#whatever they can kill each other and then give one another a kiss on the cheek because in my heart that’s what they’d do

[poltergeist-coffee]

sorry if anyone sees me rn i miss q!insaneduo

[lovegasmic]

𝗣𝗟𝗔𝗬▶ 𝗩𝗛𝗦

HOT DILF NEXT DOOR ⭑.ᐟ

‘ toji fushiguro, kento nanami, satoru gojo x fem!reader ’ ୨୧ taglist

⌞ PG-18 ⌝ reversed version of hot milf next door ◞ age gap, all consenting adults◞ creampie except for kento ◞ they are actual dilfs not just older men◞ you cheat on your bf with satoru but he deserves it, and reader is a brat◞

this is long and I've had this request for longer, so take this as an apology for not posting anything new lately ‹3

𝜗𝜚 TOJI

of course another screw had to come loose from the cheap cupboard doors barely hanging on for dear life. you curse under your breath, wiping a drop of sweat that makes it’s way down your forehead and onto the cupid bow, “fuck this shit place” finding a good place as a student was no good, and it was either surviving in a struggling apartment or sharing living space at the school dorms where the air reeked of multiple fluids and body odors was not really an option.

and now, rummaging through the multiple still closed boxes laying on your living room to find a screwdriver was neither an option, “just kill me already��� mustering up some courage, your feet drags you to the front door and towards the one next to it, hoping and praying that your neighbor is an actual nice person as your knuckles hit the wood, please, anything really, perhaps an older lady who can bake, or a lovely young student around your age who can—

oh.

that’s a freaking kid.

“hi, um..., are your parents home?” so freaking awkward, the kid looks at you unimpressed, barely blinking and dark hair sticking in all directions before he turns around.

okay, that was rude, but you’re about to speak again until he comes up, moving as if he owned the place, big muscles under a shirt a bit too tight, and that flat expression barely quirks up in what seems like a grin, “can I help you, doll?” and oh, again, that voice is enough to make your knees buck.

“h-hi, i moved next door, and uh—” shit, shit, “do you have a screwdriver I can borrow for a second?” did you even introduce yourself? that does not matter, and the man doesn’t seem to care, giving you an amused up and down look before nodding.

“got a problem with the cupboard already, huh? don’t worry I got a trick” isn’t this man such a gentleman? already gathering some tools and telling the kid, now called Megumi, to behave while he helped the cute girl.

he’s definitely flirting, yeah, it must be, those half grins, constant licks at the scar in the corner of his mouth and the way his eyes trail up and down your body when he thinks you’re not looking, that’s flirting, isn’t it?

just snap out of it, you’re not an eighteen year old anymore, you’re 20... not a big difference, but you should not be fantasizing about that man who is most likely married.

“... anything else?” his voice snaps you out of your stupor, now for good, but you know he’s aware, judging by the grin he offers.

“no, that’s all, thanks” you hope that will answer whatever he also asked, what you don’t expect is for his large body frame to walk up to you, a calloused thumb pressing on your jaw to tilt your head up.

he leans slightly, “no need to be shy, doll, neighbors are to help each other” and there is a trace of something else behind his words, something you can’t quite put into words.

a very slight gasp escapes your lips as his thumb runs down, gently caressing the column of your throat and collarbones, “you’re so pretty, a pretty girl like you must have a pretty name” and you utter it, rolling out your tongue for Toji to catch it with his own name in a shared breath.

Toji. Toji. Toji.

“Toji...! it’s nghhh... r-reaching oh, so deep!” who could have thought that ‘neighboors helping each other’ would have turned into ‘neighbors who rearrange your guts’.

it’s been a few days since the first time Toji helped you fix the furniture, which developed into some kisses, cock sucking and now almost a daily fuck, with quivering thighs with just how hard Toji’s cock rammed into your tiny hole, so fuckin’ wet and tight, struggling to accommodate the whole girth of the man’s huge cock sliding in and out deliciously deep.

there’s a whole package of condoms in your drawer, tucked under the remaining pair of panties Toji hasn’t ripped apart in attempts to reach your cunt faster.

“take it, fuckin’ take it” he huffs, cock twitching inside your velvety walls that cling to each vein and ridge around that fat and long dick, the couch drags across the floor with each one of the dark haired’s thrusts, having you bent, a tit out of the tank top, panties swinging around an ankle and toes curled in sheer bliss. that man knows how to fuck.

and his hand is everywhere, one is holding your shoulders to brutally pull you back so your pussy lips spread vulgarly on each side of his balls, while the other entrained itself by pinching a nipple, tugging your tits and groping the fat of your ass, a low whistle comes next at the sight of your tiny hole stuffed to the brim, “fuck, doll, this cute tight pussy is gripping so tight, shit..., like a fucking virgin...” and a thumb comes to rub your clitoris, a bit uncoordinated but still as good, making your head swim in pleasure, “i’m going to cum if you tighten so hard...”

“i-in— angh, inside, please!”

“of course i’m cumming in this pussy” Toji mocks with a laugh and you whimper, shaking your head, barely turning to look at the man from above your shoulder with pleading, cute eyes.

“take off the condom” and fuck, a fat drop of precum just oozed from the tip.

your hands reach back to press on Toji’s v line, fingertips grazing the slick coated base, “the princess wants a creampie in her tiny cunt?”

fucking hell, that cocky smirk and the way his cock, disgustingly hard, slaps against his abdomen when pulling out makes your tummy do a flip, eagerly reaching to tug on the latex tip and tossing the condom away as if it was offensive.

“a-ah yes!” you can’t avoid the relief moan that gets pulled out of your lips at the sensation, alongside Toji’s pleasure groan that rumbles deep and darkly, with thumbs hooking on each side of your pussy to keep you spread and ready to take those perfectly aligned thrusts, smashing your g spot and having you cumming within seconds, “g-uh, so good... I need...”

“i know, baby, I know, i’m... fuck... cumming deep in this fertile young pussy”

𝜗𝜚 KENTO

the last box is loaded in the truck and your parents bid you farewell. sigh, time to get to work, “do you need any more help?” Kento asks, your sweet and kind neighbor who you’ve known for years, who used to brush your knees when you fell on the grass while playing with Yuuji, who baked delicious loafs of bread you cheerfully ate sitting at the edge of his kitchen counter with your feet swinging.

“i will be okay” you say, flashing a side grin towards the older man, his face as warm as ever, but currently sporting several age lines that just make him look hotter.

yes, you grew and so did he, but your first, and initial admiration towards the man, soon became more loving and even lustful when you turned 19, and now with your parents moving abroad, leaving the cozy, childhood home you grew up in to your care, being into Kento’s ‘care’ —which you did not even needed in the first place, god, you’re a grown adult!— perhaps you were going to use this chance to get closer to the man.

“then I will get going so you get used to your new independence” he jokes a little, turning to return to his empty home due to Yuuji’s just recent departure to college.

“wait!” you stop him, “i was thinking... you know that yummy bread you used to bake? do you mind teaching me how to do it myself?” that will definitely do, getting into Kento’s good side, and house, was as easy as you remember.

and of course he agreed, offering a nod and gentle smile that just made your belly do a flip, what a damn pervert you were, lusting over your neighbour who probably just saw you as a charity work.

but then again, Kento needed it, the poor man was so lonely, with Yuuji gone, his wife leaving him years ago due to his ‘workaholic’ behaviour, a woman’s touch was so needed in his life, and you were going to help.

the baking class is so domestic you kinda feel bad for trying to get into the blonde’s pants, really, his always present and fond smile while you accidentally made a mess of floor all over the kitchen counter was not good for your heart, nor the way he chuckled in that deep and low voice tone of his, hoping he did not notice the way your knees bucked.

a hand comes to hold your wrist, so gentle, “knead like this” and his voice is right against your ear, warm breath sending shivers down your spine and heat pooling in your lower abdomen as he guides the motions, yet your eyes are glued to the way his hand veins pop with each squeeze, would he knead your ass the same way? and also... is his cock that veiny too?

with that thought in mind, you barely buck your hips back, pretending to change the weight from one foot to another when, in reality, you purposely brushed your butt with his crotch.

and Kento notices, his hands stopping for a brief second before resuming, and you move again, almost like a dance to see who would snap first, although each buck and brush is more bold than the previous, that until a large and veiny hand squeezes your hip, there it is.

“stay still” his voice is low and almost a rumble, feeling the warmth of his chest near your back through the thin layers of clothes.

that should not turn you on as much as it did, feeling slightly embarrassed from being caught and stopped that you unconsciously squirm again, and of course, your butt now lands right against Kento’s tenting crotch, feeling the tip poking on a cheek, “shit...” your moan is weak, unable to stop from full on grinding against his cock, to which his hands grip you tighter, the dough long forgotten.

“don’t... do that...” Kento’s words are strained, barely holding on from the urge to just bend you over and fuck you senseless, truth is he saw you grow up, but he also witnessed how you became the nature and sexy girl you are now, “this is wrong”

but his name sounds so cutely from you, that soft, mewled, and needy “Kento...” is just enough to break him.

the sticky mess of flour and water remaining on the kitchen counter sticks to the back of your shirt, it will be a pain to wash it, but meh, that should be another day’s worry, currently, your only focus is the man between your legs, keeping you as spread as ever, with your feet propped up the counter, leggings pulled down and that condom clad cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy, and yes, it’s very fucking veiny.

“this is what you wanted, didn’t you?” his words are huffed from the effort of thrusting mercilessly inside your hole, with a hand on the apex of your thigh to keep your lips open, and the other laying on a jiggling tit, “to get fucked by an older man, I saw the way you look at me, sweetheart, you’re not subtle”

that just makes you clench and mewl, getting caught drooling over the man was utterly hot and even excited he knew just how much you wanted him in your guts like now, “c-can’t help it, you’re— ngh, t-tooo hot!” it’s like you’re losing consciousness with each drag of those throbbing veins against your walls, the friction so fucking delicious and deep, oh so deep, curving just perfectly to drive you insane.

“you’re so hot too” he praises, the words so unfamiliar coming from those lips, adding to the lust filled expression of an almost pussy drunk man, “you’ve grown beautifully” and his words are like his hands, caressing your body with heat leaving on its wake until it lays on your fluttering abdomen, “so sexy, so tight and wet”

“just for you” you moan around your own fingers, sucking the digits to leave them soaked and rub tight circles on your swollen clit, it’s a vision that makes Kento’s cock twitch and splurt another drop of pre inside the condom.

Kento, the always impecable and polite man that fucks so nasty and kisses as equally lewd, gripping your jaw with a hand and a tongue comes to rub all across your sweet mouth, swallowing the desperate pleas and “i’m cumming” mumbles before you’re a sobbing mess and Kento is stuffing the condom full of creamy semen that, hopefully, will stuff your pussy bare someday.

𝜗𝜚 SATORU

“is it really necessary?” you complain for what feels like the fourth time that exact same day, your parents don’t get it, of course they don’t, you were doing just fine with your classes, and if the grades were barely above the requirement to pass, so what? at least you were not struggling in college.

“is that boy’s fault,” your mom says from the back, arms crossed and a scowl on her face, “i told you he is a bad influence and still you did not listen! now your grades are a mess, it’s like our money for your tuition is going to waste” ah yes, your filthy rich parents money, that money was almost spare cash for them.

“don’t bring my boyfriend in this, it’s not his fault” you attempt to defend the little honor your lover had, which, honestly, he did not deserve, he was the worst kind of man you couldn’t have ever fallen for, uninterested, having you crawl behind him, but he had a big dick and a bike, sigh.

“i don’t care, you’re going to have Mr. Gojo tutor you, you like it or not”

Satoru Gojo or Mr. Gojo, your also filthy rich neighbor who just traveled around the world with god knows what money, what would he even know?

the sound of your foot tapping on the floor could tick anyone, but your stupid boyfriend hasn’t responded to any text since yesterday, and you’re two minutes away from making the long and boring walk to your next door’s neighbor house, so long and boring.

you curse and grab your bag way too hastily, you’re sick of this, utterly pissed off, and sadly Mr. Gojo will have to turn into your punching bag.

one or twice is the times you’ve seen the man, he was barely at home or your schedules never met, but damn, he was hot.

tall, broad, with soft white hair that fell on his eyes and made him look younger than he was, bright blue eyes to contrast and ridiculously long legs and hands. somehow you’re a bit speechless as he asks you to come in, taking the surroundings of his home and the family picture frames hanging off the walls, not a woman in sight, strange.

“where is your wife?” mouth works faster than the brain, but Satoru does not mind, giving you a smirk from over his shoulder.

“i don’t have a wife, my kids were adopted” damn, that makes it harder for you to hate on this man.

deciding not to pry even more into the topic you just follow him to the living room, a bunch of history books are splayed in the coffee table so you sit next to the man in one of the large, leather couches.

“your parents say you’re struggling with Japanese periods, yes? Meiji, Heian...”

this was going to be long, “yeah, whatever, why do I even have to learn about all that? it’s in the past, who cares” your attention was drifting again, pulling out your phone and tapping harshly on the screen, no messages, “fuck”

“hey, focus here, princess, leave your phone aside” the sudden shiver that runs down your spine at the nickname is somehow drowned down by a rush of annoyance, you were already in a bad mood and now this man was telling you what to do? fuck this.

“don’t tell me what to do! it’s not as if i wanted to come here in the first place” with a leg crossed over the other your head turns, puffing your cheeks like a spoiled brat.

and again, your eyes drop to your phone.

“hm, I see how it is” yet he’s not mad, more like... amused, and before you realize it he’s snatching your phone that happened to be unlocked, “who’s sukuna?”

“give me that!” you squeak, trying to grab your phone back but Satoru is already scrolling through endless embarrassing texts and multiple nudes you’ve sent.

he clicks his tongue in return, “oh, babygirl, you don’t know how to pick a man, do you?” he coos, almost as if he’s mocking you, and before you realize it, you’re being dragged to his lap, a hand on the small of your back and the other on a bare knee, “tsk, tsk, a sweet thing like you deserve much better, a real man who can please you” his smirk almost makes you moan, adding to the way his long and slender fingers trailed up your thigh to brush the edge of the panties you wore, which were almost ruined at this point.

“boys your age don’t know how to satisfy a girl like you”

the previous heated exchange is not turned into moans echoing in the room, Satoru is so fuckin’ big and long, making your eyes cross and tongue loll out with each drag of his cock inside your walls, he has you spread, with your thighs swinging over his forearms, chest on your back and his lips on your neck, giving you the fuck of your life while at the same time being treated like a fleshlight.

the man is big, big muscles and a big cock that struggles to push past the resistance inside your cunt, but it’s so worthy once it’s in, successfully finding your g spot within seconds of pounding.

“that’s a good girl, yeah, keep moaning, babygirl, your cunt is perfect around my cock” how could this man speak so lewd and freely while rearranging your guts, voice unaffected but the throb and twitch of his cock proved otherwise, “i haven’t fucked a pussy this damn tight, you’re sucking me in, ah fuck— greedy young cunt”

“nghh! haagh f-uck Sa-ah toru!” what a mess, mess of babbling nonsense and a mess of slick and precum dripping down to pool between your legs and onto the couch, the creamy sound of your pussy dragging you and down is just growing with how wetter you get, creating a ring of pearly cum around the base of Satoru’s fat cock filling your insides.

your phone rings, but who fuckin’ cares? your boyfriend is in the past, and now having a tutor is not that entirely bad.

[shroomyv]

ᢉ𐭩-FERAL + DESPERATE MARK

Pairing: mark Grayson X f!reader

W.c: 1.8k (whoopsie)

Synopsis: mark gets back from a mission bruised and beaten. He couldn’t care about that one little bit. However he does care about you a bit more than usual today.

Warnings: dry humping, clothe ripping, mentions of bruises, cream pies (author got a lil to crazy/lost in their own mind)

A/n: ok so this is my second fanfic here. I’m gonna be real…I got VERY lost in my own mind while writing this one 😭 it may be a little bad so I’m honestly so fucking sorry if it is and it’s ok if you don’t even wanna read it. I’m also gonna start taking request so I can start writing more and getting better at writing so just request smtn if ya want. Anyway I’m done yapping. Hope you enjoy this shitty fic.

It was late afternoon—soon getting ready to become evening and Mark still wasn’t back yet from another mission. Today was your day off, it was supposed to be his too but Cecil called him in once again. You honestly wished Cecil would justcall you in instead. As you reach for your phone to call Mark you hear a knock on the window—knowing it's Mark, you dash to open it as he rolls into the house. He just face plants into the living room floor laying there as he looks beaten and bruised, the entire upper half of his suit isn’t even there and the lower half was ripped and hanging on by threads. You kneel down to the floor to try and see his face but he’s just curled into himself. 

“Mark…you ok baby?” You ask softly waiting for a response but he just stays there. You sigh knowing it would be a long night of patching him up so you go to grab the first aid kit. He never tended to himself, you knew you had to take care of him or he’d never heal. Eventually, you make your way back into the living room and Mark isn’t there. “Mark?” You called out just a bit worried now since he usually was never like this. Next thing you know his body was looming behind you, his head curled in-between your neck and arms wrapped around you like he was going to pop you. “Oh god…I missed you…so much..” Mark said in a famished tone as he began huffing the perfume on your neck like he needed it to breathe. You couldn’t figure out what was going on with him but whatever it was you liked it. “Mark, are you gonna let me patch you up? I don’t want you bruised up forever.” 

His hands moved all around you and your torso till he found your waist again wrapping his arms around it to hold you. He spoke muffled—keeping his face in your neck as if stopping would kill both of you. “Mmsure..”

Mark was latched onto you like Velcro and eventually let go. Sitting on the floor across from each other as you softly touched his chest pressing and applying bandages on each different bruise. Mark couldn’t stop leaning into the touch. The more you pressed the more he grunted and groaned. It was honestly starting to get to you, you’d never seen him like this but you liked it. You scoot closer in front of him holding up his chin while placing more bandages on his chest. This time…he whimpers.

“Oh fuck…” he whimpered out leaning into your hand more. His body was hot and warm as if he had a fever. Whatever happened on that mission changed his behavior and you didn’t mind it one bit. “Almost done Mark, don’t worry.” You said trying to keep your composure as you were honestly ready to fold for him. He was like a puppy and you were intrigued. You scooted closer to him—sitting on his lap as you placed the last bandage on his face. He was losing his mind, you were in just a tank top and panties—reeking of his favorite perfume. He was fighting for his life trying to hold back fucking the life out of you. Eventually, he just had to have you, grabbing your back to pull you as close as he could before he started sloppy kissing you. 

It felt amazing. Eventually, he let go—he needed you off his lap giving you a small push. You held yourself up on the floor with your elbows as you were laid out on your back. You just looked down and saw him latched onto your leg. He was absolutely feral, slobbing on your thigh as if he had been famished. You felt friction on your leg, moving back and forth up and down. “God, baby please, don’t move.” Mark cooed out as he began dry humping your leg and sucking on your stomach. You felt like your mind was twisting and turning, seeing him like this was an absolute turn-on. He was so desperate for you it was perfect. “Fu- mgnh..fuck baby.” He whimpered out struggling as he just kept crazy on your leg. It was like he couldn’t stop. He just kept going and going as you stared in complete fucking awe

feeling yourself grow wet because of his behavior. 

You reached your hand to his head rubbing his hair softly as this just made him go faster and faster. He was doing all of this whilst he was still in a ruined suit. You didn’t want to have him ruin the suit worse but you also didn’t want to stop him. “Mark…your suit is still-“ you were cut off quickly as Mark reached one of his arms down ripping off his suit and boxers along with it. So much for fixing the suit. 

He just kept going now, there was no fabric stopping him now. “Oh shit…I’m..ngh…mngonna…” he was struggling to even speak between moans as he softly bit into your stomach before cumming over your leg. Your eyes shot open as you were astonished at what just happened. Before you could even process he pulled you closer as he had both of you mashed together. 

Mark spoke in a breathy tone, “I need you to…take off..” 

“Take off what?” You were trying to figure out what he needed, it was honestly a struggle since he was barely speaking in complete sentences and you were trying to deal with not only his arousal but now yours as well. Before you could figure out what he needed, his hands grabbed at your panties ripping them off of you with ease. You felt like you were going tomelt into the floor before he eventually picked you up with ease throwing you over his shoulder. He practically flew into the bedroom putting you on the bed before getting on top of you. He began kissing you sloppily once more as if he was starved for your lips.

“Ngh..m..” you both moaned into each other's mouth muffled only letting go of each other's lips when you felt like you were gonna suffocate and needed air. “I need…more of you” Mark huffed out sucking on your neck now as you were absolutely turned on now.

He didn’t waste another second, tossing your legs over his shoulders as he leaned down closer. You know exactly what was coming next. He had dived his head down between your legs licking at your pussy like it was a 5-star meal. Your legs shot up before rising right back down as he kept going. He switched between plunging his tongue in your hole and sucking on your clit. You were melting in his mouth and that didn’t stop him at all. He moved his hand towards your entrance moving two fingers inside as he kept sucking at your clit. 

