told me, he sounds like a man who values love and loyalty above all else."

"He is," Telemachus affirmed. "And he'll see how much I love you. How much you mean to me."

He led you across the hall, the weight of the recent battle fading with every step, replaced by a growing anticipation. Odysseus and Penelope stood together, their hands intertwined, their eyes filled with a love that time and trials could not diminish.

As they approached, Odysseus turned, his gaze shifting from his wife to his son, and then to you. His expression softened, a warm smile spreading across his face.

"Telemachus," he said, his voice filled with pride. "You look well, my son. And who is this?"

Telemachus stepped forward, his arm gently guiding you beside him. "Father," he began, his voice steady, "I want you to meet Y/N. They are... they are my heart."

A hush fell over the immediate vicinity. All eyes were on you, on Telemachus, on Odysseus. This was it. The moment of introduction.

You offered a respectful bow to the king, your heart pounding in your chest. "It's an honor to meet you, King Odysseus," you said, your voice clear and sincere. "Telemachus has told me so much about you."

Odysseus studied you for a moment, his gaze sharp yet kind. He saw the love in your eyes when you looked at Telemachus, the quiet strength in your posture, the genuine warmth in your smile.

"The honor is mine, Y/N," he replied, his voice a low rumble. "Any friend of my son is a friend of mine. But I sense you are more than a friend."

Telemachus stepped closer, his hand resting protectively on your waist. "They are, Father. Y/N is my partner, my love, my everything. They have been my rock, my constant star, through all of this. I wouldn't be the man I am today without them."

Odysseus's eyes softened even further. He saw the depth of his son's love, the unwavering devotion in his gaze. He saw the way you looked at Telemachus, with a love that mirrored his own.

He stepped forward, extending his hand to you. "Welcome, Y/N, to our home, to our family. You have clearly won my son's heart, and for that, you have my gratitude and my blessing."

You took his hand, his grip firm and warm. A wave of emotion washed over you. You had been accepted. Not just by Telemachus, but by his father, by his family, by the legendary Odysseus himself.

"Thank you, King Odysseus," you said, your voice thick with emotion. "It means more than words can say."

Penelope stepped forward, her smile radiant. "Welcome, my dear," she said, her voice filled with warmth. "Telemachus has spoken of you often. We are so happy to finally meet you."

You turned to Penelope, offering her a smile. "Thank you, Queen Penelope. It's truly a pleasure to meet you. Telemachus is so lucky to have you as his mother."

Penelope chuckled, her eyes sparkling. "And he is lucky to have you. You bring a light to him that I haven't seen in a long time."

The rest of the evening was filled with laughter, stories, and the quiet joy of reunion. Odysseus, Penelope, and Telemachus shared tales of their journeys, their trials, and their triumphs. You listened, captivated by their words, feeling a deep connection to this family, to this legacy.

Odysseus, in particular, seemed fascinated by you. He asked about your life, your dreams, your adventures. He wanted to know everything about the person who had captured his son's heart.

As the night drew to a close, Odysseus raised his cup, his voice filled with emotion. "To Telemachus and Y/N," he said, his gaze sweeping over you both. "May your love be a beacon of hope, a testament to the enduring power of the human heart. May it bring you joy, strength, and a lifetime of happiness."

Everyone raised their cups, echoing his toast. You looked at Telemachus, your heart overflowing with love and gratitude. He smiled back, his eyes filled with a love that transcended words.

In that moment, you knew that you had found your place. You had found your home. You had found a love that would last forever, a love that was blessed by family, by history, and by the gods themselves. And it all began with a young man's search for his father, and the love that bloomed along the way.

[bloodlineslut]

Live | Jey Uso

Pairings: Jey Uso x black! OC

Warnings: none just fluff; jey being the cutie patootie he is

Summary: Jey just got back to the hotel from a hockey game with CM Punk to find his girl on live doing her skincare routine for her TikTok account, & decides to pop in.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: best idea that ever popped in my head

“Alright Jey, catch you tomorrow for a workout?” Punk dapped Jey up in the hallway, confirming that they were still on for the gym in the morning.

“You know it man, cmon. Bright and early too.” Jey told him, patting him on the back as they departed to go to their own hotel rooms.

