#which would over-complicate matters even further

[sukunasteeth]

Sukuna has never said no to you.

It didn’t matter what the request was, simple or complicated, easy to fix or a days-long job, Sukuna was always at your side, completing the task as fast as he needed to to keep you satisfied. He would love to deny it, you’re sure, but evidence proves time and time again that he puts your needs and wants at the top of his priority list. 

And you were curious how far you could go with it.

The two of you are sitting in your underwear at the breakfast nook, warming yourselves in the bay window while the morning sun starts on the leftover night time chill. It wasn't quite time for breakfast, still too early for the both of you. In the meantime, you sip on your morning brews, preserving the comfortable silence. Sukuna is flipping through the day's newspaper, his eyes are groggy with sleep and he hasn't said more than a handful of words to you yet. He wasn't a morning person.

You were starting to change that.

"Kuna," You call to him, nudging him with your foot from your corner of the window bench.

"Hmm?" He doesn't look up from the paper, but his hand reaches down and grabs your foot, pulling it into his lap. His thumbs start to subconsciously knead at your muscles.

"I want these." You hold up your phone, which you had previously been scrolling through in an attempt to find something ridiculous for this exact moment. You were sure you had found it, something even Sukuna would find unnecessary. 

And yet, he merely glances at your screen, takes in the sight for all of two seconds, and then returns his attention to whatever news article he was in the middle of.

"My wallet's on the counter." He clears the sleep from his throat not sparing a second look. 

You blink at him in surprise.

"D-Did you even see what it is?" You flip your phone around to make sure you were displaying the correct thing. 

Sukuna is frowning before he looks up again, curious at your persistence. He gently cups your hand, bringing it only a minuscule amount closer to examine your screen a second time. 

You were on one of the most luxurious brand’s websites, showing him an incredibly regular pair of panties, no straps, no details, all black- with one of the most outrageous price tags you had ever seen for something so ordinary. 

Sukuna cocks a brow at you over your phone, "Can't imagine you need more panties when you're constantly stealing my boxers. But whatever, hand it over. I know my card number-"

"Kuna," You interrupt him with a surprised laugh, holding fast to your phone when he tries to pluck it out of your hands, "they're a thousand dollars."

He glances back, his eyes focusing lower on the screen where you know the price tag to be. The newspaper in his hands drops down, momentarily forgotten by what he sees. For a moment, you think you've found his limit.

"Wait, are those red one's assless?" He points just below the price, where the recommended products are depicted. "Get those too."

You drop the phone down so that he meets your eyes, which are wide with shock.

Sukuna always took care of you. Always insisted on being the provider of any single thing that you may need; a warm meal, a soft bed, anything your eyes twinkled at that was available for purchase- even if you would never think of buying or owning it. Granted, you never wanted much in terms of material possessions, so you didn't realize the true extent of Sukuna's leniency until now.

It was slightly intimidating, and part of it felt wrong. Sukuna had money, plenty of it, but that didn’t mean he should feel the need to spend copious amounts of it on you just because you could ask him to. He was giving you too much power, it felt like.

You huff through your nose, frowning at him, which only has him tilting his head further to the side in question.

You ignore it, setting your phone onto the window seat and crawling your way closer to him, until you can gather up his face in your hands and lock his gaze into yours.

He glares at you past smushed cheeks, but doesn't make a move to break free of your hold, humoring you. "The hell are you doing-"

"You know you don't always have to say yes to me?"

Now that has him taken aback. His mouth automatically opens for a witty response, but your question seems to have effectively taken the words from his mouth. You can see the cogs in his head turning, and what you wouldn't give to peer inside his mind and hear his thoughts.

It takes him a moment, but eventually that familiar confident smile stretches across his sleepy face. His hands seem to instinctively slide their way up your bare legs until his fingers grip your hip bones, pressing into you. 

He hums, "When have you ever said no to me?"

You scoff, ready to give him a prime example, but end up coming up short. The two of you loved to tease each other with disobedience, but in the end you were eager to give Sukuna anything his heart desired. You loved to please him, it was one of your favorite things to do, in fact.

"You never ask anything ridiculous of me." You remind him, smiling as one of his warm hands slides back down your waist and dips into the pair of his boxers you were sporting that day. 

"You know what's ridiculous?” His voice wraps around your throat, and suddenly has you swallowing past the delicious grip. You're folding into him before you even realize it, at the mercy of his calloused hands. "The implication that I wouldn't do just about anything for you."

You can't help but sigh hopelessly, although it comes out as a desperate noise that pleads him for more. You really were all his, just like he loved to tell you.

"Now hand me your phone." It's a whisper, coaxing you. "I wanna see you in red."

You can’t say no. 

At least it was mutual.

[avatar-anna]

Never Really Over

a little bit of divorced!harry for your consideration

"I just wanna see him."

Y/n gave her ex a long look, not betraying the warring emotions swirling in her belly. Harry rarely showed up this late. He rarely showed up unannounced, for that matter. It made things easier—seeing him when she could prepare herself for the encounter. Now he was here on her doorstep, hair messy and eyes all pleading and sad.

"I just put him to bed, H," Y/n sighed. It wasn't that she didn't want to keep Harry from their son, but it was way too late, and it wasn't his week.

It had nothing to do with the fact that Y/n had been feeling particularly lonely lately and seeing her ex husband be all sweet with their son would make her think traitorous thoughts.

"I know, I know, I've just... I've had a long day, and I just want to see him. I won't even wake him up, I swear. I just want to sit with him."

Despite the divorce, Y/n still knew Harry struggled with the demise of their relationship, and she did too, even if she was the one who ultimately filed. They were five months in, but she felt like no time had passed at all. She floated between half expecting Harry to walk through the door like he used to and frustrated by the way their relationship turned so tumultuous by the end. It was all too complicated, which was why she preferred Harry's visits to be planned. It helped her to compartmentalize.

But she saw the look in his eyes and couldn't help but empathize with her ex-husband.

He looked tired and lost and maybe even at his wits end a little. She knew that look well, she recognized it every time she looked in the mirror on the days Harry had their son. She knew what it was like to have a bad day and want nothing more than to hold their little bub and let him wash away every bit of stress and frustration. Y/n did everything she could to not go completely out of her mind when it was Harry's week with their son, and she imagined that her ex felt similarly.

"Twenty minutes," she said, opening the door further and stepping to the side.

Harry's shoulders sagged with relief. He stepped toward Y/n as if he was going to hug her, then seemed to think better of it and went straight inside.

Y/n stayed downstairs while Harry went up, letting him have a private moment with their son. She cleaned up in the meantime, putting away stray toys and books and fluffing couch cushions and refolding blankets. Anything to not think of Harry with her son, or the soft look he always got when he gazed down at their little boy. It had always been her kryptonite, and she wasn't sure she'd gotten over it yet.

A little while later, Harry came back downstairs. Having organized and straightened up everything she possibly could, Y/n settled on the couch with the glass of wine she'd promised herself earlier that day. She'd wanted to have it in her bed with her book, but she settled for scrolling on her phone until her ex eventually left.

"Thank you," Harry said, his voice soft, careful not to wake the five year old upstairs. "You didn't have to do that, but I appreciate it."

"Don't worry about it," Y/n said, trying to appear like seeing him didn't have an effect on her the way it used to.

"Really, Y/n, I owe you."

"Let's not go and make promises you can't keep again," she muttered.

Y/n felt guilty as soon as she said it. They were having a civil moment, a rarity since the whirlwind of their divorce. She hadn't meant to pick at old wounds and make them bleed again. Her response was a reflex more than anything, one that she couldn't keep in check when she was tired.

"I'm not the one who filed for divorce, Y/n," Harry said, a dark cloud of emotion overtaking his face. "If anyone broke promises, it was you."

"Those vows were broken long before we got divorced, and you know it," Y/n said, that old fire that was more of a dull ember these days rising to the surface.

Harry and Y/n fell in love hard and fast, both loving each other fiercely and with everything cell in their body. Their relationship had been full of passion and intensity and so much love it was almost suffocating. But it also meant that they fought just as hard. Their arguments often blazed and burned bright, then fizzled out until they were in each other's arms again as if nothing had happened.

Until the arguments got bigger.

And longer.

And Y/n just couldn't take it anymore.

Y/n could tell that the anger simmering in Harry's eyes was more for show. She could see the sadness, perhaps even loneliness, in those lovely green eyes of his. And maybe her anger was a little more bravado than genuine hurt too. Maybe it was easier to slip into familiar habits and poke at old wounds than admit the truth.

She missed him.

"Don't make me the villain here. You—"

"I don't want to fight with you," she said before Harry could volley anything back. "I shouldn't have said what I said. I'm sorry. It's been a long day for me, and I'm assuming yours wasn't a walk in the park either."

Harry didn't say anything, or do anything, for a moment. Then, he let his head drop, his shoulders slumping a little. Feeling more than a little bad for kicking him while he was down, Y/n stood up from the couch and fetched another glass before pouring some wine in it for her ex. "Here," she said. "A peace offering. You look like you could use it."

With a laugh that held no humor in it, he took it and raised the glass to his mouth, and Y/n tried hard not to stare at his lips. Or the column of his throat as it bobbed when he took a sip. Or—

"Is this one of mine?"

Y/n willed her cheeks not to flush. "I might've snagged a few bottles from your collection before we sold the house. Most of them went untouched anyways."

"They were aging," Harry said, a little of that humor and charm she fell in love with sparking in his eyes, the lines of his face. "You're supposed to let the bottles rest for a few years until they're at their peak, and then you drink them."

Y/n shrugged. "If you wait too long it goes bad and you miss out on a perfectly good bottle altogether, and then you do all that waiting for nothing."

She didn't mean anything by it, but both of them recognized the subtle truth in regards to their own relationship. Y/n wondered if they would ever be over this part. The stumbling through conversations and trying to avoid dangerous subjects that were littered between them like a minefield.

"Are you saying that's what happened with us?" Harry asked after taking another sip. "That I waited too long to appreciate what was right in front of me? What was perfect in every way the whole time?"

"I was talking about wine, not us."

"You've always been perfect in my eyes, Y/n," Harry said. "You and that perfect angel upstairs. Both of you are my entire world."

"Don't," Y/n said, taking a step back when she realized how close together they were.

"I miss you," Harry said, his voice hitching in his throat. "I miss waking up to our baby snuggled between us. I miss holding your hand while we watch him play at the park. I miss building pillow forts and playing pretend. I miss you, Y/n. I miss being loved by you. I hate that we're divorced. I hate that I signed those stupid papers and let you walk away."

Her throat suddenly felt dry, her heart pumping in her chest so hard she worried he might hear it. Blinking, Y/n tried to maintain the thread of composure holding her together. "You've had a long day. I can tell you need rest—"

"Don't patronize me," he said, stepping closer and closing the small distance between them once more. When Y/n didn't try to widen it again, Harry continued. "If you don't miss me, if you don't still feel what I feel, then say that. But if you do..."

Harry took Y/n's glass and set it down on the coffee table along with his own. He straightened up, one free hand lightly caressing your face, his thumb grazing across her cheek with a touch so delicate she barely felt it. It was agonizing. To have him right there, just the way she used to, and only get a phantom touch. It was maddening.

So maddening, that when he leaned in, Y/n didn't stop him.

She might have whimpered, and her knees might have slightly buckled, and she might have clutched her shirt between her fingers in a desperate, iron grip as Harry slid his mouth against hers, but she would deny it if he said anything about it later.

His kiss was all-consuming, he'd been a ghost in her new life for months, and suddenly he was everywhere—on her tongue, in her hands, against her chest. And she nearly forgot how explosive kissing him was. How it was almost like a dance that they'd mastered but were always learning new and exciting steps to. The softness of her ex's lips were as familiar as ever, but the stubble on his cheeks was new. She didn't recognize the shirt he wore, but she knew the body beneath it almost as well as her own. And his hands—

"We can't—We're not—Harry—"

Over the years, Y/n had grown used to the feeling of Harry's wedding band against her skin. When he held her hand, when he cupped her cheek, when he was spreading her open or landing a firm slap to her ass. It was familiar, a part of him that just seemed intrinsic after they got married.

But now, as she placed her hand over the one that held the side of her face as he kissed along her throat, it wasn't there. The band was gone, they weren't married anymore, and they certainly shouldn't be kissing like they still were.

"Just this once," Harry murmured, pressing the words along the curve of her jaw. "It's been so long, baby. I just want to feel you again. We can still be divorced after. Like last time."

Flames licked Y/n's core as she remembered the night in question. It had been the night the divorce had been finalized. Harry and Y/n signed and initialed every dotted line, the lawyers shook hands and left, then Harry and Y/n went their separate ways

Harry still insisted that her late-night message about a few of his possessions that got mixed in with her things was meant to have some kind of subtext, and Y/n would swear until she was blue in the face that her text was innocent, even if the activities that followed Harry coming over to "pick up" said items were anything but. It was a final goodbye. It was closing a chapter on a book neither of them ever really believed would end.

"Last time was supposed to be the last time," Y/n said, her voice shallow and not at all convincing.

"Tell me you don't want me right now," Harry said, his hand creeping beneath the waistband of her pajama pants. Y/n's mouth opened in a strangled gasp, too aroused and too in love with him still to push him away. "Tell me not to set you down on the kitchen counter and let me love on that pussy the way I used to. Tell me not to haul you upstairs and fuck you hard for breaking us up when we could've had this every. Single. Day."

Harry's last words were punctuated by the thrust of his fingers inside Y/n, each one making her curl around him tight. He lifted her into his arms and set her on the couch, the closest surface in the vicinity that wasn't hardwood flooring. His fingers still moving inside her, pumping slowly, he pressed a bruising kiss to her lips.

"Tell me not to love you anymore," he said, his teeth nipping at her bottom lip. "Tell me how to fall out of love with you. Tell me how to not dream of you. Tell me how to not want you anymore."

Y/n, who had succumbed to this moment, this lapse in...whatever it was, could only grip her ex's hair as he worked her over with his fingers, each word he spoke a balm to the loneliness these last months brought. She wasn't ready to start seeing someone else after the divorce, but now she worried no one would ever measure up to Harry. He ruined her for any other man who might try to sweep her off her feet in the future.

"Tell me, Y/n, and I'll let you come."

Y/n was a mess. She could hear it as Harry's fingers slid in and out of her quickly and harshly, then slowing down before she could finish. He used to do it all the time, knowing how worked up it made her, and now he knew nothing had changed.

"I—" she gasped. She was so close she could barely think straight. Harry's desperate words and the way his fingers curled inside her had her seeing stars. But if she knew her ex, he would stay there and edge her until she gave him what he wanted. "I don't know. I don't know how to make it stop. Please let me come."

Having thought she'd given him what he wanted, Y/n prepared herself for an earth-shattering orgasm. She surrendered herself to tonight, to him, even if she regretted it in the morning. Even if secretly she didn't, which would make her feel even worse.

But instead of pushing her over the edge, Harry removed his fingers from her altogether. The whine Y/n let out at the loss was perhaps a little undignified, but she couldn't think straight with the thick cloud of lust looming over her.

"Wh—"

"We're going to do this properly," he said, scooping her up into his arms and heading back upstairs, taking a left toward her bedroom. Their little angel boy was down the hall on the right side, but Y/n knew they still had to be quiet.

Once behind the closed door of her bedroom, they were both quick to shed each other of their clothes. Stitching ripped, a button or two flew, socks tossed carelessly to corners of the room they'd probably forget about later until there wasn't an ounce of fabric between them.

There wasn't time to stand and appreciate. This wasn't a romantic moment. It was desperate, a little angry, and intense in the way it always has been between them. Y/n kissed her ex-husband hard, her teeth sinking into his bottom lip and soothing the ache with her tongue until he eventually flipped her over onto her stomach.

"You can't be here by the time he wakes up tomorrow," Y/n managed to say. "I don't want to confuse him."

"I know," Harry said, lining himself up with her entrance. "But wouldn't it be so nice if I did?"

"Harry—"

"Relax, baby, I'll abide by your rules," he said, his voice a soft caress. "Just let me have you tonight, and then I'll be gone."

Harry slid in with one smooth thrust, Y/n's mouth dropping open in response. She hadn't been stretched this way in months, and the feel of him inside her again as if nothing had changed...

"Fuck, Harry. I'm—I'm so close," she moaned, unable to say much more than that.

His movements were torturously slow, prolonging the climax he'd been teasing out of her on the couch. Then he leaned over her, his body pressing deliciously against hers.

"We may be separated, but you're still mine," he said, his words accented by his own pleasure. "These hips? Mine. Your tits? Mine. This little cunt? Well, she already knows. Absolutely drenching me. And tonight, I'm going to make sure you remember that."

Y/n could only whimper and wait to take whatever her ex-husband was willing to give her.

*.*

Y/n was having the best dream.

Sun streamed through the small crack in her bedroom curtains as she snuggled under the weight of the warmest, coziest blanket. She held onto it, wrapping it tighter around her, hoping to get a couple more minutes of sleep before her son eventually barged in and demanded they start their day.

She had a million things to do, but none of it seemed to matter while she slept. She felt relaxed in a way she hadn't in a long time.

Then the dream seemed to change. The cozy blanket became an arm draped over her, a leg tangled between her own, and a firm body pressed against her back. The unknown form wrapped around her began to kiss along her bare back, the arm tightening its grip around her waist. Her stomach flipped as a hand began to play with her breast.

She hadn't had one of those dreams in a long time, either.

Before the dream could go any further, Y/n regrettably began to feel the pinpricks of consciousness. But as she blinked her eyes open, she still felt that weight of another body next to hers, of someone other than herself occupying her bed.

It was then that last night made an appearance in her mind, recalling every dirty detail of how she'd given into her ex-husband.

"Good morning."

Harry's voice was low and gruff as if he'd only just woken up himself. The puffs of his breaths dusted over Y/n's skin and sent goosebumps all over. She didn't understand how her body, even while it was still waking up, was so responsive to him.

As casually as possible, she said, "You weren't supposed to stay over."

"Honestly, I don't even remember falling asleep," Harry admitted, though he made no move to leave her Y/n's bed.

"You have to go before he wakes up," she insisted, even if her body was completely against that idea. "He can't find you here. If he does, he'll have questions, and—"

Before Y/n could even finish, she heard the soft patter of feet against soft carpet. Then her door creaked open, and the light of her life appeared.

"Daddy!"

Y/n rested her hands over her face, but not before seeing Harry's broad grin out of the corner of her eye, one that was nearly identical to the little boy at the foot of the bed.

"Hey, buddy," Harry said, his voice less husky than it was just moments ago. "What are you doing up so early, huh?"

"Why are you in bed with Mommy?" the boy asked, climbing into bed with his parents and wriggling around until he was snuggled between them.

Wasn't that the question, Y/n thought, though she was in no rush to help Harry.

"Mummy and Daddy decided to have a sleepover," Harry explained.

"Oh. Well, why didn't you invite me?"

"Because..." Y/n felt Harry's gaze on her, but she was not inclined to dig him out of this hole. Their night was over. It was a new day, which meant everything was back to the way it was before Harry came over last night. "Because I wanted to surprise you this morning. We're all going to spend the day together. Just the three of us."

"Yay!"

"What?"

Y/n glared over the top of her son's head as he half-hugged half-tackled Harry from sheer excitement. This was definitely not reverting back to their normal routine of co-parenting and seeing each other only when it was necessary. Harry, who looked thoroughly pleased with himself, slid out of bed with their boy still latched into him.

Thankfully, he was wearing underwear, but that didn't help Y/n much. She couldn't help but stare at his muscles flexing as he stood and stretched while he held their son. At all the tattoos that littered his body and the mess of curls on his head. He had no right to look this good in the morning, especially when Y/n knew for a fact that she always looked haggard no matter what when she first woke up.

Not that her appearance in front of her ex mattered to her.

"Come on, let's start with making your mum some breakfast. I'm thinking...waffles?"

"Do not make a mess of my kitchen, Harry," Y/n warned, not even bothering to protest the idea in its entirety. She wouldn't have been able to tell her son no even if he tried. Not with how excited he looked at the prospect of spending the day with his dad.

"We'll clean up after ourselves, I promise," Harry said with a wink in your direction. "You stay there and rest. I know you had a...long night."

Y/n threw a pillow at Harry's retreating form before flopping back into her bed. She had half a mind to strut right over to him and prove him wrong, but, well, the dull ache between her legs was starting to make itself known, and the damage of her son seeing Harry in her bed was already done. She might as well stay in bed and take the morning off if Harry was offering.

Sighing, Y/n ran a tired hand over her face as one realization after another made themselves known.

Everything about last night and this morning was messy and would no doubt bring about consequences and difficult conversations she wasn't inclined to have. There were questions she didn't want to ask or know the answer to, but one thing was abundantly clear:

She was well and truly fucked.

[purple-plum-petals]

Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!

⊱ Those Three Words ⊰ || Mr. Silvair X Reader

╭─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╮   Character(s): Mr. Silvair (Homicipher/文字化化) Reader Type: Human (Gender-Neutral Pronouns) Warning(s): Spoilers for Homicipher (specifically Route End: Mr. Silver Hair 1), Canon-typical Mentions of Violence (and Horror-Elements), Cultural Barriers (Mr. Silvair Doesn’t Fully Comprehend Certain Emotions). Anything spoken in the other world’s language will be bolded. Genre: Drabble, Fluff, Slight Angst, Pre-Established Romantic Relationship (It’s Complicated, honestly). Word Count: ~3,280 Request: “Hello!! I see your requests for Homicipher are open and I got giddy :D (starving for more content) May I request fluff drabble for Mr Silviar? Maybe his s/o teaching him how to say "I love you" in human language? Thank you!” Author’s Note: Mr. Silvair!!! He’s genuinely so pretty, y’all – it’s not fair. 😔 I find his overall character to be quite fascinating, and a part of me is really hoping the game gets a DLC or something to further expand on each of the character’s lore (and more moments with the MC, of course). Like game, what do you mean that some of the monsters may have been humans while others probably never were?? I desperately need more food… I headcanon that Mr. Silvair was either 1. never human, or 2. has been in the other world for a very long time, resulting in the loss of his memory as a human which could be why he’s so interested in researching them/maintaining the MC’s humanity. 🤔 But that’s just a theory – a game theory! Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

→ If you enjoyed my work, please reblog it if you can! Exposure on Tumblr is based on reblogging content rather than liking it, so your support would be much appreciated!  ♡ ╰─━━━━━━━━━━━━─╯

Even after everything that had happened between you and this world’s resident human-enjoyer, you surprisingly still felt at ease with Mr. Silvair. That comfortability, though, made you think hard about your sanity. After all, it probably wasn’t normal to be comfortable around someone who enjoyed taking you apart and watching your body put itself back together over and over again. Yet, you did, and you didn’t mind your current arrangement as much as you probably would have in the past. 