“MARK!” You shouted out in pure ecstasy as your hands leaped to his head grabbing onto his hair for dear life. He didn’tmind it one bit honestly—it showed him he was doing good. “I ngcan..eep…it up” he spoke with a mouthful of your pussy as he started sucking harder and going faster with his finger. You felt like you were about to pop just from this as your toes curled and legs shot up once again. You finally came feeling greedy for more. You hadn’t even realized you had his face pressed down in your cunt until you eventually let go of his hair watching his head rise. His face was covered in your cum before he licked it off as best as he could.

He didn’t waste a single drop.

“M…mark..” you said in an exasperated tone trying to get your breath back from what he just did. Before you could get a chance he pulled you up into his lap as he just began smashing his lips into yours again. You felt like your head was spinning, it didn’t even feel real for a second. 

“Baby…I need you to get on my cock.” Mark said tapping your ass softly to have you lift up. He just needed you to get on it and he’d do the rest. “Can’t you just do it for me?” You said in a sly tone trying to see how far he’d go for you in his moments of desperation. He didn’t waste a second grabbing you up and having you face him. He lifted you up as quickly as he could before having you slide down on his cock as slow as he could make it happen. You could feel him already twitching inside of you as your arms wrapped around his shoulder for support. He went from sitting up with you on top of him—to laying down with him over you in a meer seconds. He began ramming himself into you relentlessly.

He couldn’t hold back. He needed you so badly. He wanted to fill you up until you popped. You were starting to zone out already. The only thing you could pay attention to was his face—he still looked so fucking perfect to you even though he was fucking your brains out. “Oh mark…oh fuck..” you cooed out as he was balls deep in you now. Your legs wrapped around his back holding on for dear life as you felt your walls clench around him before you finally came. He eventually followed suit, cumming right after you but he just took a few seconds to breathe before he kept going. “Last one baby…last one.” He said in a pleased tone as he kept pumping into you. You felt like you had fireworks in your gut as you began to groan.

“Mark…I can’t….cum anymore. I can’t ngh-“

“Can’t do it” you whimper out as he kept going. 

“Aww don’t say that…I know you can…I’ve seen you do it before. Cmon baby…Ngh…last one…”

You couldn’t deny him the pleasure and it felt even better than the first round. In and out, in and out, over and over as he made sure he hit all the right spots. Your nails began digging into his upper back as he knew he was doing something right. He kept pumping into you faster and faster and your legs just grew tighter around him. 

“Fngh…fuck! Baby…almost..” Mark was struggling to hold on and eventually he popped. He came inside of you once again and you followed right after. He kept his cock in for a few seconds giving you a cream pie, he let his cock do one more twitch before pulling himself out of you. You were absolutely exhausted—watching as the cum leaked out of your pussy as if you were a faucet. Mark just smiled at you as if he didn’t just break a sweat.  

“M…mark.” You called out his name gently struggling to keep your eyes open as he had practically fucked you to sleep. He scooted closer to you holding you in his arms before speaking to you softly. “Relax, just sleep I’m here. Besides, I’ll be here tomorrow—it’s my turn to take care of you.”

You liked the sound of that.

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Till The Water Boils Over Or The Frog Drowns.

Pairing: Yan!Gojo x Reader x Yan!Geto (JJK).

Word Count: 5.8k.

TW: No Curses AU, Dub/Con -> Non/Con (Revoked Consent), Fem!Reader, Oral Sex, Unprotected Sex, Kidnapping, Financial Abuse, Psychological Abuse, Infantilization, Spanking, Unbalanced Power Dynamics, and Forced Codependency. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

[Part Two]

It started the day Satoru first introduced the concept of ‘time out’ to your relationship.

He was immature and you were stubborn. You loved him, but without Suguru’s even temper and calming presence, sparks tended to fly in a way that left you at each other’s throats. With your arms crossed over your chest and your eyes narrowed, you’d watched him sigh, roll his eyes, and storm out of your shared bedroom, slamming the door behind him. You gave yourself a second, then another – sucking in a shallow breath and shutting your eyes, talking yourself through all your usual cool-down methods. You were supposed to go out, tonight, to a restaurant you and Satoru had both been talking about for weeks. You still had about an hour before Suguru was supposed to get home, before you were all supposed to leave together. It wasn’t a good day to fight, even if you knew Suguru would smooth everything over as soon as he got home.

When you were done, you moved to the bedroom door. One hour was plenty of time to talk things out. One hour was plenty of time to kiss and make up, even if you would hold a grudge for a—

You pushed gently on the door. It didn’t budge.

You tried the knob. It turned, but the door still didn’t open.

You pressed your shoulder into the wood, shoving with more force than you ever should’ve had to use. Something shifted – a chair slotted underneath the handle, Satoru’s back leaning against the other side of the thin wood – but didn’t give.

The frustration you’d only just managed to suppress resurfaced immediately. Still pressed against your side of the door, you called out, attempting to keep your tone soft, light. “Satoru? Baby?”

 The sweetness in his voice was equally artificial. “I’m right here, angel.”

“I—I think the door might be jammed.” You tried the knob again, rattling the metal for emphasis. Satoru only hummed in response, and you grimaced. “Are you gonna let me out, ‘toru? I really don’t have time to be—”

“Ninety minutes.”

“…ninety minutes?”

“Ninety minutes,” he repeated. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice. “After that, we can check and see if you’re still feelin’ so bratty.”

You were almost thankful there was a door between you. If it hadn’t been there, you might not have been able to stop yourself from throttling him. “Satoru, I really don’t have time to—”

There was an obnoxiously loud hum, the sound of footsteps moving down the hall. You groaned, resting your forehead against the cool wood. Whatever. He was being petty, again. You could do ninety minutes. And, even if you couldn’t, he’d probably be back in ten, tail between his legs and pouting for your attention.

You quickly resigned yourself to passing the time as quickly as possible. You laid face-down on your bed, bemoaning your taste in men and picturing all the ways you could break up with Satoru, once he let you out. You scrolled through your phone, spamming Suguru with half-coherent messages and memes from the very depths of your camera roll. You re-organized your closet, sorting your clothes by color and alphabetizing your shoes. You managed to read a full page of one of the bulky historical fiction novels Suguru kept on the bedside table before deciding you’d be better off breaking up with both your current boyfriends.

You checked the time when you were done, and discovered that you’d managed to kill a whopping fifteen minutes.

God, you were so fucked.

Only half-consciously, you gravitated back to the door, slumping against it. You opened your mouth, ready to call out to Satoru and say whatever you had to say to get out, but another voice cut in before you got the chance. “Baby?”

Suguru. He must’ve gotten back early. You let out a shallow sigh, letting your head fall forward in relief. “Right here,” you said, making no effort to hide your exasperation. “Can you open the door? I think ‘toru blocked me in.”

His deep chuckle was muffled, but still clearly audible. “I’m afraid I can’t. He’s still pretty mad, couldn’t stop talking about how you copped an attitude with him.” There was a pause, a shoulder being rested against the other side of the door. “I think he mentioned something about a dress?”

You were glad he couldn’t see you – he would’ve hated the way you grimaced at the reminder. “It’s a nice restaurant. I wanted to dress up a little, but he’s just so immature, and when he saw the dress I wanted to wear—”

Suguru cut in. “The red one, right?”

“Yeah, with the window on the chest.” You sighed. “Please, Suguru? I really don’t want to spend the next hour of my life locked in my own bedroom.”

Another laugh, this one more stifled than the first. “He just knows how pretty you’d look, babe. Probably doesn’t want anyone else to find out how beautiful our partner is.” When you didn’t respond, he added, “Didn’t he just buy you somethin’ brand new? He can’t complain if he’s the one who picked it out, right?”

You pursed your lips. He had – a pure ivory dress, a little shorter than mid-thigh and sleeveless, not exactly conservative, but not meant to show as much skin as you usually preferred to. It’d come with matching gold jewelry, and you’d politely accepted the gift, kissed him on the cheek, and stashed it under your bed to rot. It wasn’t ugly, nothing so expensive could be, but it suited Satoru’s tastes, not yours.

“I don’t know,” you muttered, trying to soften the harsher edges of your distaste. “You know how Satoru is. Everything he picks out is just so—so him.”

“I’m starting to think you both might be causing problems.” You kicked the base of the door, but Suguru didn’t indulge your outburst with acknowledgement. “Just try it on, alright? If it’s that bad, we can always go without him.”

It took another minute or so of condoling, but soon enough, you were slipping into Satoru’s gifted dress, cursing as you struggled with the tiny, finicky zipper and smoothed wrinkles out of abused silk. You pulled your fingers through your hair once before returning to the bedroom door and knocking defeatedly. As if to add insult to injury, the door swung open in an instant, a smiling Suguru waiting on the threshold.

“See? Absolutely gorgeous, as always.” He leaned forward, cupping your cheek. You let his lips brush over your forehead before pulling away. Thankfully, he wasn’t cruel enough to draw it out any longer – his hand falling to yours and taking it up, tugging you gently towards the living room. “Satoru’s going to forget he was ever mad at all as soon as he sees you.”

You didn’t bother responding, only slumping against his side and letting him guide you forward. Distantly, you heard Suguru calling out to Satoru, but you were already busy – too occupied promising yourself that this would never, ever happen again to care what either of them was saying.

You would, of course, be wrong.

~

Barricaded doors quickly became a weekly inconvenience. You and Satoru fought often (never intensely and never for very long, but often), and he owned the apartment – meaning, despite all your whining, you couldn’t exactly tell him that his doors couldn’t all lock from the outside. Your ‘cool-down sessions’ (Suguru’s words, not yours) lasted anywhere from twenty minutes to a couple of hours, and Suguru was always the one to let you out. When you couldn’t be locked up and left to stew, Satoru would take it upon himself to leave the apartment – if only for as long as he thought it would take for you to forget you’d argued at all. You got used to it quickly. It wasn’t fair, you didn’t enjoy it, but you got used to it. You’d always had more patience than you really should’ve, when it came to Satoru’s antics.

And then, Suguru started showering with you.

Finding time to spend together was an ever-present obstacle in your relationship. Satoru alternated sporadically between planning lectures and grading papers late into the night to rolling his eyes at the concept of due dates and dulling out extra credit on a whim, and trying to guess if Suguru would be free was a pursuit in futility – his sermons were scheduled, but he was almost always being called out on some mysterious errand on behalf of one of his countless, faceless apostles. You didn’t work at all, but you went to school, and you kept yourself busy. You’d never be as busy as Satoru and Suguru, but you did your best to keep up with them.

Currently, you were basking in the afterglow with Suguru, your head resting on his chest and his arms wrapped loosely around his waist. Satoru was already gone, rushed off to some early-morning lecture, but Suguru didn’t have anything to do, and you—well, you could miss a lecture or two if it meant spending time with him. And, even if you couldn’t, it was hard to imagine tearing yourself away from the feeling of his calloused fingers tracing aimless patterns into the small of your back, of his lips pushing warm, open-mouthed kisses into your shoulders, your collarbone, your throat. His hands drifted to your hips, grip tightening ever-so-slightly, and you felt a raspy groan reverberate against the side of your neck, Suguru pulling you close as he—

“Save it,” you said, drawing back. He pouted and you grinned, pecking the corner of his jaw and sitting up, letting his sheets pool around your waist. “Just for a few minutes – I feel gross.” A full groan, this time. You laughed, combing his disheveled hair back and pressing another kiss into his forehead, this one lingering just a beat longer than the first. “You’ll survive a shower, Suguru.”

You felt him shift underneath you. Before you had a chance to pull away, he was sitting up, his arms still around your waist – keeping you messily laid across his lap. “I’ll come with you.”

“You’ll wait your turn.” And then, when he only hummed in response, “I’m being serious. Somebody in this relationship has to wash their hair every now and then.”

His face was already buried in the crook of your neck, and he was moving toward the edge of the mattress with your body still tucked against his chest. He was planning on carrying you, presumably. Sometimes, it felt like if it were up to Suguru, you’d never walk anywhere on your own again. “I know.” His voice was still raspy with sleep, his usual articulation weighed down by the fatigue that came with a morning spent in bed. “I’ll help.”

“That’s really sweet, but—” You strung your arms around his neck as he stood up, taking you with him. “—I think I’ll be alright on my own, Suguru.”

For the first time all morning, his eyes flickered open, wandering idly in your direction. He held your gaze for a beat, then another.

Finally, the edge of his lips quirked upward – the sly, knowing grin you’d fallen in love with soon painted across his lips. When he spoke, it was in a tone to match, all confidence and cloying, calculated sweetness. “No.”

You faltered, at that. “…no?”

“Don’t wanna be away from you for that long,” he mumbled, by way of explanation. “Whatever you need to do, I’ll take care of. Don’t want you to have to worry your pretty little head over anything.”

You tried your best to laugh, but it was a weak effort, better left unacknowledged. “I don’t know how I feel about my boyfriend offering to, I don’t know, shave my legs or something.”

He only soldiered on, as if you hadn’t said anything at all.

~

You felt Satoru’s hands on your waist first, then his chest against your back. His mouth found the curve of your throat as if by instinct, teeth grazing against a bruise Suguru had left in the same spot the day before. You felt him lean against you and dropped the knife you were holding onto a nearby cutting board, bracing yourself on the edge of the counter to compensate.

You glanced over your shoulder as his head bowed, face soon buried in the dip of your shoulder. He must’ve just gotten home – he was still wearing his sunglasses, only the first three buttons on his shirt undone. You grinned, twisting around just far enough to kiss the top of his head before turning back to your ingredients. “Rough lecture?”

“Grad students,” he muttered, the dread in his voice plainly audible. “One more fucking extension request, and I swear, I’ll fail the entire class.”

You hummed, letting him sink further into you. You might’ve let him stay there, too, if one of his hands hadn’t fallen to your ass while the other slipped underneath your loose shirt. Before he could creep upward, you jabbed an elbow into his chest. “Keep it in your pants. You still smell like a college campus.”

Of course, he didn’t budge. “But I missed you,” he whined, as shameless as he was clingy. “I had to leave so early, and I was stuck in my office for so long, and I’m gonna die if I have to wait any longer. Is that what you want? For me to die?”

“You could always go to Suguru, if you’re that insatiable.”

“But I want you.” You felt a thumb slip below the waistband of your sweatpants (or, Suguru’s sweatpants, technically – he’d been unbearable unless you were wearing his clothes, recently) and batted his hand away. Your efforts were, predictably, unsuccessful. “Please, baby?” And then, after a beat. “You don’t care about dinner more than you care about me, do you?”

You felt something delicate inside of you falter, crack, then fall apart entirely. It was strange – how long you could nurse a wound without acknowledging it existed at all. “It’s not that, I just—” You stuttered, then stopped entirely. You deflated underneath Satoru’s weight, and as if in response, he held you that much tighter, keeping you as close as you could be, lest he carve open his chest and force you into the open cavity. “I… I guess I feel like I haven’t really been doing a lot for you two, lately. You pay all the bills, and Suguru goes out of his way to take care of me, and there just… It makes me feel kind of useless.” You tried to punctuate the confession with a smile, a laugh, but both were hollow beyond the point of recognizability. It would’ve been better if you hadn’t tried at all. “You get it, right? I just—I don’t want to be the only one not doing anything.”

There was a beat of silence. You felt Satoru settle against you, his chest pressing into your back before he pulled away, detaching from you entirely. You sighed, letting yourself relax.

And then, just as suddenly, you were off of your feet and in Satoru’s arm, one tucked under the bend of your knees while the other supported your back. You managed a stammered, half-coherent protest, but if Satoru was listening, he wasn’t bothered.

He carried you out of the kitchen and into the living room, your half-finished recipe forgotten in favor of dropping you onto the nearest couch and kneeling over you, already pulling on the collar of his shirt. “Sounds like our baby’s been thinkin’ too much.” He was grinning, his glasses sitting low on the bridge of his nose. “Let me put a stop to that.”

You opened your mouth, but you didn’t have time to respond. His mouth was already crashing into yours; swallowing down anything you might’ve said and replacing it with a breathy moan, a haze over your conscious thoughts.

You didn’t bother trying to talk your way out from underneath Satoru, again.

~

You couldn’t breathe.

It took you a moment to realize what was wrong, another to put together why. You felt the blunt tip of Suguru’s cock hit the back of your throat as Satoru’s chest pressed into yours, the latter pressing the air out of your lungs while the former forced you to choke what little was left up. Satoru had set a relentless pace; his thrusts brutal, his tempo erratic, his hips crashing into yours with enough force to bruise. Two of Suguru’s thick, calloused fingers were lodged between your body and Satoru’s drawing quick, precise patterns into your clit, while both of Satoru’s hands were wrapped around the underside of your thighs, keeping your knees pinned to your chest, your body folded in half and pressed into the mattress. They’d always been taller than you, with Suguru kneeling by your head and Satoru looming over you, they both seemed so much bigger. They both seemed so, so much stronger than they ever had before.

You couldn’t breathe. The lack of oxygen was already rushing to your head, already replacing your sense of logic with a shrill, panicked buzz. Your body hurt everywhere they touched it, the warmth pooling in your core and arousal left behind by previous climaxes not enough to dull the sharp sting of Satoru’s nails against your skin, not enough to soften the harsh edge of the grin you could only barely see spread across Suguru’s lips out of the corner of your eye. It was a struggle just to move your jaw, and even then, any sounds you were able to make were borderline incoherent – your little chants of ‘red, red, red’ so stifled and so garbled by Suguru’s cock that you couldn’t have blamed him for not hearing you at all. It was only when you tried to pull your head back that his eyes fell away from where Satoru’s cock was fucking into your dripping cunt and to your face, tears of distress already beginning to prick at the corners of your eyes. You let out one more panicked cry, hoping beyond hope that he’d be able to see the fear in your expression and know something was wrong, but that grin you had loved so much only widened, sharpened. “Like that, princess?” You felt his free hand on the top of your head, fingers carding through your hair while the patterns being pushed into your sensitive clit sped up, intensified. “Faster,” he cooed to Satoru, his voice laced with something vicious and mocking. “If she can still cry, she can still fuck.”

He didn’t mean it. He couldn’t mean it. Suguru just liked to be mean in bed, and Satoru liked to indulge him. That was the only reason they were doing this to you, that was the only reason Satoru listened; leaning that much more of his weight onto as his cock beat against the walls of your cunt. “Fuck,” Satoru muttered, as Suguru’s cock twitched against the roof of your mouth. “Got tighter when you said that. Is that what you want? For me and him to fuck you unconscious?”

This time, you didn’t try to pull back, you jerked – lurching out of Suguru’s hold, drawing back until you could gasp and pant and fill your aching lungs. “Red,” you half-choked, half-cried. “Red, red, stop, too much, I can’t—”

Satoru cut you off with a throat groan. You felt his form tense against yours, heard a shameless moan spill past his lips, and suddenly, it was like you’d forgotten how to breathe entirely. “Too close for that,” he muttered, his lips close enough to ghost over the shell of your ear. “You can take it for me, angel.”

You couldn’t, but you didn’t have time to tell him that. You opened your mouth, but all you could seem to spit out was a keening, pitiful whine as you felt something deep in your core pull taut and snap, as your cunt clenched around him and you came undone on Satoru’s cock for the nth time. At the same time, he went stiffed above you, forcing his hips flush with yours and filling your abused pussy with something thick and searing. The feeling was alien, strange. You could’ve sworn he said he would wear a condom, tonight.

It felt like you laid there for a small eternity – trapped under Satoru’s limp body, Suguru still petting idly through your hair. You stared unblinkingly at the ceiling until, days later, Satoru pulled himself upright with a raspy grunt, turning to Suguru. You were vaguely aware of his head being lowered into Suguru’s lap, moving to finish the job you hadn’t wanted to, but that seemed distant, unimportant. The room was too small, too closed-off. You weren’t getting enough air. You were too warm. You were too small. You—

You needed to leave.

Your body was on the edge of the mattress before your mind could make the conscious decision to move. You were shaking, despite the damp humidity clinging to your skin, but you tried to ignore that and focus on getting your feet underneath you, on fishing Satoru’s shirt off the floor and pulling it over your head. You’d need pants, too, and your wallet – maybe you’d still have a little cash stowed away, something from before Satoru insisted you start carrying one of his platinum cards. You’d spend the night in a hotel, or better yet, rent a car – get out of Tokyo altogether. You had a friend who lived outside of the city – or, you used to, at least. You couldn’t remember the last time you talked to someone other than Satoru and Suguru.

You made it to the doorway before Suguru called out. “Going somewhere, princess?”

You froze, but didn’t look over your shoulder. You could barely stand. You needed to go. “I just—I think I need a little air.”

“Give us a minute. Me or ‘toru should go with you.” There was a lull to his voice, an airiness just barely audible over the slick, sloppy sound of Satoru’s mouth moving over his shaft. You could remember admiring that about him, once, constantly thinking about how lucky you were to have such a cool, confident boyfriend. Right now, though, it was hard to think of his unfaltering composure as anything but inhuman. “It just wouldn’t be safe to let you—”

“I need air,” you repeated, because it was true, because you did. Little, black spots were already starting to dot your vision, and it felt like someone was trying to wrap their hands around your throat and squeeze. “I… I think I might be gone for a while, too.”

For all his tenderness, Suguru didn’t sound very concerned. “How long?”

“A couple hours,” you tried, and then, much more quietly, when he let out a disbelieving hum. “…a few days?”