As Jey walked closer to the door, he reached in his pocket for his key card…

Only to find it wasn’t there.

He smacked his teeth and knocked on the door, hoping that Brianna was awake by now. She wasn’t feeling well earlier because of her allergies, otherwise she would’ve went to the hockey game with him.

“I knew this boy forgot his key.” He heard her say on the other side of the door before swinging it open, hand on her hip.

He already knew what she was gonna say. “I know, baby. I know.” He put his hands up in surrender, walking into the room and bending down to give her a kiss.

“Mm, you smell good.” He leans back down, putting his nose against her neck for another whiff of her perfume.

Brianna’s hand goes to his arm as she laughs and tries to pull away, remembering that her phone was still on live with her followers waiting patiently for her return.

“Damn girl.” He comes up for a second to talk before going back to sniffing her.

“Jey!” She was laughing heartily now and also because it tickled. “I’m on live, look.” She points to her phone that was stuck on the mirror with her grippy case.

Both of their eyes find the phone and see that they were only in the corner of the frame. “Oh my fault.” He lets her go and she thought he was gonna walk clean past the camera but instead he gets all up in it and starts yapping away.

“Waddup family! It’s your boy Main Event Jey U…So!”

All Brianna can do is roll her eyes and giggle. He was always so damn silly and making her laugh; it was how she fell in love with him.

“Let me see how many of ya’ll in here…” He talks to the live, looking at the number of people in the upper corner.

“Damn bae! You got a thousand people on here.” He brought his fist against his mouth, then started reading the comments.

@ slayedandsaved: Is Jey a hockey fan?? 👀

@ wwe_chaos_: I saw you Jey at the game and CM Punk!!

@ vibingvixen: bri i’m so jealous this is your man.

“Aye ‘slayedandsaved’ I been a hockey fan since a couple hours ago.”

“‘wwechaos’ you saw me and Punk huh? Aye, that ice cream was good uce.”

“‘Bri I’m so jealous this is your man’. Yeetttt. Nah, but I’m the lucky one.”

Brianna was now standing next to him, out of frame, getting her last products out of her bag to finish up her routine.

Jey noticed this and snapped back into reality. “You right, you right. My bad baby. Aye but look though. Follow my girl, like, comment, and do all that. Yeet.” He talks with his hands before moving out of the frame, letting Brianna take back over.

“Guest appearance from the man, the myth, the legend guys.” She smiled and looked at him across the hotel room as he was taking off his white Air Forces.

“Okay so after I wash my face, I just use this toner from Fenty. It’s the Fat Water. Ya’ll need to use this because it’s so soothing if you have really sensitive skin.” She screwed the cap off quickly putting it down on the counter and poured some into the palm of her hand, warming it up, before pressing it gently into her skin.

“Bri you ain’t say nothin’ about my jersey!” She heard Jey say from in front of the TV. He was trying to find something to watch while Brianna finished her live.

She stepped backwards to see in the doorway towards his sitting figure on the bed. “I thought it was cute babe!”

“Yea but you ain’t see what’s on the back though.” He stood up and turned his back to her, showcasing the “Uso” above the number. Brianna actually didn’t even see that when he first came back.

“Awww Jey! That’s so cute! You can lowkey say you play for them.” She laughs, her heart beaming at his child-like excitement.

“Well then they need to run me my money.” He sat back down on the bed, attention drawn back to the television.

“Sorry guys I’m back.” She talks to her followers and/or new people in the live. She takes a minute to read what they were commenting.

@ bodyyaddybabe: girl respectfully ur man is FOINEEEE 😍😩

@ usoandbae: does jey ever stop yapping?😂

“No. He yaps 24/7.” She said loud on purpose so he would hear.

“I heard that.”

Bri just giggles, grabbing her moisturizer to show the camera. “Okay so next…wait what did I just do?...Toner! You wanna use moisturizer after. I use the Neutrogena Hydro Boost Water Cream. This one is good for my oily skin because it’s water based.”

She scoops some up with her knuckle and rubs it in evenly on her face.

“After that, I sometimes do a face mask but I already did one earlier so I’m not gonna do another one. I think I’ll do…” She trails off, searching through her bag.

She could never keep up with that little ass bottle.

