#you’ll think you won’t get through it

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 4 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 5.0k (can you see the trend)

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), still a lot of cussing, some mature themes (no smut, sorry), we're finally in the headquarters!, the story moves significantly along here (i think)

a/n. this one took a second to get out, but i hope the wait was worth it! we're going knee-deep into the storyline, so brace yourselves for the nitty gritty. the dialogue here was too fun to write tho lol

links. masterlist, ao3 (coming soon)

Neither of you says anything about what happened.

After you used your quirk on Masaki and the rest of his crew, eventually convincing them to let you take off the bugs and censor the cameras in the evenings, you and Bakugou were briefed about a few more details before you went your separate ways, returning home to pack up your things and spend your last night alone for the foreseeable future.

The trek back to the subway station was quiet, with Bakugou leading the way and you trailing a few feet behind. The silence that enveloped the both of you bordered on tense more than awkward, and you itched to confront him about unceremoniously jumping you, but restrained yourself at the looming thought of the trackers planted firmly against your chest.

As much as it pained you to think about it, from this point on, you have to work double time on biting your tongue and watching your words. Just your words and location—if you’re lucky—but your facial expressions and movements, too, when there are cameras around.

Fortunately, there weren’t any when Bakugou didn’t step out of the carriage just as the automated voice announced his stop, nor when he wordlessly got out of the train beside you at yours. Your face contorted in evident confusion in those two instances, to which he only tossed you silencing looks. It didn’t take long for you to realize it’d be suspicious if Bakugou didn’t see you home—his alleged girlfriend—this late into the night.

And so you rolled with it.

You even went ahead and thanked him with the sweetest possible voice you can muster when you reached your front door, as well as wished him a safe trip back home. You think you caught him off guard, but he was able to quickly gather himself and mutter back a few words of gratitude before telling you to get a good night’s rest.

You couldn’t.

Aside from the paranoia that came with knowing someone or some people were listening to your very breathing, the anxiety about this whole mess that you’ve walked into was too palpable for you just to ignore. You tossed and turned for what felt like hours—brain buzzing with a hundred what-ifs and hypothetical scenarios—before you eventually knocked out at around 3 AM.

You promptly woke up at 7 AM a few hours later, albeit begrudgingly and all thanks to your bothersome alarm tone. You had to show up at work, despite it being a Saturday, to file an indefinite leave as soon as possible. Annoyance shot through you as you remembered Kouki’s dismissive remark about your job in contrast to Bakugou’s.

You shook it off.

There were more important things to deal with, such as the guilt that bloomed in your gut as you turned in the paperwork to Yuzuki, your school’s HR personnel, who, at the sight of them, visibly deflated.

“You’re going on a leave?” she asked that cool morning, incredulous and tone somewhat begging you to say no.

“Yeah…” you replied, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly.

“But why?” she pressed, sitting up behind her desk that’s riddled with knickknacks and picture frames of her and her toddler. “You never take off from work. And,” she enunciated, “…the kids need you, Y/N.”

Your polite smile faltered at the mention of the kids.

“Yeah, well…” you started, unsure of what to say next. “I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding a temp, what with the recent licensure exam results. The kids won’t even notice I’m gone, I promise.”

She cocked her head to the side, frowning. “I highly doubt that.”

It didn’t matter if she had her doubts, though, because this was happening. You braced yourself to tell Yuzuki just that, but to your relief, she didn’t push further after that exchange, opting to half-heartedly process your request instead.

By the time lunchtime rolled around, you were already cleared by her department and now officially on a short indefinite leave without pay.

In an attempt to take your mind off of potentially losing your job, you stopped by the grocery store on your way home and picked up a few items, such as toiletries and other things you may need for your stay in the headquarters. There was no telling when you’d get to shop for your necessities again, so you went full ham and spent the money you usually budgeted meticulously to the nearest cent. Besides, if you succeeded in this mission, you wouldn’t have to worry about finances for the next year, at the very least.

You were about to head to the check-out counter when your eyes caught the display of…house slippers in the back aisle.

You paused at the sight of them.

If you were going to be under house arrest, you might as well be cozy while doing so.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you grabbed a beige pair for yourself, and a black pair for Bakugou. You had no idea what his feet size was, but those were the largest they carried, and so that’d have to do. Plus, you doubted quirk supremacists were mindful enough to provide their hostages with comfortable footwear.