Mr. Silvair’s home was destroyed in a fiery explosion (courtesy of himself), so you had offered to help him find a new one. You managed to locate a large room, one that he deemed satisfactory enough to call his base, and you had been staying with him indefinitely since then. As long as you had a comfy bed to lay in and someone else to keep you company, you were happy. 

Your other friends(?) frequently stopped by as well to say hello, the most common ones being Mr. Crawling and Mr. Chopped. While you were occasionally hit with a feeling of loneliness, it was hard to feel that way with so many friendly faces around. Well… maybe their faces weren’t that friendly, but they were kind and gentle with you, and that’s what truly mattered. 

You hear the sound of Mr. Silvair moving around in the room adjacent to the one you typically stayed in, and you wonder to yourself what his plans for today are. The tall, long-haired man spent most of his time engaged in research. You didn’t see him as frequently as one would expect despite the fact you two were practically roommates. All you could do was hope he wasn’t messing around with and subsequently angering any more terrifying, violent ghosts. You enjoyed your current home, and going out to look for another one wasn’t very high on your list of things to do. 

The Rubik’s Cube in your hand was still as scattered as ever, and it seemed like, no matter how long you spent trying to solve it, you were only able to successfully complete one side. Mr. Masque was kind enough to give it to you (he apparently had a whole stash of the things somewhere), and his gift was something you were immensely grateful for. Attempting to figure out the puzzle helped you pass the time wherever you were alone (and it most likely helped you keep your head on straight). 

You’re currently lying flat on your back atop the plush bed in the relatively empty living space, looking up at the gray concrete ceiling with a blank stare. Once you decide you’ve loafed around for long enough, you stand up slowly from the bed, placing the cube gently on the covers of the cot. You stretch your arms above your head, a strangled noise coming from your throat at the movement of your stiff muscles, and you begin to make your way to the other room where your… 

What even was Mr. Silvair to you? While yes, you were fond of him – hell, you’d go as far as to say you loved him – you knew he didn’t feel the same. You remember the moment he told you “I not understand like”, and that he didn’t want to save you from your condition, no… he found you entertaining to keep around, and that’s why he did what he did. 

It was complicated, you thought, trying to have a relationship with a being who didn’t grasp what the concept of love was. Deep down, though, you knew you wouldn’t change it for the world. He enjoyed your presence, and that was all you could ask for. 

You walk over to the metal door and knock, waiting for a response. After a moment, you hear Mr. Silvair’s voice echo, “Enter.”

The door opens with a slight creak as you twist the knob, peeking your head inside the somewhat grimy space. The room, still fairly new, didn’t have as much blood or gore as his old one did. There were fresh stains on the floor and wall, you noted, and you couldn’t help but wonder who or what they were from exactly. It didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things, though, so you didn’t bother asking. 

You grin up at the taller man and give him a small wave, saying softly, “Hello. I not bother?”

He returns your smile, placing the scalpel in his hand on the stainless steel tray that held a variety of medical tools. It looked like he was in the process of cleaning the many, typically blood-stained, pieces of equipment. Mr. Silvair turns to face you and replies gently, “Hello. You not bother. Enter.”

Tilting his head to one side, his long, silver locks move when he does, cascading down his head and slipping off his shoulder at the movement. His smile drops slightly before he asks, “Feeling unwell? Injured? Need cure?”

“No, no cure.” You quickly say, not quite in the mood to be dissected or taken apart right now (honestly, though, you never really were, even if you did understand why it needed to be done). You pause by the door before finally shutting it behind you, the both of you now alone in the private and secluded space. 

Ugh – why was it so hard to say what was on your mind??

After taking a moment to build up your confidence, you tell Mr. Silvair while fidgeting with the rubber of the clear raincoat you wore, “I want see you. Communicate.”

He hums and smiles at your admission, walking over to you before placing a calloused hand on your face. Your eyes close on instinct, and your breathing shutters when he rubs his thumb across your cheek. A part of you wanted to be annoyed with him since he had to be aware of the effect he had on you, yet you didn’t want to run the risk of him removing his cool palm from your skin, so you kept your mouth shut. 

It had taken quite some time for Mr. Silvair to get to this point of physical affection with you (something he began doing more often after he saw how much you enjoyed getting head-pats from Mr. Crawling), so you didn’t want to ruin any progress you two had made in your complicated and unconventional relationship. 

“Okay,” Mr. Silvar starts, removing his hand from your face as he gestures to one of the two chairs in the room. He smiles down at you before saying, “Sit. We communicate.”

You do as you’re told without speaking another word, your hands folded in your lap after you sit down, watching Mr. Silvair take a seat on the chair across from you. You talk with him for quite some time, doing your best to update him on your current progress with the puzzle since that was pretty much the only thing you had going on in your life. While it wasn’t satisfying to speak in the other world’s language because it tended to miss most of the nuances of speech, it was the only way the two of you could communicate. 

Mr. Silvair seemed to pick up on your frustration, seeing you were growing annoyed at the lack of words in your arsenal – the term you were looking for wasn't coming to mind. In response, he tilts his head to the side and asks you, “You upset. Why?”

“Not right words.” You reply, brows furrowed when you look up at him, your gaze landing on the bloody bandages wrapped around his eyes. You turn your head to look down at the floor, the somewhat fresh pool of blood perfectly matching the color of the Rubik’s Cube. You point to the puddle and turn to ask Mr. Silvair, “What’s this called in your language? Can you tell me how to say this color?”

“Blood.” Mr. Silvair responds, not understanding what you wanted him to explain. 

“No, no.” You quickly reply, shaking your head. You continue to glance between him and the blood, enunciating your words even though he didn’t understand your language the same way you were able to understand his. You didn’t back down or give up, though, saying again, “The color – I want to know what color blood is.”

He pauses, one hand under his chin as he seemingly takes a moment to figure out what you are asking him. After a few beats, Mr. Silvair replies with a word you haven’t heard anyone speak before, “???”

You visibly brighten at the new word, and the expression on your face causes Mr. Silvair to let out a light chuckle before he crosses one of his legs over the other. You take a breath before telling him, “Okay. Thank you.” 

After another pause, you continue to speak, “So… One part object done, red part. Other parts hard – not finish.”

Mr. Silvair had been leaning forward in his chair, his elbow digging into his knee while his hand rested under his chin, holding his head up as he stared at you with an unwavering gaze. He always listened to you with rapt interest, and you would be lying if you said the constant attention didn’t make your heart stutter in your chest. However, he suddenly speaks, pointing to the pool of blood you had been gesturing toward moments before, “What you call that?”

“Huh?” You ask, pausing your story to look at him. Mr. Silvair doesn’t say anything else, though, giving you a moment to comprehend what he has asked you. You perk up when your brain finally registers what Mr. Silvair had said, replying to him happily, “Oh, that’s the color red. So, blood is typically red – blood red.” 

“R-ehd?” He echos, and the sound of his voice speaking a word that you were able to understand without having to flip through your mental dictionary had your breath hitching. It sounded so strange but so nice coming from his lips. 

“Yeah, red! Blood is red!” You say, sounding excited and oh-so happy. Mr. Silvair would be lying to himself if he said he didn’t find the look on your face and the tone of your voice endearing. Then, your expression shifts slightly as you lean forward in your chair, saying enthusiastically, “Oh my god – I just got an idea! Me teach you me language!”

“...You language?” Mr. Silvair asks after a moment, shifting in his seat slightly. 

“Yes! Me teach you!” You reply, gesturing to both him and you with your hands. Your mind remembers the way Mr. Silvair and Mr. Chopped helped you shortly after you first arrived, teaching you directions to walk, facial expressions, and more. They had helped you expand your knowledge of this world’s language, and they were probably responsible for your survival in so many of those early interactions. So, you smile at him as you say, “We same.”

He returns a smile, nodding his head and replying with a simple, “Okay.”

“Alright, so, let me think here…” You hum to yourself, leaning back in your chair and closing your eyes while you consider what you should start with. Body parts seemed to be the first thing that popped into your head, so that’s eventually what you decided to start with. Sitting up in the chair, you point toward your hand with the other, tapping a finger to your palm as you speak, “Okay, so, this is my hand – hand. Can you say hand?”

It was kind of cute, strangely enough, seeing Mr. Slivair take the time to repeat the word you spoke over and over in his mind, trying to match the movement of your mouth with his own. Your languages were quite different in sounds, syllables, and the like, so he was practicing what to say before actually speaking. After a few moments of contemplation, he replies, “...H-ah-nd.”

“Hey, that was pretty good! Not bad for your first try, Mr. Silvair, even if the pronunciation is a bit off.” You say with a wide smile, clapping your hands together as you applaud him on his efforts. He chuckles again, finding your way of teaching to be… sweet. 

Then, you speak again, once again grabbing his attention. You tap the pad of your finger under the skin of your eye, asking him, “Do you remember what this is called? I think I’ve told you before.”

Mr. Silvair is quicker in his response this time, having heard you ask him about his own eyes before as he smoothly says, “Eye.” 

“Yes! Good job!” You praise once more, giving him a thumbs up in response. Then, he stands up from his seat, walking over to you while his once-white lab coat flows behind him. You crane your head back to look up at him from where you were still sitting, a simple and stupid, “...Huh?” leaving your mouth. 

Mr. Silvair reaches a hand to your face, cupping your chin gently in his hand. You feel his thumb resting on your bottom lip, and he begins to move his finger back and forth along the slightly chapped flesh, tugging at it slightly. He tilts his head to the side, asking you seriously, “What this called?”

“Oh, uh…” You know your face is probably flushed beyond belief at this point if the heat cascading through your head is anything to go by, and your mind and heart are completely caught off-guard by his sudden touch and question. You avert your gaze to the side, swallowing harshly before you finally reply, “They’re my lips – they’re, umm… similar to mouth. Lips, mouth, same.”

“...Lips?” Mr. Silvair asks again for clarification, his voice having an almost husky tone to it that has a shiver travel down your spine. 

You nod in response, muttering a barely audible, “Yes…” 

Mr. Silvair hums at your response, a small smile gracing his lips. He leans down, face so close to yours, before he inquires with an almost teasing tone to his voice, “You want touch?”

“Y-Yes.” You answer at an almost embarrassingly fast speed. 

The man who you had grown so fond of chuckles at your enthusiasm before leaning forward, pressing his lips softly to yours while he holds your face between his palms. Kisses weren’t a common thing between the two of you, and they were really only something Mr. Silvair initiated when he felt like it. You could feel the intensity at which your heart was beasting due to his sudden affections, and there was a part of you that was worried it would burst out of your chest right then and there. 

Your eyes flutter shut and you tilt your head to the side, your hands coming up to rest atop his – his hands that were holding your cheeks so, so gently. It was almost sickening the way he was holding you like you could break at any moment. 

Then, almost as quickly as it began, the kiss ended before you even realized it did. Mr. Silvair’s forehead was now pressed against yours, and he doesn’t make any move to remove his hands from your face. Your lips were no longer touching, and yet he still lingered.  

Mr. Silvair didn’t play fair, you thought, yet you couldn’t help but wonder why he wanted to kiss you so suddenly, so randomly. You close your eyes and your brows furrow at the tightening in your throat, an aching sensation slowly spreading throughout your chest like a disease before you whisper, “...I love you.”

There’s a silence, a stretch of nothingness before Mr. Silvair suddenly asks you, his voice just as soft as yours had been, “Repeat?”

“...No,” Your response is nearly immediate, and you shake your head before repeating once more, “Nothing.”

“...I love you.” The sound of those three words leaving his lips nearly causes your mind to implode. It sounded so sweet, yet it also felt worse than any suffering you had experienced before. The searing and excruciating pain, the feeling of a blade digging itself into the flesh of your torso couldn’t compare to the deep-seated torment you felt right now.

Mr. Silvair hums, tilting his head to the side as his thumbs continue to caress your cheeks, “What mean?”

You knew there was no point, no reason to try and explain your feelings again, but you do. You still do, even though you know it’s pointless to try. You can’t bring yourself to look at him as you speak, finding the concrete floor more interesting, “Mean… mean me like you. Lot like.”

There’s a pause, a moment of contemplation before Mr. Silvair says, “...Not understand.”

“I know.” You reply, nodding your head once in response. 

“You know?” He asks you, sounding somewhat confused, a tone you very rarely heard from the man. Had he forgotten that moment that you couldn’t seem to forget, the memory that you continuously found replaying in your mind like a broken record? It wasn’t fair, you thought, that only you were forced to hold onto such a painful memory. 

“You communicate before.” You clarify, finally willing yourself to look at his face. Mr. Silvair’s expression was tight, his lips drawn into a flat line. 

You needed to get away, to just run from this moment in the hopes he would forget the whole exchange just as he apparently did the last one. You take your hands and grab his wrists, removing his palms from your face before you stand up from the chair. You refuse to look at him as you turn, heading to the door as you utter, “...I’m going to go for a walk, so I’ll be back later. Goodbye.”

Then, you feel something tug at the sleeve of your raincoat. It wasn’t strong, nothing that would actually stop you from moving, but your legs proceeded to hault at the small action. Mr. Silvair says, his tone not demanding in the slightest – if anything, it sounded like a plea as he speaks, “No exit.”

You take a deep breath and turn around to face him, asking in such a small voice that it even caught yourself off-guard, “...Why?”

“I want you here.” Mr. Silvair responds quickly, so quickly it seems to have taken both of you by surprise. The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he asks, finally releasing the material of your jacket from in between his fingers, “Stay… Will you stay?”

You once again find yourself wondering if Mr. Silvair was aware of the effect he had on you as a sigh leaves your mouth. You nod your head lightly and reply, “I will stay.”

“Good.” He says in response, a gentle smile on his face as he says for the second time, “I love you.”

You frown at him and shake your head, saying with a slight edge of frustration in your voice, “No speak. Not true.” 

“True… Believe true.” He says quickly, reaching out to once again place a hand against your cheek. You don’t move, don’t flinch away from his touch – you still relish the way he’s holding you like a fragile piece of glass. Mr. Silvair’s brows are furrowed ever so slightly as he mutters, “Confused.”

“You’re telling me… How do you think I feel?” You say with a huff, your hand holding into his as you find yourself nuzzling your nose into his palm. The painful feeling in your chest was still present, but it wasn’t nearly as excruciating as it had been now. You find it in yourself to smile, gazing up at him as you speak, “...but we’ll get through it together – we together. Right?”

“To-geh-ther…” He repeats, leaning down to press his forehead to yours once more as he says softly, “Yes.”

[whoskimii]

I'M HERE !

★ comfort after a nightmare ft. geto, megumi, yuuji ! ★ (2)

˗ˏˋ geto suguru ´ˎ˗

“you know, i—” suguru cut himself off as he froze, watching the serene surroundings begin to twist. “mhm ?” you smiled, tilting your head. “what were you about to say, sugu' ?” your voice slowly became distorted.

he watched in horror as you morphed into a curse, the creature closing in on you. a terrific, grotesque smile appeared on your usually pretty face. suddenly, your expression was replaced by an exaggerated sad one. “what ? you don't find me... pretty anymore ?” you tilted your head.

he tried to reach out to you but his feet were heavy, glued to the ground, almost like he was wading through thick mud. no matter how hard he struggled, he didn't make it in time. the monster took a toll on your body.

he felt weak. useless.

you have always been sweet, but as the curse surrounded you, its malevolent energy suffocated you. “why didn't you save me, suguru ?” the vulgar curse played with his mind, his ears no longer filled by your gentle voice but by the curse's. “you were no better than them, after all.” he whispered, rage filling his being as he thought about all the non-sorcerers he despised. maybe it was a sign. he could never love a non-sorcerer.

why would you ever be different ?

suguru gasped as he jolted awake. his sweaty chest heaved up and down rapidly, his brain still replaying the nightmare over and over again. even after waking up, it haunted him.

he glanced over his shoulder, searching for your peaceful form. you were sleeping, snuggly wrapped in a warm, comfy blanket. he ran a hand over his face, attempting to calm down his breathing by taking deep, slow breaths. “a nightmare...” he sighed. “it was just a nightmare.” he tried to reassure himself.

he slowly laid back down, rolling on his side to face you. he observed your relaxed features before tracing your lips with his purple orbs. he lifted his right hand and caressed your cheek.

at his touch, you instinctively stirred awake. your pretty eyes fluttered open, still hazy with sleep. “sugu' ?” you managed to mumble. “yeah, it's me...” you snuggled into his side, which prompted him to wrap his arms around you.

even after long minutes, he struggled to find solace.

“i had a nightmare. about you.” he blurted, hoping to find peace after he admitted it. you lifted your head, searching for his eyes but he kept his chin on top of your hair. “you were... a curse. i didn't save you. i'm sorry.”

it was silly to apologize for a simple nightmare but he still felt the need to. “it was just a nightmare... 'm still here. i love you, suguru.” your words brought him the peace he had been craving since he woke up. “i love you too. more than you'll ever know.”

you were different.

˗ˏˋ fushiguro megumi ´ˎ˗

he couldn't even remember how he ended up here. or why. but megumi didn't care. he knew you were also here, he knew how dangerous it was for you, a non-sorcerer.

he ran through the endless forest, desperately searching for you. the trees loomed tall and menacing, making his search more complicated than he wanted. the only sounds filling his ears were his own ragged breathing and your distant pleas for help as you called out for him.

the more he ran towards the direction of your cries, the more he felt like he was getting further and further away from you. no matter how fast he ran, he could never quite catch up. the forest seemed to shift and change, the path twisting in on itself, leading him in continual, maddening circles.

suddenly, he burst into a clearing, only to find his darling surrounded by a group of curses. “megumi...” you whispered, desperate to be saved.

you were terrified.

just the sight made his throat tighten.

he attempted to run towards you as he looked into your eyes filled with despair. his mind was overwhelmed by the fact that he couldn't move. he couldn't do anything except watch as the curses taunted him for being too weak to protect you. his hands trembled as he tried to summon his shikigami but they didn't respond.

finally, you called out his name one last time before being entirely consumed by the creatures. everything faded to black and—

he jumped awake. he looked around, panicked, before realizing that he was in his room. he instinctively looked to his side and saw you, pretty lips slightly parted as soft breaths left you.

he sighed heavily and let himself fall on the mattress. as his back hit the bed, you woke up groggily. “mhm... 'gumi ?” you rubbed your eyes. he cringed internally, cursing at himself for waking you up. “yeah... yeah. sorry.” he breathed. you propped your head on your hand, staring at him with heavy eyelids. megumi could feel your gaze on him. you could easily sense that something was wrong.

“i had a nightmare.” he said before you could even question him. “these curses were around you and... you...” he sighed and rubbed his face. “shit...” he cursed, unable to say more. “hey...” you whispered and straddled him. his hands flew to your waist. “i'm here, 'gumi. forget about that stupid nightmare, okay ?” he hummed. “easier said than done.”

you leaned down and planted a kiss on his lips. “and now ?” he closed his eyes. “i think... i'll be able to forget about it if you keep going.”

˗ˏˋ itadori yuuji ´ˎ˗

“how does it taste ?” he smiled as he watched you sip on the milkshake he just paid for you. “good !” you beamed.

you two were walking through a quiet park. the world seemed safe and warm. for a moment, yuuji felt at peace. but the lovely moment was quickly ended by a cold presence.

as if on cue, the sky darkened and the warmth of the sunny day faded. you could also sense the sudden change in atmosphere as you looked around with growing fear. yuuji felt a sharp pain in his chest, almost as if something was trying to break free from within him.

sukuna.

the teen's eyes widened at the painful realization.

just a second after, he was no longer in control of his own body. he felt himself being overtaken by the king of curses.

of course he attempted to fight back. of course he wished to keep you safe and sound. but of course it was no use as his vision began getting blurred.

and when it cleared again, his worst nightmare laid before him.

there you were, on the ground. you were injured and you looked up at him, your eyes filled with pure fear. he couldn't believe it. it was the first time you looked at him like that.

blood stained the ground around you. your blood. he glanced down at his hands.

his hands were covered in your blood.

he wanted to speak, to reassure you that everything would be okay and that it wasn't him but the only thing that came out was sukuna's voice as he mocked him for his weakness.

suddenly, he woke up in a cold sweat. the nightmare left him with an undeniable sense of guilt.

the darkness within him could potentially hurt his loved ones. it could harm you.

as he looked to his side, he noticed that you were already awake. “baby...? what... go back to sleep—” he didn't have time to finish his sentence. “are you okay ? you had a nightmare, didn't you...? i woke up because you were calling my name.”

he couldn't lie to you.

“i did... i don't wanna talk about it.” he leaned down and kissed your forehead before wrapping his arms around you. his priority was to keep you safe, at all costs. no matter what. “you sure you don't want to...?” you cupped his cheeks. he placed his hand above yours and smiled faintly. “i'm sure.” he whispered. “you don't need to know about it.” you only hummed, not wanting to push it further. “okay...”

he caressed your neck with the tip of his nose, enjoying how soft and warm you were. “i love you, angel. always.” your pinkie met his. “always...”

[stllmnstr]

easy mode

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: brother's best friend au

word count: 2.9k

warnings: not explicit but veeeery suggestive, alcohol consumption, swearing, lots and lots of jealousy aka very bthb coded

note: Another reupload! I wrote another ~3k of sacred monsters today and saw this in my drafts and realized I never posted it. If you read it before, I hope you like it just as much! If you haven't, I hope you enjoy!

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Lee Heeseung likes to do things the easy way. 

It’s not that he’s lazy, just... efficient. A fan of the path of least resistance. He knows how to pick his battles and does so sparingly. 

Heeseung minds his own business, keeps his eyes on the path in front of him and rarely lets them stray. And he definitely, definitely never pokes his nose into other people’s problems. 

It’s a philosophy that keeps his head on straight, that allows his friendships to remain low-maintenance and sans drama. It’s what’s kept Jay at his side for the last fifteen years, even through the trials and tribulations of elementary school playground altercations, puberty-fueled fights in the middle school locker room, and most recently, the frustrating misalignment of their post-graduation work schedules. 