“Oh my goshhh!” She exclaims in slight frustration. Her allergies made her eyelids puffy and this eye cream she had been using was helping a lot if she used it consistently.

“What you looking for?” She felt Jey’s presence right behind her as she still was looking for the product.

“My eye cream. It’s in that small ass bottle.”

Jey had actually spotted it on the counter but wanted her to suffer a little bit. “Mmcht. And you was talking ‘bout me losing the room key.”

“Joshua.” She looked at him through the phone for a second while he tried to hide his smile with his hand.

He just had one question before he pointed out the eye cream’s location to her overlooking eyes. “After this, can we go get some Waffle House?” He knew she would say yes just to get him to stop talking.

“Yes Joshua.”

He reached around her and picked up the small white plastic bottle, holding it in front of her.

She playfully rolled her eyes and took it from his thick fingers. He just kissed her on the cheek and retreated back to the bed.

“Ya’ll how did he see it before I did?” She rhetorically asks the live while putting one dot under each eye to gently work it in for the cooling effect. She saw a few people ask what brand the eye cream was.

“I got this from my dermatologist. But ya’ll just screenshot and show it to your doctor.” She held it up steady enough for people who wanted it.

“Okay and then I put on my brow and lash serum. I use the one by Grande Cosmetics and it works so fast for me. I’ve heard good reviews for it too.” She brushed the felt tip coated with the product through her brows and lashes, fanning it with her hands to dry.

“And that’s it!” She began to clean up the counter, putting away the products back into her bag and wiping the counter down.

Jey poked his head in and in the frame, all you could see was half of his face in the doorway. Brianna saw how silly he looked.

“Why are you creeping right now?” She laughed, putting the last of her things away.

“You done? Can we go to Waffle House now?” He asks her again.

“Yes babe. I’m hungry too.” She took the Hello Kitty headband out of her straightened hair and ran her fingers through it, taming the flyaways.

“Tell them your order Jey. Ya’ll gotta hear this.” Bri wraps her arms around her man’s waist.

“Bet. Okay I get like 6 eggs with cheese, scrambled. Hashbrowns, you gotta get the triple hashbrowns. Scattered and covered, cmon uce. Then you gotta get waffles if you going to Waffle House, duh. Two of ‘em with the chocolate chips in there. And a lemonade, boom. Maybe I’ll drink a coffee at the end though.”

@usoandbae: SIX MF EGGS??

@vibingvixen: ik his stomach sound like boots in the dryer

@feelinuceyyy__: I’ve never had waffle house but jey makes it sound so good

“Bye they said your stomach be sounding like boots in the dryer.” Brianna laughed at the comment before walking to the closet to grab a hoodie.

“Your boy do be full after though, can’t lie.”

“You ain’t ever had Waffle House?! Where you at uce? Go find the nearest one tonight.”

Brianna had pulled on her grey hoodie that was matching her sweats, and slid her feet in her uggs that Jey has just bought her.

“Okay babe we can go now.” She stood behind him and put her hands up on his shoulders, wanting to get on his back. He squatted down a little so she could jump up on him, securing her legs with his hands.

“Wait walk closer so I can take my phone off the mirror.”

He did and she extended one arm to pull it off with some resistance. Jey was walking around the room with her on his back, having already put his shoes back on, to grab his wallet and car keys.

“Ight, we bouncing.” He says at the door.

“Okay bye guys!! We’re about to go be big backs. I may post pics of the food if I remember. Love ya’ll so much!”

Brianna puts the camera on Jey and he smiles, showing his grills. “Later family. Yeet.”

She ends the live and holds on tight to her man as he locks the door and they both leave, still on his back. She suddenly remembered she didn’t grab her copy of the room key.

“Jey did you get the key card?”

“…Shit.”

taglist!: @4milly @amandairene88 @uceyliyahh @levissslutt @sheaabuttaababyy @punksyeet

[crispy-armpit]

✧ 𝖒𝖞 𝖕𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖑 ✧

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ꜱᴇᴀ ɢᴏᴅ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

𓇼˚₊‧꒰ა 🫧 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚𓇼

⭒ 𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 10 dollars on a dare leads you to break one superstition that changes your life forever. you begin to learn secrets tied to your family and upbringing, at the cost of your freedom. who is this mysterious Anshumat, and why does he want you?