It was already around 4 PM when you arrived home with your arm-numbing groceries and takeout dinner in tow. Setting them aside by your kitchen counter, you quickly got started on gathering your necessities. You blasted your favorite album as you packed your suitcase partly to make the arduous process more bearable, but mostly to drown out the voices that fought to take the reins in your head. You were nervous—very much so—but there was no going back from this.

And so with a heavy heart and a churning stomach, you swiftly got to work, and by dinner time, you were already packed up and ready to go. After going through your checklist one more time and confirming that everything was accounted for, you got changed into fresh, more appealing clothes and scarfed down the meal you purchased to-go after shopping.

You sat in your living room with all your things stacked beside you on the couch, waiting, though it didn’t take long for Kouki to materialize by the kitchen with that irritatingly haughty expression on his face.

You tried to ignore the disgust that sprung as you watched him step on your freshly washed rug with his booted feet, choosing to shift your attention upwards instead. You observed him as he eyed your belongings with mild disinterest, before shifting to regard you.

“Ready?” he asked, holding up one hand for you to take, while the other moved to touch the pile of stuff.

You didn’t bother to verbalize your consent, resorting to just nodding as you gingerly took his hand. Your surroundings instantly morphed the moment that you did, and you found yourself going through the now-familiar motions, emerging smack dab in the middle of your floor’s hallway a few seconds later.

Kouki was gone just as quickly as he arrived, apparently way above helping you move your things to the space at the end of the hall. The same goes for the twins, who only watched you as you lugged your baggage into the room.

You locked eyes with the female guard, and for a second, you debated engaging her in conversation.

You already knew what to say. You’d ask her if they were sure about you staying in, when Kouki can just teleport you to your respective apartments at the end of each day if they’re so worried about you getting spotted.

Besides, you thought as she glared at you with seemingly unfounded hate, that means we’ll be out of your hair.

But as tempting as it was to bring up that alternative at the moment, you ultimately thought better against it.

You already used your luck to convince them to turn off the trackers at night—something they probably wouldn’t do if you and Bakugou lived outside due to the lack of backup surveillance. It simply wouldn’t be smart and cautious of them if they did. You also didn’t want to undo that already tall order of a bargain when what you needed the most was the privacy in which you could discuss the mission and steps moving forward.

Besides, you bet your money it’s not just that. The teleportation quirk of that old geezer has to have a limitation somehow…

You let all these simmer in your head as you settled in for the night. To your chagrin—you wanted at least one night where you get to sleep on the decent-looking bed—Bakugou showed up not an hour later with his own luggage.

You didn’t say anything to each other aside from brief ‘Hey’s’ as he entered the room and unpacked his belongings, as well as when he disappeared into the small comfort room and showered.

You decided then and there that you both had to work on your conversing skills if you wanted a shot at making this ruse believable for the sake of the mission.

By the time he stepped out of the bathroom, decked out in lounge clothes and haphazardly drying his ash-blonde hair with a towel, it was already 8 PM sharp—your agreed-upon time to retreat for the night and consequently, remove your trackers.

And so you wordlessly filed out of your room, only to see the twins already at your front door, waiting. You doubted they ever left their post ever since you arrived.

You eyed the male twin as he sashayed into your room before his sister called you to attention. Other than that, the exchange was nothing but silent and perhaps a little bit hostile as the woman roughly stuck her hand up Bakugou’s shirt then yours, similar to last time, and removed the devices. You fought back a wince just as she ripped it from your skin, leaving a stinging feeling in its wake.

You could tell she was resisting the urge to shove you back to your room when the deed was done. You didn’t want to risk being her punching bag, so with a curt nod, you promptly turned back and once again entered the room, with Bakugou following you just as the other twin exited and closed the door behind him. Looking up, you immediately registered how the cameras were now facing down—covered—and the red, flickering lights were nowhere to be seen.

An instantaneous wave of relief flooded through you.

Bakugou must’ve noticed, because he whipped to face you, and the disturbed expression on his face was enough to shut you up.

He tilted his head, perhaps gesturing to the rest of the room, and it took you a second, but you eventually managed to make out what he was trying to say.

Shut your trap, his icy stare told you. Check the room for bugs.