Four years ago, Heeseung thought a bachelor’s degree would be his ticket to success, not a soul-sucking nine-to-five that leaves him itching for a drink or three most Friday nights. Luckily for him, Jay’s in the same boat. 

But tonight, sitting next to his best friend on his favorite slightly wobbly bar stool, Heeseung almost misses the monotony of their usual Friday evening happy hours. 

He’s nursing his third beer, which would usually go down like cold water, even though time and tipsiness have turned it lukewarm. Tonight, though, Heeseung’s eyes keep wandering towards the same corner table just over Jay’s shoulder. 

And every time they do, the muscle in his jaw strains a little further. The beer on his tongue tastes a little more bitter. 

Heeseung hates making things complicated. He doesn’t get involved. He doesn’t. But–

“Are you gonna do something about that?”

On the adjacent bar stool, Jay glances at Heeseung. “About what?” 

Heeseung just keeps his eyes trained on that table, that spot over Jay’s shoulder. 

Picking up on the hint even through the pleasant haze in his mind, Jay turns his gaze to follow Heeseung’s nonverbal cue. It takes him only a matter of seconds to locate what has his best friend in such a mood. Or rather, who. Although Jay isn’t quite sure why. 

He’s digging for clarification when he looks back at his friend. “What do you mean? Did she do something weird?” It wouldn’t be exactly unlike his younger sister to do something slightly embarrassing in public. 

Heeseung’s jaw just tightens further, betraying annoyance. Finally, he puts words to his irritation, saves Jay from his suspense. “You’re gonna let that idiot put his hands all over your little sister in the middle of the bar?”

Jay frowns, turns over his shoulder once again to make sure he isn’t seeing things. 

He’s not. From this angle, at least, Sunghoon’s hands are at a perfectly respectable distance from you. Not that Jay could do much about it either way. 

He tells Heeseung as much. “What am I supposed to do? Drag her out by her ear and force her to join a convent? Ship her off to a girls only boarding school?” 

Jay laughs humorlessly. He’s not exactly thrilled that you and your friends chose to patronize the same bar as him and Heeseung tonight, but he doesn’t want to linger on it either. In fact, he doesn’t want to do anything but forget his woes this evening, drown his sorrows in overpriced pints of whatever’s on tap. 

He’s perfectly happy with his back turned towards you. Out of sight, out of mind and all that. “She’s twenty-two.”

And that wasn’t what Heeseung was suggesting exactly, but now that Jay mentions it…

“You’re okay with Park trying to play tonsil tennis with her then?”

“Dude,” Jay winces, setting his beer down on the bar, stomach suddenly queasy. “Gross. That’s still my little sister.”

Which is exactly the card Heeseung is hoping he’ll play. But all Jay does is sigh. If Heeseung didn’t know better, he’d think the exasperation was directed at him instead of the loser he’s pretty sure is currently trying to make himself Jay’s future brother-in-law. 

Jay checks over his shoulder one final time for good measure. It confirms whatever he’s looking for. Mostly the fact that Park Sunghoon’s lips are too busy cracking mediocre jokes to be making sloppy passes at his sister in public. 

Hoping to put it to rest once and for all, he turns back to Heeseung. “Besides, it’s Sunghoon,” Jay reasons. He finds it in himself to reach for his beer again. “She’s known him since preschool. He’s practically like a second brother to her.” Jay takes a sip, misreading the rise in Heeseung’s agitation as familial affection. Trying to soothe it over, he concedes with a nod, “Or third, I guess. I’ll let you be her second.”

Like always, Heeseung lets it go. He goes with the flow, rolls with the punches. 

Well, at least on the outside. 

But even if he weren’t so committed to never rocking the boat, this is hardly the time or place to correct Jay’s assumptions that his feelings towards you are anything but brotherly. 

That, he decides, will have to be a revelation for another time. Preferably in a situation where Heeseung is well out of arm’s reach and Jay is in restraints of some sort. 

Those, after all, are the only circumstances in which he could ever disclose just how decidedly not brotherly his feelings towards you are. 

In fact, his feelings are a lot more aligned with that stupid game you used to make him play as kids. The one where you put on the white dress you’d gotten from your cousin as a hand-me-down, an assortment of grape juice, finger paint, and pasta sauce stains scattered along the hemline. 

The one where you’d gather a bunch of dandelions from your overgrown backyard and call them a bouquet. 

The one where you’d live out all your grandest six-year-old dreams of walking down the aisle towards a handsome prince with the latest Kidz Bop rendition of whatever love song was most popular on the radio crackling through the cheap speaker you stole from Jay’s bedroom. 

The one where you’d drag Heeseung away from the player number two console, much to Jay’s unending annoyance, and force him to play the part of your groom. Even at six, you were a force to be reckoned with. An argument-winning fiend that even your older brother could rarely best in a fight. 

Heeseung played along, more than anything, because he was scared to face your wrath if he declined. But he’d be lying if he said his heart didn’t feel a little funny in his chest every time he watched you walk down a makeshift aisle made from your mother’s missing tablecloth. 

So no, Heeseung doesn’t give a shit how long you’ve known Sunghoon. After all, what does Sunghoon know about your childhood dream to get married in a garden full of roses? Judging from the way it looks like he keeps trying to get you to take a sip of his drink, he doesn't even know you can’t stand the taste of Coke mixed with liquor. 

But Heeseung knows. He was there the night you developed the aversion. The night you decided bottom shelf tequila and the soda you snuck from your parent’s fridge were your best friends for the evening after junior prom. The night he held your hair and rubbed soothing circles into the skin between your shoulders as it came back up a few hours later. 

And he was there for the rest of it, too. All of the little moments, the big moments, and everything in between that spun the tapestry of your formative years. 

The day you finally got your braces off and didn’t stop smiling for three weeks straight. The time you sprained your ankle trying to hide Jay’s favorite pair of sneakers in the alarmingly tall tree in your backyard. The night you cried for four hours straight when you found out Jake Sim from biology was a big, fat, liar that was indeed texting other girls for homework answers. 

There may have been moments, tangled up in that swirling mix of memories, when Heeseung felt nothing but a brotherly sort of affection for you. A desire to protect you from the world and a distinct sort of pride when he inevitably failed and you rose to the challenge anyway. 

But Heeseung also remembers what it felt like to stand across from you as you recited your six-year-old attempt at recreating marriage vows, and he thinks he never really stood a chance. 

So tonight, glancing over Jay’s shoulder again, Heeseung watches as you lean a little further into Sunghoon, straining to hear him over the cacophony in the bar. 

And the anger he feels in his gut is not brotherly in the slightest. Nor is the red, hot, scalding jealousy that burns his throat every time he forces himself to swallow it down. 

Searching for a distraction, he busies himself with his beer once again, letting Jay’s unwanted evaluations fall to the wayside for the time being. 

Immersed in the dregs of his own despair, he almost misses it. The flash of movement as you slide out from your seat next to Sunghoon. 

His eyes track your movement with the quiet focus of a predator on the hunt, watching as you disappear around the corner. 

Heeseung mumbles some excuse about needing to go to the bathroom that Jay only partially hears before he’s stepping off of his bar stool, beer forgotten on the counter behind him. 

Your footsteps are easy to follow as he traces the predictable path you forge to the opposite corner of the bar. Heeseung’s bathroom excuse was a good one, he’s pleased to discover, once he realizes that’s precisely where he’ll be meeting you. 

The line is long, but it moves quickly. Only a handful of minutes have passed when you emerge again. This time, Heeseung doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t give you the chance to walk back and make him watch you from a distance for the rest of the evening. 

Doesn’t give you the chance to so much as look at Park Sunghoon again. 

Instead, he wraps long fingers around the skin of your wrist, dragging you to the adjacent hallway where it’s empty, quiet. Secluded. Away from any wandering eyes or unwanted ears. 

Any protests of yours are overtaken by surprise, and by the time you finally find them again, they’re replaced by questions. 

Heeseung may be a captain of a steady ship, a firm believer in the merits of smooth sailing, but he’s never been able to resist the urge of liminal spaces like these. Moments with enough plausible deniability that Jay won’t have a reason to give him a bloody nose or threaten his life if he so much as looks at his little sister again. Exchanges that he hopes will linger with you long after the two of you have parted ways. 

Desire for ambiguity aside, the position he puts you in is compromising no matter how you spin it. Your back against the wall, Heeseung leans over you, cages you in like he’s after something other than your answers. 

Something more. 

But the gap between your bodies is deliberate, a way for him to backtrack if the situation calls for it. An escape route if he needs it. He really, really hopes he won’t. 

Your wrist is still in his grip, light but demanding, when he finally says, “Park Sunghoon? Really?”

He can’t help it, the way his words are warped with poorly disguised venom. He really cannot stand the guy. 

“What?” You hope you can blame the obvious breathlessness in your voice on shock. “What are you–?”

Heeseung won’t leave you wondering for long. “You think he can handle you?” With the way you’re wrapped up in Heeseung’s hold, the challenge, the comparison, is apparent. 

Your shock morphs. Hardens. Gaze narrowing, you relax a little into his grip. 

Your words, however, remain combative. “Handle me? Am I a wild animal?” You scoff. “I don’t need to be han–”

And, oh, this is Heeseung’s favorite kind of tightrope. His very best balancing act. He loves it, thrives on it, revels in it. 

This exchange of heated words that never go anyway but to your head. He hopes you’re seeing fucking stars. 

Heeseung leans an inch closer. He’s breaching dangerous territory. He’ll blame it on the alcohol if he has to. Glancing at your eyes, holding your gaze, he doesn’t think he will. 

“Who said anything about you needing it?” He’s so close that you feel his breath on your cheekbone, ghosting across your temple. It’s warm, leaves your skin tingling in its wake. “I’m talking about what you want.”

Something unreadable flickers through your gaze. If Heeseung didn’t know any better, he’d call it desire. But it disappears before he can name it, replaced with contempt. As if Heeseung is nothing but a pest, a fly to swat at until it stops buzzing. “Awful presumptuous, don’t you think?”

Heeseung only grins. He’s not like this, usually. Even when his intentions are less than pure. Just like everything else, he flirts in obvious ways. He doesn’t play games or speak in riddles or hope that subtleties will do the job for him. 

But it’s just so easy with you. “I don’t know.” He leans in closer. “There are a few ways we could find out, though.”

If your breath stutters, you’ll disguise it as another scoff. “Pray tell.”

“Sorry, sweetheart,” Heeseung inclines his head in a mockery of an apology. Pet names are another thing he keeps reserved for these stolen moments with you. Another exception to the rule that he refuses to examine further. 

For a moment, he lets his eyes do what they want. You feel the heat they scorch in their path from your nose to your chin back up to your molten gaze. 

“I’d rather show you.” Heeseung pauses, biting at his bottom lip. “But I don’t think I can do any of the things I want in public.”

You hate the way he does this. The way he never says what he means. The way he skirts around his desires with such heavy footsteps but still leaves you feeling foolish for drawing obvious conclusions. 

The way your heartbeat stutters regardless. But tonight, you’ll hold firm. If he wants anything from you, he’ll have to spell it out. “What are you saying?”

Heeseung is as evasive as always. “I’m saying that Sunghoon’s too nice for you.” There’s a hard edge in his eyes when he adds, “You’ll eat him alive and still be begging for more.”

Fine. If he wants to play games, then you’ll roll the dice too. Make scathing comments and heated taunts with whatever numbers you land on. 

This time, it’s you that leans in. “Should I make sure to find you, then? When I’m all done with him?”

Heeseung’s eyes light up with a renewed vigor. You can’t tell if he’s furious or the most delighted you’ve ever seen him. “Careful,” he breathes. “That’s a dangerous game you’re playing at.”

You smile. Sweetly. Innocently. Leaning in further, your mouth is scant inches from his. 

“I’m not playing at anything.” It’s a blatant lie, but you’ve become well acquainted with denial, too. Picked up a few tricks from the master himself. “You’re the one that dragged me here and started demanding that I ditch my friend.”

Heeseung grins as if you serve no purpose but to amuse him. But there’s a hard edge in his voice when he asks, “You let all your friends look at you like that?”

“Only the ones I really like.”

And now you’re under his skin. Exactly where you want to be. “Careful,” he repeats, even lower this time. “I’m not as nice as him.”

You won’t heed any warnings, and especially not ones given from him. 

Heeseung is all talk. All bark and no bite. You almost wish he would bare teeth, just once. 

But Jay is still sitting on a barstool just one room over, and no matter how much he likes toying with you, you have the sinking suspicion that Heeseung’s loyalty will always begin and end with his best friend. 

He’ll press up against the line, will skirt the edge of the boundaries between you every chance he gets, but you’ve yet to see any indication that he’ll ever cross it. 

Just once, you want to be the one with him wrapped around your finger. Want to watch him become putty in your hands. 

“What are you gonna do?” Unblinking, you hold his gaze. “Handle me?”

A blurred line dissolves completely. Heeseung’s resolve slips, just a fraction. His eyes are still guarded, yes, but there’s a desperation that wasn’t there before. “Is that an invitation?”

“A challenge,” you correct, taking advantage of his sudden surprise to slide out of his grasp, maneuvering away from his hold. This time, he has no choice but to turn as you begin to back away, to let his eyes follow your lead. 

The misstep might have been miniscule, but it was enough to tip the balance.

For once, the results of this game are under your sole control. You have choices, ones that would leave him in the dust and ones that would put a trophy in his wandering hands. 

In the end, you discard it all. You have only one final demand for him. It’s a whisper that’s barely audible, “Rise to it.”

Heeseung doesn’t need to hear it twice. 

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Thanks for reading :) If you enjoyed, let me know!

[madamechrissy]

Fractured Desires

ꕥ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x Reader

ꕥ Content warnings-MDNI-explicit sexual content, threesomes/ foursomes/ complicated shit, infidelity. Abusive gaslighting Suguru. Yandere Gojo behavior. In this chapter- Rough sex, bdsm, whipping, videoing against consent (kinda lol) oral, rough kissing, mommy/daddy kink, misogyny high key, choking, objectification, obsessive crazy PSYCHO stalker SATORU but he's hot. And reader likes it

ꕥ Word Count this chap- 10k

ꕥ Summary- You meet Suguru Geto at your work, he is charming, gorgeous, and has a poly lifestyle. You jump in, and you all share women and have way too much fun. But then it's starting to get serious between you, official even. He can't wait to have you meet his best friend. But... Satoru Gojo hates you. The minute you meet. He gives you no reason, but he's nasty to you, no matter what you try. Suguru finally has enough of Satoru being so mean and brings up the idea - 'let's have you two fuck this frustration out'

Satoru hates you because deep down wants to make you his. He doesn't understand how Suguru could ever want anyone but you. Though it's a bad idea, he agrees to share you with Suguru for a chance at you and... The moment he touches you... Rules are bent and broken, Suguru develops feelings for another girl, and Satoru gets further obsessed with you. Nothing is as it seemed. Will everyone get hurt?

Split btwn Satoru's POV and yours

Chapter 8 ꕥ Masterlist ꕥ Playlist

Final Chapter- Chapter 9 (will have an epilogue some time <3)

Your POV

Three weeks later

“There, f-fuck!” You cry out as Satoru’s got you bouncing up and down his cock in his office, he’s leaned back in his chair, your skirt bunched up on your hips, he’s using it to pull you down, shoving against your cervix.

“Shut that pretty mouth, slutty brat.” He whispers, a hand over your mouth as he rolls his hips, grinding, and you’re screaming into it, hands clutching the cherry wood of his desk. “Can’t keep quiet, I won't let you cum, I’ll just bust in you.”

“Mmm.” You whine, looking at him with big eyes, and he chuckles a bit, lifting his hand and kissing you, tongues slipping together, your breath coming in little pants.

“You really think I would ever not let you cum?” He whispers, reaching a hand around to toy with your clit, which twitches under his touch, your body jerking. You shake your head, rolling your hips for more of that friction.

“N-no, I know… you… Toru!”

“That’s it.” He stands then, bending you over the desk, and takes the panties around your ankles, sliding them off your ankles, before shoving them in your mouth. You try to yank them out, but he’s got your two hands behind you now, your wrists in his big grip. “Gotta shut that pretty mouth.”

He smacks your ass then, pushing your entire body up on the desk, your legs dangling, so he could get your hips where he wants, fucking you so hard you can’t function. His thick length is stretching you out so good you can’t stand it, crying out against the fabric of the panties, shivering as the cold vent of his office blows cool air on bare skin, so overheated from his play.

You’ve been in Satoru Gojo’s office so, so many times, but never like this, you’d been with Suguru then, and you and Suguru had fucked in his office, but god it was nothing like this. Like him overtaking you, owning you, fucking your body and your mind up so goddamn good. Satoru’s pouty pink lips are against your ear now, his breathy moans washing through you.

“Feel so fucking perfect, god I love you.” Your eyes roll back, as he slows, pulling you up by your ponytail, to arch your back, as he shoves in deep.

“Mmm!” You want to say it back, that you love him, as your cunt is dripping down Satoru’s lengthy cock, 

“Can’t say it back, just mumbling, huh? Pathetic little barbie? Oh so wet, thinking about that friend?” He’s teasing you, and you spit out your panties then, glaring back at him.

“Oh, fuck you, Toru- mmm!” He flips you then, your pink pleated skirt a wrinkled fucking mess, as he presses you down on the desk, smirking.

“I won’t give you anymore threesomes, slutty girl.”

“I only want you, psychotic ass.” You whisper back, and his blue eyes glitter then, as he tilts your chin up with two fingers, kissing you softly, his free hand wrapping around your waist, pulling you against his hard body, clothed in a fancy three piece suit, looking so fucking good.

“Only me, forever.” He whispers against your mouth now, and you nod, gasping when his cock slides in easier now, inch by inch, your soppy little cunt sucking him in. Your hands cling to him, crumpling the expensive material of his jacket, as he kisses you over and over. “Say it for me.”

“Only you, only you Toru.” You hear him then, that little sound from the back of his throat, as your pussy is fluttering around him, tightening when the tip is dragging on your g spot.

“Never leave me, please.” His words are pleading, as his eyes shut, and he loses himself in you, on you, rolling his hips and making you closer and closer, that pressure in your tummy building more and more.

“How could I? You’re Toru.” He exhales, one hand braced on the desk, the other grabbing your thigh, pulling it over his hip and pressing in so deep, his eyes studying you intensely, fuck everything about Toru was intense, wasn’t it? It always had been, even before you got this side of him.

“I could have been doing this.” He whispers then, the coldness of his gold watch making you gasp as it presses into the muscles of your thigh now, as he bends it even higher. Your pussy sucks him right in, making Satoru tense just a bit now, slowing even more, pulling you closer so more of him could be inside of you.

“Wish you… wish you had… wish we…” You can’t finish any of your quiet sentence, not when Satoru looks at you like that, not when he feels so fucking good on you, in you, surrounding you.

“Nothing existed before me, did it? Nothing, say it pretty fucking brat.” He’s squishing your ass in his free hand now, you feel him thickening when he pumps in again, and you have to cover your mouth not to scream as you’re cumming. “Oh f-fuck… no, say it.”

He yanks your hand down, and you struggle to breathe, the orgasm washing over you, but Satoru’s got that insane look, as he takes you on his desk. “Nothing.”

“Nothing exists but me in your pretty mind?”

“Nothing but you.” Your words are cut off by his big hand, while he fucks you hard again, you scream and droll against his palm, pussy gripping him so good he throws his own head back, snowy lashes fluttering shut.

“Feel so perfect, made f’me, all mine. Mine. Me.” He’s looking back at you as he repeats his insane mantra, your brows knit together, your body so overheated, you’re shaking violently now, legs struggling to grip his slender hips. “Nod, you’re too fuckin loud.”

You nod, and he exhales, as your head falls back, smacking his desk hard, but you don’t even notice, how can you? When your psychotic boyfriend is fucking you so good right next to your ex boyfriend’s office. It took a lot of convincing for you to come here, to see Suguru’s sad expression, and Satoru’s devious grin as he locked you in the office and shut the blinds.

But you’d do anything he wanted, when he looks at you like that, when he pleasures you like this, when he says those words-

“Mine, all mine. Aren’t you baby?” You nod again, his hand pressing firmer, muffling your cries, but you can hear your wet squelching noises as his cock strokes in and out mixing with the whirling of the fan. “Want all this cum? Gonna make me a Dad, aren’t you?”

Your pussy clenches in response as you nod once more, then he’s groaning, filling your full, coating your walls with his hot ropes of cum. You’re cumming just from his cum, it’s so warm and gooey inside you, and him throbbing in you, you scream your pleasure into his hand, but he releases it then, replacing it with his lips. You taste his sweetness, the mints he’d been sucking on, tears pricking your eyes.

“Toru, l-love you s’much.” You murmur, all fucked out and looking up at him with glimmering tears. He exhales, kissing you over and over, thumbs rubbing on the apples of your cheeks.

“I love you, perfect slut for me, aren’t you?” You nod weakly, it’s all you can do, pathetic for this man, heart pounding in your ears as your body tries to calm itself, failing in his presence. He pulls out then, and you’re dripping down to his pretty gray carpet, Satoru smirks then, shoving his two fingers in your sore hole.

“Mmm, Satoru can’t take anymore.” He presses you back on the desk, pushing your legs up against you now.

“If we’re gonna make a baby you need to keep it in longer.” You’re crying at the overstimulation, his fingers shoving cum and pushing it back in. “You’re so fucking pretty like this, cum dripping out of your pussy, tears out of your eyes, drool out of those lips. Pretty little mess.”

Suddenly there is a knock on the door, and Satoru sighs, quickly grabbing you tissues and wiping you up. “Shit…”

“It’s fine. One minute.” He says loudly, sliding your panties up you, giving your pussy just a little kiss and smirking up at you then. “Gonna be dripping all day, aren’t you baby?”

“Oh stop! Ow, sore.” You wince as he helps you stand on wobbly legs, fucking Satoru constantly was not easy, by any means. “I need a break.”

“From dick? Fuck no.” He snorts then, making you glare, and making him glare down at you, as the door knocks again. “I said coming!”

You smooth your skirt down now, he’s got it all crumpled in places from using it as leverage. Hopeless wrinkles you’re frowning at while he is adjusting himself and straightening out his dark suit, slicking back his hair. You reach up carefully, smoothing it further with your fingers, watching his eyes flutter shut in bliss.

“Hedgehog.” You tease, earning another glare from your psychotic, very attractive boyfriend. You just giggle.