⭒ 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘵: 𝘨𝘯 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳, 𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘦, 𝘪𝘯𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘯𝘫𝘶𝘳𝘺, violence, implied stalking, kidnapping, choking, reader gets called a bride once

⭒ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 1,418

⭒ a/n: yan sea god was inspired by an Indonesian myth called Nyi Roro Kidul! it's a really interesting legend if you want to learn more abt it ^^ also.... man tits...... meow..

will you venture down this path?

growing up, you would stay over at your grandmother's house every summer. her beautiful seaside cottage made the perfect accommodation for a family getaway. throughout your childhood, the superstitious old woman restricted you from doing specific things. rules like never whistling at night, don't open an umbrella indoors, etc.

you'd eventually found out that these were just scare tactics for children to make them listen. but there was one rule that your grandmother seemed to fear the most, a rule that never made sense... never wear white to the local beach. and when questioning her about the rule, she'd tell you the same story every time.

"long ago...

a cruel serpent god who once ruled these waters would rise from the ocean and into the islands, devouring innocent villagers and destroying temples along its path.

the gods and humans were furious at its actions. fed up with the destruction and death, they prepared a plan to thwart the serpent; a binding curse.

the serpent was cursed to spend its days rotting in a hidden island, where it was accompanied by its servants. it was also tasked with granting blessings to sailors passing through the rocky tides, where it weighed the sins of each individual to seal their fates.

but over the decades... the serpent grew bored and lonely. through a loophole, the serpent found a way to abduct humans. you see.. the serpent loves the colour white and pearls. so much so, it would use its voice, so alluring, to lure the poor victims who happened to wear such things. and once in the water, the serpent would drag the human to its temple where they would become its slave.. or worse...

its spouse."

here you are today, telling the same tale in front of your young niece and nephew. "well, that's one way to get bitches." your nephew, Keona laughs. a scoffing Kehlani adds on, "nah, who would want to marry an overgrown slimy snake?"

"hey now, take that shit to grandma. she just assigned me to be your storyteller," you shrugged. "and this story has a real reasoning behind it, ok?"

"what? sexy sea snake destroying villages?"

"no, it's so that little rascals like you..." you drill both your index fingers onto their foreheads, "are easier to find if you ever get lost at sea."

how did i end up here...

facepalming yourself, you sigh. you were disappointed in yourself. how'd you let those little punks reel you in a dare? where was the self-respect? the dignity? seriously, breaking your grandmother's number 1 rule for what? 10 dollars?

you walk along the shore while wearing a flowy white shirt and neck encased in one of your mother's pearl necklaces. the dare was simple: successfully walk down the shoreline without chickening out and boom— an extra 10 dollars into your wallet.

you'd prove to the twins that you weren't scared of a little bedtime story. buuut just in case you did happen to go missing (for reasons that are totally not hungry sea serpent related), you brought essentials in a bag, left a letter for your family, and are currently being watched by the twins.

laughing at yourself for the paranoia, you nearly reach the edge of the walk until you hear a feminine wail from between the hidden rocks. is someone hurt? the sound was coming from beyond your finishing point so it wouldn't hurt to check, right?

signalling the twins to come over, you bend down to their heights, "listen, it sounds like someone's in trouble past those rocks. so I want you both to go grab the first aid kit and call Officer Holden over, 'kay?" they nod and scamper off into town.

approaching the rocks, you peek in to find a naked... mermaid?! observing her, you notice the torn skin on her iridescent tail and warily walk over to her. "uh... hey? hola? salve? hallo? i'm ah— good human! no... nooooo bad.."

you notice the air seems to smell... sweeter?

the woman looks up at you from the sand with pleading eyes, "please— please help me! my name is Coralie, my master, he—"

"woah, it's ok! you're safe, help is coming. uh, your master? did he do this to you? are you an underwater criminal?!"

a distant melodious voice interrupts you. Coralie's previously pained face now warps into a sinister grin as her wound disappears. she crawls towards you as your vision fogs up and your knees buckle to the soft sand. the song lulls you into a deep sleep, your body now being pulled into the shallow waters.

you awake to the bright rays of sunshine and lungs filling in with fresh air. but the next in your line of sight knocked all the air out of your body again.

the luminous, barely-clothed body of an unknown man sat above you. his 9'7 self relaxed on the marble throne, with 2 pairs of eyes fixated on you. what the fuck is that?

you gawk at him, "holy mother of god..."

i'm not dreaming, am i?

his gaze shifts into amusement, "wrong. we gods do not have mothers. we were created."