And so with a nod of understanding, you tossed him a look right back before quite literally turning the room upside down. It probably took you at least 10 minutes to uncover and check every surface, nook, and cranny, but by the time you both were pretty sure you were safe, you were already stifling a yawn.

And having a hawk eye must come with the job description, because that didn’t go unmissed by the pro-hero, who wordlessly took one of the two pillows from the bed, as well as the throw blanket on top of the actual duvet cover, before tossing both on the brown couch.

You were just about to thank him for preparing your ‘bed’ for you, but you didn’t get to, because you were very much robbed of all words when he plopped himself down on the couch, wrapping himself with the quilt.

“What are you—”

“Don’t argue,” he cut you off, his commanding tone comically juxtaposing how snug he looked with his head barely peeking out of the cloth. You’d laugh at the way his large feet were poking out at the end of it if you weren’t in a contentious mood.

You frowned. “You’re the guest of honor. I should be the one sleeping on the couch.”

“If it bothers you that much—” Bakugou piped from where he laid comfortably on the (p)leather furniture, “—we can take turns. Tomorrow, I get to sleep on the bed, and so on.”

“But—”

“Conversation’s over. ‘Night.”

With that, Bakugou flipped on his side, turning his back against you, effectively shooting the conversation down in its entirety.

You stood there for what felt like a couple more minutes, keen on shaking him awake, maybe even yanking him off the couch and planting yourself on it before he could wrap his head around what was happening, but you ultimately decided to let it go, at least for now.

You wished him a good night as you turned off the lights and snuck into the queen-sized bed a few moments later, although you bet he was already fast asleep based on the lack of a reply.

Which was good for him, because he needed the rest for what was about to crash into you the next day.

Apparently, Masaki wasn’t kidding when he said groups like theirs needed the space to conduct their activities, because they sure handle a lot.

At 8 AM, you were roused awake by a violent knocking on your door, and you could tell Bakugou was awoken by the very same thing, because he shot up in alarm just as you did. You quickly got up and padded to the entryway, trying to ignore the silly embarrassment of being seen in your threadbare pajamas in broad daylight, before whipping to look at the man. You didn’t have to say it, though—Bakugou was already grabbing his pillow and blanket and plopped into the bed, lying down as if he was there the entire night. Only when he was fully settled did you turn the knob open, only to see the female twin scowling at you. Her hand was held up, on top of which were two trackers.

“It’s breakfast time,” she spat out—literally, some of her saliva landing on you. She looked over your shoulder to glare at Bakugou. “Hurry up and get ready. You’ve got a full day ahead of you.”

Behind you, a distinct grumble sounded out across the room, and you glanced back to see Bakugou getting up from the mattress and folding his blanket, a deep frown etched on his sharp features.

Looks like someone’s a morning person, you thought to yourself.

Not wanting to aggravate her even further, you wasted no time in getting dressed and presentable enough. You debated on whether or not to spend five minutes putting on makeup, ultimately deciding to do so, with you ending up patting on just enough product to look eye-catching before you and Bakugou went down to the mess hall to eat breakfast.

Immediately upon entering the space, you found yourself thankful for that extra five minutes because all eyes were on you. Well, maybe more on Bakugou, but they inevitably drifted to you, the person who walked next to him side by side. You could hear the people whisper to themselves as you moved to sit at the table near the back, before it hit you and you froze.

“What?” asked Bakugou from across you, who followed suit and paused, butt hanging mid-air.

“Come and sit next to me,” you blurted out, and before he could react in a way that would incriminate you both: “I want to sit beside you, babe.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened ever so minutely at the pet name, his face then sobering up as if he just realized what you were trying to do.

You wished you could spell it out for him, that couples tend to sit next to each other rather than across, and…you needed to seem like one who is head over heels for each other around these people as well. Thankfully, you didn’t have to, because Bakugou merely nodded without question, before rounding the table and seating himself right next to you.

You did your best to tune out the looks and murmuring throughout the entire meal, after which you got swept to one of the halls for an introductory talk for the new members. There were eleven of you in total, including you and Bakugou, the rest of whom you didn’t recognize. They didn’t even hide their surprise and awe when the two of you walked in and sat yourselves at the farthest row beside each other. You tried to radiate an aura of friendliness, smiling at the others when they looked at you, and then beaming at Bakugou whenever you caught him looking your way.