This time, Suguru didn’t have to say anything at all. Leaning against the doorway, Satoru’s cum still dripping down the inside of your thigh, it took less than a minute for you to crack on your own. “I think we… I think I might need a little space.”

There was another beat of silence, occupied only by a soft groan from Suguru, the sound of noisy swallowing from Satoru. Finally, he sighed. You didn’t dare to look, but you could picture him shaking his head, smiling as he rolled his eyes. Acting as if you’d just said the stupidest thing in the world. “What do you think, Satoru? Have we waited long enough.”

“—too long.” Satoru’s voice was hoarse, breathy. In your peripheral, you could see him dragging the back of his hand across his lips as he raised his head. “We’ve had everything ready for months, now.”

That was all Suguru needed to hear. He turned back to you, letting his head lull to the side. “Come back to bed, won’t you, princess?”

You didn’t respond. What little air you still had hitched in your collapsing throat as you attempted to move forward, only for a hand to catch your shoulder and hold you in-place. It was Satoru – now standing less than a full step behind you. He didn’t bother with a warning before wrapping his free arm around your waist and dragging you into his chest and off of your feet. You made a weak effort to thrash, to squirm, to dig your nails into the forearm laid over your midriff, but Satoru didn’t make a sound, didn’t let you go, only hauling you back to where Suguru sat on the edge of the mattress. You shouldn’t have felt as betrayed as you did. They’d both always been able to pick you up and throw you around like a kitten, being carried from place to place by its scruff. It was always only going to be a matter of time before they stopped listening to your half-hearted protests entirely.

“Over the knee,” Suguru said with a sort of flippant, beckoning gesture. “I want to make sure we get off on the right foot.”

Wordlessly, unceremoniously, you were dropped face-down into Suguru’s lap – his thighs pressing into your exposed stomach. Satoru lowered himself to the floor in front of you, sitting cross-legged and reaching out, cupping your face delicately. More out of reflex than anything intelligent, you tried to push yourself up, but a hand on the small of your back was enough to keep you paralyzed. Sometime between the doorway and the bed, the shaking had gotten worse. You doubted you’d be able to keep your legs underneath you, anymore. “Twenty-five,” he announced – an executioner reading out his victim’s sentence. “Fifteen for trying to leave us, and ten more for not listening to me. Does that sound fair, Satoru.”

“So mean, Sugu’,” Satoru whined, but you could already see a crooked smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. “The poor thing doesn’t even know what’s going on.”

“Which is why we have to make a strong impression. I want her to know there’ll be consequences for misbehavior.” You felt his hand drifting up the length of your spine, lingering on the sensitive junction between your shoulder blades. “Twenty-five, okay, princess? I’m going to need you to count for me – if you lose track, we’ll have to start over.”

“Suguru, ‘toru, I don’t—I don’t understand what—” You were cut off by a sudden, bruising blow to the plush of your ass – all force, no friction. It took you a second to realize that it was Suguru’s hand, another to consciously acknowledge that he’d spanked you. Like you were some bratty toddler. Like he wanted to hurt you.

It took another lash to know you out of your spell-bound state and send a keening, pitchy cry spilling past your lips. The tears you’d managed to hold back minutes ago were back in full-force, dripping down your cheeks and pooling on your chin, accompanied by the occasional sniffle or ragged sob. Suguru hummed, but any sympathy he might’ve had remained unexpressed, hidden behind a thick veil of strict impassivity. “I need you to count. I know it’s hard, but it’ll only get more difficult if you don’t cooperate.” He paused, clicked his tongue. “We’re still on one. Are you going to be good, or do I have to get the belt?”

“Hurts, Suguru, you’re hurting—”

Another blow, this one to the back of your thighs and twice as harsh as the first two. Meekly, you mumbled a weak “…one.”

You couldn’t see past your own tears by the fifth strike, and by the tenth, you were sobbing openly. Each blow leaves your skin burning and your ass pulsing, but despite everything, he was far from brutal. His pace was measured, precise, and he was strategic – careful to never abuse the same spot to the point of numbness. After the fifteenth, you sniffled and forced yourself to raise your head, meeting Satoru’s eyes and silently pleading for his pity, for his help. Rather than empathy, you found a glassy stare and his hand in his lap, pumping idly over his cock. A few hours ago, you could picture yourself teasing him for not being able to go a full minute without someone touching him, even himself. Right now, the sight alone was enough to make bile rise into the back of your throat.

His thumb ran over your cheek, his palm settling under your chin and tilting your head back. “Don’t give me that look. This is twice as gentle as he’s ever been with me.”

By the time it was over, you were near-inconsolable, every number followed immediately by a string of distorted gibberish, a disjointed plea for him to stop, or be gentle, or let you go. You laid limp across Suguru’s lap as he drew slow, tender patterns into your abused flesh, every little touch sparking a new kind of pain, dragging another ragged sob up from somewhere deep and visceral in your chest. He was talking to you, cooing sweet nothings, but you couldn’t hear him. You didn’t want to hear him. You wanted to leave.

But, you couldn’t, and even if you’d had the strength to try, you wouldn’t have gotten very far. You hadn’t seen him move, but at some point, Satoru must’ve left the room. When your crying began to wane and you could bare the thought of opening your eyes, you found him standing in front of you, holding a glass of water in one hand and three white pills in the other. “Open up,” he said, drawing out each syllable for a beat longer than he really had to. “It’ll help with the pain, promise.”

You pursed your lips, grit your teeth, but Suguru’s thumb pressed into a fresh bruise and fear immediately overwhelmed your sense of caution. Suguru took precious seconds to reposition you – drawing you up by your shoulders to straddle his thigh – and Satoru’s hand found its way back to your cheek, his thumb tapping your bottom lip and slipping onto your tongue as you, reluctantly, opened your mouth. The pills were first, allowed to sit on your tongue until their bitterness reached the back of your throat, then the water, poured sloppily enough for the excess to spill out of the corners of your mouth. The reaction was instantaneous – a wave of nausea, then fatigue, your eyes immediately too heavy to keep open, your body too distant to justify attempting to control. You went slack, falling against Suguru, and he chuckled, bowing his head.

The last thing you felt was his mouth against your throat before everything went numb.

~

You woke up hours later, tucked into a bed that wasn’t yours and in more pain than you’d ever felt before.

Shock and terror startled you into consciousness before you could so much as attempt to fade back into blissful oblivion. You tried to curl up, to make yourself as small and as safe as possible, but your leg caught on something – a leather cuff, discovered after throwing the sheets that’d been laid over you to the side. A shackle, lined in velvet and sitting loosely at the base of your ankle, a silver chain connecting it to an unseen point underneath the bed. You gave it another tug, just to check, and unsurprisingly, it refused to budge. You choose to look away before the pit quickly opening up inside of your chest could deepen any further.

Instead, you turned your attention outward – to the rest of the bedroom. It wasn’t the one you shared with Satoru and Suguru, or the undecorated guestroom Satoru had semi-converted into a home office. The walls were a pale pink, the shelves already stocked with stuffed animals, fairy lights, jewelry boxes that (knowing Satoru) were no doubt filled to the brim. You weren’t wearing Suguru’s shirt anymore, either. Your blood ran cold as you glanced down and found yourself in a pastel blue nightgown – all lace and silk and frills no one could ever hope to actually sleep in. You didn’t know whether to be disgusted that they’d re-dressed you while you were unconscious, without your permission, or thankful they hadn’t waited until you were awake enough to try and stop them.

Seconds seemed to move in thick, dripping clumps. You couldn’t be sure how long passed until your disoriented stillness was interrupted, but by the time the plain, white door (a neat row of undone deadbolts visible above to the knob) swung open, Satoru stepping through with Suguru following shortly behind him. Automatically, you started to move towards them, but caught yourself, pressing you back into the headboard and crossing your arms over your chest, as if that gave you any kind of authority. As if there was any authority you could have, chained to the floor in the bedroom of a pre-schooler.

“You were beginning to worry us,” Suguru started, sitting on the foot of the bed. “But, then again, our little princess was always a delicate one, wasn’t she?”

You stiffened, bristled. You opened your mouth, but closed it as Satoru draped an arm over your shoulders, collapsing next to you. “Here,” he said, holding something out. “Suguru wanted to make you ask, but I’m not that stingy.”

 You attempted to shift away from him, but Satoru had never made things that easy. He clung to you that much tighter as your eyes fell to his hand, finding—

A cup.

A sippy cup, pink and plastic and decorated with little, glittering clouds.

The nausea was immediate, nearly overwhelming. You wanted to vomit. You wanted to throw it across the room. You wanted to do anything but accept it, but your throat was bone-dry, a steady throbbing already begging to root in the back of your skull. Wordlessly, you snatched it out of his hand and (with more than a little strain) pulled off the lid, drinking as quickly as you could. Satoru’s nails scraped against your bicep, but neither of them commented.

Suguru waited until you were finished to go on. “You’ll get used to it, after a few weeks. It’s really not that different from our prior relationship, just a few aesthetic changes ‘toru and I thought a—” He paused, grinned. “—softer environment might suit you.”

“We can be more honest now, too.” Satoru sounded too giddy, too happy. “Those last couple of days practically killed me – having to watch you leave the apartment, acting all independent n’ shit. This way, there won’t be anything stopping us from keeping you all to ourselves.”

A beat passed in silence. It took you a moment to realize you were supposed to say something, and another to actually open your mouth, to find your voice when all you wanted to do was shrivel up and shut your eyes. ��I don’t really understand what’s going on,” you muttered, like that would make it true. Like enough stuttering, simpering obliviousness would be what made them change their minds. “When are you going to let me go?”

Beside you, you heard Satoru try and fail to suppress a breath of a laugh, and Suguru’s grin only seemed to widen.

[teenidlegirl]

⏦⠀˚⠀♡⠀⠀freaky with nerd!miguel in the bus⠀⠀┈⠀﹙⠀18+⠀﹚

college field trips are interesting.

a simple field trip for one of your classes. sure, it was nice to go somewhere and be out of your dorm but what you really liked was riding the bus with your cute nerdy boyfriend miguel.

poor thing can barely fit in the seat since they are a bit cramped and the man is literally made of pure muscle and is 6’9. you feel bad for him but try to cheer him up throughout the ride. babble about whatever gossip you have while playing with his big ass hands, tracing your fingers among his calloused palms, knowing it was giving him goosebumps. play with his hair, fingers twirling a soft brown curl. wear his thick black rimmed glasses sometimes and mimic him by acting nerdy, making him roll his eyes from embarrassment. take a few cute selfies, make goofy faces that will forever be saved on your phone and possibly a new lockscreen. cuddle with him, his strong muscular arms wrapped around you as your head lays on his broad chest, relishing your time together.

the field trip was pretty quick honestly. you and miguel are surprised to be the first ones done and to come back. the bus is entirely empty, including the driver. with his hand in yours, you lure miguel to the back of the bus and sit in furthest seat.

“that was so quick. were we too fast?” you ask with furrowed brows, resting your legs in his lap.

“no, people are too slow.” one of his hands caress your calf, sending shivers down your spine. his touch always ignites your body. you can’t help it, his hands are just so… big and veiny.

“or maybe my boyfriend is way too smart and was able to get through everything quick.” you tease by slightly tugging on the collar of his shirt. god, you love him in black.

miguel huffs, rolling his eyes as he feels slight heat in his cheeks. “cállete…” your praising never fails to have an effect on him, sends a shiver down his spine. a pleasant shiver.

a smug smirk graces your lips as your fingers lightly trace his jawline. “mi miguelito… so smart… and strong… qué guapo…”

you can’t help but salivate over your handsome nerdy boyfriend. how fucking sexy he looks in that tight black shirt. the outlines of his muscles are so prominent. so damn tight it’s almost a compression shirt. how the sleeves make his biceps bulge so deliciously that you wanna bite and squeeze them. those fucking gray sweatpants miguel knows you love because you can see the imprint of his dick. the motherfucker knew what he was doing by wearing them today for this field trip. miguel knows it drives you crazy. not to mention a little sneak peek of his happy trail.

yep, you’re ovulating.

the throbbing of your clit and the fucking pool in your panties are evidence. like mentioned before, you can’t help it that your boyfriend is the most handsome man ever. the heat radiating inside you was killing you because all you want is to pounce on him and make him take you right then and there.

miguel, on the other hand, is practically the same. that nickname you call him makes him weak. especially in that sweet, seductive voice that makes his cock twitch shamelessly in his sweats. despite being a fucking giant, he crumbles onto his knees for you.

the throbbing was becoming unbearable and you couldn’t take it anymore. you need him, you need him so fucking bad. so, fuck it. you swiftly straddle yourself in his lap, cup his cheeks, and smash your lips on his. miguel lets out a muffed groan of surprise but ultimately goes under your spell and reciprocates. those calloused hands instinctively grabbing your waist as his lips meet yours in a desperate kiss. hands roaming each other’s bodies. your fingers digging into those soft chocolate locks, earning a heavenly groan from him. you can feel his erection pressed against your clothed pussy and instinctively grind on it, earning another groan.

“w-wait- we shouldn’t-” miguel mutters in between kisses, brows furrowed. “s-someone could walk in.”

“we finished super early.” you kiss his worries away. “besides, people are too slow.” you recite his own words with a smirk.

miguel groans at that. he is worried someone could walk in on you both. the last thing he wants is getting caught for having sex in the back of the bus but seeing how needy you are for him makes him throw all that shit out the window. he can never resist you.

the makeout session grows more intensely hot. both your cores throbbing with want and desperation.

“i need you, miguel…”

his cock twitches at your neediness. “joder…”

you’re the death of him.

luckily and shockingly, miguel carried a condom in his pocket and you yank it out from it. the motherfucker was carrying it this whole time? oh the sneaky little shit. don’t worry, he’s about to lose all his brain cells in a second. miguel tears it open while your hands eagerly wip out his cock from the confinements of his sweats and slip on the condom over his thick length as his hands lifts the hem of your skirt and slide your panties to the side.

a shared moan mingles in the air as you slowly sink down his cock. no matter how many times you’ve taken him, the stretch always gets you. once you bottom out and have a few moments of adjustment, you start bouncing on him. unable to resist the desperation any longer. ovulation was really bad this time.

a symphony of moans fall from you lips as miguel’s cock pounds into your tight gushing pussy. the bulbous tip repeatedly kissing your cervix so perfectly. you can feel him in your womb. the little bulge in your belly was enough proof. his large hands guide your hips up and down his thick length as you grip onto his bulky shoulders for dear life and tip your head back.

“oh miguel~”

“i know, bebita…” he moans when you clench around him, causing his head to throw back and tighten his grip on your hips.

each clench of your tight pussy and those pretty sounds of yours drive miguel fucking crazy. pounding into that sweet tightness like there’s no tomorrow just hear more of those cute sounds, knowing he is the cause of them. it makes his mind go haywire.

the bus is filled with nasty ass sounds. skin slapping, the gushing of your wet pussy getting pounded by miguel’s cock, your pretty moans and his heavenly groans.

miguel’s cock continues plowing into you as you lean back against the seat behind you. gripping onto the edge and arching your spine, offering your tits to his hungry gaze. letting out a moan when miguel’s hands leave your hips to grope your tits through your top. playing and squeezing the squishy mounds in his calloused palms as he pounds into your tight heat.

“s-so fucking tight.”

“miguel~ ah, ah, right there~” your back aches when his tip hits that sweet spot inside so perfectly.

bringing down one hand from your tit, he places it on your lower abdomen. feeling the tiny bump through your clothes as his cock pumps into you before lightly pressing down on it, earning a gasp from you which makes him chuckle.

“there, bebita?~” a smirk forms on his lips as he moves his hand in small circles, chuckling at the way your body squirms and the cute whines falling from your lips. “so sensitive- fuck-”

his attention returns to your jiggling tits and leans forward to bury his face in your cleavage. instinctively, your fingers dig into those soft brown locks while moaning at the overwhelming pleasure miguel is providing with his cock and mouth. his lips leaving wet kisses on your soft skin before sliding his tongue among the round surface of your breasts. groaning when you tighten your grip on his hair. that familiar warm sensation in your lower abdomen develops and approaches quickly with each thrust of his cock. with a few more pumps and flicks to your clit, you both finally come. you gushing around him and miguel spurting his thick seed into the condom. a little disappointed he didn’t come inside you like you wanted but protection comes first.

with his hands, miguel guides you back to lay on his chest as you both recover from your highs. heavy breathing echoing in the small portion of the bus. his hands gently rubbing up and down your arms as comfort. softly humming at the sensation. after recovering from mind-blowing bus sex, miguel carefully lifts you off his softened cock and removes the used the condom.

“throw it out.”

miguel looks at you with wide confused eyes. “outside? estas loca? people are gonna see it!”

“would you rather let them see it in here?” you arch a brow.

his expression falls flat, grumbling before lowering down the window and tossing the gross ass used rubber outside.

“if people see it, it’s your fault.” he scowls.

you shrug nonchalantly while adjusting his glasses that were about to fall off his handsome face. “oh well.”

thankfully, the rest of the class returns. peter and mj, your closest friends and another couple, join you and miguel in the back sitting in the seat across from you guys. although you and miguel had some recovery time, they notice your still slightly flustered faces.

“you guys okay?” peter asks concerningly.

“yep, just hot from the bright ass sun.” you lie but play it off effortlessly. it was actually hot though.

“oh yeah. literally the worst day to go on a field trip. why the hell would they do that?” peter starts complaining and mj joins in, indulging in their own conversation.

while on the ride back to campus, you and miguel are cuddling in silence until he decides to speak.

“you were ovulating, weren’t you?” he whispers.

you let out a snort. “yep, couldn’t help it, especially with your handsome nerdy ass but i always want you.”

he scoffs, holding you tighter. “loca.”

“honestly, we could’ve made a baby if we didn’t use a condom.”

“oh por dios- can we get our degrees first?”

even though he fucked your brains out, mainly his own, you love making him shy with your unhinged demeanor.

just love your cute nerdy boyfriend.

©⠀TEENIDLEGIRL⠀♡⠀don’t plagiarize or repost my work

[charmedimsure]

dae-ho x f!reader where they just met in the games and they obviously had a connection so they went to the bathroom

and when they were kissing someone came in and caught them (you can choose who) and then they tease them about it when they come out

(if you’re uncomfortable with smut it doesn’t have to be smut!!)

NOT A WORD || kang dae-ho

pairing: Kang Dae-ho x f!reader

summary: You and Dae-ho share a moment in the bathroom

word count: 1.4k

warnings: squid game stuff, 18+

A/N: this is the closest i will get to writing smut. if you see any mistakes no you didn't <3

You walk into the bathroom, rubbing your eyes with your hands. It had been a long day. First one of your friends died in Mingle, then the vote on whether to stay or go home was split 50/50, meaning tensions have never been higher.

You look up, pausing when you see the urinals. The guard could've at least guided you to the correct restroom. Instead, they just brought you to two doors, one with a triangle and one with a square. You chose the wrong one, apparently. Still, there are stalls, so whatever.

After you go, you come out of the stall, turning the knob of the sink to wash your hands. You look in the mirror at yourself. You wish you could take back all of those times that you apologized for looking like a mess. All those times you have never come close to how you look now. Your hair is a knotted mess, and the smudges of at least four day old mascara is smeared under your eyes, making you look gaunt.

With a huff, you comb your fingers through your hair, trying to get out as many knots as you can. The loose strands fall from your head, and you grimace as you watch them pile up in the sink. That's... a lot of hair. You turn the faucet back on, letting it go down the drain. It'll be their problem now.

The door to the bathroom opens and you jump. When a familiar face walks in, you relax.

"Thank god it's just you," you sigh.

Dae-ho gives you a confused look. "Why are you in the men's room?"

You roll your eyes. "I've just always really wanted to try pissing in a urinal," you deadpan.

The man smirks. "You walked into the wrong bathroom?"

"Yep."

He chuckles, going over to one of the stalls and locking the door.

You look back at yourself in the mirror, trying to make yourself look at least a little presentable. You rub under your eyes, trying to get the makeup off of your face, but if anything it just smudges even more.

Dae-ho comes out of the stall, walking to the sink next to you and washing his hands. He looks at you, a small frown on his face. "What's wrong."

"I'm trying to get this off but it won't budge," you say, throwing your hands in the air with a huff. Two hands grab your waist and you involuntarily let out a small squeal as you're lifted up.

Dae-ho sets you down so that you're sitting on the edge of the sink, you're back facing the mirror. He runs the sink next to yours, pulling his sleeve over his hand and running it under the water.

"What are you doing?"

"This is how my sisters take their's off when they run out of makeup wipes," he says, bringing his damp sleeve to your face. With the sleeve over his thumb, you watch him as he gently wipes under your right eye. You relax, opting to watch his face as he focuses.

"What do you think's gonna happen tomorrow with the vote?" you ask.

Dae-ho sighs. "I wish I could say we'll win, that we'll finally go home, but I have no idea." He puts his sleeve over his other hand, running under the water before copying his motions under your other eye. "Gi-hun says there's gonna be a fight tonight. That's why they gave us the forks with dinner today, they want us to kill each other."

"Sick fucks," you mumble. You wish you could say you're surprised, but nothing here really surprises you anymore. It's silent for another mminute before you speak again. "I'm going to die tonight."