"you're a... a god?"

"is it not obvious enough from my appearance? would you like to see another version of me?" the towering deity begins to warp into a feminine body as if it was melting and moulding itself. "is this preferable?" her new voice is flirtatious, genuinely curious.

then, she tries to warp into a third body. the transformation looks more painful than the one prior, it barely shifts halfway into a gruesome beast before returning back to its first body. he huffs while grasping his golden collar, "this... is not my original form. I have been cursed, long ago, to never set foot on human lands. this island is both my kingdom and prison."

you shakily stand up the marble floor, now noticing Coralie standing beside the throne with a pair of legs. slowly processing his words, you piece together the clues from his story and your memories of the abduction. this couldn't be...

"you are.. you're the sea serpent god! I can't believe grandma was right— shit, shit shit—"

he smirks at your panic, "correct. I am Anshumat; shapeshifter deity of the raging tides, granter of safe travels—"

"murderer and enslaver." you complete.

Anshumat roars, "correct again! you're on a strike, dear y/n. though trust me, my servants are treated well."

"..how do you know my name?"

"oh you poor thing, granny never told you? I know everything about you— a name is barely anything."

"told me what?"

"she used to be my cupbearer. until she escaped with that bastard traitor. isn't that right, Coralie?"

she nods, "yes, master."

"please sir, let me leave. my family— they'll search for me! I have a cat at home! I haven't even finished my favourite show.. so please..." you try to list more life goals.

he chuckled, "oh you are so amusing. and why would I do that? we've barely just been engaged, dear."

"what do you mean engaged?"

"I've been watching you since you took your first breath on earth, y/n. so imagine my surprise— to see you wrapped up in my favourite colour, like a pretty bride. you're my sacrifice."

fear tingles your spine, "wait, that was just a dare! i didn't really mean it!"

"doesn't matter. you will be my pearl."

"no! I have a family, a partner—"

"i said... it doesn't fucking matter." he slams his fist against the throne arm, "and you'll be seeing the head of that twat soon enough."

you don't give him a glance before you're turning your back and run down the staircase of the grand temple. careful not to trip, you focus on the flight of stairs, painfully aware of the loud footsteps approaching behind you. it doesn't take a second for Anshumat to pull on the collar of your shirt and slam you onto the staircase.

he sits atop you, lower region heavily grinding against your stomach. "get off me! don't you have hundreds of other options?! why me?!" you scream.

his bedazzled skin blocks your view of the sun, furious eyes glowing under his shadow, and sharp teeth bared into a snarl. "you do not get to leave me again. you will stay, and worship me. this island will be our eternal paradise."

large hands pressing against your throat, you struggle before darkness begins to cloud your vision.

"this time, you will live."

[clownakai]

Hi! Let's talk about: Conan's terribly kept secret, and how come he doesn't seem to mind that Akai has pretty much figured it out (and teases him about it)

I'm not going to lie, I think about this a lot and I've wanted to make a post dissecting the whole thing for a while. It's one of those details within two characters' relationship that says a lot about their overall dynamic, in my opinion.

So, to start off, let's address the secret in question and what it means to Conan. Basic stuff, but it's a useful starting point.

The first and greatest motivation behind Shinichi's efforts to keep his situation a secret from Ran is that he doesn't want to endanger her (good idea in theory, not so easy in practice, but this post isn't about that).

In time, this also becomes valid for everyone who associates with Kudou Shinichi and/or Edogawa Conan, given all the stunts he pulls as the latter. Just to be on the safer side, those two identities should remain separate.

Now, here's the first real "outsider" who figures out Conan is Shinichi.

I'm kind of reading this as Conan attempting to call Hattori's bluff, but as soon as he realizes that the guy is serious about telling Ran everything, he drops all pretenses and comes clean about the APTX.

Now, since this is still pretty early on in the manga, we can argue that Conan's identity hasn't been solidified just yet and Shinichi doesn't know how dangerous the Organization actually is, and combining that with the fact that Hattori is pretty much a stranger, the pros of conceding defeat on the matter and explaining himself to a fellow detective definitely outweigh the cons.