“I’ll beat the fuck out of you later, just wait.” Your pussy clenches unwillingly, you stomach tensing up, you bite a lip and he moans softly. “Fucking slutty brat.”

“You’re the slut-”

Knock. Knock. Knock.

“Mr. Gojo…”

“Jesus christ.” Satoru opens the door then, and you recognize the assistant, the one that Satoru fucked before you two ever got together, the one he turned down with no hesitation. She puts a hand on him and he smacks it away, you try to hide your smile behind your hand.

“Mr. Gojo, I just-”

“Don’t touch me. I’m hers.” He yanks you up to him then, filling your heart so full, Satoru may be a psycho but he loves you, and loves you so much.

She sputters, scowling at you now. You wave. “Hi there, Manami.”

She rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

“Excuse me, that’s pretty fucking rude. Say hello properly.” Satoru says, leaning down, hands in his pockets. She steps back, eyeing you, and you struggle to contain your amusement.

Fuck you love him.

“So sorry, hello. Mr. Geto would like a moment with you. With both of you.” Satoru and you both look at each other, tense, before he sighs.

“Fine.” He shuts the door on her, looking at you now. “Shit, I may throw him out the fucking window.”

“Toru, don’t do that. He’s left you alone for weeks now, yeah?”

“He says hello though.”

“Well…”

“I hate him.” He speaks through gritted teeth. You nod understandingly, the bliss Satoru and you have had this looming presence of Suguru, even though he had kept his word of leaving you alone, it seems it will always be there. “Fine, let’s see what the fuck he wants.”

Soon you all are in Suguru’s office, he looks tired lately, dark circles under his eyes, and his hair is a mess, he’s not put together like you remember him. He lets a small half smile as he looks at you, and you cannot return it, instead looking down at your feet. Satoru has his arms crossed, so big and tall, your protector always, as he stands just a bit in front of you.

“You look like shit, Suguru.” He says then, and you know Satoru hates him, but deep down you think he cares about the friend he used to have.

Suguru sighs, sitting on his desk and crossing his legs at the ankles. “Yeah well, I feel like shit so.”

“You should.” Satoru says.

“I know. I wanted to tell you both something, thank you for coming.” He stands now, walking toward you both, Satoru’s grip on your waist now tightens as he holds you close, you feel his breath quickening.

You hold his hand gently, smiling at him, he does not return it, his blue eyes full of fury, his jaw tense. “What is it?” He asks Suguru, looking at him now.

Suguru sighs, chocolate eyes showing many emotions, different than the unfeeling ones you’ve been so used to, looking at your face again. “I am leaving to start another office in Kyoto, I’ll leave Tokyo next week.”

You both pause then, blinking in confusion, looking at each other, then back at him. “You what?”

“I’m leaving. I feel it will be best for you all, not to have to see me.” His voice breaks a bit, so he clears his throat, tugging on the knot of his tie.

Satoru’s lips are parted, and he then exhales, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. “You’re leaving, really?”

“Yes.”

“Couldn’t you go to like Antarctica? Kyoto is too close.” He says, and Suguru chuckles a bit without humor.

“Satoru…” You say, and he just smirks when he looks at you.

“What!?”

“That’s fair. I am not going to be communicating with you, however, and I’ll be taking Manami with me. I know she’s a bit of an annoyance.” Satoru scoffs a bit, shaking his head now.

“You’re acting like some great man, when you’re still a piece of shit. Like you’re giving us some gift by fucking off.” He grips you so tightly you wince, and Suguru’s face falls at his words. You almost feel sorry, but you remember what he’s done, even though it’s hard to see him that way.

The things he’s done to Satoru, and to you, are truly heinous, the entirety of you knowing him had been a lie, a game for him, you were just a pawn in his game of chess, and now he’s finally admitted Satoru’s checkmate. In a way you’re relieved he’s leaving, because you know his presence weighs on you both, but also you wonder, was there good in him somewhere?

Satoru always says you are too kind, and perhaps he is right, maybe you want to see a goodness in everyone, one that was not really there. Maybe you wished things were different, that Satoru could have his best friend, that he had not done such terrible and cruel things, but this was the reality.

“We will only need to speak of business remotely, and I’ll have communicators run between us. Essentially, I’ll be out of your lives as much as I can be.” Suguru continues, shaking you out of your thoughts, as you three stand in his office.

You remember the day everything changed with you all, when Satoru had that birthday, and you were in Suguru’s arms, what was a couple weeks ago felt a lifetime ago, ages and ages. When you’d hugged Satoru and he’d been a dick, and you’d went to that game and thought he hated you, only to find out it was the opposite, Satoru had made himself hate you.

To be a loyal friend, a good friend, a best friend.

One Suguru Geto was never to him, well, not since they were quite young, many years back. Satoru acted tough but you know it still hurt, to have the man he thought was a brother be so false, so malicious. You could see the toll it took, how Satoru clings to you even more, seeking your comfort along with the passion and love you both share with each other.

“You’re bailing because Shoko left town.”

Suguru’s jaw tenses. “Shoko will not even talk to me, perhaps ever again, so no I’m not leaving for that.”

“Good.”

“Yes, good.” He sighs, running a hand through his dark locks, covering his face for a moment then. “I hate myself for it all.”

“Good, I hate you too.” Satoru continues, stepping forward, but you pause him then, earning his scowl at you.

“Satoru let him finish. He’s clearly trying… to be… decent.” You manage to say, and they both study you, in shock.

“You’re too nice, I swear to god it annoys me.” Satoru mutters, Suguru’s eyes waver a bit, he blinks his dark lashes, stepping a little closer now, tilting his head and looking at you.

“You are too nice. But, I’m glad Satoru has you.”

“What now!?” Satoru demands. Suguru just looks back at him.

“You need someone sweet and kind, you’re a dick.” Satoru snorts a bit, and for a moment you see that friendship they had, but it’s over in a moment.

“Fuck you, don’t think we’ll ever be okay.” Satoru’s words are low and serious. Suguru gives a little nod.

“I know that. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry I was such a shitty fucking friend, you didn’t deserve it, even with your mistake. I should have expressed myself, rather than hold it in, let it change me.”

“What you’re in therapy? Fuck you.” Satoru shoves at him now, Suguru does nothing, looking too exhausted.

“I am just deep in thought, alone. I’m sorry, Satoru. Truly. I get it if you never forgive me, but I wanted to say it before I leave.” Satoru just scoffs, turning away then, heading to the door and snatching your wrist.

“Yeah well good riddance, I don’t have shit to say.”

“Can I talk to her alone for a moment?” Satoru looks at him in complete anger and shock, his mouth wide open.

“No you can’t, the fuck, remember last time you were alone. Think I’d ever risk her again?”

“I won’t ever hurt her again, I swear it. There’s just something I need to apologize to her about, if you’ll both let me.” He looks between you both, and you gently touch Satoru’s face, feeling his anger fuming.

“I’ll be fine, Satoru. He’s leaving. Let me hear what he has to say.” You whisper softly, earning him gripping you tightly by the shoulders, bending low.

“Fuck no. I can’t risk you.”

“I swear it, I will not hurt her. I just… need to say something.” Satoru rolls his pretty blue eyes, studying you carefully.

“I will cut him piece by piece if he says or does anything in any way rude. Suguru I’ll feed you to fucking-”

“It’s alright, I’ll be fine. He can’t hurt me, I have you.” You say softly, and lean up to kiss Satoru’s pouty pink lips. He grips you tightly, pressing you against him, sliding his tongue in and devouring you right in front of Suguru.

You cry out softly, as his other hand slips up to the back of your neck, fingers entangling in your hair, pulling back just slightly. “You’re mine.”

“I’m yours, Toru.” He nods a bit, then his jaw tenses again while he looks at Suguru, his grip in your hair tight before his hands fall.

“You can say what you need, I’ll be right outside this door. Don’t you dare fucking-”

“I swear it.”

“Your word isn’t shit.” Satoru walks out then, and you cross your arms, tilting your head as Suguru stands there, looking at you.

“What do you want to say? You have a death wish.” A small smile plays on his lips then, as you walk up to him, keeping a distance.

“I clearly do. I wanted to truly apologize, not that half ass apology where I… fuck, where I smacked you.” He walks forward, touching the air beside your cheek, sighing and shaking his head.

“Yeah, that was kind of a shitty ass apology. And insincere.”

“I know. It wasn’t one you deserved, not when I’ve hurt you more than anyone, even more than Satoru.”

“I don’t know… I think the years of not truly being his friend hurt him more.”

“I always loved him, I love him now. I just… let my hate consume me, and now I know how deep I hurt him, and you and I…” His eyes glimmer then, surprising you as a sheen of moisture coats them.

“Why did you let it go on so long?” You ask, arms falling, but you’re now fiddling with your skirt nervously, finding it hard to be alone with him, remembering what he had done to you makes you sick.

“I don’t know, I really don’t. Looking back none of this was worth it, I should have just forgiven him fully or ended our friendship. Now I’m alone, and I deserve it.”

“You do deserve it. At least to be alone from Shoko and Satoru.”

“And you.”

You laugh then, without humor, a small little sound. “You never even liked me, be honest.”

“That’s not true. And you know it.”

“I know nothing about you really. And I was naive, to just fall into your arms, but I had shit self esteem, and a lot of issues, and you seemed so perfect. You seemed to truly find me special, and you didn’t at all.” You feel your own emotions again, shoving them down, gulping with a dry throat.

His lips part, lips you used to kiss, lips that spilt lies, and you try not to fully hate him, but it’s almost impossible. He had played you for months, and prevented what could have been beautiful from the start with Gojo. He had kissed you and taken your virginity, said you could trust him, how can you ever fully forgive that, even if you’re trying to hear him out.

He doesn’t really deserve forgiveness, but for some reason, you think of how long he’s known Satoru, since sixth fucking grade, and you wonder if there’s good in there, but it’s not your worry anymore. You know that Satoru is hurt by him, but there is not going to be forgiveness ever from Satoru, and you can’t blame him, Satoru loves you too much to let even Suguru hurt you.

Suguru’s shoulders slump, as he steps a little closer, watching you tense. “I won’t hurt you ever again.”

“Maybe so, but I’m still fucking traumatized.”

“I know. I hate myself for touching you like that, it’s nothing I have ever done, and I know it hurt you, scared you. Fuck I’m sorry. I will hate that forever.”

“Yes well.” You look away then, to his desk, a desk he’d fucked you on, licked you on, one you used to kiss him and laugh on. But now it’s all disgusting, every memory makes you sick, it’s all distorted. “Thanks for your apology, but it doesn’t really change anything.”

“I know. But I just needed to tell you, you were worth so much more than that, some fucking game for me. You adored me, you were sweet, you were so caring and thoughtful. You deserved better for your first time, than a lie, than a man not interested in you for more than a nice body and revenge.”

You can’t stop the tears that fall from your eyes, you swipe at them, irritated, taking shaky breaths. “I have more now, I have Toru.” You whisper, and his own tears fall, as he nods a bit, swiping at them himself.

“You do. And you should have from the beginning. I’m happy for you both, that you have each other. You are a sweet, beautiful soul, you really are, and you make him better. You two had a connection I could always feel, even if I actively tried to prevent it, one that when I started feeling things for you infuriated me. It made me so angry you chose him.”

“If you weren’t a piece of shit I would have stayed, even with my feelings.”

“I know, because you’re loyal, and I never was.”

“No you were not. I’m almost thankful I heard you and Shoko.”

He blinks. “Thankful?”

You nod then, taking a breath. “Yes, because I learned who you really were, not what  I thought. I told everyone, Suguru is perfect he’s so good to me, he spoils me, he loves me. I realized that night you did not give a fuck about me.”

“I did not care enough, it’s true. You were just a pretty pawn in my game.” You nod then, swiping more tears. “I will never forgive myself for hurting you, for using you, especially for touching you when you didn’t want it. I am so sorry, truly. I will never be able to apologize enough, but please know I regret it all.”

Suguru brushes a lock of your hair behind your ear, and you step back, eyes looking at him in confusion, in fear, and he sees it, sighing.

“You’re afraid of me.”

“Yes, I am.” You admit, even if he’s remorseful, the images won’t leave your head. “Were you going to go further?”

“No, I swear it. I swear I… don’t know how to live with myself. That I hurt a woman, that I hurt you like that.” He brushes a tear from your cheek, his own flowing from his eyes. “I just wish you and Satoru the best, and I want you to know you were worth everything, so much more than what I did. There is no ‘better’ like I fucking said.”

“You built me up to break me down.” You huff the words out, choking on a sob, as the emotions roll over you, and he looks up then, adams apple bobbing under dark stubble, before nodding and looking back down.

“I did, and I fed off your insecurities, it made you easier to manipulate, to do whatever I wanted. But none of it was true. Satoru is lucky to have you, anyone would be, I was but I didn’t appreciate or deserve you. Now that I look back…” His brows knit together. “I see I didn’t even care about you, your feelings, nothing.”

“You admit it all. That’s… something.” You say with a breath, he clears his throat, hands back in his pockets now, sitting once again on his desk and looking up at you.

“Take care of him, of Satoru. I know you will be good to him, but just…”

“I’ll always take care of him. I love him more than anything.” You say, and Suguru smiles a bit, nodding. “I will be there for him no matter what, forever.”

“Forever you all are talking about?”

“Yes. Forever. There’s no one but him.”

“And there was never anyone but you for Satoru, once he saw you. I will let you go, thank you for hearing me out. I didn’t deserve it.” He covers his face again, looking tired and sad, helpless, for a moment you feel horrible for him, for his own doing. But it’s what he brought upon himself.

“Thank you Suguru, for apologizing, I do believe you meant it.” You gently touch his shoulder, and he looks at it, putting a hand over yours, then looking up at you in surprise.

“You accept the apology?” He whispers.

“I accept it. I hope you can… change, become better in Kyoto. I do not wish ill on you, despite it all. Maybe you can find who you were before.”

“You should wish ill of me. You should despise me.” He kisses your hand the way he used to, bringing painful memories back, but then he smiles and it’s genuine, it’s not the fake one you knew for months. “You deserve everything good. And I hope you and Satoru will be happy, that I didn’t fuck it up completely.”

“There’s no touching our happiness, we love each other too much.” You pull your hand back then, nodding to him and turning away. “Good bye, Suguru Geto.”

“Goodbye…” He says your name softly and you look back for just a moment, before pushing him out of your mind for good, and walking right into Satoru, who snatches you up and pulls you in his arms.

“Are you okay, baby? Are you hurt!?” He whispers, since the office is full, you shake your head, cupping his face with your hands.

“He just apologized. For everything.”

Satoru rolls his eyes, grimacing in disgust. “As if I won’t hate him forever, till I fucking die.”

Your heart hurts for Satoru. “I know, I know. It’s over now. He’ll be gone, and we can live our lives. Together.” You say softly, and Satoru exhales, slamming his lips on yours. You distantly hear the click of Suguru closing his office, and closing out the painful chapter of both of your lives.

“Together.” He agrees, smiling then, and you can feel a weight lifted off of both of you. “Now, I have a question.”

“What question?”

“When are you moving in?”

Satoru’s POV

Six Months Later

Satoru is watching you from the cameras he has set up in front of his house, well it’s both of your house now, you sold yours last month and finally moved in after he proposed to you. Now you’ve made his home a fucking pink fucking monstrosity in places, you have your stupid barbie collection in his fancy white curio cabinet, you have pink fluffy towels in your bathroom (not his he would never let you).

Your pink BMW sits in front of the four car garage, thank god you allowed him to upgrade your ugly, awful pink beetle. It’s in the garage collecting dust because you just won’t let it go, but he knows you prefer that BMW a lot more, you always look so pretty when you put the top down and he watches your hair flying behind you, in some bedazzled pink sunglasses.

Satoru says he hates your girliness even now, but he doesn’t, and you know it too, it’s an ongoing joke between you. He’ll grumble about something but then smile watching your pretty reactions, as you get so passionate about your silly things you enjoy. He secretly loves them because you love them.

Now he’s watching you water all the million succulents you have brought to his house. It's got an insane garden that you love to tend, but Satoru doesn’t mind because it keeps you home. You only work at the bar once a week now, and soon you will not be doing that anymore, because you are about three months along with a baby, it’s still early but you all found out it would be a girl.

Satoru remembers how excited you were, when you all got the ultrasound, and how his heart had faltered then, as he thought of a future with you, with his beautiful wife, and a baby. He wonders if she will be so girlie like you, or will she perhaps enjoy sports like Gojo does, be a little more of a tomboy. He makes jokes about it to you constantly.

‘I’ll give her all of my barbies!’

‘What if she hates them, hates pink!?’

‘Well I’ll dress her in pink until she tells me not to!’

‘Only pink, huh?’

‘And purple!’ He had chuckled then, as he held you in his arms, your eyes were glittering with such excitement. ‘Maybe some blue, like her dad’s eyes. Oh Toru, do you think she’ll have your eyes!’

‘I hope she has yours, they’re beautiful.” Your lip trembles then, your hands sliding up his chest, wrapping around his neck, head falling back while you look up at him. You’re so small compared to him, when he’s pressing you against the island of the kitchen, it just makes him more excited as he thinks of every way to have you.

“My eyes!? Satoru…”

“Yes, your eyes.” He tilts your chin up, taking it between his thumb and his forefinger, pressing a kiss on your pretty lips.

“You’re being so sweet!”

“Shut it, brat.” He glares at you now, and you’re giggling, so pretty and happy, you make everything feel whole for him.

“Gonna punish me, daddy?” You tease, then duck under his eyes and run to the bedroom, giggling like crazy.

Fuck Satoru adores you, adores all the happiness you bring, adores you so much he has cameras in every room. He’s not sure you know about them all, but sometimes you find one and get so angry, you’re adorable when you’re angry too, your cheeks all pink, your little scowl, so cute. It takes nothing for you to forgive him, though, just some flicks of his tongue and you melt.

Satoru tries to give you freedom, he allows you to spend time with your best friend still, and any friends you have, but he does have to track your phone, and your car, just to keep you safe. As for the cameras, well he just likes to look at you, as you’re cooking in the kitchen, or concentrating on your laptop writing. Sometimes you just look in the mirror and rub your tummy.

It’s so precious, how can he not want to see it all the time?

Since Suguru had been gone, he’d kept his agreement to stay out of your lives completely, even in Satoru’s business, they have go betweens, and he has not had to deal with him barely at all. The couple of private correspondences about the company were through email, and Satoru hated even typing to him. Satoru still hates Suguru with a burning passion.

It’s dulled with the happiness you bring, the new baby will bring, your new engagement to him… it all makes it easier. But he does not think he will ever forgive him for what he did to you, even if he could forgive him for the wrongs against himself. He’s heard he’s doing well from some mutual friends, Shoko had actually ran into him and said he seemed very different, but she keeps her distance from him now.

Satoru wishes he had not gone down that path, but there’s no helping or fixing it now truly, even if his pretty little fiance (you) wants to see good in everyone, Satoru absolutely knows better. He loves that you are that way, but it means even moreso he has to keep you protected and safe.

Satoru sees that neighbor come up to you now, he’s more your age if not younger, Satoru thinks he’s maybe twenty one, and he’s enamored by you. The whole neighborhood is, they all love you, since you go bake cookies and muffins and bring them around with your pretty smile, you’re the perfect little domestic housewife. He even bought you several pink aprons and fuck you look good in them.

Especially only the aprons.

Satoru Gojo never thought he would have domestic bliss, but he did, and he never knew he deserved it, not until you showed him his worth, until you showed him all the love you had for him, even embracing his darker tendencies. You could switch from a sweet little homemaker to a freak in moments, when he had you tied up dangling from the ceiling and taking full sets of you just last week.

Now you’re barely showing, you have a little tummy, and he knows the sex will have to be easier, he can’t risk anything. He is trying to be easier with you, more gentle, and he falls deeper in love as he does so. As he now takes things slower, and studies your pretty features more carefully, as he thinks he’s made you a mommy, and his love becomes so intense it’s hard to breathe at times.

Satoru gets so angry when he sees two more neighborhood boys talking to you now, offering to help in the garden. Of course they are circling you, you’re in these cute cut off shorts and a pink crop top, Satoru really should just not allow you to leave the house, but he loves you too much to do so. Ugh. How annoying.

“Little brat.” He mutters, staring at you on his phone, then he heads out of work early, he certainly can’t have this happening.

He pulls up in his sleek sports car, scowling at the now five twenty something men pulling weeds and helping you water your plants. When he steps out of the car, towering over every single one of them with his gucci suit and gucci shades on, smiling tersely, they all tense. You giggle when you see him, the sun has left a little red on your nose, and your eyes are wide and glittery.

“Toru! You’re home early!” He sees just the tiniest bit of a pooch on your tummy where your jeans are getting tight, and it turns him on so much he can’t think, thinking of the baby growing there already. You probably don’t look pregnant to anyone yet, but he knows.

You run to him and hop up, and he picks you up, genuinely smiling as he grabs you by the back of your thighs, where half your ass was hanging out. He scowls then, whispering in your ear - “I’ll burn these slutty shorts, brat.”

“Oh…” You pull back, blushing furiously, your lashes lowering as your legs wrap his waist. “I think they’re too tight?”

“They can be worn in the home. Got me, baby?” You nod shyly, you’re so cute he melts for you. “You’re destroying these boys.”

“No way!”

“Mmhmm. Look at ‘em.” He eases you down, and you then realize they all have puppy dog eyes for you.

“Oh shit. I thought they were being nice?” You whisper in his ear, leaning up on your tiptoes.

“Nope. They wanna see your ass. Now, ahem.” He clears his throat, pulling you along through your driveway. “The future Mrs. Gojo has a lot to do, head on back to college or whatever kids.”

They all get flustered and run off, and you’re giggling as he shuts the door behind you both, locking it and glaring at you, instantly unbuttoning your shorts, putting a big hand on your tummy. You melt, a hand going over his, the other caressing his face, Satoru revels in your touch, in your warm skin under his palm.

“How is my baby doing? Both of my babies, I should say.”

“I can’t tell how she is yet! Not even fluttering really. But I am good, so I hope she is good too.”

“Good, not too far along for me to discipline you?” You bite your lower lip now, fuck you’re sexy, Satoru’s already hard. “I had to leave early because of you.”

“How… what… Satoru the cameras!?”

“Yes, the cameras. I’d rather see you writing or cooking than being surrounded by a bunch of boys. Scarlett O’Hara.”