You could tell he was having a hard time playing the part, his smile strained whenever he attempted to return the motion. It was probably after the third time of trying to get a reaction from him when you mustered the courage to bring a hand to his shoulder, kneading the muscle as a form of an affectionate gesture, but mainly to get him to relax. He initially tensed at the contact, but eventually loosened up as you continued the action.

Soon enough, the talk commenced, with someone you didn’t know presenting himself as Kazuma, one of the officers of the organization. He went on to formally introduce the association, named The Quirk Coalition, as a group of like-minded individuals who aim for a future where quirks are nurtured and fostered to their fullest potential in a democratic society that puts a primacy on said powers. You noted how they conveniently left out the part where they detest the weak and the quirkless, although you did not comment on it. You only glanced at Bakugou one time, who looked onto the stage with tight lips.

Kazuma also went through the hierarchy of the organization, starting with Masaki at the top just as you suspected, then Sayaka and Kouki, followed by Hiroto and Omiru—the two who you recognized as the twins, looking like they just got their mugshot taken in the photos. Kazuma sat there at the lower tier alongside several other officers, under which were the regular members, totaling about 70—some of whom live in the headquarters and most going in and out, having normal jobs during the day and families to tend to.

You don’t know how they got it, but at the bottom row of the chart was a picture of you, right beside Bakugou dressed in his full hero gear.

You let the reality sink in as Kazuma droned on about the group’s beliefs, how they equally valued their ideals and the people who carried out these ideals. You made a mental note of this piece of information, before accidentally zoning out for the rest of the lecture.

The next seven days went on roughly the same way, with either of the twins serving as your unfriendly alarm to demonstrating PDA in the mess hall during breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with talks, history classes, support group sessions, and even quirk training nestled in between mealtimes.

You and Bakugou went through every single thing together, from sitting out the ‘classes’ where the teachers essentially waxed poetic about rewritten history with a strong bias against the quirkless, to attending what felt like group therapy where you each took turns sharing your ambitions and goals as members of the organization. Bakugou even partook in one of the quirk training sessions, wherein he practiced shooting precise targets while propelling himself in the air.

You couldn’t decide if he was trying to act all serious for the mission or was just showing off—could’ve been both, really, but regardless, his efforts were enough to catch the eyes of the fellow members working on their respective quirks. You, on the other hand, sat to the side and watched the pro-hero do his thing, not being able to ‘practice’ anything without a partner to ‘boost’—or really, manipulate.

Needless to say, you’ve both been busting your ass pretending to be eager, dedicated members, but aside from the information readily provided in the forums, you haven’t had much luck extracting details that could prove to be useful for the mission, a fact that you’re now planning to bring up with Bakugou, a full week into moving into the headquarters…

…After you finish checking the bedroom for bugs.

It’s become some sort of an unspoken nightly routine for the both of you. The second the door shuts behind you after the trackers have been taken off and you’ve checked that the cameras are pointed downwards, capped, and are not blinking anymore, you go to your respective halves of the room and thoroughly check each inch for a wiretap. Neither of you dare to say anything compromising until you’ve completed the survey, and even then you’ve telepathically agreed to watch your choice of words.

Still, you can’t deny the familiar sense of reprieve whenever this time of the day comes along, and you’ve since associated these moments with Bakugou with comfort.

Which is probably why you have the audacity to joke around.

“Are they comfy?” you ask just as you plaster your butt down into the couch. You’ve had your fun yesterday, sleeping easily in the soft bed. You watch Bakugou as he eyes you warily, sitting on the edge of the mattress, facing you.

He huffs, crossing his legs. “Are what comfy?”

You point to his feet with your lips. “The slippers. They were buy one take one, you know.”

At that, he smirks. You can’t help but feel your own smile growing.

“I don’t think that’s something you should be bragging about, princess.”

Flying right past the tail end of that sentence for your sanity, you force a frown on your face. “Why not? It was a great deal. And, I’m sure yours are comfy. Mine are.”

He leans back on his hands that are firmly planted at his sides. He’s still smirking. “So why bother asking me in the first place if you already knew the answer to the question?”