Dae-ho gives you a concerned look. "Why do you say that?"

"I can play kids games, but I don't have the strength to fight off someone who's trying to kill me. The moment someone grabs me, I'm dead."

Dae-ho finishes cleaning your makeup off, wiping the wet areas with the dry part of his sleeves. "You know we're not gonna let that happen, right?"

You shrug.

Dae-ho cups your face with both hands, forcing you to look at him. "Listen to me. You are not going to die tonight. I'll protect you, I swear on my life."

Tears start to well up in your eyes. "And what if they get you?" You take a deep, shaky breath. "I don't want you to die."

You and Dae-ho had found each other during the first game. He kept you behind him, and you helped him know when to stop so he wouldn't get caught. When he joined Gi-hun's team, he brought you along.

"I don't want you to die, either," he whispers. He slides his hands down your arms, holding your hands in his.

A small smile appears on your face. "At least I'll die having watched the best game of Gong-gi ever played."

Dae-ho lets out a chuckle, his cheeks turning red as he looks away. When he looks back at you, the softness in his eyes nearly makes you melt.

"In case we die tonight," he says softly, "in case these are our last few hours alive, let me do something I've been thinking about since our first day here."

His eyes flicker to your lips and you gasp slightly. He looks back up to your eyes, silently asking permission, and you nod.

He closes the distance between you, breathing you in as he cradles your face. You bring your hands up to thread into his hair, kissing him back eagerly. If you're going to die tonight, this is how you want to spend your last moments.

His tongue teases your lips and you part them slightly, allowing him access. You lightly tug on his hair, the groan he lets out as a result going straight to your core.

Fuck, you need him right now.

Without breaking the kiss, you move your hands away from his hair, unzipping his jacket and pushing it over his shoulders. He takes his hands away from you for a moment to let the article fall to the floor before his hands attach to your hips. He steps closer to you, your bodies flush against each other.

He moves away from you lips, leaving open-mouthed kisses down your throat that have you gasping. His hands lift the hem of your shirt, rising underneath to roam your bare skin. You throw your head back as his lips travel lower and low-

"Oh shit!"

The voice breaks you out of the moment, your head whipping around to look at the door. Jung-bae stands at the entrance to the bathroom, eyes moving back and forth between you and Dae-ho. You freeze, along with the man whose hands are still underneath your shirt.

"Uhh, I'll just go. You two have fun," he walks out, a small smirk on his face.

Dae-ho is still looking at the door when he feels your stomach moving under his hands. He looks at you, a small smile spreading on his face when he sees your quiet laughter. He breaks into laughter as well, removing his hands from you.

"At least it was just him," you chuckle. "Imagine it was that old man."

Dae-ho laughs harder, picking his jacket up off of the ground. Instead of putting it on himself, he wraps it around your shoulders, taking your hips in his hands to help you off the counter.

Once your feet are back on the ground, you reach for the back of his neck, planting another kiss on his lips. "If we get out of here, we'll continue this."

Dae-ho nods, a smile on his face as he kisses your temple. You take his hand, walking to the door of the bathroom. When you leave, you spot Jung-bae leaning against the wall. As soon as he sees you, a smirk decorates his face. He opens his mouth to talk but you hold up your hand, stopping him.

"Not a word, Jung-bae," you threaten.

The man holds up his hands in surrender, the smirk still on his face as he enters the bathroom.

You sigh and shake your head, looking at Dae-ho and breaking out into another chuckle before walking back to your quarters.

Dae-ho tags: @whatthefuckeryfuckityfuck @ally1uvsu @hiphip-horray @k1michii @tpwkcaryslizb @louissst28 @sshwaa @jennwonwoo @sunnysurvives @lalalaa2210 @tayshs @sunshinethatlooksalive @plntmxrss @lxnnrobin @mariaxman @alexx-iia @batty-barty-crouchjr @kxsm3t @takuma-talkz @peacemakersbeloved @skywalker0809 @soobinbunnie5 @dragons-h0ard @silas-222 @putrescentpoet @chrisgetsmewetter

Squid Game tags: @thebiggestigurosimp @vvnbxz @lov3yy @miltzzy @l5byrinth @come-as-you-are-111 @starkeyszn @learninglinesintherainn

lmk if you want to be added to the tags! (lmk which one)

[orphicsun]

If you asked Vi her favorite position, she’d probably say she doesn’t have one. “I just like making you cum, it doesn’t matter how,” is what she’d argue. However, something about having you in lotus KILLS her more than it does you. Sitting in her lap, a vibrator on your clit making you whimper while she thrusts up into you so slowly, you can hear the deep squelch of your juices every single time either of you move against one another.. You look so fucking pretty to her too, face all tinted with pleasure and lips swollen from the kisses she keeps giving you. Vi just loves slamming up into you, or maybe even taking her free hand -other rubbing that little vibrator all over your clit until it's raw- and guiding your hip to move so you can do whatever you want to on her cock. She can't help but peer over your shoulder to admire the view while you're clawing at her back and letting out shaky moans upon each hit to your g-spot. Her own soft pants fill your ears, "fuck, 'm so deep in you, huh..?" and her heated breath followed by the laps of tongue into the crook of your neck sends waves of heat through your body; you're probably sweaty as fuck and somehow, that only makes Vi want you even more. The vibrations on your clit are only intensifying throughout your lower stomach until you're practically grinding against the vibrator, Vi completely mesmerized. Lotus is definitely her favorite position, and maybe someday she'll admit to that. Not today, though. She's too infatuated with watching you cum around her cock while you rock into her lap.

[envy-of-the-apple]

Earth Kills Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word count: 6.3k

Part one: Sun Eats Moon

Part three: Moon Starves Sun

Synopsis: A retelling of Sun Eats Moon in Suguru's perspective

(Warnings: forced relationships, bullying, non con touching, non con kissing)

Suguru liked you. 

It wasn't even a crush. A passing interest, maybe. You were pretty. You had a nice smile. Though, he'd never directly spoken to you, he could tell that you were kind. Not in the artificial cherry most people were. Natural, like honey, never spoiling. You share the same homeroom as Satoru, and he'd always tended to be observant, unlike his friend. One thing he liked about you was how observant you were. You were constantly looking out for your friends, mere acquaintances, and everyone in your vicinity. Often, Suguru wondered if being a people-pleaser was natural or from a fear of not fitting in. 

Suguru is observant. He notices the lingering gaze Satoru gives you when you walk away, hurrying to catch up with the rest of your friends. Satoru then turns back to the carton of chocolate milk you'd left him.

"Cute," Satoru says after a minute. It's more of an afterthought than anything. He pops the carton open. Suguru hears the fabric tear. He hums in agreement. The topic switches to something else, a hot celebrity maybe? Suguru can't remember. That day had been so insignificant to him. It hadn’t mattered to him for Suguru to remember anything further.

A few days later, Suguru noticed Satoru was spending a lot more time with you. 

It was hard not to notice, actually. His friend attached himself to you like he'd die if he couldn’t. Satoru went everywhere with you now. Suguru caught him walking you from school, offering you rides in his new car, following you to the lunch hall. And if he couldn’t go to where you were, he’d drag you back to him. Watching you and Satoru was a bit like watching two magnets. North pole and South pole. So different, yet constantly finding the other. 

“Tryna’ run away from me, now?” Satoru asks, a teasing lilt in his voice as he watches you fiddle with your bag.

You laugh, continuing to fish out your lunch box. “Just grabbing lunch.” 

“Eat with us,” Satoru insists, “we found a great spot up at the rooftop.” 

You meet Suguru’s gaze just then. He’d been silently lounging on a nearby desk, observing the two of you. He gives a smile. You return it. Polite. He wonders if your mother taught you to smile like that.

“I thought students weren’t allowed up there?” You ask Satoru. 

The boy rolls his eyes. “So, who cares? It’ll be fun.” 

You pause, right then. The tiniest of hesitation. Suguru wonders if you’re noticing just how different you and Satoru were. You, the people pleaser, meek, always more than willing to bend towards authority. Satoru was rougher, more resilient, uncaring of signs and rules. The gap between the two of you is astronomical. Could you feel it as well?

Whatever you’re thinking, it’s gone in a moment. You rise, giving Satoru another laugh. To Suguru, it sounds pretty. 

“Well, have fun for me. Besides, I can’t ditch my friends. They’re waiting for me.” 

With that, you give both him and Satoru a tiny wave, before disappearing out of the classroom. Suguru waves back. Satoru doesn’t. Instead, he keeps his eyes on your back until he can’t see you anymore. 

“Got ditched again, hm?” Suguru teases. Satoru only groans, tossing his head back as he leans dangerously on the chair.

“Always leavin’ me for ‘em, too,” he complains, “so fuckin’ annoyin’.”

Suguru can only smile, getting up to follow his friend out the door. He can barely count how many times he’d seen this before, each with a different person. It starts the same. Satoru will cling onto you for a couple more days, and then ask you out. When you say yes, he’d date you for a few weeks before eventually getting bored and dumping you. 

It’s a cruel cycle, something that’s just an inevitability with Gojo Satoru. The boy can’t stay in one place, he’s constantly moving around, never one to stop. For Satoru, Suguru was the most permanent thing in his life. Which made sense, they were pretty similar in terms of ideals. 

A cruel cycle, and Suguru feels a tiny bit of sympathy for you. You were sweet, unlike the type Satoru typically went for. Honey. Natural. Truthfully, Suguru was a little disappointed as well. The type of disappointment he’d feel when someone took the last crab stick before he could. A fleeting feeling, one that ultimately wouldn’t matter. 

◉

From the day they first met, Suguru knew one thing: Gojo Satoru has never been told no before. 

It made sense. He was the only child to one of the most powerful families in the country. Spoiled from day one, some could say. Satoru grew up knowing nothing but wealth and prosperity. They met when they were both still in elementary school, still with high-pitched voices and large eyes. Suguru’s family was fairly affluent as well. Now that Suguru thinks back, perhaps their meeting had been orchestrated by meddling parents in order to form more connected. It didn’t matter, either way. It had benefitted all three parties, after all.

Yes, Suguru knew from the moment Satoru pointed at him and declared him his ‘best friend’, that Satoru had never been told no before. 

Satoru was the Sun. The universe revolved around him, catered to him. Suguru supposed he wasn't much better considering he too spoiled his best friend in that sense. They were different. They'd been born different, coming from families who cherish them with wealth and power. Suguru supposes it was natural for them to be so intertwined. Like calls for like. 

Suguru isn’t aware of the exact details, but he knows you rejected Satoru. 

The boy doesn’t have to tell him. His friend is uncharacteristically quiet during that weekend. He has no interest in the arcade, or the next basketball tournament his team is going to compete in. Satoru just sits on top of Suguru’s bed, casually sucking on a carton of chocolate milk. Suguru glanced down at the abandoned PlayStation remote. He’d lost yet another game against his dark-haired friend with no complaints. Satoru didn’t even play

You’d really done a number on him, Suguru thinks to himself. Suguru would assume it’s heartbreak, but he knows his friend better than that. Something burns in his chest, but he’s pushing it away before he can figure out why. Nipping it in the bud. It was a cruel thought. A bad one. He should ignore it.

Well, it’s done. It doesn’t matter anyway. Satoru would eventually get over it. He’s not known to sulk. 

He’s not there to see what Satoru tells them, but he’s there to see the effects. 

It starts out small. Or perhaps just not noticeable enough. Gojo Satoru has always attracted attention, whether it was satisfactory or not. Lackeys, Satoru often calls them because they're too far beneath him to even be called equals.

Suguru notices their sudden interest in you before even you can. A harsh word here and there. Giggling at the word 'easy'. You peacefully trek on, not noticing the abuse until it turns physical. That starts at the end of Monday. 

By Tuesday, they're already shoving you down each chance they get. You get surprised when it happens the first time, then the second, then the third. You have soft skin, plushy, Suguru could tell. He wondered if it was getting marked now. He wonders if you go home, peeling of your uniform, staring at the bruises of hands on your skin because you’re so fragile.

(They never go too far, not enough to completely injure. Suguru knows this because one time, one of the idiots had pushed you too hard. You’d stumbled, nearly hitting the back of your head with a metal locker. Satoru had seen. Suguru doesn’t know what Satoru did, but that particular one was gone the next time and the rest got the memo to scare, not injure.)

Satoru never takes part in this, but he keeps an eye on you sometimes. Tuesday evening comes and they both silently watch you through a window. You move through an empty hall, before they arrive again, slapping your binders out of your hands, chortling with each other. They're too far away to hear, but Suguru could bet it would sound like nails scraping against a chalkboard. 

Out of the corner of his eye, Suguru watches his best friend. Satoru looks impassive, face blank as he stares down at your figure. Akin to a child watching ants burning through a magnifying glass, instilled with that innate desire to see them explode into ash. 

When the lackeys leave, you bend down on the floor, collecting your stuff. Your hair covers your eyes, so he can't see your expression, but he can see your shoulders tremble. Were you-

A corral of people run to you. They lean down, picking up the stuff you had missed. You look up, your eyes are shiny but you're laughing when they say something. You wipe at your eyes, standing up as they lead you out of the hallway. Suguru had seen them hanging out with you before. They all seemed like they supported each other, supported you. 

Suguru feels his frown deepen, conflicted. He doesn’t like it.

"It's not nice to pick on the weak, Satoru," he quietly says. 

Satoru's eyes trail your figure out the door. He gives a small hum.

By Wednesday, your friends disappear from your side. 

The abuse is getting worse, noticeable to the point where the rest of the student body is heavily avoiding you. Teachers won't raise a finger at what's happening. As much as they like to preach about their 'zero tolerance for bullying', Suguru knows they'll willingly turn a blind eye when matters involve Gojo Satoru. No teacher wants to deal with the wrath the Gojo family is more than willing to unlease for the sake of their heir.

Yet, you aren't getting it. You don't break, don't bend. He can feel the humiliation roll off of you in waves, yet you don't react. Which was strange because he knew your archetype. A people-pleaser, constantly bending over backward for other's sake. You want nothing more than to become part of the crowd again, completely invisible. You’re community-oriented. You thrive off of companionship. This ostracization must be killing you. Suguru doesn't get it until he spots your face, just once, narrowed eyes, anger. 

Pride. He'd forgotten other people had that too. Though, Suguru admires it, a part of him knows it shouldn’t last.

Suguru thinks he does it because he pities you. You're a little naive. Suguru has your thought process figured out. You think if you take the torment long enough, Satoru would eventually just forget about you all together. Once he's done with you, you'd focus on picking up the pieces that used to be your life. It's not a bad plan, if you weren't dealing with Gojo Satoru. 

The boy is a hurricane. Fast, unrelenting, unforgiving. Satoru won't stop. He won't stop until you're ruined and broken. Turned into a mere asteroid of what you once were. 

So, Suguru decides to give you a push in the right direction. 

The students have already created a wide circle for you by the time he steps in, bending down, picking up the stuff you had dropped. You're silent until he hands you his pieces. He doesn't bother responding to your timid thanks. 

"Give in," he tells you, watching the way your eyes widen as you look up at him.

You're weak. Physically, emotionally. He could easily pick you up with one hand, crush your body with his fist. Satoru could eviscerate your body from existence. You don't stand a chance with him. With either of them. 

His advice to you is good. Reasonable. And yet, he sees the face you make, the way you slowly get up. You won’t listen. That same burning feeling in his chest starts. It's gotten more painful. 

You don't listen to him until you lose nearly everything. Just as he warned you. Friday comes. You become Satoru's. And it's a little too late for everything. 

◉

Suguru doesn't think you ever learn that Satoru loves messing with you. 

Or, perhaps you do, but you can't help it. You're too honest, too open. He often wonders if that's how you were raised. To be honest, open, vulnerable. Your parents must have filled your thoughts with delusions, coddling you with words of cheap motivation. The world is your oyster. You just had to reach out and take it.

Maybe now you're finally realizing, sitting on Satoru's lap, that all men aren't created equal. 

Clearly, you weren't happy about it. Yet, you aren't complaining, sitting there pliantly legs firmly crossed, hands curled into tiny fists, staring rigidly on the floor. The first few times Satoru had done this in public, you were always biting your lip, tears threatening to fall. Now, Suguru thinks you just dissociate, coming back when Satoru laughs at something, jostling you in his arms. 

It's a bit like watching a helpless bird on the ground, twitching and spasming after it had just collided with a glass window. Pitiful, but there was nothing that could be done. It's the inevitability of it all that makes him pity you more than anything else, really.

Every so often, your eyes would catch his. It's a quick glance, as though you were wondering if he was watching. He can barely catch it, but Suguru is observant. Much like you. It's meaningless, and your gaze returns to the floor. Your fists tighten. 

Granting you mercy, Suguru stops looking at you during those times. 

He's not sure how Satoru sees you. Perhaps, you're akin to a dog for him. Though, that might not be very good for you. Satoru hadn't been very good with animals when he was younger. Satoru had always been rough with any pets he came into contact with, pushing and tugging. Suguru doubted that had changed. 

Satoru's is your official title. It isn't a relationship. It's an ownership. Unequal from the start. The one who holds the leash in the end, will always be Satoru. 

It took a while for you to fully learn that. 

Suguru didn't mean to catch the two of you. Looking back, it was probably because Satoru couldn't care less if someone was watching. Maybe Satoru was being obvious on purpose. It was a little while after school had officially ended. Suguru knew your usual routine would place you right at the library, scrolling through books. Satoru would most likely be there too, pestering you about this and that. It's the scene Suguru prepares himself to walk into.

Instead, you're wedged in between the white-haired boy and the wall, there's no space for you to do anything but sink. You're already crying (when was the last time you smiled?), trying to pull away but Satoru isn't letting you. He's gripping you by the chin, forcing eye contact. His sunglasses are off, tucked on his collar. 

Suguru's close enough to hear. You're begging. Apology after apology. It's barely a whisper, but they're spilling out of you like a prayer. He can't discern the context, but he knows enough. 

You made Satoru angry. 

He's still smiling, but it isn't sincere. Almost bordering on mania as he tightens his grip on you, forcing you further into the wall. Suguru doesn't think Satoru has ever hit you before, but now he's wondering if quick violence was preferable to this. 

"Don't be like that," Satoru chides as another squeak leaves your lips, "Where was that smile you were givin' him, hm? C'mon, pretty girl. You were wearin' it just a second ago." 

"It-it wasn't like that, I swear," you continue to plead, still not realizing that it's too late, "he was giving me his notes. Please-please Satoru-" 

"Wrong answer," he cuts you off, you flinch at his harshness but Suguru decides Satoru's being nice to you. He's been known to do worse, "we've been over this before, haven't we? Or did your stupid brain forget?" 

You're choking down another hiccup. It takes a minute for you to calm down enough to speak clearly. Ever impatient, Satoru's hand digs into your shoulder. 

"I'm sorry, Satoru," you say, "it won't happen again." 

He tilts his head, waiting. You wilt under his gaze. 

"I'm sorry...’Toru." 

Satoru gives a satisfied hum, pulling back and Suguru can practically see your lungs sag with relief. His mania is gone, replaced by something much more lighthearted and carefree. Suguru'd seen it before, but it was certainly something watching Satoru go from one high to the next. Even to Suguru, it's terrifying to witness. 

Suguru decides to make himself known right then. He comes out of the shadows, acting as though he'd just arrived. His friend lazily gives him a wave, curling an arm around your waist. You try to scrub away your tears with your forearms, unaware of how much Suguru had seen. Another mercy Suguru grants you. He doesn't acknowledge it. 

The three of you sit in the library for half an hour until you're done pretending that you're studying. When Satoru walks you home, Suguru follows. He notes that you barely hesitate to give Satoru a chaste kiss on the lips, and he wonders how often his friend has demanded one from you for you to be so casual about it. 

He thinks he gets it when he and Satoru are walking on the street without you. To Satoru, you aren't a dog. You aren't a pet, something that he keeps to see bark.

No, you are just Satoru's. 

◉

Towards the end of the year, Suguru realizes that Satoru loves you. 

He's nicer to you, now. Suguru doesn't think you've realized how softer Satoru's gotten, but the change is there. He spots less marks on you now. The biggest evidence he has is that stolen moment of you and Satoru. You'd accidentally fallen asleep during lunch break, dozing off on your desk. Satoru was right next to you, gently pushing your hair out of your face. Satoru loves you. 

You've changed too. Adapted, he should say. You cry less, now. Each time he sees you, you look more and more put together. As though, you're done mourning. The final stage of grief. Acceptance.

Despite how much nicer Satoru is to you, he's still just as clingy. Suguru notices that even now, none of your former friends speak to you. No one at school does. It's an unspoken rule to not mess with Satoru's things. 

Suguru can still remember the last guy who hadn't gotten the memo. A new student. Freshly transferred. Suguru had heard the conversation. The guy was hardly interested in you. It was nothing more than small talk. The pat on your shoulder had been thoughtless at least, friendly at most. 

Satoru beat him until the boy was bloody and had a broken nose. A week later, he'd transferred again. 

You're off limits. To everyone but Suguru. 

The Earth is the only planet capable of sustaining life within this cold solar system. It's close enough to the sun to feel the warmth, yet far enough so it doesn't burn. It's strong, too. A powerful magnetic forcefield, capable of shutting down the sun's cosmic radiation. Thus, the Earth spins happily around the Sun, surrounded by a sea of dead planets. 