You giggle at the reference, rolling your eyes. “There were more men for Scarlett, surely.”

“Not really. Little belle of the ball. Be mean to them.”

“No! They know I’m with you.”

“Yeah, yeah. Now.” He picks you up, and you squeak cutely as he carries you to your room, bending you over his bed. “You know how it goes.”

“Yes, Daddy. I’m sorry, you know.” You pout as you look back, pout so cute he almost falls for it, but then he glares.

“How many do you get?”

“How many boys were there?” You ask, giggling breathlessly, then gasping as your shorts slide down, and reveal your perfect ass in just a thong. He moans as he gently smacks each cheek.

“Five boys. Now… fuck your ass is getting nicer? Mmm.” It’s rounder, he thinks, it jiggles just a little more. “Pregnancy already looks sexy on you.”

“Ugh, I love you Toru.” You whimper out. “I’ve been feeling a little insecure.”

“Never around me, I told you back then, I’ll fuck every insecurity out of that pretty little head.” He leans over you, kissing your cheek, and feels you tremble when he slides your thong off you, he looks down and smirks. “Already a wet spot, how desperate and easy you get for me.”

“Just for you, Toru.” He smacks you harder, firmer this time, and you cry out, head falling back, hair cascading down your back. One of his hands brushes it back, feeling it silky under his fingers. You gasp when he pulls it. “Toru, please.”

“Please what, brat? Use your words.” He smacks you again, feeling you tremble under him, he’s so hard he has to unzip his pants.

“Hit me, please.” How can he turn anything you ask down, fuck you ask so sweetly for him too.

“I can’t soon you know.”

“Not for a while!”

“I’d say in two months it will be all vanilla.” You snort then, peeking back hungrily as he’s shrugging off his suit jacket.

“You vanilla!? You’re a psycho, yandere- ah! See!” He holds in his laugh at you, peeking then at the camera facing you both, it’s in your little pink pig plush that sits on the dresser, you’d probably never know. If you did, he has more. He’d have to watch this one later on and jerk off to you.

“You were saying something, brat? Do I need to gag you?” You shake your head quickly, and Satoru now slips off his blue silk tie, bounding your delicate wrists together behind your back. You obediently let him. “You’re being a good girl for me, aren’t you? Such a good girl.”

“Yes, I’m trying. Mmm!” He rewards you by running a long finger in your slick, and fuck you’re soaked. “Toru, yes, please…”

“Do you deserve to be pleased yet? I don’t know, you were out there bending over so slutty.”

“You psycho spying- ah! Shit, I mean sorry!?” He’s smirking now. “I’ll take five hits.”

“With what?”

“Your belt.” Your voice gets so sexy and breathy, Satoru almost loses it, sliding off his dress shirt and then unbuckling that belt, slipping it off with a crack that resounds in the air.

“You sure, it’ll hurt more.” He whispers huskily, running his hands up and down your perfect ass, down your thighs now, watching desire pool out of your little entrance, dripping down as you whimper.

“I’m sure, I want it, please.” He groans then, pulling back and smacking you harshly, watching the welp rise up right in front of his eyes. He’s dripping precum as your head falls back, your pretty little moan. “F-fuck!”

“Count them.” He orders softly, and you exhale, sinking your head against the bed, nodding against it.

“One.”

He smacks you again, on the other cheek, slipping a finger inside you for a moment, how hot and wet you are, when he pulls it out you whimper at the loss, he brings it up to his lips, tasting your sweetness. Now he’s down to his boxers, precum sticking, his cock is fucking twitching as he is picturing it pumping into your tight little cunt.

“Two.”

“Good girl.” He smacks you across both ass cheeks, in the center, the leather of the belt bruising your pretty ass.

“Three.” You cry out, choking on a sob, Satoru worried at first when you would cry, but you liked getting to this point, you knew the safe words and had used them a couple of times. You liked to be pushed, bruised, you liked to be a sobbing little mess, and he loves you like that.

Satoru leans forward to see those glistening tears, making him even harder, he loves when his pretty girl cries in pain and pleasure. He kisses your cheek, tasting the salty tears, listening to you sniffle. “You alright, pretty little slut?”

“I’m good, p-promise. Feels s’good, Toru.” You whisper back, your eyes glimmering with your tears.

“Good girl, how many more?”

“T-two more.”

“So perfect, aren’t you?” He says, hitting you once more, across your thighs, and watches you twitch, you scream out and choke on a sob, as your ass is becoming decorated with his marks.

“Four.” You choke out the words, and he moans as he hears you.

“You won’t be showing that perfect ass off for a bit, huh? All the boys were wanting you, know how mad that makes me? You’re mine.”

“I am yours. Y-yours.” You are so good, fuck he loves you.

“Mine. One more, can you take it baby?”

“I can, promise.”

Satoru smacks you with the belt one more time, exhaling as he watches you twitch and shiver, watches your wetness glisten on your puffy lips, and he instantly unties you, turning you around and lifting you up, pressing you into the bed. You have streaks of tears all along your cheeks, little trails drying, your lips all reddened from biting them.

“You’re the perfect girl for me, you know that baby? So good.” You exhale, kissing him hungrily, as he rubs your wrists for you.

“I wanna always be good for you.” You whisper back, then he’s slipping off your top, watching your tits bounce out, groaning as they do. “They’re already getting so big, aren’t they?”

“Fucking sexy. I can’t wait till they have milk dripping.” You whine out as he kisses down them, sucking one peak into his mouth.

“So sensitive, ah!” You cry out, wriggling under him, as he sucks your nipple into his mouth harder, moaning at your reaction.

“Hurts?” He whispers, you nod then. “Good or bad?”

“It’s good with you, Toru. Always with you.”

Fuck.

Satoru’s sucking on the other one, feeling your little hands enwrap in his silky white hair, drinking in your every cry and moan as he’s sucking on them, as he feels the heat of your pretty pussy against him. You’re grinding up, gasping, pulling on his hair now as he bites your already sensitive nipples, relishing in your every cry.

“I can’t wait to have your baby.” You whisper then, and Satoru leans up, cupping your face in his big hand, thumb brushing more tears away.

“I can’t wait for you to have my baby.” You cry more, and he smirks. “You’re such a crybaby.”

“I know. I just love my fiance.” You cup his face, and he takes that hand, seeing the giant heart diamond on your finger, it’s the most expensive ring he could find, surrounded by two pink jewels, just for you.

“And I love my fiance. Love watching her cry, beg, wiggle under me. So wet for me, isn’t she?” He whispers, sliding your own hand down to find yourself, and watching your head fall back against the pillows.

“S-so wet for you.”

“Are you going to be a good girl from now on?”

“I promise. Please…”

“Please what, brat?” He’s kissing down your tummy, pecking little love bites down your ribcage, then a hand on your tummy, smiling up at you. “You’re carrying my baby, you know that?”

“I know that. Please…”

“Please what?”

“Drink me, Toru. Please.” You spread your thighs, your pretty breasts rising and falling, and Satoru groans, spreading your thighs further, looking at your eager, soppy little cunt now.

“Drink you? Are you that wet?” He asks, pulling your lips apart, watching it gush out of you when he just barely breathes on it. “Oh, you are… such a desperate, slutty little pussy.”

“For you.”

Fuck, Satoru Gojo loves you.

Your POV

Satoru Gojo, your fiance, and soon to be father of your baby, is looking hungrily at your pussy with those brilliant blue eyes, his snowy lashes low over them, his perfect face shattering your heart. You’re so sore, your ass being pressed into the mattress burns, but it only serves to make you wetter, as you watch his lips part, watch him lick them with that pink tongue of his.

Your hands bury in his snowy white hair, and he looks up at you, hunger in his eyes, so intense it’s hard to breathe. But everything about Satoru Gojo was intense, down to that damn camera he has in your pig plush, he thinks you don’t know, but you look at it now, smiling, and he joins your gaze, smirking as well as he slides a long finger through your little gummy entrance.

“Ah fuck!” You cry out, and he’s chuckling, his breath making you jerk.

“You know about it? Freaky little slut.”

“You’re the slut! Yes I found it when I was cuddling it. Psycho.” He kisses your pussy lips now, and you’re getting overheated, your entire body on fire with need.

“You love it, don’t you, me being so obsessed?”

“No!”

“Liar. Fine, no licking.” He goes to get up, and you glare.

“As if you don’t want to!”

“Oh I do, but I can eat you out after I beat your pussy up-”

“I love it, okay? I love you being obsessed.” You whisper now, because you do, fuck you do. You know he watches you all the time, tracks you, you know he’s a psycho and possessive.

But it makes you feel so loved, wanted, protected.

He still lets you live your life, have your friends, he’s just your pretty fiance who happens to stalk you. Casually!? It’s weird, it makes no sense, and he may be a whole bunch of red flags, but he loves you, and you love him, more than anything. And now, you’re going to be a mommy, and you can’t fucking wait, to see him as a dad, to have your family.

You wouldn’t change a thing about your psychotic, yandere fiance, not a damn thing. He is everything to you, even when you bitch about it, even when you’re not sure you do know all the ways he watches you, you thrill in it. You love to bend over and know he’ll be touching himself at work, fuck you love being his little domestic housewife even.

Satoru makes you so happy, happier than you ever have been. And as he’s moaning and lapping at you with his tongue, you’re falling apart, so sensitive from his play you can’t stand it. You’re even more sensitive now that you’re pregnant than ever, every touch is heightened, and you’re hornier than ever, finally almost able to match Satoru’s insane sex drive.

Almost.

He hums against you now, and it vibrates your clit, making you shatter, the orgasm hitting so soon even he laughs. “Damn you’re easy now, huh baby?”

“Fuck you, Toru.” You glare, earning his scowl, but then he’s back to devouring you, and you’re screaming - “Yes, please, there!”

“Mmm…” Satoru’s tongue is fucking in and out of your entrance, you hear how wet you are in the room, so wet it’s stupid. He’s slipping two fingers in, and you hiss at the stretch, hips bucking up for more and more. “Taste s’fuckin yummy, baby.”

“Toru!” You’re fucking his face now, the one rare time he allows you so much control, typically Satoru is always dominant, but he loves when you pull his hair, when you ride his face. “There, fuck please don’t stop!”

He does not stop, when he’s flicking your clit with his tongue over and over, and his fingers hit that spot that makes you see stars, you cum so hard you nearly black out, shaking everywhere as he looks up at you, covered in your slick. His eyes are an insane blue, they get so crazy when you all fuck, when you all make love, when you all are intimate in any way.

Satoru sees only you, and you see only him.

He’s on you now, and you’re eagerly reaching for him, stroking his cock in your little hand, watching his eyelashes flutter. “Fuck my mouth.”

“Want your pussy first.” He’s shoved his thick eight plus inches in your cunt, and you scream out then, as he grins, those white teeth glinting in the room. “Aw, shut that pretty mouth up?”

“Ngh.” Is all you can imagine, as he allows you to adjust, will you ever really adjust to Satoru? He’s so huge and thick your body always needs a minute, his long body taking over your small one, so much bigger than you, he intimidates you as he makes you feel so safe in his embrace.

The size difference of you and him just makes you wetter, when he takes you over completely, and he loves to tell you - “So fuckin small, aren’t you? Want me to break your little pussy?”

“Please, please. Break me.” You whisper, desperate for him, and he groans loudly, pulling back, your slick dripping down the length of his veiny cock, before he shoves back in you, and his tip kisses your cervix. “Mnh!”

“Wanna feel you cum around me, can you baby?” He whispers, you nod eagerly, and he’s fucking you harder, slamming his lips into yours, your legs wrap his hips, your heels pressing in, as he pumps over and over. You’re falling apart under him, Satoru takes over everything you are. “That’s it, I feel it, cum, little brat. Now.”

You do exactly as he says, how could you now, when his tip is dragging on that spot along your walls, that are clenching around him. He’s kissing you and drinking your cries as the orgasm washes over you, blinding you again, when his hand slips up to your throat, and he leans up, balancing with one arm on one side of you as he squeezes.

“Harder, please.” You beg softly, and he shakes his head.

“You’re having a baby-”

“Not yet!”

“You’re a slut.” He glares, and you just pout and squeeze his wrist, your pink glittery nails digging in as you do. “And a brat.”

“Please, you can be all vanilla soon. Let me feel you choke me- ah!” He’s squeezing now, grabbing your hips with his free hand and pulling you down harder on his cock, splitting you in two.

“You want me to choke you, huh? Love knowing I could end you, don’t you, your pretty throat in my hands. Could snap your neck.” He whispers now, and it does nothing but make you throb around his thickness, wetter and wetter, you love when he talks like this, you’re just as insane as he is.

“Yes, I love it.” You breathe out, and his eyes go mad and insane, just how you love them, a grin on his handsome face.

“Fine, one more time hard.” He squeezes your throat tightly under your chin, your oxygen being sucked out of your body as he pumps over you, and you’re fading so goddamn deliciously. “Pretty face, when you’re losing that oxygen, I could make you faint. Couldn’t I?”

You love hearing it, when he’s so big and huge and strong, and you’re pathetic under him, and he takes you over. You nod barely, it’s getting fuzzy and your ears are ringing when he shoves in deep, grinding in your pussy, his own head thrown back for a moment as he feels you convulse. You’re cumming so hard you almost faint.

Satoru takes his hand off at the right moment, and you gasp greedily for breath, shaking as you lean up, kissing him so sloppy. Satoru groans as you do, slowing a bit and caressing your face, looking to your throat, all reddened from him. He kisses down your throat now, hands overtaking you, sliding down every line and curve, then he’s biting you hard with sharp teeth.

“Ah!” You let out a strangled cry, and now he’s fucking you even harder, you hear the sounds lewd in the room, his balls smacking your ass as he does, as you cling to him desperately. “Toru, too much!”

“Too much, huh? You want it, don’t you.” You weakly nod, you love being pushed over the edge, relishing in it as you know soon sex will change, he’ll get easier, and you soon will have a baby occupying your time.

You want your freaky Toru as much as you can have him.

“Beautiful, fuck you’re beautiful.” He whispers then, slowing his rhythm, cupping your chin again. “I fucking love you so much.”

“I love you, Toru. You’re beautiful.”

“Handsome, fuck you.” You giggle and he gently smacks your cheek, making you moan again. “Slutty brat.”

“Mm, you love it.” You grin and he grins too, rolling your hips up, to meet him stroke for stroke, and he’s falling apart now over you.

“Wanna have all this cum? Fill you up more?” He whispers, and you nod, nails digging into his back making him hiss, as both of your brows furrow, and you both grow slick with a sheen of sweat. “Fuck I wanna cut your stupid nails off.”

“You like them - ah - too. And you like… pink! Ah!” He’s smacking your other cheek, glaring as you laugh softly at him.

“Only pink I like is your pretty pussy.” You desperately kiss him now, and he’s pulsing inside of you, cumming so hard he cries out desperately, and you’re getting filled so goddamn good, he’s pumped so much it’s dripping down his length. You’re trembling as he pumps, as you’re both too sensitive. “Oh my god… fuck…”

“Fuck… Toru…” You whimper as he keeps pumping, then he cups your face with both hands.

“I love you so goddamn much. You’re mine, say it.”

“I’m yours. We are yours.” You whisper, touching your tummy, and he exhales, nodding then.

He pulls out of you, kissing your tummy, and you feel your heart swelling, more love than you knew, when he looks up at you lovingly. “I will protect you both, forever, I swear it. No one will ever hurt you both. I’ll be everything.” You watch tears form in his beautiful azure eyes, and you choke on your own sob.

“Satoru, I know you will. I know. And I’ll be the best mother ever, and the best wife to you. I swear.” He is picking you up now, kissing you deeply, over and over, and you’re a tangle of limbs, mouths messy as you kiss deeper, more desperate. He has to take a breath, pulling away now, before glaring. “What!? We were having a moment, why psycho Toru again!”

“Because if you flirt again, I’ll chain you to this damn bed.”

“Oh fuck off!”

“Oh yeah, think I won’t?” He raises a white brow, and you tense then, studying his face, and then he chuckles. “You think I would.”

“You’re insane, so maybe!”

“No, I wouldn’t, but it’s tempting.” He flips you on top of him now, you’re straddling him, your hair falling like a curtain on the side of your face, and he’s brushing it back gently. “I love you both so much already. I can’t take it.”

“I know what you mean.” Your hands meet over your tummy, then you meet his eyes once more, drowning in them. “You’re my everything.”

“You’re my everything. Never, ever fucking-”

“Toru I’ll never leave. Why would I? Everything I need… is right here.” You’re grinding on him now, slick messes, he’s still half hard, and his cock twitches, his hands gripping you so tightly. “Is it time for vanilla yet?”

“It’s time for vanilla.” He smirks, pulling you to him gently, and grinding you against him, his cock between your folds, kissing you sweetly, so different than before. You whimper into his lips, feeling his love, his affection, his well… obsession, and you revel in it.

You’re obsessed with Satoru Gojo too.

“Let’s see how vanilla you can be.” You whisper, leaning up to sink onto him, inch by inch, and holding both of his hands, fingers entwining against the black leather headboard. Satoru’s at your mercy, as he lets you ride him, lets you have control, kissing everywhere he can reach.

“Beautiful, fuck you’re so beautiful. You bring me to my knees, don’t you know?” He says softly, gulping now, and your eyes fill with more tears, as he eases up into you, freeing a hand to cup your face so gently.

“You bring me to my knees, Toru. I love you forever.” You whisper, and you all fall into each other, for once gently making love, so deep and beautiful it takes your breath, as you see your beautiful future.

Satoru is a psycho, but so are you.

And you’re both never letting each other go.

The End

I will do an epilogue one day, will tag anyone who wants to be tagged (along with current taglist) Thanks to everyone who enjoyed this! Don't worry, I have tons of Gojo content and more to come. Love you alll (another fic done, holy fk!)

Kofi Link if you wanna buy me a coffee <3

Taglist: @ssetsuka @lostinneocity @chiyokoemilia @victoriaaaa00 @holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @makingtimemine @nanasukii28 @antisocialinlw @lavender-hvze @seeing-stars-alt @thisonegirl @aldebrana @jiayingjellies

[unoislazy]

The Outsider

(Part 1)

Hiccup Haddock x Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Summary: You wound up on the shores of Berk after something… had happened to you. Thankfully someone had found you and reported your presence to the Chief.

————————————————————

Life on Berk was running just as smooth as ever. Well, other than the occasional fire spreading here and there, Vikings roughhousing over the smallest inconvenience, it was as peaceful as an island full of Vikings and dragons could be. That was until one random day, you washed up on shore.

Of course you weren’t noticed right away but it certainly didn’t take long for someone to eventually stumble across you and your tattered piece of driftwood lying helplessly on the sand. You were in pretty bad condition, you hadn’t eaten in days and had several visible injuries that would cause further problems if they weren’t dealt with.

Thankfully the person who had found you knew to bring you the Gothi, the village healer, as well as informing the chief of your unannounced arrival.

You certainly stirred conversations among the Vikings as news spread quickly of your presence. Many murmurs of disapproval circulated as many people believed it would be a repeat of what had happened the last time someone had wound up stranded on the shores of Berk.

Now you lay in Gothis house, on a cot she had set out for you as she tended to your wounds. You were still very much unconscious so you had no idea you had gained some visitors. If you were awake you might have been honored to know one of those visitors was none other than the chief of the village himself, Hiccup Haddock.

Hiccup and his very close friend, who had insisted she’d come along, Astrid Hofferson. Hiccup and Astrid had a somewhat complicated relationship over the years, having dated for a little while when they were younger but decided to break it off because of their differing visions for the future. Thankfully they worked out their issues and managed to still remain very close friends. Astrid often lended a hand in any errands Hiccup often got overwhelmed by, and they worked well together.

Now here they were, standing in front of your unconscious body, questioning what on Earth they were going to do.

“They look to be in pretty bad shape.” Hiccup said, his finger tapping his chin as you looked down at you. His eyes very carefully took in the intricate details of your face, trying to discern whether he’s seen you before. Maybe you were a dragon trapper?

He then looked at your hair, the color and texture not ringing any bells for him. He then looked at your eyes, well more accurately, your eyelids. They lay still and motionless as you continued to sleep which he found quite odd, but then again he figured you were too weak to even dream at this point. Although, he found a sense of curiosity when it came to your eyes, what did they look like? What color were they? Were they pretty?

Stupid questions to ask in a situation such as this.

“Well who knows how long they were out at sea.” Astrid finally replied. It seemed as if she too was looking over your features, not recognizing you in the slightest. She shook her head as if she was answering her own question. Hiccup then let out a sigh, knowing his next point was not going to go over well with her.

“They’re going to need some place to stay while they heal.”

“What?”

Called it.

“I said they’re going to need some place to stay.” Hiccup repeated, as he looked over to the blonde haired girl who looked as if she just watched Hiccup get carried off by a dragon and returned in a matter of seconds right before her eyes.

“You can’t be serious.” She began, the amount of shock evident in her voice suggested she was almost disappointed that Hiccup would even think of such an idea.

She continued, “What do you mean stay? You can’t possibly be thinking about keeping them here.”

“And what if I am?” The man argued, at least attempting to stand his ground. It wasn’t too often he was taken very seriously when he made decisions, but his stubbornness usually won out in the end.

“Uh hello, do you not remember what happened last time we helped someone who wound up stranded on our shores?” Astrid questioned, her hands planted firmly on her hips as if she was a stern mother scolding their child. Hiccup was usually quite a smart leader, but in instances like this, his morals often clouded his judgment.

In Astrid’s eyes, putting others' needs before your own can be very selfless, but when you put someone else’s needs in front of your own, as well as potentially everyone else on Berk? That’s where she starts to have a problem.

“I hear you Astrid but we can’t believe that everyone who winds up on our shore is out to get us, besides look at them. Who would injure themselves for the sake of taking over the village?” He asked genuinely, gesturing towards you. Thinking back to when Heather had arrived, sure she came in an overturned boat, but at least she had a boat. You had come on a literal piece of driftwood and nothing more. If someone was trying to use you as bait, they certainly weren’t prioritizing the success rate of you even arriving on Berk in the first place.

“I don’t know Hiccup, maybe someone who’s really committed? Maybe someone who has no other choice?” Astrid argued.

“If they have no other choice then we have to help them.” He responded. It was at this point Astrid was beginning to see that Hiccup had already made up his mind and arguing with him was going to be the same as arguing with a brick wall.

And yet she persisted.