(This also gifts us with the funniest swaggest most whimsical duo ever, but I digress /silly)

And after Heiji, we have the man, the myth, the legend. Hondou Eisuke. His case is kind of particular, in that he doesn't really try to get the secret out of Conan. The truth is presented to him due to something unrelated (asking Ran out), which is apparently reason enough for Shinichi to out himself.

I do believe that Shinichi felt secure enough in doing this for a couple reasons: first and foremost, Eisuke is at least marginally aware of the Organization and the danger it represents, and he knows the importance of keeping secrets given both his sister's situation and his career choice. Secondly, Eisuke is leaving Japan: sure, there's a chance he might stay in contact with his friends via text, but he has no reason to tell Ran about Conan's real identity in the first place.

The real "danger" here was the possibility (very, very small. Basically non-existent, to be honest) that Ran would say yes to Eisuke's proposal to go to the States together (where, in Shinichi's mind, he wouldn't be able to follow, where he wouldn't be able to watch over her, where he felt he would lose her in every way that matters), and that chance, no matter how small, warranted an intervention. Not exactly pure logic, but that's teenagers for you (affectionate).

Alright, so what about people like Masumi? She even has an advantage in that she already knows about the existence of a drug that makes people shrink: her own mom looks like a middle schooler because of that. She's in danger no matter how you look at it, and she's clearly been keeping that secret the same way Agasa, Hattori, and the Kudous have for a good while. So how come she doesn't get to join the club?

The answer is, of course, the risk factor.

Masumi, as we all know, wouldn't know the meaning of subtlety if it hit her in the face with a baseball bat. We love and cherish her regardless, but admittedly, that's not a trait that would inspire trust in a pair of teenagers hiding their continued existence from an evil syndicate.

That's right! We have her timing to keep in mind as well. Masumi is added to the scene well into the main timeline's events, which means multiple things:

Conan's identity is finally well-established and separate from Shinichi's. Ran has had her suspicions in multiple instances, but they've been assuaged every time. Still, that balance is hard to maintain.

Shinichi is now fully aware of just how dangerous the Organization is: he's now much more reluctant to just share his secret willy-nilly with random strangers, even though they might prove to be useful allies in the long run.

Conan isn't the only shrunk teenager running around anymore: Haibara has just as much reason as him, if not more, to want to keep the number of people in the know as low as possible. By revealing his own secret, there would be virtually no way for Shinichi to keep Haibara out of the metaphorical line of fire.

Therefore, a variable that behaves like this...

Or this...

Isn't very likely to garner much favor from either of these two.

Something to take note of, though, is the fact that Conan pretty much only ever panics when Masumi brings up his identity if she's making an active effort to also bring the matter up with people who are firmly on the "Absolutely Cannot Find Out" list (Ran especially).

In multiple other instances, when Masumi alludes to being aware of Conan's ruse but talks to him one-on-one and makes it clear that the comment is a one-off occasion (and that she's not going to push it this time), Shinichi doesn't really lose his cool.

He may stumble over his words a bit, but the moment isn't played as dramatic or high-risk, per se. It's more as if he were being privately teased about his situation— sort of like as inside joke. It's not exactly welcome, but it also doesn't raise any alarm bells since it stays between him and Masumi.

Now, would Conan's problems with Masumi's nosiness be solved if he gave up and admitted the truth she already knows? Of course, but that's not really the point.

The issue is that this wouldn't be happening on his terms. He would be giving in to someone's else's demands, and in addition to that, Masumi has been asking non-stop about the antidote that Shinichi intermittently uses to get back to normal.

That, above all else, is what makes the endless dance of denial necessary, I think: admitting the truth also means outright admitting that prototypes of an antidote exist, and that means exposing Haibara (both her past work and therefore criminal background, and what she's been working on these past few months: letting Masumi have even a single pill would mean the MI6 getting their hands on it in turn, and that's pretty much not something anyone wants), which in turn would probably set off a very unpleasant chain reaction for everyone involved.

When Shinichi conceded defeat with Hattori, it wasn't on his terms either, but at least he knew the guy didn't really have any ulterior motive apart from his one-sided beef with the Detective of the East.