So, sometimes when Satoru can't walk you home. Suguru does. 

It was just the beginning of spring. The school year was starting to end. The school itself was starting to slow down. Teachers were getting less and less strict, less work was given out. It didn't matter. Colleges had already been picked. They were all close to the end. 

You don't say much when the two of you are alone. Suguru understands. It's hard to say much of anything when you're crushed by the weight of Gojo Satoru. But Suguru could have sworn he'd seen a flicker of relief when he came to pick you up and not his friend. You're clearly happier when it's him. Suguru decides he likes how that feels. It's a quick feeling of superiority. Something that quickly disappears when your eyes flick down. 

He knows where your house is, but he lets you take the lead anyway. Suguru figures it's the least he can do, give you that sense of control when nothing you do ever really does anymore. 

You and him have forged a shaky companionship. He's not sure what he is to you entirely, but you seem reliant on him in some way. it’s his fault, he thinks. He wonders if it has to do with the contraception he'd given you. He can still remember the trembling hands as you took it from him, curling the packet into your grip. That day he went home and his fingers felt strangely itchy. 

Does the Earth ever wonder if it can turn the Sun?

When he asks you a question, you answer. At least you aren't mute, though Suguru doesn't think he'd blame you if you ignored him. Your voice is stilted, with enough words to answer the question, but still not enough to fully sate him. 

And then, you break. 

Just a bit. 

A tiny piece of you shatters, and you show yourself to him. 

He'd been talking about something insignificant, college, his plans. Just ramblings. Somehow, Satoru comes into the conversation and he's talking about the area of his friend's college campus, how Satoru mentioned that he's looking for apartments for the two of you to stay in. And then, you're uncharacteristically scoffing. 

"Right," you say, head faced down on the sidewalk as you kick a rock, "because I'm following him there." 

Suguru can't help but place the sarcasm in your voice. The bitterness. He's heard it before, but it's a fascinating thing hearing it come from you. And then Suguru realizes that you accidentally gave something away. 

You were leaving. 

Somehow, it never crossed Suguru's mind that you were still rebelling, even now. And yet, he can't shake off the heat in your voice, your words. 

You seem to realize this too, freezing. 

He lets you falter for a few more moments before giving you a reprieve. 

"Satoru's idealistic like that," he let out. 

Your shoulders lower, and for the sake of both you and him, he doesn't press any further. 

He doesn't let himself let it go, even when he drops you home, arriving to his own house. Always cold. The mansion's lights are always off. No one's ever home. And Satoru's out of town. 

It's better this way, Suguru thinks as he lies in bed, staring up at the ceiling. No distractions, he can think better, as he replays your words over and over again. You were leaving. You were leaving. You were leaving Satoru. 

The night passes. When Satoru comes back to town, he's joyful as always, an arm slung around your shoulders. Suguru watches the way he coos at you, saying how much he missed you. You take his affections the way you always do, with a strained smile and wavering eyes. 

You glance at Suguru. Suguru stares right back. 

For a moment, Suguru thinks he understands why people are so enthralled with solar eclipses. The moon is seen as an underdog in most instances. It must be thrilling when a weak satellite can cover the sun's rays. Even for just a little bit. 

Suguru doesn't tell Satoru. He pushes the burning in his chest, ignoring the itchiness in his fingers. Things are better this way, right? After all, the two of you come from completely different worlds. It's nonsensical to think otherwise. 

Two weeks before graduation, you disappear without a trace. 

And Satoru breaks. 

It's a slow dissent. It comes in stages. The boy is angry at first, searching for you at school, when he can't find you there he loses his facade and demands where you are from your parents. They can't give him a clear answer because you're an adult now and you barely told them a thing before moving out. Suguru doesn’t think they knew what Satoru was to you. He doesn’t think they ever will.

The heat fades day by day, Week by week. Satoru starts to deflate the longer you aren't in his hold, his to mangle, and grab, and keep. He stops taking care of himself. His skin became paler, cracked lips, hollow cheeks. His eyes turn into this grayish blue that Suguru can't bring himself to look at for too long. He loses weight day by day. 

Suguru had never seen him react this way before. Satoru was always shining. He was the sun. Now, the center of the solar system was dying. He can feel himself dying with it. 

Satoru hadn't just loved you. Satoru had been obsessed with you. He breathed you in, inhaled your essence like oxygen. You'd been a part of him; a necessity. And then, you tore yourself away, leaving him bleeding on the concrete.

Guilt. Suguru feels it in his stomach, rising to his throat, threatening to stain his clothes. It's too late to say anything now, so he keeps it huddled deep inside of him. Suguru hopes it'll never come out. He helps the best he can, being there for his friend, his best friend. 

It takes a month for Satoru to start eating properly again. A few months later he starts regaining his usual physique. The gray in his eyes stays for a bit longer than Suguru likes. Suguru supposes he should take what he can get.

A year passes like that. The evidence of what you left behind fades, like bruises disappearing on skin. Suguru and Satoru become college students. Then, they graduate.

When Satoru joins the business, Suguru, his right-hand man, his second, his best friend, is right next to him. They’ve always worked well together, but that doesn’t change as they shift into adulthood. Despite how different Suguru and Satoru were, Suguru liked to think that their personalities were stagnant; unchanging even to the times.

What Satoru feels about you remains stagnant as well.

Suguru doesn’t think about you often, these days. Barely a few times a year, when he feels nostalgic enough to get out his old high school yearbook. He’d page through, spot your smiling portrait face. He’d find himself staring at you far longer than he liked too.

At first, Suguru thought Satoru was the same. Much like how one thinks about a lost toy they cherished when they were younger. The resentment would fade with time. Satoru didn’t speak about you for years.

Suguru hadn’t expected the girls, however.

He doesn’t notice the first one. He sees her, but he doesn’t internalize it. She’s hurriedly putting on her clothes after a clearly exciting night, so Suguru respectfully averts his gaze. He’s more focused on his exasperation at how Satoru had missed yet another meeting with the board. They would be less than pleased if they discovered Satoru didn’t show up because he was hungover.

The second time it happens, Suguru has a passing thought of how familiar the girl looked, despite being sure he’d never seen her in his life.

The third time it happens, Suguru realizes all the recent girls Satoru’s been bringing strike an uncanny resemblance towards you.

It’s not anything too obvious, but all of them would look a bit like you. Most would have your skin tone, your hair. One had your eyes, not the color, rather the shape of it. Satoru had kept her around the longest.

Suguru doesn’t say anything about it. Part of him wonders if Satoru is even doing it on purpose.

Suguru loves Satoru like he would his own brother, but his recent hobby was starting to get on his nerves a bit.

“So much work,” the man complains, “Why can’t we just send all this off to Ijichi?”

“He has his own work to complete,” Suguru reprimands, “the sooner you stop complaining, the sooner we can finish.”

Satoru rolls his eyes but moves to another page of meaningless paperwork; Something that would be scanned into their system and then tucked away into a random file cabinet. They currently sat in Satoru’s grand kitchen, lounging on the barstools after Suguru had pounded Satoru’s door in. Satoru had let him in with an irritated look, complaining that it was the weekend and he had ‘stuff’ to do.

“He’s my assistant,” Satoru retorts, “my work is his work.”

“The reason why we’re in this mess in the first place is because you kept pawning off your job to the poor man in the first place. You’ve given him wrinkles from just the stress of being in your vicinity.”

“That’s insulting,” Satoru counters, “my presence is nothing but calming.”

“You do the exact opposite, actually. A black hole that sucks the soul out of everyone who hangs around you.”

“You hang around me all the time and you don’t have wrinkles.”

Suguru smiles. “It’s because I don’t respect you enough to listen to anything you’re saying.”

Satoru’s about to respond, when another voice interrupts him. Alluring, feminine.

“Satoru,” she coos, “When are you getting back here?”

From his seat, Suguru has a clear view of Satoru’s bedroom. Only her head is peeked out, and Suguru notes her bare shoulders. Your eyes, and your lips this time. She’s tilting her head, mouth curved in a coy smile.

Of course. Suguru can only roll his eyes. There’s that same burning feeling in his chest. During the years, it hasn’t really gotten any better.

“Coming, coming,” Satoru calls back, “just a minute, babe.”

“Stuff to do, hm?” Suguru drawls with amusement. Satoru flips him off.

"Worry 'bout yourself," Satoru says, "when's the last time you got any, huh? Honestly, when's the last time you've taken a break? A vacation?"

"I can't," Suguru replies, "I'm always stuck babysitting you."

“I’ve been waiting for half an hour, ‘Toru." The woman interrupts. "Can’t you just do it later?”

Suguru hadn’t even noticed it. He brushed it off, barely hearing their conversation as he shuffled around the papers.

Satoru had.

He hums. Straightening his back.

“Yeah, I’ve changed my mind. You should head on home.”

At first, he thought Satoru was talking to him. Then, he hears the woman’s annoyed huff.

“Hold on, you’re kicking me out?” She asks.

“Yeah, sorry,” Satoru says, not sounding very apologetic, “I got a lotta’ stuff to do and you’re not gonna wanna stick around.”

His tone is light, but Suguru can’t help but place a sense of annoyance in them. The anger. His posture is stiff, almost like he’s primed for a fight.

‘Toru. She called him ‘Toru.

You used to call him ‘Toru.

“Seriously, I-”

“I hate repeating myself: Get the fuck out.”

There’s silence, and then Suguru can hear her mutter to herself as she shuffles inside the room. She comes out minutes later, not quite dressed, but presentable. She shoots Satoru a glare, to which he only waves off. The door shuts with a noticable thud.

“Back to work,” Satoru says, “do you feel hot? The AC has been acting up, lately.”

He carries on like that, back to normal, as though he wasn’t about to snap just a few minutes ago. Suguru follows suit, not aknowledging the outburst, much like he doesn’t aknowledge most things regarding you.

Later, Suguru laughs about the hypocrisy of it all. Satoru brings home physical reminders of you, but he refuses the remnants of you. The most intimate parts, he’d kept hidden away from his life, yet he still wishes to touch, to feel. He wonders how you’d feel if you knew that Gojo Satoru is wrapped around your finger, even now.

◉

Satoru had done something yet again. It's always something with Gojo Satoru. Suguru should have left him to deal with the legal team himself, but here he was, trailing beside the firm’s directors as the man droned on and on how well Mr.Gojo would be well taken care of how here our clients are family. He forces himself to push away that feeling in his chest, scorching his throat. He was getting sick of the constant blabbering. He’d glanced away for just a second.

And then he saw you.

You, not some remnant, not some picture, not someone similar. You. He knew it was you. A little older, a little taller. You’d switched the high school uniform for a blouse and a pencil skirt. Suguru stares. He’s tempted to say your name, seek you out, as though you’re old friends-

He reels himself back in.

You disappear through a frosted glass door, completely unaware of his gawking. You hadn’t seen him. Good. The firm’s director didn’t notice his pause, carrying on as though nothing happened. Suguru smiles and laughs at the horrible ice breakers, but he also steals a glance at the name of the door you went through.

Later, Suguru looks up Higuruma Hiromi. A well-established lawyer. Worked at the firm for nearly a decade.

You are his sole paralegal.

Law. He had never considered it for you. Now, he thinks it’s a little fitting. He can’t help it. He looks you up. You have no social media, most likely from a remnant fear, but he finds where you went to college, what your area of study was, where else you’d worked, your life. Questions he’d had for nearly a decade he finally has an answer.

Honestly, Suguru was a little mad it was all so easy.

He can’t see the entire scope of your life, but he knows you were happy after high school, away from Satoru. You seemed happy when he caught that glimpse of you. There was a slight smile on your face, you never did that with Satoru around.

Satoru’s a little pathetic, a thought he has to concede to. He’s still hung over you, while you clearly hadn’t thought of him in years.

Suguru stares at your picture a little more.

The burning feeling comes back again. Hotter, melting.

Oh.

Suguru is disgusted by you.

You, that bitch loitering in Satoru’s bedroom, that greedy firm director. Disgust, that sick feeling crawling down his stomach, seeping into his bones. He’s disgusted by the weak.

He’s even more disgusted when they think they can defeat the strong. Decieve them.

You always thought you were better than Satoru, better than Suguru, even from the beginning. Even when you rejected him. Even when Satoru’s goons were torturing you, you still thought you could get out of it somehow. Even when Satoru had his hand on your shoulder, claws sinking into your flesh, you were still looking for a way out. It was like watching a rat trapped in a cage, pathetically sniffing around for an exit.

The weak could never escape the whims of the strong. It was a truth of the world, something he’d always known and yet it’d take a decade for him to put the words together. The weak could never make a fool of the strong.

You are weak. A mere satellite floating along, before getting trapped in the Earth’s gravitational force. Suguru could crush you with one fist. Satoru could evisirate you to atoms.

Does the Earth ever wonder if it can turn the Sun?

“I’ve put together a legal team that will represent you.”

Suguru places the neat stack of documents onto Satoru’s desk. The white-haired man barely gives them a glance. Suguru knows Satoru won’t ever look at them, even when your name is hidden somewhere within the sheets, along with Higuruma’s. Suguru wonders how long it’d take for Satoru to figure it out. It’s a shame he won’t be there to see it unfold in real-time, but perhaps, once Satoru puts the pieces together, he’ll thank him.

Here, in the present, Satoru types away at his computer, barely paying attention to Suguru’s words.

“Oh, great,” Satoru says off handedly, “thanks, man.”

Suguru sighs.

“Uh, I love you?” Satoru tries again.

“Never repeat those words to me ever again,” Suguru responds, “I wish you’d be a bit more interested in this, considering it’s your fault the company is in this mess in the first place.”

Satoru gives a hushed hum of agreement. Suguru smiles.

“In other news: I won’t be here next week.”

That catches his best friend’s attention. Satoru gapes at him.

“You’re quitting?”

“No, idiot. I’m taking your advice. I’m taking a few weeks off. I already put it in the calendar that you never check so why did I even bother.”

“A vacation? You never take vacations, even when I beg you to,” Satoru squints at him, “What’s the occasion?”

Eventually, Satoru will figure it out. For now, Suguru wants to enjoy this.

“I worked hard this year. I should reward myself, shouldn’t I?” He reasons, “oh, and I have a surprise for you showing up in a week or so. Let me know what you think of it.”

“A gift? For me?” Satoru beams. “You really do love me.”

“Don’t push it.”

The Earth is the only planet capable of sustaining life within this cold solar system. It's close enough to the sun to feel the warmth, yet far enough so it doesn't burn. It's strong, too. A powerful magnetic forcefield, capable of shutting down the sun's cosmic radiation. Thus, the Earth spins happily around the Sun, surrounded by a sea of dead planets. 

If Satoru was the Sun, then Suguru supposed he would be the Earth. Close enough to receive the star's radiance, but with a strong enough magnetitic field to shield from solar winds. 

If Suguru was the Earth, then Suguru supposed you would be the Moon. A tiny cratered satellite he tugs along with him, forever in sight of the burning sun. 

[bombuni]

a super whiny reader with seonghwa that lovessssss someone who whiny. i think he could have like voice kink? if thats makes sense

lose your breath

summary: seonghwa knows every square inch of your body and understands the detailed map of your mind. he just thinks it’s fun to toy with you, his perfect doll. genre/pairing: bf!seonghwa x fem!sub!reader, soft smut. warnings: smut 18+ mdni, mommy!seonghwa, bratty reader, sort of humiliation kink & dacryphilia, hwa is a munch bom note: im sorry this took so long :( but i hope this exceeds your expectations! also fuck drugs u ever been addicted to mommy!hwa that shit will kill u 💔

It’s been 2 days without a single touch.

There’s a look in Seonghwa’s eyes, a telltale twitch in the upper corner of his lips every time he moves towards your lips, leaning over you so gently but so oppressively it’s as if he’s trying to melt into you. As soon as you move an inch towards him, he backs away again, smirking and pretending as if there’s not a tent in his pants with the way your eyes well up and your breaths shake.

He loves this. Hearing how you’re broken down to your senses with just the thought of getting to kiss him. He especially loves hearing your complaints, your shaky and meek voice calling his name timidly. You quietly beg for something, anything, but it takes you another bit to realize the game he’s playing.

It’s a slow morning. Seonghwa has the day off, and you’ve both decided to use it to watch the Star Wars prequels (per his request.) The marathon is just about to start as you both prepare snacks in the kitchen, moving around each other like you’ve been programmed to move in a certain pattern.

“Hmm, do we have popcorn, Hwa?”

He unwittingly smiles at the way you say his name, “There should be a bag in the cabinet above you, pretty.”

You reach for the cabinet, but find that it’s impossible to even touch the handle, “Hwa, I need your help…”

“Ah, you do? Whatever for?” The teasing lilt in his voice tells you he knows exactly what you’re asking for, but he just wants to hear you ask. Maybe even make you beg a little.

You pout at him which only makes him smirk and cross his arms. You’re stuck in a stand off now, with both of you refusing to give in to the others wants. Seonghwa knows that eventually you’ll give in. He likes waiting until you can’t take it anymore. Until it’s bubbled up to the boiling point inside you and there’s nothing left to do but let it spill out.

“Agh, you’re so annoying, Hwa! You won’t even kiss me unless I beg and now you’re making me-“

Ah, there it is. He just enjoys torturing you. A glare of your eyes grants you a chuckle from him.

He raises a brow, smiling devilishly as he cocks his head to the side, “You’re cute when you’re being a whiny baby, ya know?”

“I’m not being whiny, you’re just mean…”

“Cute, cute, cute,” he mumbles mostly to himself. Seonghwa’s hands land on your cheeks as he moves closer to you, squishing them together until you feel like you’re gonna pop.

You grumble, but finally feeling his hands on you (in the most innocent of places) sends you into overdrive. Your knees buckle, catching yourself against Seonghwa’s strong chest. The feeling of him against you, hearts beating and pressed together, his bulge standing at attention, and his sparkling eyes watching you like you’re the only one he needs is…overwhelming.

After he’s staved you off of him for days, he’s so full of ecstasy and a certain buzz only you can give him when you finally, finally beg in the adorably pitiful way he loves so much.

There’s already tears in your eyes, “Mommy…”

Your voice sends chills down his spine, “Sweet, sweet thing, tell me what you need exactly. Use your words.”

“Need to-“ you pause to emphasize your words with a drag of your hips against his, “feel you,”

He chuckles at you to disguise the moan that threatens to slip out, “Really? Already? Couldn’t go any longer without Mommy inside you?”

You blush at his harsh words, “Hwa-“

Seonghwa gives you a certain look, one that tells you you’re in a world of trouble if you continue your bratty, combative attitude. It’s enough to remind you to be good for him.

“Sorry, mommy…”

Your meek voice and the way you shrink into him makes him swoon. A drive to destroy that sweetness and leave you a broken, moaning mess takes over him.

“Hmm. I think you’ve waited long enough. Do you want your reward?”

The prospect of getting anything from him fills you with an overwhelming need to obey his every command. He is your owner, and he’s made that very clear so far with the feelings he manages to evoke in you.

“Please, mommy, just need anything-“

Seonghwa thinks it’s cute how your chest rises and your breath quickens as he pushes you onto the counter. His arms squeeze you as they lift you, burning where your skin meets his, sending that trail of warmth down to your core. He throws you around like a doll and undresses you like it’s nothing to either of you. He gets so careless when he’s like this, only fueled by your pathetic nature and reaping the rewards he’s been waiting for this entire time.

Just his bratty, needy, doll ready to take what he decides to give.

He runs his cold hands down your sides, watching you shiver at his touch. His slender fingers reach under the waistband of your panties, teasingly snapping the elastic against your skin and watching as you twitch at the feeling. You whine impatiently as he teases you like this, massaging your tits while he gently kisses down your jawline as if he had all the time in the world. His soft lips reach down to your collarbone as he pulls the collar of your shirt to ensure every part of your skin feels his lips. He chuckles when he feels the vibrations of your moans against his mouth.

“Ok, enough teasing then,” you exhale as if finally relieved of a great weight on your shoulders before spotting that same perverted smirk, “…But can you beg for mommy again? Just one more time?”

He encourages you with a wet kiss on your pulse point, nuzzling your skin to fog your brain with him, “Hah-it’s- embarrassing, mommy,”

You feel his smile against your neck, “But you know I love it, right, pretty? You just sound so cute when you do,”

Seonghwa finally drags his lips down to where you want him the most. His hot breath fans against your core, taking in the hypnotizing sound of your eager and aching whines, as he finally drags your panties down to be greeted with the sight of your pretty pussy.

He can’t resist himself, pressing a kiss to your clit and chuckling as your body jolts just like he knew it would, “My pretty doll. So behaved for me, so perfect. You always listen to Mommy, don’t you?”

He punctuates his sentence by licking a long stripe along your slit, “Hah-Yes! Yes, Mommy, I’m always good for you-“

Seonghwa talks to you in between licks of your slick, enjoying the taste of you and the sound of your unashamed submission. Finally getting you like this, with you so sex-crazed and clouded by his touch that you don’t even realize how pathetic you sound, is his favorite thing in the world.