“Hiccup, we can't put our noses into everyone else’s business, if they’re in trouble that’s their problem. We don’t always have to get involved.” She tried, but Hiccup's gaze was stern and unwavering. It was clear that he truly believed in his cause and he was going to stick beside it.

“We do when they wind up on our island Astrid.”

Astrid sighed, turning away from Hiccup for a moment as she gave the option a thought. Once she turned back towards him she raised her hands in defeat.

“Okay, alright. But I’m still going to heavily question them the exact moment they wake up.” She joked a bit, earning a small chuckle from Hiccup as he turned back to face you. Normally when Berk had a guest, he would offer his house to stay in.

However, maybe Astrid was right to at least be a little cautious this time so he decided against it. Maybe it was best for them to stay here, it would also give Gothi time to watch over them to make sure they’re healing properly. Once they heal, then they can discuss the living arrangements.

“Guess all we do now is wait.” Hiccup sighed before finally looking away from you and then back to Astrid. “It could be days until they wake up, let us know if anything happens.” Hiccup requested, now looking down at Gothi who gave him a smile and a nod. With that confirmation, Hiccup said his goodbyes and began to walk outside, but not before taking one last look at you.

He had convinced himself that he kept looking at you to see if he recognized you and for no other reason at all.

Three days had passed by and you still had not woken up. Hiccup and Astrid had been by several times, a few times together, but usually on their own time. You wounds were making very slow healing progress but you were still not receiving the proper amounts of food.

It was beginning to get worrying.

That was until randomly around noon on the third day, your eyes shot open and you quickly rose from your cot, ultimately regretting your decision as you became very dizzy almost immediately. You tried to steady yourself by proposing your arms up behind you, but eventually gravity seemed to have taken full control of your body and dragged you right back down to the cot.

Once the dizziness had dissipated a bit, you looked around at your very new surroundings. The last you remembered was… well you couldn’t quite remember really. You could hear the faint voice of a man in your memory, but you couldn’t place who it could have come from.

As you continued to look around the very homey little cottage-like house you were now in, you eventually noticed a very short woman walking towards you with a bowl in hand. As she neared you she had to continue to shoo away several little lizard type animals that continued to try and swarm her to steal the food.

It took you a moment before you realized those weren’t just lizards, they were dragons.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you watched the woman handle the beasts with such care and affection.

Great, you happened to wind up in some crazy woman’s cottage in the middle of who knows where.

You carefully sat back up, steadying yourself to prevent you from getting dizzy again as you looked towards the woman.

“Where am I?” You asked, but your voice was hoarse and scratchy from not having been used in days. The woman merely stared at you with a smile as she held the bowl of what looked to be like soup, towards you, urging you to eat.

You shook your head, trying to get her to answer before you asked again, “Where am I?”. In return she shook her head, now practically shoving the soup in your face. You finally took the soup from her, hoping that now she would answer you, but instead she turned right back around and began working on something else.

You simply stared in confusion before looking around you for some way out. That’s when you saw it, the door. Sure you couldn’t really run but the woman seemed largely occupied. Besides, you could argue you just needed fresh air.

Easy.

Or so you thought.

You carefully put your feet onto the ground, the floorboards creaking beneath you as you slowly put your weight down. You carefully began to push yourself upwards into a standing position, occasionally wobbling here and there but you were managing. You almost felt like some kind of sea creature learning how to use their new legs. You hugged the wall as you slowly but surely made your way towards the door, swinging it open and walking out.

You didn’t know what to expect, but you were hoping to see a village of some sort, maybe even a large woodland area, but you quickly realized you had been very mistaken. Oh sure, there was a village, but it was currently several hundred feet below the house you were currently standing in.

“Why in god's name would they build this so high up?” You wondered to yourself, and just as you had managed to stick your head even the slightest bit over the edge to peak below, you heard a loud roar from an animal you had never heard before.

You scrambled away from the edge, afraid that you may have upset some sort of creature that lived under the weird balcony that was a part of this house. It didn’t take you long to realize that the roar you had heard did not come from below, but instead it had come from above. Your head shot up to look for the source of the noise and your eyes widened as you made eye contact with a…

“Night Fury?” You shrieked, well as well as you could've with such a broken voice. With all your might you brought yourself back up and scrambled back into the house, slamming the door behind you. Suddenly this woman didn’t seem crazy because you could’ve sworn you saw someone riding that Night Fury. You’d have to be insane to even think of doing something like that.

Maybe sitting down and just having your soup was the best option right now, besides you were probably just hallucinating. After all, Night Furies went extinct years ago… right?

You sat down, finally beginning to take in some of the very warm meal that the strange woman had prepared for you, and you couldn’t lie it was pretty tasty. Well tasty in Viking terms of food. The warmth of the meal actually began to calm you down a slight bit before you heard a knock at the door that you had previously slammed, followed by a slightly concerned and confused voice.

“Uh, hey Gothi? Are we able to come in, didn’t mean to scare your guest like that.” The voice said from the other side of the door. The only thing you could really tell from it was that it was a young man. You then looked towards the woman, who you assumed to be Gothi, as she hobbled over to the door, now opening it.

Once the door had been fully opened, you locked eyes with the man now standing in the doorway and it immediately clicked. You weren’t hallucinating, that man was actually riding a dragon. And no one else was reacting to this?!

[ophelisstuff]

𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐆𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐀𝐍 | P.B x reader

authors notes : i know absolutely nothing about cheerleading or cheer comps. But I hope you enjoyed

requested by : anon

paige bueckers x competitive cheerleader reader

warnings : none

word count : 1.1k

best suited in dark mode !

You sighed and walked into Paige’s apartment tiredly. exhausted from the numerous hours spent practicing with your teammates.

With All Star Worlds right around the corner, you had been at the gym practicing with your team almost every day.

Leaving you fatigue and eager to go home and be held in Paige’s warm embrace. Desperate to listen to her voice as you fell asleep in her arms.

Throwing your cheer practice bag on the floor by the entrance, you shut the door and walked further into the apartment. The sound of footsteps coming from the hallway seconds after the door had closed

Immediately coming from around the corner to greet you, it seemed as if the blonde had been waiting impatiently for your arrival.

A grin on her face as her hand trailed down to your waist, pulling you in for a passionate kiss. Paige finally felt at peace, having you in her embrace after going all day without seeing you.

“Hi baby, how was cheer practice?” She asked, her hand remaining on your waist as she smiled ear to ear.

“It was so exhausting” She began, the blondes eyes focused on you — giving you all of her attention. “Coach lectured us about how we can’t lack energy on stage like we do at practice.”

Paige laughed, a wide grin on her face. “You know, I could totally be a competitive cheerleader. if i wanted to” She spoke confidently “Just without the flips n’ shit, that’s way out of my category”

The blonde often times begged you to teach her your routines. Determined to learn them no matter how complicated they were.

Always having you seated on the living room couch, showcasing the steps you taught her proudly. Even daring to showcase and teach her teammates the steps as well.

Deeming herself as your Biggest Fan, which you never doubted whatsoever. The girl always showed up at your competitions and always helped you get ready. Explaining that she wouldn’t optionally miss any of them for the world.

Even when her games fell on the day of your competitions, Paige would always facetime you and watch as you got get ready through the screen. Wishing you luck and having a bouquet of flowers waiting when you returned home.

“Keep it up and Coach might just make you my replacement.” You laughed at your girlfriend, walking past her and making your way to the bedroom — looking through dresser drawers for a pair of pajamas.

“Oh! are we taking a shower?” Paige asked, her attention drifting away from the cheer topic as she watched you lay out the pajamas. Consisting of her hoodie and a pair of pajama shorts.

Walking over to the dresser as well, the blonde began picking out new pajamas to put on. Despite knowing she had showered less than an hour ago.

“No, I’m taking a shower — you already showered” You told Paige, walking into the bathroom. The girl trailing behind you like a lost puppy in disbelief.

“That is not fair! Another shower won’t hurt anyone!” Paige exclaimed, walking into the bathroom with you as she sat on the bathroom countertop.

“I’m hot and sweaty, i’ll be out soon” You promised your girlfriend, placing a kiss on her cheek as you turned the shower temperature on cold.

“I can cool you off better than the shower can.” She muttered beneath her breath, rolling her eyes as she exited the bathroom.

▏cheer comp day !

“Paige! I said high ponytail, not low ponytail!” You exclaimed, taking the elastic out of your hair as you looked back at your girlfriend who stood behind you. Holding the look of a stressed and confused mom.

“Well I don’t even do my own hair, you do!” Paige spoke as she opened safari, googling what a high ponytail looked like.

Acting as if she had never seen the hairstyle in her life. Forgetting the fact you had to wear one during nearly every competition.

Hair products, makeup and a wide array of other items laid out on the stand connected to the mirror. You watched as Paige sprayed unnecessary amounts of hairspray on your hair. Setting the phone down as she started the style over.

“Okay wait, I remember this now!” Paige exclaimed as she brushed your hair upwards. You slowly beginning to wish you’d hadn’t agreed to her doing you hair.

The blonde spent the entire car ride pleading to help you get ready, specifically asking to help do your hair and watch you do the required makeup.

Unable to say no, you eventually gave into the girl’s pleads. Allowing her to mess with your hair until she successfully pulled it into tight high ponytail. “Got it!” She beamed, grabbing the navy blue bow that was covered with sparkles. Placing it front and center as it normally was.

Quickly doing a light face of makeup with the help of your girlfriend, Paige gave you the occasional time check — letting you know how much longer you had until it was time to preform.

When it came down to competitions, Paige acted like an over the top cheer mom. Always making sure to be on time and making sure everything was going the way it was supposed to.

Making sure all your bags were packed the night before and even loading them into the car that same night. The blonde didn’t mess around when it came to cheer competitions. Always making sure there was no room for anything to go wrong.

Standing up in your shimmery, navy blue cheer costume with the word ‘Uconn’ engraved in a cursive font on the front. Paige embraced you one last time before you had to preform.

“I love you, and you’re gonna do so well” She smiled, wrapping her arms around your waist as she whispered the words of affection to you. Wanting to make sure you carried her support during the performance.

“I love you too. And you’re gonna be in the audience watching, right?” You questioned out of nervousness, looking up at her as you broke the hug.

“I always am and always will be” Paige reassured, watching as your other teammates made their way out of the dressing room.

You smiled at the girl and nodded, hurrying behind the others. Thinking about how lucky you were to have Paige in your life.

Her being someone who brought nothing but positive memories, treating you like a piece of fine china and always offering unconditional support.

Always showing up whenever you needed her the most, and being the first person you always spotted in the audience — cheering at the top of her lungs.

It was safe to say that Paige Bueckers really was your Number One fan.

authors note

i’m so so so sorry if this was bad! I actually have zero knowledge when it comes to competitive cheer. But I hope you enjoy !! Requests are open too !

[hannieehaee]

Hi, please do a continuation of your idol mingyu fics🥺 I really love me a nsfw idol mingyu fic so if you could continue it im gladly waiting for it!!

18+ / mdi

content: idol!mingyu x idol!reader, established relationship, secret relationship, simp!mingyu, afab reader, smut, oral (f receiving), etc.

wc: 2013

original fic

a/n: thank u for requesting idol!gyu i love him so bad <33

masterlist

handling a brand new relationship was already hard enough on its own. now add the extra stress of having to keep it a secret from the entire world, and then you have mingyu's current situation.

he had waited years to finally confess, never really expecting that the day where he could have you would ever come. and now that he had you, he was slightly frustrated at how little of you he could actually have.

not only did the two of you have constant conflicting schedules, but you also had to keep things as discreet as possible due to the nature of relationships within your industry (and maybe also due to mingyu's many exes being spread all throughout the industry).

mingyu tried not to be too annoyed by how little of you he got to keep to himself these past few weeks, with your schedules conflicting far too much for his liking. whenever he was off work, you just so happened to have a last-minute appearance at some fashion event in another country. in any occasion in which you were finally off idol duties, he suddenly had yet another shoot for a company he was the new ambassador of. there was just no way for the two of you to be in the same place for longer than an hour before one of you was called away to some over-complicated schedule.

and though mingyu really really did his best to not let this affect his mood, the inevitable eventually happened, and he finally snapped.

okay, he did not snap per say, but the drastic change in his mood was easily noticed by not only his members, but even staff.

throughout the past week, he had been the talk of the town (re: hybe) due to his unusual behavior. the usually high-spirited and highly energized mingyu everyone knew and loved had been overcome by a shell of his former; a grumpy and lazy giant who would grumble in response to any and every inquiry and would give his bare minimum during group activities (though never in front of carats – he could not help but always be a sweetheart to his carats).

for the past six days or so, mingyu had not been in contact with you. the most he could get were a few texts throughout the day due to both your groups having a comeback at practically the same time. he had not heard your voice or seen your face. not only were you promoting in america (giving you a sixteen hour time difference from korea), but you were also running on about four hours of sleep since your departure. in the meantime, mingyu was preparing for his own group's promotions, knowing that by the time you got back, seventeen would also leave the country and you would find yourself in the same situation.

the thought of yet another week with zero communication made mingyu lose his mind even further, causing him to be even more snappy as the days went by. one week became two, and you were finally due to come back, something that would've usually elated mingyu, except that his departure was scheduled just a few hours after your arrival.

today had been the worst day of all for his members, who had had to deal with mingyu's sour mood these past two weeks (and occasionally deal with his cries due to missing your presence). but enough was enough. not only was mingyu inadvertently messing with the synergy of the group, but a few members also felt bad for the pathetic mess mingyu had become due to your incidental separation. it was time to take matters into their own hands.

~

mingyu had never loved his members more than he did at this current moment.

sure, they'd been with him through thick and thin; since the beginning of his career up to the moment where they finally made it to the top. but none of those moments compared to the makeshift 'intervention' they had prepared for him just one day prior to your arrival (and consequent break from comeback activities).

he had been annoyed by it at first, assuming they were just going to grill him due to his lack of effort these past few weeks, but he was surprised to find that they had spoken to the company on his behalf. before he could protest about what he assumed to be some sort of punishment for his unusual behavior, he was informed by an easily-excitable soonyoung that they had convinced the company to allow him to stay in korea for an extra week before joining the rest of the members in overseas promotions. they had come up with a fake statement – something about conflicting schedules with one of the brands he was meant to promote for – in order to give justification to the public as to why he'd be staying behind. they comforted him and told him they understood his frustrations and knew what a hard worker he was, that they simply wanted to give him a few days to recover with you.

mingyu could've cried – and he did. he was beyond elated. he apologized profusely for becoming a weight to his members, getting on his knees to thank them for doing him such a solid, promising he would come back better than ever and that he would work as hard as he could to make up for the past two weeks. he was met with reassurance from his members and a few lighthearted curses due to jealousy of his free time with his girlfriend.

he spent the rest of the day with a reinstated good-mood and the most energy his members had seen from him in weeks.

~

as mingyu came to find out a few hours later, you were blissfully unaware of the sudden change of plans, still believing that he'd be out of the country by the time you got back home.

mingyu fell in love with you all over again the moment you gasped in shock and immediately ran into his arms as you found him waiting for you in your apartment, wrapping his arms around you with the warmest embrace he could muster, lifting you so that you could wrap yourself around him.

"gyu! what are you doing here?", you inquired excitedly as you pulled away.

mingyu didn't let go of you as he responded, "hybe gave me the week off. i get to stay with you til monday. surprised?", he grinned.

"a week?! oh my god! fuck, i've missed you so much," you went back to burying your face in his neck, drinking in the embrace.

"missed you more, beautiful. can't believe i finally get you all to myself again," he put you down slowly so that he could grab onto your hands, bringing them up to his lips so that he could kiss them over and over as you giggled at his antics, "i have so many things planned for the two of us."

"yeah?", you moved closer to him, placing your hands on his shoulders, "like what?", you flirted.

"gonna do everything ive been holding back on ..." he breathed out as he lowered his face down to yours.

"wanna show me?"

"yeah, angel, i'll show you ..."

those were the last words spoken before he took over your senses with a heady kiss, kissing you with so much strength that he physically pushed you back a few steps. his control was lost pretty quickly into the kiss, his senses weakened by the feeling of your body so close to his own.

wordlessly, he guided you in direction to your room, not allowing for your lips to disconnect for even a second as he laid you down on the bed and hovered over you. even as you began to lose your breath to the kiss, mingyu would only allow for your lips to disconnect for a few seconds at a time, taking a single breath before going back to licking into your mouth.

his hands had a mind of their own as they felt every inch of skin they could find, simply ridding themselves of any obstacles by removing your clothing as he unlocked new skin for his hands to touch.

"fuck ... did you get prettier, angel?", he finally disconnected your lips, though not without groaning at the way in which your lips chased after his despite your lack of breath, admiring the almost fully nude body under his own.

remaining fully clothed, mingyu could not feel your skin against his own, a circumstance that frustrated him too much to not solve it immediately. without a second thought, he ripped off his clothes and leaned down to kiss at your neck as his hands took care of the remnants of your clothing.

"hmm, angel? get prettier in my absence? were you keeping all this beauty safe and sound for me?", he was as soft in his words as he was with his movements, caressing the skin of your breasts as he removed your bra.

"gyu ... do something. please," you whined as he traced your nipple and kissed at your neck.

"what do you want, angel? cause i have a few ideas of my own."

"anything, just ..."

"anything? can i have that pretty cunt, then?", he breathed, his lips now against your ear.

"y-yeah, fuck. please."

within seconds he had made his way to the ground, kneeling before you as he buried his face between your thighs and went to town. his lips had already traced every inch leading down to your cunt, fully prepared to bring you to your first orgasm of the night with those same plump lips.

"so fucking good ..." he purred against your cunt, "grind it against my tongue, yeah, baby? wanna feel you gush on my tongue," his words were slurred, refusing to disconnect his lips from your cunt for even one second.

"g-gyu? i'm ... i, fuck ... gonna cum. need to cum. please ...", you whined, fully delirious from the feeling of his tongue.

"do it, angel. gonna lick it all up n give it back to you. been dreaming of you gushing all over my face," he breathed just a few moments before granting his own wish by leading you to your high.

you whined and cried as he continued to lick and suck at you throughout your orgasm, pulling at his hair and grinding against him simultaneously as your body fought against the sensitivity of your cunt while he refused to halt his attack on you.

after your high finally dissipated, mingyu made his way back up your body, once again kissing a trail through the entirety of it until reaching your lips.

he groaned against you as you gave him a kiss so nasty it had his eyes rolling back. he licked your taste right onto your own tongue, sucking it back as your tongues danced with one another. his cock was beyond hard by now, making him grind against your sensitive cunt as the two of you made out.

he reluctantly pulled away before he could get too carried away again.

"i really did miss you so much," he whispered against your lips.

"i missed you too, gyu."

"no, but i genuinely felt like i was going insane," he continued, "i didnt know i could miss anyone this much."

you cupped his cheek as you reciprocated the sentiment.

"now that i finally have you, being away from you at all is torture," he confessed, chuckling at how dramatic yet serious he sounded.

"i love you, gyu," you concluded, "i'm so happy i get to have you a whole week. i .. i'll make it so we can be together more often. i don't know how, but we can do this. right?"

he smiled and pecked you once, "yeah. not letting anything keep me away from you. i love you."

the soft moment was eventually interrupted by even more unseemly activities between your sheets. and the week was filled with constant love shared between the two of you as you finally reunited, fully determined to make this a frequent occurrence.

[brailsthesmolgurl]

Delirious

No matter how much you had offered your heart and arms to him, you were never his. And he was never yours.

Another oneshot requested by my angsty babies, I am glad you chose Rafayel. Yes, the writer you had wished for is back. Hang on tight to your seats baby gurl, this one gonna be hard to swallow.

Warnings: Angst, no comfort. Make your eyes bleed. Character death. Descriptive Mentions of dark topics so if ur sensitive please refrain.

Artwork is not mine, please support the original artwork!

Ding Dong. Ding Dong. Ding Dong. dINg dOng. DiNg dOnG.

You slammed your door opened and the 183cm drama queen stands in your doorway, head hung low, face drooped towards the floor. If he is not made of solid muscle and bones, you would be watching him melting right into the floor. Sighing, you stood aside and let him in, not even bothering to ask him a single question. You sort of having a gist on what had happened.

"Here, soup for you." He replied solemnly, feet carrying him lazily across the living room and to your kitchen. He brought soup this time, must be something big. Him bringing a souvenir over also means he would probably be staying the night. Not that you guys are in a relationship or anything, but 'complicated' is the right term for the both of you as of this stage.

The chair creaked under his weight as he took a seat on the wooden chair slotted at your dining table. "Rafayel." You grabbed a tissue box and sat down on the opposite end, a good necessity whenever he drops by your house unannounced. His hunched over form under the harsh lighting of your dining room's light unexpectedly painted a blob of shadow on your table. You reached your hand out this time, finger tapped on the wooden table just a few centimeters away from his hand. "Rafayel, are you okay?"

"She broke up with me." His reply was short. No details, no whining, no accusations, but just one sentence. This is an untouched territory for you. Most of the time, he would pressed on the doorbell nonstop until you slam open the door and his lips would not shut off till he was done venting. There were a couple of times he did came in looking like a dreaded fish, but the smell of alcohol would be the perfume of his. Today, however, no alcohol smell and no usual harangues.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

Few days passed, till few weeks, then few months after. For such a while, Rafayel had been hanging out more frequently with you, bringing you to the most random places to hang out such as going to a bowling alley just to get their waffles because he claims he likes to watch people roll balls but he also likes the waffles there. A trip to the market only to buy crabs and releasing them into the backyard to watch which one could run the fastest then the winner shall be rewarded as dinner on the dining table.

He had never been weirder than ever, but maybe this is his way of coping and who are you to judge? You had never been in love. But reading through romance books and watching all of the romantic shows, when love comes to your mind, Rafayel comes to your mind. You thought, maybe you do love him?

"Get out." Your words were final. Index finger sliced through the air and pointed straight towards your front door. Your cheeks glistened under the reflecting light casted by the television that was playing a teen romance flick. But no attention was spared for the movie anymore. "Rafayel. GET. OUT."

"What do you mean?" Eyebrows sewn together, eyeing your expression that spelled hurt. He was confused about your sudden burst of anger. "All I did was talk about the movie. And you got mad at me all of a sudden."

"You did not talk about the movie. All you did, was compared me to her, with the context of the movie." Your nostrils flared, tears stinging at the back of your eyes as if you had inhaled poison. Your throat and chest tightening further the more you held your tears in. "You lied to me. You said you got over her." Your arm fell to your sides, voice feeble. "But, why do you always find the need to compare me to her?"