You open your mouth to retort a witty comment, but come up short. Bakugou’s smirk morphs into a grin when you do. You wrinkle your nose in disdain, “I was just trying to make small talk. You’re welcome, by the way.”

The pro-hero only chuckles at that, before sitting up and bringing his hands forward, one holding and wringing the other arm’s wrist.

You study him for a beat, and then the cameras, which are still turned down and capped with a lens cover.

And when he only continues the rotating motion, you finally speak up.

“…What are we gonna do now?”

Bakugou’s eyes shift upward from his wrist to look at you, the softness that was just in his gaze a second ago now replaced by his trademark caution. You try not to focus on the disappointment of having caused that, as well as the misplaced longing for what was once there.

It takes him a while to reply, his features contorted into a look of deep thought. But when he does so, he straightens his back. “We—”

A barrage of heavy knocks resounds from the door, startling both of you and cutting Bakugou off. It’s immediately followed by a gruff voice, which you can now easily recognize as Hiroto’s.

“You’re not making any noise,” comes his bite, although it’s slightly muffled. “You better think twice about planning something behind our backs, you two.”

You roll your eyes. You understand any hostility coming from the members, as you and Bakugou come with risks that can potentially harm the organization that they hold dearly. But even you can say that the twins are taking it a bit too far with the harsh treatment.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think their being extra hard on you has something to do with Masaki agreeing with the off-surveillance.

“Fucking relax,” Bakugou seethes in their direction. “Just because we’re not audibly having sex doesn’t mean we’re talking shit.”

You snort. Bakugou whips to look at you, the corners of his lips upturned.

That seems to put a plug on Hiroto, because the man doesn’t say anything after that. Once again, you’re met with silence, with you and Bakugou sitting on your respective furniture, looking at anything but each other.

It’s him, though, who finally breaks it a few minutes later with a clear of his throat.

“We keep at it—” Bakugou starts carefully, “—is what I was trying to say earlier. They’re gonna discuss the plans with us sooner than later.”

…Patience, huh?

You can do that.

Nodding, you adjust your position on your seat. You don’t dare to ask him to expound or add your own thoughts on the matter. Better to be safe than sorry, even though you’re pretty sure your room is free of bugs.

So instead, you finally give in and steer the conversation to something that’s been plaguing your mind ever since the commission kidnapped you a little over a week ago.

“Bakugou,” you begin, and he looks at you expectantly. You gulp. “Can I ask you something?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Depends on the question.”

“…So might as well shoot your shot,” he finishes when you don’t say anything.

Well, then.

You blurt it out before you can talk yourself out of it.

“Don’t get me wrong, alright? I know you’re strong and all that. But…” you trail off, fixing your eyes on him, “Why did they specifically want you of all heroes?”

Almost instantly, Bakugou’s smug expression is wiped off his face just as it falls.

You scramble to backtrack.

“Sorry if that’s too invas—”

“Are you sure we were batchmates?” he cuts you off, a brow raised in question. “Back in UA?”

You stare at him. Where is he going with this?

“Yeah?” you reply, not at all willing to try and jog his memory with the only prominent exchange between the two of you. So instead, you toss the query back at him: “Why?”

“Because if we were, you would’ve heard about the rumors about me, unless they weren’t as widespread as I thought.”

You feel your brows furrow. “Rumors?”

He peers at you for what feels like an eternity, before shaking his head in what you think is resignation. His body language has changed drastically, you note—the distinct confidence from earlier now long gone, having been replaced with…shame?

He heaves a deep breath.

“I was a bully,” he finally declares, meeting your gaze. “I bullied someone for being quirkless. I guess you could say I had a…” he hesitates, as if he’s trying to filter his words,” …certain mindset up until late into our first year.”

He shakes his head again, which is now bowed down toward the floor. “I did some pretty…awful stuff, to say the least.”

And before you can say anything, he beats you to it. “And don’t ask me about what I did.”

“I wasn’t going to,” comes your speedy response. That causes him to look up again and at you, a surprised look written on his face.

“Well, that’s a first.”

“I don’t have to know,” you reason, schooling your features into a neutral, even sincere expression. “Besides, I can clearly see there’s remorse. There’s no need to reopen that can of worms, especially if you’ve tried to make amends.”

You pause, eyeing him. “Have you?”