His mouth explores the parts inside you he knows overwhelm your senses. His lips swallow you whole, tongue darting all over and inside you to drag out those sounds he loves. His left hand comes up to rub your clit, following what he knows your body likes. It’s like a ritual to him. The blatant way he follows your body’s signals and your whines is just another testament of his love to you.

He feels your body tighten, your hands coming down to his hair to pull and urge him to let you off that cliff. His eyes roll at the harsh tugs you give, your raw desperation to reach that high rubbing off onto him.

Your trembling, breathless voice sounds out, “Mommy, c-can I cum?”

“Yes, baby. Come on, you wanna be good, don’t you? My pretty doll, so behaved, don’t disappoint me now…”

Seonghwa’s words reach towards your insides, pulling at the strings of your soul and releasing that knot he’s built. Your body shakes against his mouth, which still eagerly clings onto you and cleaning up the mess he caused. He caresses you through your aftershocks, adoring the little twitches your body gives as you come down to Earth.

Your watery eyes meet his fervent ones as he wipes his mouth clean, looking all too joyful to stew in your embarrassment at this sight.

Seonghwa decides that just a little more teasing won’t hurt, “You got through the The Phantom Menace. Think you can make it through Attack of the Clones?”

[grenadehearts]

It’s a lazy Saturday night, and you’re holed up in Shoko’s dorm like usual. Satoru sprawled across the twin bed opposite you, his long legs resting up on the wall while his head dangles off the edge, snowy white hair tousled and catching the light. His crystalline blue eyes blink up at the ceiling, then shut briefly as he exhales a long, dramatic sigh of boredom.

You sit with your back against the wall, a flimsy fashion magazine in hand, half-interested as you flip through pages predicting the next season’s trends. Across from you, Suguru is cross-legged on the floor, idly tossing brightly colored candies toward Satoru’s mouth. Satoru whips his head left and right, exaggeratedly twisting to catch each piece with loud snaps of his teeth.

Meanwhile, Shoko’s kneeling near her desk, custom lighter in one hand—adorned with her signature leopard print—and a pack of cigarettes in the other. With practiced ease, she lights one up, the tip glowing as smoke begins to curl into the air.

Satoru immediately starts coughing, overly theatrical, flailing a little as he pushes off the bed and yanks Suguru up with him. “You’re killing me, Shoko!” he whines. “My lungs are turning black as we speak!”

Shoko rolls her eyes, puffing smoke toward him on purpose. “My dorm. Get out if you don’t like it.”

Suguru gives you a small shrug and follows after Satoru, shutting the door behind them with a quiet click. The room settles into a calm haze, leaving only you and Shoko.

She glances over at you, a brow cocked, amusement dancing at the corners of her mouth. “Surprised you stayed,” she says, voice rough with smoke. “You’re usually as dramatic as Satoru about a little haze.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, then let out a sigh. “Well…” you start, but Shoko cuts you off with a firm, knowing tone.

“Y/n.”

You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear and try again. “I’m just saying, Shoko—it’s, like, really bad for you. Increased risk of heart disease, lung cancer, throat cancer… even mouth cancer,” you say, ticking each one off on your manicured fingers like a checklist of doom.

Shoko laughs, low and dry, eyes narrowing as she exhales another puff. “Whatever. My mouth works just fine.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks, hot and sudden. You fumble for words as she smirks at you.

Shoko leans back slightly, cigarette balanced between two fingers as she exhales slow. “S’ya gonna come down here or not? I don’t bite.”

She pauses, smile turning wicked. “Unless you want me to.”

You wave your hands in a flustered mess, mouth opening and closing as heat floods your face. Shoko just laughs again, shaking her head.

“So shy,” she murmurs.

With a reluctant huff, you crawl down onto the floor beside her, arms crossed as you grumble, “At least my lungs aren’t black.”

Shoko scoots a little closer, so close you can smell the scent of her perfume beneath the smoke. She reaches out, her fingers cool and steady as they hold your jaw.

“Open up for me,” she says, voice dipping into something deeper, sultrier.

And suddenly, your body isn’t yours. It’s hers. You part your lips hesitantly, breath catching in your throat.

She slots her thumb gently between them, holding your mouth open as she leans in—then exhales, slow and deliberate, smoke swirling past her lips into yours.

The burn is instant, your lashes fluttering, heart racing.

“Yeah?” she asks, eyes lidded.

Then, with one last drag and a lazy smile, she adds, “Let me finish this smoke, then I’ll kiss you the right way.”

masterlist link here.

taglist: @luvseraphh @xoxojisu @cvnt4him @soundtrqck @princessshnazzy @chlosology @candiiee @203steph @chitteringcicadaeyes @idk1187 @notartemis777 @chosostonguepiercing @chocolatedefendorbaa @t33th--r0t @3lenaatvt @the-faceless-bride @tuneinwlosers @lotusstarr @cupkiki @wokar

[spicedcherrylolli]

PitFighter!Vi x Reader Part 1

Reader secretly gets nipples pierced and has been hiding them from Vi.

T.W- Suggestive content, NSFW

🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧

The crowd surrounding the ring was deafening. The cheers and money coming from every bit of your surroundings has you cheering as loud as you can. When you go to watch Vi, their is a primal need to let everyone know, (which they already do) that “She’s my girlfriend!” by cheering and announcing it multiple times. While in Vi’s favourite outfit, because tonight is the night you tell Vi. It has been 5 days since you got your nipples pierced, which is 5 days of no sex, and its wearing you both down.

Vi has been on edge for the past 3 days, training harder, in hopes to ease the constant lust running through her. She is confused for the most part but also wants you to be comfortable, hence her keeping her lustful thoughts to herself, until you want them.

Ding, ding, ding

Vi’s hand gets pulled up indicating her being the winner and you cheer, banging on the fencing surrounding the pit. Looking up, Vi spots you, smiles and winks, before being escorted out, you heading to the changing room. When you arrive, you walk into the room, locking the door and seeing Vi turn to greet you.

🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧

“You did so good Baby.” You quickly walk over to her, “You were insane out there.”

Grabbing your waist to bring you closer Vi takes in your outfit, “ Yeah and you’re like my sweet sweet cheerleader wrapped up all nice,” She moves her finger indicating you to spin, “Just for me huh?”

Blushing as you face your girlfriend again, you nod your head, “Yup, all yours, if you want.” You check her out, grinning. Before you have a chance you say anything else, Vi has one hand on your waist and the other on the back of your neck pulling you towards her. Your lips collide moving in sync with each other, while your hands are touching all over vi. When she is about to tug your off shirt, you stop her.

“Wait,” Vi’s posture stiffens, while you pull back from the kiss, “I have a surprise for you.” Nervous hands folded in front of you. Looking up at her, you take in her powder blue eyes filled with lust from only a bit of touching.

“You’re killing me here, sweetheart.” She whines, looking almost sad to not be touching you.

“I am sorry I have been distant but I’ve been hiding this from you. I hope you like them.” Grabbing the bottom of your shirt and taking it off to reveal your transparent bra under. Confusion flashed on Vi’s face. “Oh, one sec.” Unclipping the bra you let it fall to the floor.

“Fuck me” She curses under her breath. Moving her hand up to flick the ‘V’ hanging from your piercings. A sharp inhale being forced out of you at the contact. Her eyes filled with lust take you in from head to toe, and you feeling your heartbeat everywhere.

“So this is why I haven’t been wanting to touch too much recently?” Vi looks up at you, sincerity laced in her voice.

“Yes and I’m sorry but, It’s all for you baby,” seductively running your hands up and down her toned arms, “I just needed them to heal.” You explain. Grabbing her hands, you rub them up you abdomen, slowly inching closer to the new piercings. Vi’s eyes following the movement, letting you control the situation.

Liquid heat coursing through you. You needed her. Needed whatever she could give you, post fight. Vi’s expression now dark, dominating, making you want to do anything she could ever need, burn the world for her and for you she would do it in return. You let go of her hands and step closer bridging the gap between you. her hand moves up and then flicks the new piercing again. A gasp and moan surprised out at the contact.

“Oops, did I hurt you baby?” Vi asks in her sarcastic tone, moving the other hand up to do the same to the other. Another gasp escaping you.

“Such a pretty sensitive girl, aren’t you.” as she moves one hand to your throat, forcing eye contact. A whine ripped out of you. "Shh, its okay, I'll take care of you Cupcake." Her other hand moving down your abdomen right above your core.

“Vi please.” you whimper pushing yourself up, so her hand moves lower.

Grabbing your waist, she lifts you in to her arms, legs wrapping around her waist.

🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧ 🍒・₊✧

Hi Lovies , this my official second time writing literally anything and I hope you liked it even a little. I am working on a part two that is full smut but since I am new it will take some time.

But thank you for all the love on the last post, that shits crazy. Anyways, luv you byeeeee.

-Cherry 🍒

[fluffy0mallows]

JINX FEST!!!

DAY 3: Prompt Mix

•Oblivious X thought they were dating

•"Right in front of my salad?"

•Late night cooking

Modern AU!!!!

Warnings: Curse words. Shameless flirting (Jinx), A bit of threatening. Fluffy fluff fluff. Hints of smut (just hints, I'm not writing shit)

As per @jinxificada 's request. THIS IS BIRTHDAY THEMED!!!

BIRTHDAY MISHAPS

Vi is fucking sick of this.

"Come on, say 'ahh' "

Following Jinx's request, you opened your mouth, welcoming the spoonful of kiwis she was trying to feed you. It was like this every morning. But unlike every other mornings, Vi was stuck to watch the scene before her unfold

Mostly, she'd be out in the mornings, busying herself in the gym, leaving Caitlyn to tire herself out just staring at you and Jinx. But unfortunately for her, she twisted her ankle in a fight last night, leaving her to stay home and watch you dote on each other like lovers

"Right in front of my salad?"

Ignoring the girl's complaint, Jinx only gently fed you another spoonful, even giving you a big fat kiss on the cheek, leaving you giggling like an idiot. She was always the physically affectionate type, even to her friends. At least that's what you thought

"Will you two stop it?!....Let me enjoy my salad IN PEACE"

"Geez Vi. Did good ol' Kiramman reject your advancement last night?"

Only harshly biting her lip, Vi aggressively chomped on the food on her plate, forcing into her mouth spoon by spoon, until it was empty enough for her to stand up and do the dishes

Yes, she'd much rather go do the dishes, than stick with both your asses. You, who noticed her grumpy state, merely snickered, and gave Jinx a kiss on her cheek as well

"Why, aren't you so sweet to me today?"

"Only cuz' you look extra cute today"

You can hear Vi groaning from the distance, followed by the sound of metal clanking together. You suspect she might've hit her head with a pan, but whatever

"I have somewhere to go. You won't miss me too much, won't ya, sugarbug?"

Scoffing, you only took the bowl of kiwis from her hands, along with the soon, and you gestured for her to get going

"Independent much?. Yeah, that's my girl. Take your dirty clothes back to your house, my washing machine is broken"

"Must be because of all the adjustments you did to the poor thing...."

Standing up from her seat, Jinx gave you a final kiss on the forehead, petting your hair gently. And then she was out the door, probably to go wreak some havoc. Or so you thought

"So....You and Jinx, huh?"

"Hm?....Oh no, we're nothing like that"

Scoffing, Vi proceeded to scrub the plage clean, muttering words to herself. Jinx wasn't out to wreak havoc, she was going to the store, to buy.......certain items for you

And Vi, was forced to fake an ankle injury, to stay home and make sure you had no idea. It was your birthday after all. And much to her misfortune, Jinx tasked her of 'guarding' you to make sure you wouldn't accidentally find out about her fabulous mission

Standing up from your seat, you went over and handed the bowl to Vi, laughing at her displeased face that you're making her wash the dishes in your house. After laughing in her face, literally, you went back to your room to rest up

________

Frantically spamming the car horn, Jinx began yelling curses at the truck driver who was stupidly blocking the damned pathway

"I swear to every hexgate. I WILL FUCKING KILL YOU IF YOU DON'T MOVE THAT TRUCK!"

Grunting in frustration, she slammed her feet on the pedals, and drove quicker than the speed limit. She had to buy those gifts on time, or else the entire surprise would be busted

Jinx had planned a very big surprise, one that would (hopefully) make you blow you mind. She's confident enough (she's not) to pull it off.

The plan was simple. Get you stuck in her house, with Vi taking guard, while Caitlyn and her goons set up your house from the celebration, and Jinx was in charge of course, with the gifts. Caitlyn insisted she handled the food, and since you have taken a liking to rich people dietary, she had reluctantly agreed, for your sake

Jayce and Viktor were coming back in town to join in, after their Science exhibition competition. While Sevika babysits Isha for the time being

The moment you come home, and switch on the lights, everyone was going to yell surprise, and well surprise you. And after mingling with the others, Jinx will take you to a celebration, exclusively for the two of you

"Fucking finally"

Aggressively slamming the car door, Jinx speed walked to the store, already listing out all the things she needed to buy for you. It was a busy week, and although it's a shameful confession, she was unable to make time to prepare for your birthday.

Snacks for your date later, gift wrappers, a fucking candle because the one for your cake was snapped like twig when Maddie put it down. A few candies for Isha as peace offering since she plans on celebrating with only the two of you, Isha herself excluded

Spray paint, she has to decorate your date spot, paint in a can, because her studio ran out, after the art competition she joined a few days ago, and finally, a lollipop for a final touch. She loves them

"That would be 45.09 $, maam"

Handing the woman her card, Jinx bit her lip in anticipation, she watched the cashier, agonizingly swipe it with such slow speed, she nearly choked her. But then, her wild imagination was cut off, when the card she handed out declined. Oh. For. Fucks. Sake

"Oh, sorry, that must be my sister's. Haven't thrown it away yet since she died"

Giving the cashier Vi's card, Jinx backed up her lie by taking the card that was originally hers from the cashier's hands, and longingly stroked it with a sad sigh. The cashier, stupidly enough, bought the story, and swiped Vi's card.

By the love of luck, it worked, and Jinx was able to leave the store with all the necessities in hand. She mentally thanked Caitlyn for keeping that card loaded, even though she would never thank the Piltovan in person

Why did she have Vi's card you ask?. Well that is a story meant for another day

____

"You sure you aren't dating?"

"No, Vi, we're not"

"Cuz' I remember Jinx referring to you as her 'girfriend' "

"Must've been a mistake"

Smiling at Vi, the older woman couldn't help but feel annoyed that you couldn't get the fucking hint. Jinx thinks you're dating!, snap out of it!

The redhead would love to curse you out right now, but she didn't want Jinx to get upset and blame it on Caitlyn again. And bombed her house, again

She remembered there was even a time when Jinx threatened Caitlyn's life, along with her family's if she keeps on visiting Vi's house. Like the two weren't lovers

But because of your hold to Jinx, you easily convinced the girl that Vi is old enough to have people over, and that it's not right to dictate the flow of her older sister's life. Caitlyn was still suspicious to Jinx though, a major red flag

Suddenly, Vi's waki taki beeped, and Maddie's voice could be heard, thankfully you went upstairs to wash up, and didn't hear it. Yes they had waki takis, and yes it was all because of Jinx. Baby girl literally wanted this celebration to be perfect, she went all out just for you

"Vi, the house is ready, but Jinx isn't here yet"

"Must be the traffic. Don't worry, Y/n is taking her precious time, washing up and packing her dirty clothes"

"Copy"

And with that, a static rang, and the conversation was cut off. They sure are taking this surprise seriously. How Vi wishes she could help out, and not just guard you. Hey, she doesn't hate you, but she would love to watch Cait cook, hugging her from behind and everything

"Hey Vi, do you mind calling Jinx?, just wanna ask her something. My phone's dead"

"Sure"

Ringing up Jinx on the phone, Vi handed it to you, and after thanking her, you went back up to Jinx's bedroom. Drumming her fingers on her thigh, Vi thought back about the plan. Her duty, how she's supposed to make sure you wouldn't find out about the secret party, and everything

But wait.....

Wait....

What if Jinx answers and she thinks it's Vi, and then the whole plan gets busted?!

Rushing up the stairs, Vi slammed the door open, only to find you laughing in the call, while brushing your hair in the mirror. It seems Jinx caught up quick and realized it was you, thank goodness

"Yes, I found it......Alright, bye. Mhm. I'll give the phone back to Vi now"

Turning to the door, you were shocked when you saw Vi, standing there like a creep. Giving the phone back to Vi, she gave you a curt nod before closing the door, gently this time. It was a puzzle to Vi, how you did not hear her slam it open, but hey, saved her the trouble

"I'm done packing up, I gotta go now. See ya Vi"

In a surge of panic, Vi yelped, holding your wrist tightly between her fingers. She can't let you leave, that destroys the whole celebration. She has to keep you here until Jinx says so

"You........can't leave"

"Uhm why?. I already cleaned up, don't worry"

"No, uh. It's uhmm...Jinx told me she wanted you to uhm...To..."

"To what, Vi?"

"To...... replace the sheets...?"

"Uhm, excuse me?"

"Replace the sheets in her room....cuz you made a mess out of it"

Burning red, you stuttered out words, before rushing back upstairs to Jinx's bedroom. The fact that you immediately left without question, made Vi's face burn up as well. Jinx. Former Powder. Her baby sister....?

HER BABY SISTER ALREADY BANGED SOMEONE!!!

Now Vi doesn't know whether or not she should be proud. Jinx is an adult. And she can decide what she does. But it was weird to think that her baby sister is no longer innocent. How she misses the oh so ignorant baby Powder

She could hear you shuffling from Jinx's bedroom upstairs, and that made Vi panic. What if you finish way too early?, she's gonna have to think of something else to stall you.

____

Jinx sped up, and drove to your house. Seeing as the Piltover sheriff's car is still parked outside, she can only assume they haven't finished yet. But as she opened the door, she could see Caitlyn admiring the place, with Maddie on her side.

"How's it goin'?"

Turning to face the blue haired girl, Caitlyn smiled and straightened her back. She always did have thus mannerism where she fixes up immediately when addressed

"Everything is ready. Here, I'll help you wrap those—"

"No. If you're finished, get out and assist Vi"

At her resistance, Caitlyn could only sigh. Gesturing for Maddie, the two left, leaving Jinx to frown at the too-neat arrangement they did.

Well good thing she brought paint right?. Time to jinxify this awful place

Bringing out the stuff she bought, Jinx smirked at cans of paint she brought out of her pockets. Yes she shoplifted, and don't act like you've never done it before. She did it to save money. Vi's money

"Ugh. Those Pilties seriously lack taste!"

And with that, the whole house was smeared in neon paint, glitter, and a few charms she made out of scrap. But don't worry, she made sure not to stain anything, she merely blotched paint on the ridiculous gold decor Caitlyn put up

Putting the waki tali close to her lips, Jinx couldn't help but smirk. It wasn't a cocky kind of smirk, it was excited, but nervous. This whole plan was making her nervous

"Get the guests in, we're done here"

________

"Uhm. Why exactly do we need to rush back to my house, Vi?"

"We're not rushing...uhh....My friends are gonna come over at Jinx's for a gamenight. Thought I'd bring you home first before they barge in"

"Oh, okay"

Adjusting your seatbelt, you watched Vi literally stutter the key into the keyhole to start the car. What was making her so nervous?

"Uhm....Are you okay?"

"Yeah!. Yeah, just....."

Finally fitting the key, Vi started the car, stepping on the gas with rush. Jinx was fucking mad, way too excited to wait for Vi. And the blue haired girl threatened that she will plant drugs in Caitlyn's manor and tip to the cops if they didn't get there quick

She wasn't scared of Jinx. She was scared of Caitlyn, and the fact that it has been months since the two blue heads last fought. Vi was relieved then, but now she had to give everything in her soul to keep that constant

"Stupid fucking traffic..."

After nearly half an hour of honking out her road rage, Vi was finally able to pull up by your garage. No cars on sight, to not raise suspicion that here were people in your home boutta scare the fuck out of you

"Go on inside. I'll carry your stuff"

Only giving her a puzzled side eye, you went to your door, opening it with the keys, and kicking your shoes off and setting them aside.

As you approached the light switch, you swore you heard shushing sounds, but you brushed it off, and reached for the switch instead. Flicking it up, you were surprised when a synchronous shout of 'Happy Birthday!' was heard. Along with the pop of the confetti bombs that rung in the air

"Oh fuck—!......You guys scared me!!"

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of a birthday cake being held by none other than Jinx herself. She was smiling ear to ear, almost more excited than you were

Everyone was here. Caitlyn, the Maddie bitch who bullied you in highschool but eventually reconciled with, Jayce and his beloved partner, Viktor. Claggor, Mylo, Silco who looked like he worked for 24 hours, Vander who had an arm hooked around Silco's shoulders. Isha, Sevika, Mel, Lest. Literally everyone

Isha walked up to you first, with a shy smile, and a messily wrapped purple gift in her small hands. Thanking the little sweetheart, you crouched down and kissed her forehead, to which she hugged you with a happy hum

Sevika gave you a nod with a small smile, you two learned to get along before she had with Jinx, and that really helped out their relationship a big lot. Mel greeted you elegantly, handing you a neat gift with golden wrapper. Silco weirdly enough told you he gave you his 'blessing', but you smiled and thanked him anyway despite not knowing what he meant

Vander told you the same thing too, even shaking your hand like a proud dad. Jayce and Viktor handed you a gift that was supposedly made by the two of them, specifically for you. Claggor gave you a stapled paper bag, and apologised that he couldn't wrap it properly since he didn't know how. But the thought enough was sweet

Mylo, much like Vander, weirdly told you he gives you his blessing, and handed you a circular brooch that held the words; Y/n Lane. It was their family surname, and that made you laugh

"Mylo, I'm not your sister!"