"Oh spare me, I just went through a breakup, I could use the space to let loose, can't I?" His ignorance egged you on, seeing how indifferent he is about this situation. "Furthermore, I could use the---"

"And you think it's okay to play with my feelings?!" You belted, eyes welled up with tears, blurring your vision. You stepped up to him, hands pointed towards his face this time and you seethed in anger. "You, came here everytime, when she broke your heart. And out of everytime, I stayed. I waited." Your voice started cracking. "I was there for you when you had nobody else. And I picked you up when you thought you could not live without her anymore."

"Well, you could have just left if you---" He chipped in and you slapped him across his face with your palm. Although your hands are small, but it packed enough of a force to cause his cheek to ache, an uncomfortable throbbing pain following afterwards. He left his head tilted to the side, taking in the reality of what had happened. He just got slapped by a girl. Never in his life, he thought he would do something so outrageous that he would get slapped across the face. Guess he just broke his streak of not getting slapped by women.

"I WAS IN LOVE WITH YOU, CAN'T YOU TELL?!" You withdrew your hands and slid onto the floor, full on sobbing as you hugged onto your body to gain warmth for yourself. All of the blood had rushed up to your head which explains why you could not feel your legs anymore, hence the position on the floor. You desperately hoped Rafayel would grab you right now, and hug you tight within his arms.

You heard hurried shuffles, sound of keys jangling and a soft thud next to you. Those noises not tending to your curiosity at all. "I am sorry." His reply was bland, numb even. A sentence for remorse, also a sentence for a goodbye. The doors closed behind you and you were left alone, a forlorn soul basked within the lights emitted from the romance show. Silent sobs overheard by the moon that was peeking in through the windows of your sky roof.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

"Rafayel!" Thomas burst in the front doors, scurrying towards Rafayel's room at full speed after spotting the empty canvas sitting at the living room. Slamming the door that leads to Rafayel's room, the artist was sprawled out on the bed, his room so cold that Thomas could have just witnessed the North Pole without having to be there. The floor was surrounded in trash, papers crumpled up, pencils of all kinds used for sketching strewn across the floor. One may call it an organised mess, but Thomas calls this artist block.

"How long have you been in this room?!" Thomas shook Rafayel's shoulders to wake him up. "Your room is as cold as the cold storage that you use to store your seafood!" Thomas wasted no time in having to collect the pieces of papers and pencils on the floor, arranging them in his hand. "Why are you not done with---"

His nag came to a halt when Rafayel had sat up straight, back hunched over and eye bags the only colour present on his pale features. "What do you want?" Even his voice sounds hoarse, like a teen boy cycling through the age of puberty. "I do not wish to be disturbed."

"Your calls, as usual, went unanswered for the past few days so I helped myself by going over to ask y/n about your whereabouts because I thought you were staying with her pretty often these days." Placing the items onto the artist's white desk, Thomas turned to study his expression, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I know that look from somewhere." He squinted his eyes, studying him even further. "You had that same look when you caught your ex cheating on you that night." Thomas was referring to the girl that came before you. The one that had broke Rafayel's fragile heart. "Funny, now that I think of it, y/n's not doing any better than you."

Coming to realisation, the light bulb in Thomas' head flipped the switch. "Did anything happened to the both of you?"

"Did she asked anything about me?" Rafayel answered his question with another question. Eyes finally slanted upwards to face the manager of his. He just wanted to hear something, at least something to give him a reason to find her. He felt guilty, remorseful even for putting his burdens onto her. Leaving her all alone, drowning her in her own agony that day was the worse thing he could ever do to someone who had only ever been kind to him. And it took him three days to figure that out in his fish brain.

"No, she just asked me to hand you this." The older man reached into the pocket of his blazer, fishing a pink note out of his pocket and he handed it to Rafayel. The paper a little wrinkled, but the contents of it are a mark of your handwriting.

//𝐼 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝓎𝑜𝓊, 𝐼 𝓌𝒾𝓈𝒽 𝓎𝑜𝓊 𝒶𝓁𝓁 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒷𝑒𝓈𝓉 𝒾𝓃 𝒻𝒾𝓃𝒹𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓁𝑜𝓋𝑒 𝒶𝓈 𝐼 𝑜𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒹𝒾𝒹.// Your cursive writing always a form of art to his eyes. A small, dainty note was all that takes for her to personally pass on the will to him. Rafayel stared at the note for a good minute, the wind coming out of the air-conditioner turning Thomas into a popsicle but filling the silence.

"I have to go." Rafayel uttered, hoisting himself out of the bed in one go and he threw on his dark pistachio green open collared shirt. The one you always quipped about how healthy his skin tone looks in it but with him constantly bantering that the green was a direct insult to his hair and eye colour. Just for this time, he would smother his ego, put on your favourite outfit, and head over to find you.

.⋆｡⋆☂˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆.

The keys he held onto, the same set of extra keys you had entrusted him with, slotted into the keyhole and turning it clockwise, a 'clack' could be heard and he opened the door with the twist of the copper-painted doorknob. The balcony's sliding door remained opened, the sheer white curtains danced to the rhythm of the wind. The lights in your house were dimly lit, providing Rafayel with just enough lighting to navigate himself towards your room.

At this timing, in the middle of the night, he tiptoed through your wooden floors, afraid even the smallest of creaks would give you the spooks. He twisted the doorknob to your door but it jammed halfway. Trying again, with a bit more exerted force this time, the door remained unbudgable. "Y/N...?" He called out for your name, using his knuckle to give a light knock on your door. "It's me Rafayel. Can we talk?"

He was met with a deafening silence. Of course you would not want him to be anywhere near you, be it to hear him apologise for his stupidity or for him to comfort you within his arms. He bet you could care less about him given the last stunt he had pulled on you. He grappled for his phone, pulling out of his pant's back pocket and he turned on the screen, the light on his phone screen puts the dim lightings to shame.

He scrolled through his phone book till he stopped at your name, a heart symbol edited in next to your name. It was not just a stunt for him to catch your attention, the heart emoji has always been there, but after you had taken him in and allowed him to stay with you for a couple of weeks, the heart started making more sense to him, but poor Rafayel couldn’t distinguish what is love and what is bare attraction. If he could get to talk to you this time, then maybe the heart would mean the world to him. Maybe, maybe this time, he will not mess his speech up and break your heart again.

The phone was set to dial mode and he pressed onto the green call button, ready to receive shoutings from the other side of the room. Your ringtone rang, the stupid song for the Toothless Meme played on rewind. Did you slept a bit too well maybe? He called again, and the same scenario happened.

His heart was hit with a sudden pang of fear. You had always been a light sleeper and noticing the obnoxiously loud ringtone not even waking you up for the slightest bit, he decided to take a step back and bust down the door with his shoulder. Luckily, just with one hard nudge of his broad shoulders, the door dislodged itself.

So does his heart. Your whole room was thrashed, filled with the pink notes that you had given to Thomas earlier. Some were torn, some were sheathed, some had scribbles all over it, all of the notes littered with handwritten notes beyond his comprehension. Rafayel watched you, held up vertically, legs far from touching the ground, a noose was the only thing connecting you towards the ceiling. "Y/N!" He ran up to you and grabbed you, his lanky legs kicking all of the notes out of his way. "Y/N!"

A short burst of flames from his fingers burnt the noose and you fell to the floor. Your face a shade match to the moon that was sitting outside. Rafayel's hands fumbled with his phone, calling the emergency hotline as soon as he could. Strings of curses coming out of his mouth afterwards when he asked for help to be deployed to your location as soon as possible.

While awaiting for the ambulance, Rafayel did CPR, or at least what he could remember from the lesson he had taken years ago. Pumping steadily to a rhythm, blowing air through your mouth to hopefully deliver air to your lungs. The sirens of the ambulances huddled outside of your condominium, the blue and red lights adding on a speck of neon to the monotonous night.

"Stay with me please. Please stay with me y/n." Rafayel held you in his arms, your ice cold skin prickled against his warmth. His tears fell down his cheeks and continued its trail down your already tear-stricken face. He never thought his ruse would cause you this much damage. He thought that you could be the end to his delirium, and the start to his new reality.

The paramedics that arrived on the scene stood aimlessly at the door frame, watching the broken man in front of them, amidst the thrashed room, holding onto a lifeless body of a woman who seemingly cried herself to death.

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Angsty af, this piece is part and partial of my experience as I had once struggled with my mental health before, and it was also due to a shitty ex. But I am doing much better now, and writing this brings back those shitty feels that I used to have, but also reminded me of how much more happier and stronger I am now, and that I am not choosing death because of my ex! :)

But if any of you, do have issues with mental health, please do seek for reliable help. As cliche as it sounds, life is not at all bad if you have people that are supportive of your recovery journey. If you needed someone to rant to, my dms are always open <3.

I do not wish harm for any of my readers, and I want you guys to know that just as much as ur supporting my works, I want to be there to support you if you have any hardships in life as well. Just know that you are loved, and I love you <3.

Sincerely, Brails.

[frankly-ludicrous]

Arguments for and against under the cut.

Basics: Now, naturally, we know that vampires feed on blood. And, of course, they will be affected by whatever is in your bloodstream.

They have some ability to filter things out (such as lead, asbestos and microplastics, of course) but things sneak through, which is how vampires can get drunk or high.

This also applies to drinking holy water. We all know that adding water to holy water spreads the divine influence, so long as the amount of holy water is larger than regular water.

Though it's an unpleasant process, consuming enough holy water that it outpaces the raw liters in your body (that is to say, drinking over 42 liters of holy water fast enough that the regular water doesn't take over the holy water) means that soon enough, your blood is holy, along with your other bodily fluids.

(This has the long-term benefit of making all further water you add to your body equally holy as well as rendering you immune to demonic posession and vampiric feedings, but I digress.)

But here is where the matter gets complicated:

While holy water is a good conductor of divinity (see His Grace Samuel Vimes' tactic of dipping candlewicks in holy water and drying them so they make holy light when lit), one must note that YHWH's official stance on consuming cannabis has never been stated.

And there's the rub: Should the Lord disapprove of weed use, it's possible that its inclusion would cancel out the divine property of the holy bong water, which means there is only cannabis in your system.

Should the Lord be neutral or even favorable to cannabis, however, it's possible that this method could be used to bless an individual's blood without them having to drink at least 42.01 liters of holy water in 30 to 60 minutes.

I open this question to the debate of experts, such as @deltoroist. Please redirect this to other experts you know, because I'm dying to know what the official stance is.

[ririkon]

I came for a reason, It's a collab with Lebedek. She doesn't have a tumbler, but she does have Twitter.

https://twitter.com/Lebedek_Vika?s=09

There is a little background to this art, but it is translated from Russian, and everything can be a little complicated and unclear.

........

For travelers, the Multiverse was like an entrance, where even the walls had ears, which is why, due to carelessness, rumors could spread instantly. What Error and Inkoi immediately took into account, since there were threats in this regard from all sides: that the bad guys, that the star ones foreshadowed certain difficulties; other travelers; and the universes themselves even more so. Sooner or later, of course, everything will be revealed, but no matter how hopeless it may sound, they decided to continue playing for outsiders until the last, fighting for the universes for show, remaining on their usual sides.

The snow, which once lay calmly among tall dark spruce trees, was stirred up by red bones, stained by caustic ink, and branches broke under blue threads.

The frosty air was now and then cut through by the dangerous crack of blasters. An ardent battle was going on for one of the universes, which Error had designated for destruction and, no matter what the universe was, the experienced guardians of the version usually spared no effort in battles, remembering the past, turning the matter into sparring, not giving in to the opponent, but also trying to do without any or serious injury. Everything usually ended with someone’s loss, by which the fate of the universe was already determined. But time for this decision was not always allocated immediately.

Blood sprinkled the snow and Glyuche gave a strangled hiss, clutching his ribs, and the brush was instantly thrown to the ground.Error looked at his hand and there was a burgundy mark left on it due to the mixing of blood with ink. I didn’t have time to properly defend myself from the deceptive maneuver, so I exposed myself to attack.

Ink looked around, not noticing anyone nearby, quickly jumped up to Glyucha and helped him move a little further into the thicket, away from the empty space and random extra eyes, which he really didn’t need right now.

The artist fussily examined Error’s overall appearance and shrank all over, fixing his gaze on the dangerously deep wound. He touched the bloody, torn edge of his clothing, where cracked bright ribs were visible, and from under them the light of a glitchy blue soul was breaking through. It was dangerously close to the wound.

-“I’m sorry, I didn’t calculate the strength, I didn’t want it to happen like this, it seemed that you would dodge, as you always did,”- Ink rattled anxiously. “Please forgive me, let’s go home soon, I’ll heal everything,” he continued to worry, darting his gaze from the wound to his face. Glitchy.

But he no longer cared about the pain, he was more amazed at the reaction of his opponent - they had stopped trying to kill each other too long ago, so such fuss about his health made him embarrassed. Even during the times of enmity, there were similar cases when he was treated by an artist after battles to the point of death, but now it felt different after they became closer and stopped competing in the number of broken bones.This care on the part of the artist... he gently put his hand on top of the artist's hand and looked at him with tenderness. There was not a drop of anger or resentment in his gaze.

-"Wait, let's stand a little longer... like this, next to each other."

Ink looked up in surprise at Glyuche and chuckled quietly, calming down a little.

-“Only if it’s a little, then I’ll drag you home, I won’t let you bleed,” - he took Error by the hand.

Also a bit of work process~

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Do you know if Riddle, or Tray, ever stands up to his mother? I think i saw it in a Pinterest post once of teen Riddle being slapped by his mom and Tray taking him away.

His background is sadder than Shoto Todoroki from BNHA

We don’t really get to hear about how things are going back home with Mrs. Rosehearts outside of one brief instance. In 4-3, Riddle is leaving for winter break and mentions he intends on speaking with his mother, though he isn’t optimistic about her listening.

Trey states in the same part of the story that he isn’t allowed at Riddle’s house (because Mrs. Rosehearts has banned him). However, Riddle is still invited to visit him and Chenya at the Clover family bakery (though it’s very unlikely Riddle would be able to, since he hasn’t canonically seen Chenya again since the unbirthday party of book 1).

We never get a follow-up on how the conversation between Riddle and his mother went. It’s never touched upon again, and his mom isn’t really brought up beyond this case. (I did happen to write a short piece about Trey, Riddle, and Mrs. Rosehearts interacting though, if you were interested in seeing my own interpretation of this idea.)

Riddle spends most of his time at NRC since it’s a boarding school, meaning there are few opportunities for him to directly interact with his mother. Even if Mrs. Rosehearts were readily accessible to him, I highly doubt we would get to witness Riddle or Trey doing much to talk back to her. As we see in book 4, Riddle is still quite meek and uncertain when it comes to speaking with his mom. Trey, meanwhile, is generally very non-confrontational and may still be dealing with his own complicated feelings about interfering with what are family matters. (Recall that the last time he encouraged Riddle to be adventurous, it resulted in his friend being severely punished and Trey may harbor guilt over this occurrence.) I feel that neither of them would realistically develop the courage to talk back to Mrs. Rosehearts when only like half a year has passed since Riddle’s OB incident as opposed to like seventeen years of Riddle living under her rules.

***CONTENT WARNING: I will be discussing abuse at length under the cut, so please be advised to avoid reading further if the topic makes you uncomfortable.***

Regarding the comic you saw on Pinterest, it is fan art. That is in no way canonical; Mrs. Rosehearts may be very stern and have a temper, but she has never slapped or otherwise put a hand on Riddle. The closest thing we get to a slap is this panel from the manga adaptation, which isn’t even a slap. You can tell from the movement lines and the FWP sfx that Mrs. Rosehearts is just quickly pulling her arm away since Riddle is trying to latch onto it in an attempt to get her to listen to his protests. There is also no mark on Riddle or harsh slap sfx to indicate contact was made.

Now then 💦 There's something very serious and relevant to this ask I'd actually like to discuss, so I hope you'll stick around to hear me out on this.

I know none of us really like Mrs. Rosehearts (which is fair, she has done a lot of terrible things to her son). However, I think it's dangerous for us to speak about her as though she's a total monster and nothing more than a monster. I'm NOT going to stand here and advocate that she has done nothing wrong (she definitely has committed many wrongs). What I'm saying is that I don't agree with her being treated like "just" an abuser.

Let's say we do demonize Mrs. Rosehearts. We see only her negative traits and allow those to define her entire character. This creates a scenario in which she is alienated and dehumanized, left as a caricature of a woman that is solely known for hurting her child. But the thing is, this ISN’T how abuse really works. Few abusers are completely wicked people through and through. Part of the reason why it is so difficult for victims to leave their abusers is because abusers almost never start off abusive. They usually act totally normal, and the abuse often doesn’t come until later or specific situations arise. It creeps up on you in an almost insidious manner, and you don’t expect it coming. I’d also like to mention that abusers often don’t act with the intentional thought of, “Yeah, what I’m doing/saying is abusive”. Abusers typically justify their actions or convince themselves they are acting out of goodness. They don’t do bad things “because they’re bad people”, they do bad things because they think they’re GOOD people. Some abusers may even be victims themselves.

By painting abusers (even fictional ones) as cartoonishly evil, irredeemable, or always cruel, it makes it harder for us to believe the very real danger that we, whom we see as “good” people, could become “bad” ourselves. It makes it harder to believe victims when they report abuse because “oh, the abuse isn’t THAT bad”. It erases the idea that abusers are also human, and that humans have the capacity to be awful sometimes or to perpetuate hurt. It makes it so much harder to identify abuse because we’d only be looking for the most extreme examples of it rather than noticing the small, subtle signs. By “othering” abusers, it’s inadvertently denying so many nuances of abuse... which ultimately is counterproductive.

I would like to point out that even in the example provided of another abusive parent, Endeavor is portrayed with some nuance. He physically and verbally abused his wife, neglected the children he deemed worthless, and pushed the child he deemed to be his successor to the brink. However, Endeavor is also shown to remember a detail as small as his (arranged) wife’s favorite flower when she only told him about it once. He is notably much more lenient when training his first son, who didn’t have the ideal Quirk he sought. Endeavor at one point even confesses to pursuing being a hero in order to avoid the demands of fatherhood, which demonstrates a realistic insecurity and vulnerability… his humanity.

The same could be true for Mrs. Rosehearts. We only assume he is “just an abuser” because we see her in such a limited scope. There are valid reasons to believe why she is a “good” person outside of how we see her acting in Riddle’s recollections, and this may help to explain why Riddle feels so hesitant to “stand up” to her. I would really recommend reading this post, which goes a lot more in-depth about the complications surrounding Riddle’s relationship with his mother. Again, I am in NO WAY defending Mrs. Rosehearts; I am only pointing out that abusers—no matter how horrible their actions—have identities beyond the label of “abuser” that should be acknowledged.

[miguelhugger2099]

Hiii, I’m in love with your writing it’s a comfort for me atp. Could you please do grumpy reader where she doesn’t talk to others a lot. That makes Miguel look like an extrovert (even though we both know that’s not true 😭). Happy Easter 🐣 and or any holiday you celebrate.

Two Peas in a Pod

c.....comfort,,,,, sad hamster meme the highest honor i could ever get omg thank you i really liked this ask because its basically me haha my friend actually told me ive gotten better at being more welcoming and "nice" and another friend would tell me that i could never mask my uncomfortableness if someone was bothering me LMFAO but as alwayyssssss i can rewrite this request for u if ur not satisfied :) Art: nellwhre17 on instagram

Spider-People were supposed to be funny and outgoing. It was in their canon to have some resemblance to the original quippy and humorous Spider-Man. If not outgoing then at least a little endearing and sweet.

So the Spider Society is a little thrown off when you’re introduced to the team by Miguel. Both of your arms are crossed, your face blank and looking over other Spiders with neutrality. 

“Here’s our new recruit. She’ll be working more with Margo and Lyla. Think of her as one of your superiors like myself or Jess or Peter B.” Miguel tilts his head at all the other Spiders. “That’s all. Dismissed.”

He turns to face back to his console, returning to work on new files Lyla had presented to him. Some Spiders stay to chat with you. They don’t notice the slight discomfort and annoyance in your face.

“Hey! My name is Peter M! I think we might be the same age!” One says, his mask squinting to look like he’s smiling.

“Have you gone on a mission yet? What Earth are you from?”

“Has Miguel explained The Canon to you yet? It’s a little overwhelming, I know.”

The commotion irks you a bit, the Spiders coming into your personal space so you shuffle away and your brows instinctively scrunch together. “No, I’m fine.” You mutter curtly. The others finally see the change in your demeanor and they awkwardly step back.

Miguel turns over to see the few Spiders around and barks at them to stop. “She’s still new to all this so don’t go around pestering her.” 

They smile wearily up at him then at you, whose face is still contorted a bit in a way that looks like you’re obviously still being bothered. 

They get the message and wave goodbye to you but not without feeling a chill down their spine at how cold you were. Maybe you were just shy. Everything is and always will be overwhelming around here with different variants of yourself. So, they believed in time you’d come around like the others.

You, in fact, did not come around. After weeks, months even, you still came in and left without a word. Get in and get out. You rarely engaged in conversation and if you were in a group, you’d keep to yourself. If someone tried to include you, you’d just say a few blunt words that didn’t move the conversation at all so there'd be an awkward standstill before moving on.

No matter what, no one knew anything else about you besides your name, you were a Spider-Woman and the name of your Earth.

Even the esteemed group of young SpiderLings couldn’t even get you to open up. Jess and Gwen had just come back from a mission, wanting to eat at the cafeteria before heading home. They had found seats beside Hobie and Pav who were just catching up together.

Pav had mentioned trying to talk to you once but his bright personality pushed you further and further away from him, your responses to his questions becoming more and more short and quick.

“I’ve never met such a complicated individual.” He pouts, crossing his arms on the table.

“Don’ bother me none. I don’ like someone tryin’ to bug me either.” Hobie scratches the back of his neck. 

“Would’ve thought they opened up by now.” Gwen brushed her hair out her face. “It’s like pulling teeth with her.”

“She just seems kinda grumpy sometimes…” Pav sighs resting his head in his arms. “Even more than Miguel which feels wrong.” 

“Yeah, at least Miguel snaps at you but she…kinda just sits there.” Gwen leans back with a weak smile. “Not really sure how to make conversation when she’s so quiet.”