With Masumi there is no such certainty— quite the opposite, in fact, which is why I think this is the reason he's been so insistent on denying the truth even when he now knows full well that Masumi's can be no mere suspicions.

With all that said, let's get to the point of this bad boy! (I did not think this analysis would get so long. Holy shit)

Let's start with the fact that Akai operates on a pretty simple need-to-know basis. If something isn't relevant to what he's trying to do, he tends not to mention it. Still, he's not exactly strict about this: when Conan mentions Akai and Masumi's familial relation, he takes it in stride and gives his own confirmation because he sees no reason not to.

Now, this of course doesn't mean that he can't get curious about things himself, or that he won't conduct his own investigations on said things. His M.O., however, is very different from that of, say, Hattori or Masumi. It can probably be chalked up to maturity and years of experience, along with the simple matter of his personality, but Akai doesn't exactly make a spectacle of things.

He knows when to push and when to let go in a manner that still gives him the answers he seeks. He easily manipulates Conan into giving himself away as Shinichi while still making sure to be the only one witnessing that moment.

And then he decides to be a bastard and give Conan a heart attack... for about a tenth of a second, since as he does that he also carefully words things in order to give the kid an easy out.

All Akai wanted was to figure out the mystery in front of him (he's by admission a curious guy. He likes solving puzzles): now that he has his answers, he's not really going to do anything with them because he has no reason to— Conan is already willing to cooperate with him and the FBI (and has already done so before), after all. They already share intel more or less freely. He's literally living in the kid's house. For free. Why would he jeopardize any of that by falling out of favor with him?

This, I think, is a pretty solid basis upon which I can build my beautiful sandcastle.

Of the couple times in which Akai respectively asks Conan about his identity outright and mildly teases him about his circumstances, the context always plays a huge role.

In the first scenario, the two are speaking in public, yes, but at the same time the conversation is:

Pretty much kept private

Initiated by Conan (he asked for information first!)

Framed as a proposal of a mutual exchange by Akai, who also backs off immediately as soon as Conan turns him down

Of course, Shinichi is already reasonably sure Akai has him figured out anyway, so the point is moot, but it's still nice to get plausible deniability and still be somewhat in control of when he's going to come clean to the guy of his own volition.

In the second scenario, the situation is even more "secure" so to speak, as:

They're sitting in Okiya Subaru's car

They're completely alone

They're in a hurry to do something else (God fucking dammit, Shuukichi)

In this case, Conan doesn't outright react to the jab. Maybe it's because he doesn't really know what to say, or maybe it's just that he doesn't have enough time to come up with a reply before Shuukichi picks up the call. Either way, he does perhaps look a little put on the spot, but there's no real panicked reaction, no telltale change in what Conan's pupils look like in true DetCo fashion, which I'd say confirms he doesn't feel threatened at the moment.

(If we really must give it a critical interpretation, maybe the bit feels a little like a joke falling flat because it was made during an otherwise tense moment and it has nothing to do with the bigger issue.)

It's also worth noting how Akai's dig directly ties into his own circumstances, which possibly helps with lowering the "offensive" charge of the words. It's not a direct accusation, but rather a mildly humorous, harmless observation about their shared status (presumed dead by the enemy).

The biggest thing about both scenes is still, however, the fact that Akai unfailingly frames the subject in a way that leaves the choice of whether to actually talk about it completely up to Conan. He definitely recognizes his position as privileged/advantaged, but actively chooses not to make use of that, and he hasn't treated Conan any differently ever since verifying his suspicions either.

(Sidenote: I do believe that keeping the kid's identity from his own colleagues is also a strategic choice. Like I mentioned before, outing Conan would mean outing Haibara, and I do believe Akai's promise to protect Shiho also includes keeping her far away from any government agency who may be interested in what she knows— and what she's done.)

In conclusion: I am extremely normal about random interactions between these two and also I think that Conan's unshakeable trust in Akai stems from how the guy has been treating him ever since they started collaborating— with genuine respect (and even admiration) and never actually making him feel cornered the way so many others do, whether intentionally or not. This results in occasional sillygoofy privileges because Akai can recognize the time and the place in which it's acceptable to tease the Cone.