"You're my sister-in-law though"

"Sorry, I didn't quite catch that"

"Nothing!, you should go to Jinx now. She looks pretty lonely"

Confused, your eyes searched for Jinx. And there she was, still holding the cake in her hands, with her eyes lingering on you. Giggling, you ran up to her, making her Yelp and hold the cake with one hand, while the other held your waist in a hug

"Woah!, easy there, bunny!. You're gonna smash your own cake!"

Giving her a shameless kiss on the cheek, you hugged her again. Jinx only smiled, placing her hand higher up, til it reached the back of your head, and stroked your hair. Everything went according to plan. Good

"Alright, Y/n. Let's blow out those candles!"

________

After eating together, the others left, but Vi and Isha slept in. It was midnight now, you and Jinx were comfortably situated in the kitchen, giggling like idiots while you tried to follow the instructions on a cookbook on how to make pizza

Jinx's face was covered in flour, and yours were covered in tomato sauce. After fooling around for a bit, you were now seated on the kitchen top, while Jinx leaned on the sink across from you.

"Should I open it now?"

"I mean, if you opened it tomorrow, it wouldn't have been a birthday gift anymore, right?"

Taking her point, you slowly unwrapped the gift that Isha had given you. It had too much tape on some sides, but none on the others. You suspected Sevika must've helped her wrap it, being the gentle one-handed aunt she was

Gasping, you were met with a framed drawing of Isha, you and Jinx holding hands. It was drawn with crayons, and it had details too. Grass, trees, butterflies, and oddly shaped flowers too. And above each drawing of a person, she wrote names.

Isha, Mom, and Mama

So cute. But it made you think, since she believed you were her mama, did that mean?. Nah, it can't be, Jinx clearly isn't interested in stuff like that. She was just flirty, and touchy, but that's it

"She thinks I'm her mama. And you too. We're her mom's now?"

Laughing it off, you were silenced when Jinx looked at you like you had said something absurd

"Aren't we?"

"What?"

"Aren't we technically her moms?"

"We'd have to be together, Jinx"

"But we are...."

Puzzled, you parted your lips to speak, but nothing came out. What does she mean? You were together?. Since when?

"Since when..?"

"What?"

"Jinx, we're not together.....You never asked me"

"But we hug, and kiss!, fuck, we even sleep on the same bed sometimes!"

"Yeah, but we don't say 'I love you', or kiss on the lips!...Besides you never asked me"

"I thought.... I though it was us"

"Well.....haha..uhm...that's awkward"

Scratching your neck awkwardly, you avoided eye contact with Jinx. She looked upset. You didn't mean to make her upset, it's just that she had never asked you

"I think...I think I should head to bed now"

"Wait!....Before that...I have something to show you"

Finally looking at her, you watched her walk stiffly to the door, before looking at you and beckoning for you to follow her. Deciding to screw it all, you did, and she opened her car door for you, straight on the front seat

Getting in herself, Jinx didn't say a word, she just drove. And after a few minutes of awkwardly pretending that you were interested in the window, she finally came to stop, and got out to open the door for you

"Close your eyes. It's a surprise"

Jinx held her hand out for you to hold, but what caught your attention the most was the tender smile laying on her lips. Like you hadn't technically just rejected her earlier.

Taking her hand in yours, you squeezed it, and got out, closing your eyes like she told you. You felt Jinx guide you, until your feet made shuffling noises on the floor like you were walking on plants. She also constantly changed you direction, like she was avoiding trees. Where on Earth were you two going?

"Alright, we're here. Keep your eyes closed until I say so, Kay?"

With her words, you felt her touch on you leave, and her footsteps faded in the distance, but it was still there.

"Alright, open up!"

Opening your eyes, you had barely made them adjust in the dark, before a lever was pulled and lights burned bright. That's where you saw it, the old amusement park where you had first met Jinx. Unfortunately it was closed off after a while, and was abandoned in the forest

But now here it was, whirring with life, like it did back then. Jinx walked back to you, and linked your arms together, smiling at the awestruck expression on your face.

"So... Which ride we going on first?"

After two hours of filing around the system of the park, you and Jinx took the best for last. The ferris wheel. It wasn't fancy, and it didn't have roives like the ones in the big parks. But it was high enough to reach the top of the trees

"Trust me, the sunrise is gonna look awesome"

Giggling along with her, you placed your head on her shoulder. She didn't even tense up, didn't even flinch away

"You know....We can be together. If you ask me"

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah..."

Looking at the sun in the distance, you waited for Jinx to respond. But she was silent, like she was thinking about something, contemplating something

"If I ask you now, would you say yes?"

"Only if you ask me"

Humming, Jinx held up your chin, and tilted it to make you look at her. She was so close. If you leaned in now, you could kiss her

"Then....Wanna be my girlfriend?"

"I'd love to"

P

Placing your lips on hers, you felt Jinx let out a satisfied sigh against your lips, before she pushed back, and deepened the kiss. You were expecting it to be brief, and shy. But Jinx is anything but shy, instead, she placed hand in the back of your head and pulled you closer, damn near burying her tongue in your throat

Your precious moment was then cut off, when Jinx's phone rang. Pulling away, she cursed and smiled at you apologetically, to which you told her that was okay. Answering the call, you held her hand while her other held the phone by her ear

"What, Vi?"

And loudly, you heard Vi yell at the call...

"YOU LEFT THE DAMN OVEN ON!"

Wassup everyone!, Mallow returns!!. Anyway, Happy Birthday @jinxificada , and I wanna thank you for this fest. THIS MADE MY MONTH I SWEAR. Hope you like it! I made it too cheesy for me to read, so I hope it turns out good!

Mallow out!!

[fuctacles]

someone (thank you) has paid for my bday cake before i could share the link, but if you want, you can pitch in for new headphones for me as a gift ofc no pressure, you being here is a gift enough <3

<< ten | 😺 | twelve >>

To say Eddie is nervous would be an understatement of the century. His soul is one bump in the road away from skipping out of his body, leaving him alone to deal with whatever is happening inside his brain. Which is a lot on a regular day, but today, all his synapses and wires and whatever the fuck are screaming at him, you kissed Steph oh my gods, this is real, this is happening, oh no, Wayne is gonna be so smug about this!!!

No party hook up or any of his short-term girlfriends has made him this nervous. Because no offense to them, but they were young and simple and easy to understand. Steph, he might get to some extent—trans woman rejected by her family, feeling alone despite having a group of devoted friends, all of them scattered through states—but what she wants from life is surely different from finishing college and going on a summer trip. Right?

"Would you want to do it again?" he asks, hands shifting on the wheel. It's a good place to start.

"Your hair?" She gives him a fleeting glance. "Of course, it's nice to work with."

Eddie purses his lips. 

"Kiss. I meant the kiss," he clarifies. "Well, and anything that... might come with it." He winces at his own wording.

Steph murmurs something that sounds like "oh god" under her breath.

"Listen..." She drums her fingers against the bag in her lap. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

"Anything that involved you has been a good idea so far," he counters lightly. When she turns to look at him, he gives her a soft smile.

She nods slowly. 

"Okay, and how do you imagine that? You fuck me and then we awkwardly pass each other on the stairs? How do I look Wayne in the eye?"

Eddie winces. In his ideal fantasy, Wayne doesn't know until the wedding invitations get send out. 

"Well, unless I do something mortally embarrassing, I can't imagine an outcome where I wouldn't want to at least stay friendly and talk to you." He finally turns into their parking lot and goes silent as he looks for an empty space. Once parked, he kills the engine and turns to properly look at Steph. "What are you really worried about?"

She sighs, and when she looks up, her eyes are big and open, striking him right into his heart. 

"So many things," she admits.

"Tell me one of them," Eddie prompts. 

Steph quickly opens her mouth, almost aggressively, but clamps it shut just as fast. Her thoughtful frown tells him she's looking for something different to share. 

"I don't want to be a conquest, a one night stand. I don't do that, I don't do hook ups, to be honest I haven't had—" she cuts herself off abruptly, and her cheeks turn pink. 

Eddie tries to push down the sympathy from showing on his face, but it's hard to do. In his perfect world, he'd give her all the orgasms she deserves and then some. 

"And I don't want to be someone you can fuck whenever you visit Hawkins," she adds abruptly, rushing it out of her mouth like another forbidden thought. 

Eddie raises his eyebrows in surprise. 

"Do you think I'm so swarmed with opportunities in Indy that I can't pause my libido for a week?" he asks, almost amused by the idea.

"I don't know, Eddie!" She throws her hands up angrily. "I don't know you! And you don't know me."

"I know some of you," he insists. "I know your cats are Garfield, Dart, and Arwen. Your best friend is a lesbian named Robin, I know you're still friends with nerds you used to babysit, and that you like Star Wars. I know what kind of beer you buy, and that your couch is ridiculously soft. I know that you want to give your salon to Joyce and open a new one in Indy," he lists off. "And I'd like to know more." 

"No you don't."

Eddie holds himself back from throwing hands up in frustration as well. Maybe he didn't kiss her hard enough. 

"Well, you don't know me, so how would you know?" He never means to get irritated by her, but she's just so—ugh.

Steph presses her mouth into a thin line. 

"Let's just go in," she says, opening her door to leave the van.

Eddie curses under his breath, scrambling to gather his things and follow her. They don't talk, ruminating in their conversation (argument?), but she walks the stairs slowly, so his smoker lungs and barely used joints can keep up. It gives him hope that she's not really mad, and he could kiss her again in the near future. 

She stops on his floor, where they are meant to part.

"Do you want that conditioner?" she asks. 

For a second, his brain struggles to catch up, but he's nodding before it even clicks. Anything to keep her coming back. 

"Yeah, that would be great, thank you." He smiles, only slightly embarrassed by how out of breath he sounds. 

Steph nods, turning to the next flight of stairs, leading up towards her floor. 

"I'll call you when I find it. Thank you for today." And she smiles, finally, even if it's not as joyful as he'd like. 

"Thank you." He smiles more freely, fighting the instinct to nonchalantly lean against the handrail. It's not an ending of a date, after all. "And I was being serious, earlier. With—"

"I know," she interrupts him. "I know." She puts her feet on the first step, not looking at him. "I'll see you later."

"Will you think about it?" he asks before she can disappear, her pace much faster now that she doesn't have an Eddie-shaped ball chained to her ankle. Damn jock blood. 

Steph stops mid-way, turning to him with a slightly pitying smile that makes his insides churn. 

"Oh, Eddie," she sighs. "I think about it all the time."

For a while longer, he stays rooted to the spot, in the middle of his landing. Hopeful, turned on, but most of all, confused, listening to her steps fade out. 

When he finally turns back into their apartment, Wayne must sense something, because for once he doesn't bother him with questions and teasing remarks. Instead, he does something much, much worse, while he's pulling on the soft ends of Eddie's conditioned hair.

"You're going back next week, right?"

Because Eddie kind of forgot about that. That it's not some liminal time vacuum when he's just his uncle's kid again, driving through familiar streets, seeing faces that have known him since he was a young teen. He tends to do that, whenever visiting Wayne. Life in Indianapolis is great, but it's fast, loud and busy, so the contrast always make him feel like he's in a hazy dream. Like his life is on pause. 

Wayne is heartless in reminding him about the, so called, real life. Eddie sighs. 

"When is the appointment again? Wednesday?" He looks at the calendar on the fridge.

"Thursday," Wayne corrects him. "At 11." 

Eddie nods slowly, humming to himself. 

"We should stock up on the way back. So you don't have to strain your leg while I'm not here." He pats his uncle's knee, swiftly avoiding a kick with the cast after he does it. "How long until you can go back to work?"

"Two weeks, probably." Wayne shrugs. "Depends on what the doctor says. But I'm so ready to leave the house," he groans. "I'm bored out of my mind. Is this how you feel all the time?"

Eddie laughs. 

"Pretty much," he grins. "Should we grab some movies before I leave, too?"

"Please."

It's hours before the phone rings, and he's put it out of his mind, assuming Steph would want a break from him. But as soon as he hears it, he's up and walking towards the kitchen.

"Ed!" his uncle calls from the couch.

"On it!" he yells back before picking up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, I found the conditioner. Do you want to come up or should I drop it on my way to work tomorrow?" Steph sounds normal, like nothing weird has happened between them. He's not sure is a good or bad sign for him. 

"I'll come up, no problem," he answers quickly. "Is right now okay?"

"Yeah, I'm not doing anything."

"Okay, see you in ten."

When he puts down the phone, he can hear his heart pounding in his chest. He turns to the mirror hanging in the dark corridor and fixes what he can see, any stray hair or weirdly shifted clothes. But upon further consideration, he goes to the bathroom, where he can check his face and teeth under better light.

"I'm going out," he informs his uncle as he slides on his shoes. 

Wayne shifts to look at him, eyebrows raised curiously.  

"To where?"

"Steph's, I need to pick something up. I'll be back in fifteen minutes, don't trip until then."

"Come closer so I can hit you with the crutch," Wayne glowers at him. "I'll handle a walk to the bathroom, you keep the lady some company." He waves him off, turning back to the TV. "Before she goes mad talking to her cats all the time."

Eddie rolls his eyes. 

"Well, in that case, I'll be back when I'm back." He grins. "Later! And goodnight, possibly. Maybe, I don't know." Eddie loses steam by the end of it, but his uncle believes in him. The kid always had a talent for being charming when he wanted to. 

He settles comfortably in his seat. 

"Goodnight, lover boy," he chuckles.

tagsies:

@wheneverfeasible @steddieinthesun @hattsy-likes-pretty-stuff @bumblebeecuttlefishes @phantomcat94

@tartarusknight  @tinyplanet95 @steddiefication @estrellami-1 @disrespectedgoatman

@madigoround @tartarusknight @blasvemous @cryptid-system @hiei-harringtonmunson

@hellowhatthehellisgoingonhere @dreamercec @manliest-of-muppets

@bookbinderbitch @marklee-blackmore @icecat

[writesvani]

coming down | 07

collegestudent! gojo x collegestudent! reader

SUMMARY: You and Gojo Satoru were once everything to each other, but now, the space between you is filled with nothing but silence and resentment. College is just a reminder of how far you’ve drifted apart, and every encounter only adds fuel to the fire.

You avoid him like the plague, but it doesn’t matter. You can still feel him in the shadows, always there, always watching, as if the past was never really gone. So what do you do? You (try to) keep your distance, pretending it’s easy to forget the history that’s weighed you down for so long.

But deep down, neither of you can let go. And as the tension between you grows, you’re forced to confront the truth: some things are never truly buried, no matter how hard you try.

best friends-to-friends with benefits-to-enemies-to- enemies with benefits-to?

TWs (for this chapter): substance abuse, addiction, denial, emotional manipulation, toxic relationships, unresolved trauma, guilt, emotional distress, unhealthy coping mechanisms

comment here for Coming Down taglist;

SERIES M.LIST;

— previous chapter // next chapter

wc: 3,1k // date: 29th of March 2025

CHAPTER SEVEN — Love in the Sky; proceed with caution...

AN: this chapter is heavy as hell, so if ur mental state is hanging on by a thread, maybe give it a lil break before diving in. okay? okay. now, i ate every second of this up, and i hope u feel the energy i’m channeling through oc. anyway, note goal is 150 bc i’m delusional and ambitious. last chapter flopped a bit but we don’t talk about that. hit 150, and i’m dropping the next chapter like it’s a 10k-word five-star meal served on a silver platter. mwah.

Unease creeps up your neck, prickling your skin like static. Something feels... off.

You’re waking up slowly, eyelashes fluttering against the gluey residue of yesterday’s makeup. You should’ve washed your face. Should’ve done the bare minimum before collapsing into bed. But after everything that happened with Gojo, basic hygiene felt like an impossible task.

Still, sticky lashes don’t explain why you feel like prey. Like something is watching you.

Your breath hitches as you pry your eyes open, sluggishly turning your head—

And you scream.

“What the fuck, Ren?”

Ren is sitting right there, inches from your face, eyes wide with disturbing enthusiasm. He tilts his head like an overexcited puppy, his Bambi eyes gleaming as if he’s just witnessed the miracle of childbirth.

“Goooood morning,” he sings, voice piercing through your skull like a drill.

“For the love of God,” you groan, rubbing your face, “it’s too early for this.”

“It’s never too early for the morning after catch-up.”

You squint at him. “How are you not hungover?”

Ren smirks. “Let’s just say I have an amazing alcohol tolerance, babe.”

“Oh yeah? Tell that to Aiko’s floor—you know, the one you baptized with your stomach lining.”

He scowls. “Fine. Whatever. I have a good hungover tolerance.” He waves you off before leaning in again, grin widening. “Anyway, let’s not change the topic. I distinctly remember you making out with that hottie last night.”

The events of last night slam into your brain like a highlight reel on fast-forward—smoking, drinking, making out with Geto, that cramped, suffocating hangout in Aiko’s tiny bedroom, Ren throwing up his guts, and, of course, The Gojo Incident.

Your skin prickles. At all of it.

“Mhm,” you hum. “I did.”

“And I remember you saying he kisses reaaaally well,” Ren drawls, doing a painfully bad impression of you.

You roll your eyes. “He does, but—” You sit up on Ren’s couch, running a hand through your messy and straight up oily hair. “Right before you started throwing up on Aiko’s floor, another chick called him, and bro literally bolted out of the room to answer.”

Ren pauses, eyebrows furrowing. He taps his cheek, as if he’s in deep, intellectual thought. “That’s sus,” he finally declares. Then, just as quickly, he shrugs. “But who cares?”

“I don’t, but it kinda killed my buzz.”

“And chilling with Gojo fucking Satoru didn’t kill your buzz?”

You glance at him. “Did it kill yours?”

“Nah,” Ren waves a dismissive hand through the air. “Was too many glasses of whiskey deep to let that bastard ruin my night.” His face twists, like something just dawned on him. “But—I do remember that he put me to bed, which means that asshole was in my fucking apartment.”

"Yeah, he kinda helped me bring you home," you admit, your lips pressing against Ren’s brand-new mattress as you mumble.

"What the fuck? I don’t remember that."

"Yeah, Columbo, of course you don’t. You could barely walk straight. Honestly, I’m surprised you even remember him putting you to bed."

Ren groans, dragging a hand down his face. "Dang, couldn’t, like, anyone else help you?" He whines, his entire body recoiling in visible disgust. "I can already feel his dirty aura polluting my space."

"Sorry, he was the only one."

"Ugh. Fine." He lets out a long, dramatic sigh, as if the mere knowledge of Gojo's presence has spiritually tainted his apartment. "But how the hell did you survive that?"

You swallow hard. Survival? The word feels almost laughable when it comes to Gojo Satoru. You don’t survive him—you endure him. You let him sink into your skin and when he’s gone, you pretend the pain isn’t there.

Last night wasn’t an accident. It was inevitable. The conversation that had been lurking behind you like a devil, waiting for the right moment to wrap its fingers around your throat. And when it finally did—when you finally had to face him—you realized the worst part wasn’t what he said.

It was how easily he said it.

How he didn’t regret it. Any of it.

How he still believed he was right.

You let out a breath and look at Ren, at the concern laced in his features, and you force yourself to do something you haven’t done in a long time—be honest.

"Who said anything about survival?" The smile that tugs at your lips is bitter. But it’s also genuine.

Ren watches you, eyes narrowing slightly. He hesitates before his hand finds your arm, fingertips grazing your skin like he’s afraid you might shatter. "Wait… what happened?"

So you tell him.

You tell him about Gojo, about the destruction he left behind—not just in Ren’s apartment, but in you. How he twisted the knife with every word, every laugh, every goddamn look. How he walked away in the end, like he always does, leaving behind nothing but wreckage.

And when you finish, the room is quiet.

Ren doesn’t speak. Doesn’t move.

He just looks at you like he’s seeing someone he doesn’t know how to help.

"Don’t look at me like that, Rennie." Your voice is quieter this time, a little unsteady.

"Like what?" His hand tightens around yours, warm, grounding—infuriatingly gentle.

"Like I’m—" You shake your head, frustration curling around your words. "I don’t know. Like you agree with him."

Ren doesn’t speak right away. His fingers move against your skin, tracing invisible patterns, like he’s thinking, like he’s trying to figure out how to say something he already knows you don’t want to hear.

"You do, don’t you?" You whisper.

He exhales, his gaze locking onto yours—soft, affectionate, but carrying something firmer beneath the surface. Something unshakable.

"If you want me to be honest," he starts, choosing his words carefully, "I don’t agree with how he went about it." He pauses, running his tongue over his teeth. "But… I lowkey agree with his reasoning."

The world tilts for a second. You swallow, but it does nothing to clear the lump in your throat.

It shouldn’t hurt. Not like this. But it does.