“She just doesn’t feel like talking, guys. Go easy on her.” Jess rubs her temples. 

Their conversation is cut short when Miguel walks through the cafeteria, documents in hand and with you in tow. Speak of the Devil. 

“Jess, Gwen, I misremembered about giving you the reports of your last mission together. I also have the analysis for the next one on Earth—199B.” Miguel hands the reports to Jessica and she immediately skims through it. Gwen looks over her shoulder and gives you a smile.

“Hey, how’s it going?” She asks. 

You respond with a shrug and a nod. “Good.”

Gwen’s smile wavers, laughing nervously as the awkward silence. She expected some sort of greeting back. 

Miguel answers for you. “She’s been with me the whole day since Peter’s been busy at home.” Gwen looks to Miguel.

“And how about you, boss? Doin’—uh—doin’ good?”

Miguel sighs, crossing his arms. “Better now that Margo fixed what Hobie broke in the console room.”

Hobie tsks. “Did not. You’re jus’ blamin’ me ‘cause I’m the scapegoat around ‘ere. Tha’ it?” 

Miguel pulls up camera footage from his Gizmo, of Hobie pulling apart different motherboards and CPUs from the server and tucking them away in his pocket. “Is this not you?!”

Hobie squints at the footage and shrugs. “AI has truly come a long way, mate. Bettah check tha’ out.”

Gwen, Pav and Jessica laugh at the scene, giggling at the sheer anger on Miguel’s face and Hobies indifference. You watch with a soft smile up at Miguel but nothing else.

Miguel feels your hand on his forearm and he looks down at you. You nod your head to the side, signaling it’s time to go. He looks at the time on his watch and collects himself. 

“We’re gonna head out. Don’t bother us unless there’s an emergency and be alert for any sudden messages should I need to contact any of you for anomalies.” He turns and gives a small wave before leaving, you trailing behind him.

You don’t say much other than looking behind to give them a small nod and following beside Miguel.

The group watches as Miguel talks to you, relating information and talking your ear off about missions and the to-do for the day. You listen quietly, eyes held on his and nodding along.

They glance at each other and think they would’ve never seen a person more closed off than Miguel in their lifetime. Even less where it looks like he’s more talkative compared to you. What an odd pair. “I think she has opened up. Maybe just not with us.” Jess leans back with a smile.

[daisies-daydreams]

Husband/Papa Ghost Headcanons

Pairing: Simon (Ghost) Riley x Wife!Reader Category: Fluff Warnings: Suggestive Content, Swearing, Descriptions of Labor/Contractions

Author's Note: This is a continuation of this request (WARNING: 18+). Enjoy!

Simon would be a proud papa, that's for sure.

He didn’t use his phone that much before, only to text or call people. But his storage space began to run out pretty quickly with all of the photos and videos he took of your daughter, Lily.

“What are you doing, Si?” you giggled. Lily banged on the toy piano while your husband was crouched down, phone camera rolling.

“Filming Lily’s performance,” he replied matter-of-factly. You chuckled and kissed the top of his head, ruffling his dark brown hair. Your two-year old daughter cheered when she finished her song, face lit up and arms stretched above her head in triumph.

“All done!” she beamed with a wide smile. Both of you clapped.

“Good job, Lil,” Simon chuckled.

Simon nearly passed out when you told him you were pregnant with your second baby (not that it came as a surprise to you both👀).

Just like your first pregnancy, he’d try to be there for you as much as he could. It was different now with Lily in the picture, but she made many of your days full of joy and laughter.

I can see him being a stern yet reasonable dad. He’d discipline his kids yet never intentionally hurt them.

Lily’s lower lip pouted as she avoided his gaze. Simon’s arms were at his sides as he eyed the blue stains on her face and the empty candy jar on the floor. He lowered himself to be at her eye-level.

“Lily, baby, did you eat the candy even though Mommy told you not to?” Simon asked, trying to keep his voice soft and steady. Lily burst into tears, rubbing her eyes with her little, sticky hands.

“I sowwy,” she sniffled. His heart ached, but he knew she had to learn to listen to her mom.

“I know, baby,” he sighed as he pulled her into a hug. She cried into his chest. “Candy tastes yummy, but it’ll hurt your tummy if you eat too much,” Simon explained. Lily sniffed, snot dripping from her button nose and onto his shirt. He pulled her back and looked her in the eyes. “No candy for the next three days, okay? Then you can have it again,” he explained while holding up three fingers. She puffed out another sob before nodding her head.

“Okay, Dada,” she sniffled.

Your second pregnancy was more difficult than the first. You had more health complications, which worried Simon half-to-death. He couldn’t bear to think of anything happening to you while he was thousands of miles away on a mission.

All of 141 were like family to you. They'd pop in every once in a while, especially Lily's godfather, Soap.

"Unk Nee!" Lily squealed. Soap grinned ear to ear at the attempt of his nickname ("Uncle Johnny"). She giggled as she ran into his open arms. He spun her around as you walked in from your bedroom. You gave a tired smile, leaning on the wall and rubbing your swollen belly. Simon was still working on his car in the garage, yelling out that he'd be there in a moment.

"How's my wee firecracker doin'?" Soap beamed. Lily ducked her head into his shoulder, her small dirty blonde curls bouncing. Both of you laughed. "Gettin' shy now, are ya?" Soap chuckled.

"You know how kids are," you waved. Soap smiled as he set the toddler down. She rushed back over to you, hiding behind your legs. You patted her head gently.

"How you doin', lass?" Soap asked as he stepped further inside. You sighed, Lily clinging to your maternity pants.

"This pregnancy's kicking my a-butt, it's kicking my butt," you quickly changed your wording. Soap snorted as Lily cackled behind you.

"Mama said 'butt'!" your daughter sang. You grumbled and collapsed your face into your hands.

"Sounds like she's got quite the potty mouth, huh Lily?" your husband chuckled beside you. You felt him snake his hand around your waist. He pecked your cheek, his skin coated in a sheen of sweat from his hard work.

"Why don't you give me a spanking later to teach me a lesson?" you whispered lowly into his ear. Red immediately flooded his cheeks as his hand gripped your hip. Before he could retort, another figure walked through the front door. Lily peeked from behind your legs and gasped as Price entered the room.

"Grandpa!" Lily cheered while pointing her finger at the captain.

You've never heard a room grow so quiet in a single second.

Both of you explained that Price was most definitely not her grandpa, yet she was insistent on the terminology. The captain teased Simon about it constantly.

"I think you taught her to say that," Price chuckled.

As the due date approached, Simon's heart was shattered. He was being sent away on a longer mission, and it required that he made no contact with you. Your husband assured you that he'd be back in time for the delivery, and spent as much time as he could with you and Lily before he left.

A few weeks later, Simon was sprinting through the hospital to get to your delivery room.

Simon’s heavy footsteps echoed down the hall as he whipped around the corner. A blonde nurse shot an incredulous look at the masked man as he sprinted to the counter.

“WHERE’S DELIVERY ROOM 109?!” Simon boomed. The poor woman's face went pale as she pointed a shaking finger down the hall. His head snapped as he shouted a ‘thank you’ behind him. Simon rushed past several nurses and doctors, the door getting closer. He could hear your wailing pierce through the hallway. Simon nearly crashed into the doctor when he stepped out into the hall.

“MR. RILEY!” the doctor gaped with wide eyes. Your husband’s chest rose and fell as he panted. Another harsh cry broke out through the room. “Quickly, she’s about to start pushing,” the doctor rushed him inside. Simon's eyes grew wide as they locked with yours.

"Si," you called softly. Your face was pale, sweat covering every inch of your tense and aching body. Simon rushed over, immediately clasping his hands over yours.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” his dry voice croaked. You gave a weak laugh before jolting forward, another strong contraction ripping through you.

“B-Bullshit,” you tiredly chuckled through gritted teeth. The doctor and nurses came closer to your bedside.

“Okay, Mrs. Riley. It's time to start pushing. Are you ready?” the doctor asked. You swallowed thickly, your entire body shaking as it was wracked with waves of pain. Simon squeezed your hand and lifted his skull balaclava to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

“You’ve got this, love. I’m right here,” he assured. You nodded before sucking in a deep breath.

Not long after, your baby boy, Thomas, was born.

His throat grew tight when you suggested his late brother's name. You were afraid you'd overstepped, but he quickly kissed you on the lips and told you it was the perfect name for the newest addition to the Riley family.

Simon stared in awe at the small baby swaddled in his arms. You were fast asleep in your new bed, exhausted from the long, grueling day. Thomas' plump, rosy cheeks glowed softly as he yawned. Your husband beamed when two small, dark eyes just like his own gazed up at him.

“Hi there, little Tommy,” Simon breathed.

Both of you were unsure as to how Lily would take to her new baby brother. However, when her eyes lit up and she squealed when she saw him for the first time, Simon knew she’d be the best big sister.

Simon would make it a goal to read to Lily and Tommy every night. It melted your heart when you sat with him, Lily in her bed and Tommy in his crib listening to his low voice lull them to sleep.

While most date nights were spent inside your home nowadays, he was just happy to spend any time he had with you.

Simon would leave little gifts or notes around the house, letting you know what an amazing mother and wife you are.

If you feel insecure about your body after giving birth, he'll do everything in his power to remind you otherwise.

Your eyes widened as a sudden slap streaked across your ass. You whipped your head around. Simon's eyes were trained on the TV, though the hand draped over the arm of the couch said enough. You crossed your arms, thankful that Lily was playing in the adjacent room and Tommy was fast asleep in his crib.

"Got something to tell me, Si?" you said with a quirked brow. His lidded, chocolate-brown eyes flicked over to you, his hands reaching over to pull you on your lap.

"Simon!" you gasped. Laughs spilled from your lips as your husband bombarded your neck with kisses, his large hands reaching down and squeezing your bum.

"Can't help myself, sweetheart. Not when you're walking around with this cute arse of yours," he mused. You bit your lip and wiggled in his lap. He nibbled on your ear, his voice low and husky as he whispered into it.

"Tonight, after the kids are asleep, why don't I show you just how irresistible you are?" Simon groaned.

Tommy was a much more of a fussy baby than Lily. He’d keep both of you up constantly. You called your/Simon's relatives or friends over every so often so both of you could have a break.

“How are you feeling, love?” Simon asked. Both of you were lying in the hammock in a park, the summer breeze rocking you back and forth. Your best friend was at home watching your children. Heavy bags rested below your eyes as you stretched.

“Fucking exhausted,” you sighed. Simon chuckled, brushing your hair from your forehead and planting a kiss over it.

“I know, hun. Why don’t you take a nap, yeah?” he suggested. You nodded, letting sleep quickly overtake you. He breathed in through his nose, his mind wandering too much for him to fall asleep. Instead, he took in the sight of his beautiful wife wrapped in his arms as the rest of the world melted away.

____

Thank you for reading! ❤️

(Writing these melts my heart ngl. We love Papa Ghost in this house).

[digitaldiarystuff]

Enemies Forever

soo this is something i’ve had in mind since the el clasico and hope you enjoyyy💖 and please comment on it that really helps me a lot xx

————

pairing: Jude Bellingham x Y/N

genre: angst

summary: you are a famous actress in Spain and a die hard barca fan. You unfortunately were also in a situationship with the Real superstar Jude Bellingham but try your best to not let it get serious

————

It was an intense match, to say the least. You were at the stands watching with so much anticipation you didn’t even realize the crowd filming you. It wasn’t the easiest being recognized everywhere you went but most importantly you didn’t want to steal the spotlight from what mattered the most, FC Barcelona.

You were raised as a fan religiously by your dad all your childhood, every match day was a chaos while all your close family friends and relatives came to your house and there was always a big feast before or after but never during the game. He even wanted to name you after the squad of Barca but luckily your mother intervened and named you something cuter so it was not a surprise to anyone that you were a big supporter. You were filming a series in Madrid as a young and successful actress so the game being held in Madrid was in your advantage for once. You always talked on interviews about your love for the club and went as far as being one of their models for a campaign last year which was a lifelong dream for you. And now, here you were anxiously watching the game against Real Madrid at Bernabeu VIP section with your Lewa shirt on. You decided wearing a youngsters shirt would cause so much more trouble even though you basically had all of them.

The game was head to head and it seemed like there would be room for another goal and it really happened, just not the way you wanted it to be. Bellingham scored right after the 90 minutes mark and everyone started screaming whilst you were devastated. With Fermin’s goal you really had hope for a win and since the season wasn’t going that well everyone needed it but it all came crashing down with a stupid goal from a stupid Madrid player.

Jude Bellingham.

You hated the way he celebrated rallying the fans further, you hated that he provoked everyone and anyone and most of all you hated him for scoring against your team. You and Jude had a complicated relationship, it was actually a few days after the first clasico at a prestigious night club in Madrid that you bumped into each other. You were seething with anger because a few days ago he crushed your hopes, again but he didn’t seem too concerned about your anger. In fact he looked like he enjoyed watching you try to shoot daggers at him and even had the audacity to come up to you late at night while you were completely wasted.

You sometimes wished that the story ended there, he came up to you and tried to flirt but you told him no way and walked away. But it didn’t. In fact, you and Jude had been meeting up pretty frequently over the last months and playing football definitely wasn’t his only talent. At first you told yourself it was all out of hatred, you did it because you were angry at him. In the morning you quickly dressed up and told him your team would be in contact to sign the non disclosure agreement and left in a hurry not even speaking to him properly. It was a shameful act but it was just a one night stand, right? Then came the second time you met, it was at your costar’s house party where only a few people were invited and he had to be one of them. Jude came up to you talking loudly about how your show helps him get better at Spanish and all this bullshit to throw any eavesdroppers off.

“What the hell are you doing here?” you asked him with furrowed brows “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Oh, I’m sorry didn’t know I wasn’t supposed to leave the house unless I had your approval. I also didn’t know we were getting that serious.” he winked and smiled but all you could feel was panic and frustration.

“No, it’s not what I- We’re nothing. No in fact we aren’t nothing, we’re rivals and we despise each other.” you stated pointing your finger at him but he just watched your poor attempt of scolding him with a boyish grin on his face.

That’s how you ended up sleeping with him the second time and the next morning tried your best to escape without him waking up but he beat you to it.

“Where are you going?” he mumbled in a deep voice as you were walking out on him.

“I have a scene to shoot this afternoon.” you lied without looking at his face.

“It’s only 7” he answered back as he reached for his phone on the nightstand.

“I know.” you said still refusing to turn back but soon heard shuffling and felt his arms reach around you and pull you in a hug. You stiffened in his touch, not sure what to expect.

“Why are you trying so hard to hate me?” he leaned his head on your shoulder trying to get a look at you but you turned your head slightly.

You were caught off guard by his question.

“I’m not trying.” you confidently answered using your acting skills. “I just do”

He sighed loudly and freed you.

“So let me get this straight, this, this whole thing we did last night, it’s all out of hate? I hope all the Barca fans who hate me won’t request the same treatment.” he joked you and you felt your anger return immediately at the mention of your team.

“Yes, I hate you. I hate you and your club. This, us sleeping together a couple of times changes nothing in my eyes. It was just a drunken mistake.” you tried defending yourself but knew your excuse was weak since you didn’t even drink much last night in hopes that would prevent you from getting in his bed, which was proven not to be the case.

“Oh, c’mon Y/N you know this isn’t just being drunk and wanting to fuck anything that moves.”

“But it is.”

“But it’s not and you know it. Yes, that would explain the first time but the second one, that’s on you. Look I seriously can’t stop thinking about you and I don’t believe it when you say you don’t want anything with me.”

“You practically begged me.” you raised your voice being in disbelief about how he was trying to pin this on you and also deliberately ignoring his last statement but unfortunately, your heart rate was pretty damn affected by it.

“Yeah, I did because I’m not a coward who’s afraid of what people might think of me and there’s obviously something between us Last night you had every right to stop me but you didn’t. So stop with this bullshit.” he said also in a raised voice. You were too stunned to make a comeback so gathered all your belongings and left his place. He was an annoying guy, sure but what got to you the most was the fact that he was right. You had every chance to tell him to stop or leave you alone but there was something linking you to him. You felt it too but was pretty embarrassed by it. Jude tried calling out to you but you didn’t stop afraid of what might happen and walked to your car leaving his place.

After that it was calm for a while but with Jude, this is never a good sign.

Your inner voice was right and there he was, standing at your door at 2 am. He looked out of it, his eyes were hooded, his phone screen was cracked and he smelled like a luxurious liquor store.

“Jude, how did you-

“I asked Ines.” he explained before you finished your question which was a good sign, his brain still half worked.

“Why would she give you my home address this is so irresponsible, what if you were planning on killing me?” you panicked at your friend’s poor judgment but Jude found it amusing. He bit his lip in order to stop himself from giggling.

“What are you laughing at? Are you here to kill me?” you raised a brow being more annoyed at him now.

“I’m here to talk.” he immediately looked more serious but it only made you sweat.

“Talk about…” you trailed off hoping he’d finish the sentence for you.

“The global warming and its effects on the society.” he looked at you like you were dumb for even asking. “I’m here to talk about us.” he said when you flipped him off.

“Jude, there’s no us and you know it.”

“But I don’t know it Y/N, I really don’t because you try so hard to act like you don’t feel anything but I see it every time we’re together. The you hating me and being disgusted by me is all part of the act and I know it because whenever we touch it’s electricity.” he tried pleading with you but you were adamant about this being nothing important. You were just mortal enemies having hate sex.

“Jude, I think you’re just reading too much into it.” you finally said and saw his shoulders drop immediately. You knew you were lying, you felt it as much as he did, you couldn’t stop thinking about him either.

“S okay, I’m sorry to bother you.” he turned on his heels and started making his way down the stairs of your house but all you felt was panic. You tried your best to stay strong and not let these weird feelings get in the way of your brain but they did and you called out to him. He turned back when you asked if he wanted some water but both of you knew this had nothing to do with any beverage.

He came in that night and you started to talk, for the first time without you taking jabs at him for anything he said or him making stupid jokes. You expected the talk to be awkward and have stretched out silences but to your absolute surprise it happened so effortlessly.

You talked about your upbringings and families, jobs (yes you still gave him a hard time about being a Real Madrid player) and anything and everything. It felt so good to open up to someone about some of the things you found hard and he did the same. In fact, the night went so good that you asked him to join you in bed after a while and he held you while you slept. Needless to say it was probably the best sleep you’ve had in your adult life.

The next morning you woke up to see Jude cuddling to you like a koala and couldn’t help but smile to yourself. You wanted to make some breakfast so tried slowly getting out of his grasp but it only became stronger.

“I’m not letting you escape.” he murmured still half asleep.

“Jude, this is my house.” you laughed but he still didn’t budge.

“I want to make something to eat.” you whined hoping this would make him drop you but he just opened one eye and looked at you skeptically.

“Don’t you have a chef?”

“Oh, I’m sorry not all of us has that kind of money.” you retaliated and his face immediately turned pink as he thought you were offended.

“I- I didn’t mean it like-

“Relax, I’m messing with you. I do but she’s on a vacation.” you laughed but he stayed pouting so you figured a kiss would do the trick and it worked wonders.

This is how your past months were, secretly meeting up at one of your places, having dinner and basically doing most things couples do but without going out or having a title. He tried to have ‘the talk’ but you shut him down because it terrified you, you had strong feelings about him but decided it’d be better to sweep them under the rug and Jude, begrudgingly respected your decision.

But today was different, it was the el clasico and you couldn’t stand Jude at the moment. You were pretty convinced people could see the smoke coming out of your ears but didn’t care and hastily exited the stadium to go home. On the ride back you missed several texts and calls from Jude about where you were and when you finally checked them you didn’t bother to answer. He should know how mad you were right now and give you some space.

Unfortunately, that’s not the kind of man Jude Bellingham is. You were sure of it when you saw him standing at the door with a smug face and some chinese.

“I’m seriously not in the mood” you tried to shut the door because just seeing him made your blood boil.

“Aren’t you gonna congratulate me?” he laughed and you suddenly had an urge to strangle him but while you were staring at him in shock he made his way in.

“Jude, I said I’m not in the mood.” you reiterated but he was busy making himself comfortable on your couch. You stood in front of him while he looked up at you.

“Oh, come on, you can’t seriously be mad. This is my job Y/N.”

“And that was my team you scored against at the last minute.”

“What should have I done? Miss on purpose?” he looked at you like he was stating the obvious.

“I didn’t ask you to do anything on purpose, I’m just not in the mood for your teasing or gloating.” you motioned to the real madrid shirt he had on.

“How is this gloating? I literally came straight from the game? I didn’t have anything else clean.”

“Well yeah, it’s pissing me off.” you yelled.

“Y/N you need to understand I’m a professional footballer and I was just doing my job. It wasn’t anything personal.” he stated more calmly so you sat down next to him.

“And you need to understand it’s nothing personal too. I just can’t or won’t deal with a Madrid player right now… Or for a while.” you added with your hands in your hair and he raised an eyebrow.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what it means.” you avoided his gaze.

“So you want to end this because I scored a goal.” he asked trying to remain calm but you could see his demeanor shift.

“Look, it was never going to work out anyway. We don’t have to make it a big deal.”

Now it was Jude’s turn to stand up angrily. He started shouting but you couldn’t even focus on the things he was saying, all you could think about was to wish you’ve never said all that. You didn’t even mean it but were just angry at the moment, maybe you wanted to hurt him just like he hurt you but you quickly realized breaking things off had effects on both of you. Jude stormed out after about two minutes of yelling, he looked so mad and defeated and you couldn’t help but blame yourself for hurting him.

This was for the best, you told yourself repeatedly. Maybe if you said it enough times it’d become the truth.

You woke up the next morning with a headache, not surprisingly. For a moment you reached over at Jude’s side to get some affection but was quickly reminded of last night’s events by the coldness of his side. Your heart ached and you felt so bad after seeing his state but couldn’t bring yourself to beg for his forgiveness. Maybe you should’ve done that, told him about all your fears and ask for a proper chance but couldn’t.

After taking a quick shower, you decided to check your phone. You wanted to do it the moment you woke up but was afraid there wouldn’t be any notifications from Jude. Not that you cared but still. And to nobody shock, there weren’t. You knew this would eventually happen. One day you’d push him too far and he’d leave you alone just like you told him multiple times but the thing you didn’t anticipate was him being the talk of the town. Well, you figured he’d be because of the game last night but it was actually for other reasons.

‘Jude Bellingham spotted leaving the club with an unknown woman after a magnificent goal’