Your skin prickles, a cold rush washing over you as if someone had doused you in ice water. You yank your hand out of Ren’s grasp like his touch suddenly burns. Every muscle in your body goes tight, retreating, desperate for distance.

"So what?" Your voice is sharp, almost breathless. Your fingers dart to your lips, picking at the skin. "You think I was an addict or something?"

Ren exhales through his nose, slow and measured, like he’s already exhausted. "I didn’t say that. Can you just—can you just stop and listen?"

But you don’t. You can’t.

Your knee bounces. You dig your nails into your palm. "I wasn’t addicted," you snap, your voice rising. "If I was, I’d—I don’t know, I’d have gone to rehab or something. I stopped when I wanted to."

Ren's jaw tightens. His expression shifts—still calm, still composed, but there’s something behind his eyes now. Solid. Unrelenting. "First of all," he says, his voice low but firm, "I never said you were addicted." His gaze pins you in place. "And second—you only stopped when you had no other option."

The words slam into you with the force of a freight train.

Because that’s not true.

He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know how many chances you had to start again. How many times people offered, how many times you could have easily said yes. How many times temptation curled around your spine, whispered in your ear—just one more time, one more line, no one has to know.

He doesn’t know that you stopped. Not because you had no choice.

But because you chose to.

Because of your parents. Because of him.

Because the fear of disappointing everyone all over again was worse than the withdrawal. Worse than anything.

"No, you don’t know," you snap, your voice splintering under the weight of your own frustration. You’re practically vibrating in your seat, your whole body wound tight like a live wire. "You don’t know shit. You just—you just agree with Gojo." The words taste wrong even as you spit them out, hard and warped, but you let them take root anyway. You choose to believe them.

Ren doesn't even flinch. If anything, he looks tired. Tired in that way only Ren can be when he’s watching you unravel and knows there’s nothing he can do to stop it.

"Honey," he sighs, his voice softer now, almost exasperated, "if I agreed with him, I would’ve stuck by his side and run away from you as fast as possible." He pauses, lets it sink in. "But I didn’t."

Something about that but makes your stomach churn.

"You made some horrible choices," he continues, and there’s no sugarcoating in his voice, no room for argument. "And that’s a fact. But those choices were yours. And that wasn’t his secret to tell."

His words land heavier than you expect. You should feel relieved—he's defending you, right? He’s on your side. But somehow, it only makes your chest tighten, like he’s forcing you to hold a mirror up to yourself, and you hate what you see.

Ren looks at you softly, his eyes carrying that quiet warmth of love—the kind that makes you forget, that smooths over every jagged edge inside you. It should calm you.

It should make you feel safe.

But the churning in your stomach doesn’t stop. It presses down, heavy and suffocating, sinking from your throat to your gut, curling around your insides like something rotten.

Your heart hurts. Really hurts.

You don’t want to think about this anymore. Don’t want to talk about it. You weren’t ready last night. You aren’t ready now. You probably won’t ever be ready. It feels impossible. The weight of it all is crushing, pressing you at the seams. You can’t hold yourself together anymore. Not when this conversation is playing out.

Ren watches you carefully, reading the cracks forming in real time. Then, with a softness that almost shatters you completely, he whispers,

"But I see you still aren’t ready for this conversation. So I won’t dig any deeper."

Relief should come. But it doesn’t. Not when his voice lowers, not when his next words carry that unmistakable echo—the one that tells you Ren never lies to you, not even when it would be easier.

"But I won’t be the friend who nods his head and agrees with you on everything," he says. "That isn’t us. And if that’s what you want—if you want someone to just smile and tell you you’re right about everything—the door’s right there. I’m not gonna stop you."

His words should hurt as well, yet they don’t.

Because you know, deep down, Ren is still here. He’s always been here. Even now, when you can’t breathe, when your whole body feels like it’s crumbling in on itself—he’s here.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

Your voice is barely there. A plea.

Ren exhales, long and slow, his hands running over his temples like he’s trying to massage the tension out of his skull. His lips twitch—something between a tired smile and a sigh—before he finally looks at you.

Then, with no hesitation, he extends his arms.

“Come here.”

You don’t think. You don’t hesitate. You practically gauge yourself into his embrace, burying your face into the warmth of his neck, the scent of his skin grounding you in a way nothing else can. His arms wrap around you, steady, firm, unshakable.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice cracking, “I’m sorry for being so fucking unreasonable.”

Ren doesn’t say anything at first. Just squeezes you a little tighter, letting the silence settle, letting you breathe.

Then, softly—so gently it makes your chest twist—he says,

“It’s okay.”

After the heaviness of this morning, Ren seems to have made it his personal mission to erase the unease—to bask in normalcy. That’s how you find yourselves back at Radio, hoping that breakfast and coffee will wash away the remnants of last night. Of this morning’s conversation.

Your eyes drift across the now-familiar coffee shop-slash-diner. Since the first time you and Ren stumbled in, it became your go-to place. It’s safe. Grounding. Comfortingly unchanging—except, apparently, for the new additions cluttering the tables.

The small car radios that once held the menus now have tiny race car figurines next to them. Your face twists in immediate disgust.

Seriously?

How fucking over-the-top can this place get? As if the walls covered in radios weren’t already screaming, Look at us! We’re so edgy and retro!

“This shit makes me cringe so fucking much,” you mutter, pointing at the newest offense.

Ren barely looks up, smirking. “That’s the vibe they’re going for.”

“There’s a fine line between aesthetic and trying too damn hard, and this place pole-vaulted right over it.”

Ren laughs, taking a sip of his coffee. “Oh, come on. Maybe the owner just really likes cars and radios. Maybe it’s, like, their childhood dream to own a diner that’s both a radio museum and a shrine to F1.”

“Then they should’ve picked a fucking theme and stuck to it,” you argue, waving a hand dramatically. “Like, what’s next? Are they gonna start hanging skateboards from the ceiling? Maybe throw in some old typewriters while they’re at it?”

“Oh my God,” Ren gasps, eyes lighting up. “What if they add a train set next?”

“No. No, I refuse. If I walk in here one day and see a fucking model railway running along the bar, I’m filing a formal complaint.”

Ren hums, tilting his head in fake thoughtfulness. “Orrrr you could just accept that maybe—just maybe—you’re being a hater for no reason.”

You scoff in disbelief. “I will not stand by and watch this place turn into a car market on steroids.”

Ren shrugs, unfazed. “Oh well. Guess that just means more race cars for me.”

You narrow your eyes. “Touch one of those things and I swear to God, Ren, I’ll start telling people you have a foot fetish.”

Ren’s expression doesn’t even falter. “Well good thing I already told people I have a foot fetish.”

You part your lips, your brain already coming up with a perfect sarcastic remark to answer him—but the words lodge themselves in your throat. Because walking through Radio’s door, all long strides and lazy confidence, is Gojo Satoru.

What the hell?

This—this doesn’t happen. Radio isn’t his scene. It’s yours. It’s Ren’s. It’s your place, your little sanctuary. And yet, here he is, stepping inside like he belongs, like the universe just decided to drop him into your morning uninvited.

And the weirdest part? He’s alone.

He doesn’t see you at first. There’s a pair of Bluetooth earbuds tucked into his ears, his glasses perched on top of his head, his long neck peeking out from the collar of his hoodie. He’s staring at his phone, completely absorbed in whatever he’s typing. You watch as he lets out a small, amused smile—probably read something funny. Someone sent him a dumb text or a joke.

And he looks… fine.

No hangover. No tension. No lingering remains from last night. No sign that the conversation you had even touched him. Like it never even happened.

And then, like some horrible slow-mo tiktok edit, he lifts his gaze. His eyes flick from his phone to your face, and then, finally, his whole head follows.

And he licks his lips.

His irises blaze with recognition, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before he starts marching straight toward you and Ren.

Fucking awesome.

Gojo slides into the booth beside Ren like he owns the place, his arm draping over your best friend’s shoulders as if they’re long-lost war buddies. Which they probably are, but still.

Your eyes practically bulge out of their sockets.

“Long time no see, besties,” he announces, giving Ren’s shoulder a few casual taps, like this is all perfectly normal. Like he is perfectly normal.

But it’s not. And he’s not.

“That would actually be more believable if you hadn’t spent last night harassing us,” you snap, waving a hand in the air like you can physically shoo his presence away.

Gojo hums, unbothered. “I wouldn’t call helping harassment, but semantics, I guess.”

Ren, visibly repulsed, tries shaking his shoulders to get Gojo’s arm off, but the man’s grip is firm, unyielding. Finally, with an exaggerated grimace, Ren pries the offending limb off himself.

“Please don’t touch me, you freak,” Ren deadpans.

Gojo grins. “You weren’t saying that when I was carrying you bridal style to your chambers.”

Ren’s face grows red at his remark, fingerd twitching against his coffee cup. Oh, he’s pissed. “I didn’t have a choice! I was drunk, and it’s not like I asked you to do it.”

“No, but she did,” Gojo points a lazy finger in your direction.

Your teeth grit. “You asked if I needed help, and then forced me to accept it.”

Gojo chuckles, entirely too pleased with himself. “Tomato, tomahto.”

“Can you, like,” Ren mutters around a bite of his burger, already thinking of the chain of events that led him to this very moment, “go and bother someone else? Please and thank you.”

“See, I would,” Gojo says, drumming his fingers against the tabletop, “but I’m waiting for a friend, and I don’t wanna be lonely,” he whines, dragging out the last word like a toddler in need of attention.

“Leave us alone, for fuck’s sake,” you snap, frustration clawing up your throat. “We actually have something to talk about. Privately.”

Gojo perks up. “Oh, I’m all for privacy,” he muses. “Maybe we can discuss how my parents just called to let me know that our families planned a lil weeknd getaway. For all of us. Privately, of course.”

Your stomach twists so hard it might just tie itself into a knot.

Ren goes still, his face draining of color—somehow managing to look paler than Gojo’s hair.

Your blood runs cold.

Your families haven’t had any holidays, vacations, trips together in years. Not since the truth came out. Not since he and his parents stopped showing up.

Not since they found out about your habits.

And definitely not after they found out you were blowing their son in the janitor’s closet.

Ren chokes on his burger. You can hear it—the sharp inhale, the way his throat works too hard to swallow something that was never meant to go down that fast. But you can’t move.

Can’t speak.

Your ears are ringing.

Gojo just watches, a slow smirk curling at the corner of his lips, like he can hear the way your thoughts are running wild—like he knows.

He leans forward, elbows braced on the table, voice dropping just enough to make your skin prickle.

“Oh, come on,” he murmurs, tilting his head, a wicked glint dancing in his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about our little traditions.”

Your jaw tightens. “I was never big on tradition.”

Gojo hums, dragging his fingers along the tabletop, slow and deliberate. “Oh, sweetheart,” he muses, his smirk sharpening. “Trust me, we’re all painfully aware of that.”

taglist: @zeunys @charmstarr @ovela @kur0mii3 @dabisdolly @17362939 @krispywhisperswhispers @mintcheery @kazupop @heh123321 @hanakotateyama @choppersworlds-blog @eneiyri @suniloli @44ina. @s4ikooo1 @blushedcheri @dishs0pe @rhea-sylvea @eolivy @decadentcoffeecandy @4thansstuff @crankyarchives @mrswanggae @blobbyblogsdraws @saoirses-things

[pullupinarari]

hi bea! read the clingy lewis blurb and smth came in mind. just imagine reader has a routine where she would kiss lewis good morning every time he first come to her after waking up. but one day reader didnt. and well lets just say the clingy husband is coming out 🤭

a/n: another one about clingy husband Lewis because yall loved this concept apparently 😭 these blurbs are getting too long, maybe it’s time for me to get a grip 🤧 I’m posting this and I’m off to bed so I can work on my masters project in the morning. I’ll be back tomorrow with another blurb! Hope you enjoy this, mwah 🩷

It’s a routine, a tradition, whatever you want to call it. Ever since you and Lewis started dating, your ‘good morning’ kisses were something sacred that neither of you would ever give up. Whenever you two were lucky enough to spend the night together and wake up next to the other in bed, without having to rush to work, you could just enjoy being in the presence of the love of your life. You would lay in silence, just sharing sweet kisses, soft touches and taking in the feeling of gratitude for being together.

And when work would force you to stay away for a while, the morning calls were essential for the both of you - the way you could see each other’s face as soon as you would wake up, would be enough to light up your day already.

Tonight, Lewis is lying beside you, sounding peacefully asleep while one of his arms is draped over your body, hugging you close to him. However, your mind rushes, insisting on keeping you awake while you try to sleep, to get some rest.

Tomorrow morning, you have a very important work meeting, and the thought of it is making your body erupt in a pool of nerves and anxiety already, and you can’t stop thinking about it.

You don’t remember around what time you managed to fell asleep, you just remember waking up to the sensation of the warm lips of your husband caressing your collarbone gently, trailing their path until your neck. You hum slightly at the feeling at first, enjoying his touch on your body, making you dive further in the sheets.

But then, your brain wakes up, reminding you of your work meeting: your eyes shot open, checking the clock on your bedside table, and a rush of electricity runs through your blood when you realize that you are late for work already.

Immediately getting up, you run to the bathroom, trying to get ready as soon as possible, knowing that you don’t have much time left until your meeting starts.

On the bed, you left a confused Lewis, a question mark visible on his facial expression, his eyebrows furrowed while he blinks his eyes repeatedly, trying to make sense of what just happened.

“Baby?” - he says from the bed. “Come back to bed?” - Lewis’ voice is sounding small, trying to understand what’s wrong with you.

“I’m late for work!” - you shout from the bathroom as you finish your hair and makeup, running to the closet to get dressed.

Your words enter your husband’s brain, the situation making more sense to him now. He lays back down, patiently waiting for you to finish getting ready so he can have his much awaited good morning kiss.

He hears you ruffling through the closet, and he sees you coming back to the bedroom to grab your phone from the bedside table. You look like a tornado, carrying your bag while you run from one side to the other, trying to gather everything you need without forgetting anything.

His eyes are trained on you, expectantly looking at your movements, waiting for you to remember him - he is right there, where you left him, and he just wants two seconds of your attention so you can give him a kiss before heading to work.

“Shit, I can’t believe I’m so late, my boss is going to kill me!” - you sigh loudly, and Lewis hears your words coming from the corridor, echoing through the space.

“See you later Lew, lunch is on you! Please take care of that” - you scream to him as you reach the front door, running to your car as you get on your way to work.

Lewis is left dumbfounded. Sinking his head into the pillow as he huffs, his lips immediately form a small pout absently as he realizes that you didn’t even bother stopping at the bedroom door, to wave him goodbye or something. You haven't even looked him in the eyes since you woke up this morning.

The man is left alone for the rest of the morning, his mind wondering if he has done anything wrong. He just got back from a work trip himself, maybe he has done something that hurt you without realizing it. Maybe that’s why you didn’t take a second of your time to kiss him, to look at him, to take in his presence - breaking your ‘good morning kiss’ tradition.

His thoughts make his heart sink, so he decides to send you a text, wishing you a good day at work and finishing his message with a heartfelt “I love you ❤️”, to which you didn’t reply.

He is feeling sad, insecure, unsure of what happened, of what to do. The only thing he knows is that he is supposed to make lunch for the both of you, so he decides to cook your favorite dish - hoping that would make up for whatever he might have done, while he patiently waits for you to come back on your lunch break.

You spend the entire morning drowning in work, not even having time to check your phone, the message that your husband sent you still waiting to be opened on your device. You let out a sigh - relieved to be home already for your break once you walk inside.

The scent of your favorite food is lingering in the air, immediately filling your senses when you reach for the kitchen. Lewis is stirring the pot in front of him while Roscoe is lying next to the fridge, who turns his head to look at you once he hears your steps.

“Hey chef” - you joke, grabbing a bottle of water before leaving the room again to put your shoes away.

Again, no kiss. What happened to the wife that would kiss her husband first thing as soon as she saw him? Lewis is starting to worry, noticing how you’re acting as if everything is fine meanwhile he is holding his heart in his hands.

He takes a deep breath, gaining the courage to talk to you once you’re back in the kitchen.

“Is lunch ready? I’m so hungry” - you say as you kneel down to pet Roscoe.

“Love?” - Lewis calls, catching your attention as you look him in the eyes for the first time today. “Can we talk?”

You nod your head. “Sure, what’s up?”

He looks down for a second, playing with his fingers before speaking up. “Did I do something wrong?” - his whispers, trying to find some answers in your facial expressions.

Your eyes widen, surprised by his question. “No baby, why? What’s wrong?” - you give him your full attention now, your body getting closer to him.

You notice the way he starts pouting, the sight being enough already to break your heart. “It’s just that… you didn’t kiss me good morning today. Or kiss me at all. And I even sent you a cute text and you didn’t reply, so I was wondering if I might have done something without realizing” - his eyes are big, laced with worry as he continued sulking, his bottom lip sticking out in the most adorable pout you’ve ever seen.

Your hands cup his face, remembering this morning’s events and understanding now why he feels so bad.

“Oh, Lew! I’m sorry! You did nothing wrong, I swear. I was just so nervous for this meeting that my mind never even thought about it. And I didn’t reply to your texts because I didn’t even have time to check my phone, it’s been buried somewhere in my bag since the moment I left the house” - your tone is apologetic, your face sympathetic as you find his figure so adorable, sulking because he wants your kisses.

You finally attach your lips together, caressing his cheeks while you do so, and your husband immediately wraps his arms around your shape, not letting you go for the world - deepening the kiss as much as he can, your mouths glued together until you are running out of air.

He sighs when you break the kiss, feeling a wave of relief washing over him now.

“I didn’t know what to do. I just got back home from a work trip myself and now I didn’t even get a kiss. And you left me here all morning wondering about all the small things I did!” - you chuckle at his words, shaking your head as he is saying the silliest and most non-sense words in the world.

“Stop laughing” - he forces a pout again. “I missed my wife” - the man admits, connecting your lips again, wanting to make up for all the hours he just spent without receiving any attention from you.

“Well thank god that I’m here! And I’m hungryyyy! Can we finally eat, please?” - you ask him in between pecks, knowing damn well that Lewis won’t stop kissing you unless you are forcefully distancing your bodies from each other. You know how needy your man can be.

He rolls his eyes at your words playfully. “I’m right here and you are worried about a plate of food? You could have me instead” - the cheeky tone leaving his throat matches the smirk on his face, and you can’t help but laugh at his words while reaching for the stove, getting ready to serve lunch.

He hugs you from behind, kissing your shoulder as he watches your actions. You sigh in response, feeling the way he is holding you tight while you are desperate to sit down and eat, and he notes the sound coming from your body.

“Damn, is it a crime for a man to miss his wife?” - Lewis tells you in a dramatic tone, tightening his hold on you even more playfully.

“Lewis, we are going to have lunch now-“ - he cuts you off immediately.

“I MISS MY WIFE” - your husband states again, chuckling on your skin while his lips kiss your cheek, your laugh erupting through the kitchen, already aware that you will have a lot to make up for to your clingy husband tonight.

[moonstruckme]

i would KILL for a spencer reid x bau!reader who greets each other after a case is over like the taylor/travis post-concert video 🙏

Thanks lovely!

Spencer Reid x bau!reader ♡ 453 words

By the time he gets off the jet, Spencer’s exhausted. The team had spent all of the previous night working the case and then arresting the killer in the early hours of the morning, and he hadn’t even been able to catch a wink on the five-hour flight back from California. The sun is too bright, his back hurts from hunching over a desk all night, and he really, really wants to demolish some takeout from the Chinese place across from his apartment. 

None of that matters when he enters the building and sees you already on your way to greet him. Your walk turns smoothly into a run as a smile breaks out on your face, and even though he’s ready for it, Spencer makes a little “oof” when you throw your arms around his neck. 

You squeeze him tight, an almost inaudible squealing sound coming from the back of your throat as you press your head into his neck for a split-second before pulling back and kissing him. Spencer smiles against your lips, and you have to stop when it catches, your teeth clacking together. 

“Missed you,” you say, beaming up at him. 

He keeps one hand around your waist while using the other to clear the hair from your forehead, dropping a kiss there. “Missed you more.” 

“Not possible.” You give him another squeeze, going up on your tiptoes to hook your chin over his shoulder. 

“Does this have to happen every time?” Prentiss asks, brushing past the two of you. 

Spencer can feel your silent laughter under his palm. “Only as long as I’m on desk duty,” you say. You lower yourself to the ground to send a pointed look in Hotch’s direction. 

He doesn’t look up from his phone, large fingers punching comically tiny buttons as he texts. “One more week,” he says, going up the stairs to his office. 

You’re disappointed but not surprised, frown evaporating when Spencer laughs at you. He palms your face, tilting it up for another quick peck. “Did you really think you were going to sway Hotch with PDA?” 

“Worth a try,” you chirp, chasing him for more, but Spencer dodges you and you hit his chin. You’re fine with that, and you kiss it again to show it. “Bribery’s all I’ve got.”

“Once your hip has healed, we’ll be happy to have you back out there with us.” 

You hum. “Sure, whatever. Hey, want to grab takeout from that place across the street on our way home? You must be hungry.” 

Spencer’s hand traces a path down the inside of your arm until he gets to your hand, intertwining your fingers as you walk towards the elevator. “You have no idea.”