He tosses you a look of offense, as if you just accused him of being a serial killer. “Of course. And he’s forgiven me. What do you take me for?”

“Someone who feels remorse—” you chuckle, “—just like I said.”

He shoots you a glare, although it’s playful and has no bite to it. “Smartass.”

You grin at him. “I am smart, aren’t I?”

Bakugou doesn’t verbalize his agreement, but he doesn’t deny it either. Instead, he turns the table on you.

“You’re a guidance counselor, aren’t you? You use your quirk on your clients?”

You gasp, insulted. That grants you a smirk from him. “No! Of course, not. What do you take me for?”

He shrugs, “What? It makes sense to me.”

“So should this thing called ethics, which I follow and is very important, especially for people like me who work in the mental health field.”

That doesn’t seem to convince him. “Why’re you in this field, then? If not for its compatibility with your quirk?”

You think about it for a beat.

“I guess you can say my quirk did play a part in all of this, but not as my crutch,” you eventually explain. “Using it made me realize how much I like making people feel and do better, which is something that I now do with evidence-based techniques as a counselor. Plus, my job trains me in identifying emotions, which, you know…”

—helps with maximizing your quirk.

But you don’t say it out loud for fear of getting exposed, and it seems like that’d be unnecessary, because understanding flashes across Bakugou’s eyes. He nods, and that’s all you need to know he gets what you’re leaving unsaid.

“That’s a pretty noble cause,” he offers, although it comes out a bit awkward.

Still, you flash him a genuine smile. He looks away.

…Right at the wall clock, which now reads a little too late o’clock.

“You should get some sleep,” says Bakugou just as you are about to tell him the very same thing.

And when you don’t respond: “Are you sure you wanna sleep on the couch?”

‘What, are you proposing we share the bed?’

…Is what you would say if you were a fucking lunatic, which you’re glad you aren’t, because you don’t know how you’d survive this hell of a mission if you were.

Instead, you nod, shooting him a grateful look as you move to lay back and drape the blanket over your body. “Bask in the luxury of a proper mattress, your highness.”

You don’t get to see his reaction anymore in your new position, but you bet your cheap but surprisingly ergonomic slippers that he’s grinning with the way he snorts loudly.

“Stupid.”

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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[fisshbones]

Cute things hsr characters do

Note: These are short hcs with characters of things that i personally see as cute. Gn!reader. No Tws, Just soft characters!

March 7th: 📸

Sometime ago March had gifted you a plushie and ever since she’s called said plush “our son.” She has some stuffed animals herself that she’s put small accessories/clothes on; so it only makes sense for her to dress y’alls “son” up too. March also takes your shared son on shopping trips and tucks it in at night.

Aventurine: 🎲

Aventurine frequently gifts you custom tailored clothes and shoes. Some that are in your style, some that are matching with him, and some for more… intimate occasions. He knows your measurements by heart. Along with your preferences in fabrics, length, and style.

Gallagher: 🥃

Every time you bend down he slides one of his hands above your head so you don’t bump/hurt tour head. It’s not even a conscious decision his body just moves on its own to protect you, even in the smallest of ways.

Gepard: 🛡️

Walks on the side facing the road. It’s in his nature to protect others. This comes in various forms including blocking your body from the road. If anything or anyone dangerous comes from that side he can be your knight in shining armor. Truthfully this doesn’t stop at just roads. If you’re walking by a construction site he’ll also block you from that as well. He’d rather get hurt than have you hurt.

Sunday: 🪽

Sunday puts little post-it notes in your room + shared areas as a reminder. A reminder for what? All different things!! Some notes are reminders for any tasks you may have to do, including eating/drinking water. Others are just positive affirmations like that he loves you and is proud of you!!

Robin: 🕊️

Styles your hair and lets you style hers too. She has an image to uphold so she won’t wear the hair style you gave her out if it’s too crazy, but if it’s subtle or classy she’ll def wear it. She likes to run her hands through your hair and braid it (if you’ll let her.) She likes to think of this as a relaxing bonding moment. Since you gifted her this moment of relaxation she’ll sing to you. Sometimes it’s one of her own songs. Sometimes it’s just one she knows you love.

If you enjoyed please like, reblog and/Or reply! ( ^ω^ )

[postm0rt3m]

happy thanksgiving everyone!

just a lil fluff thanksgiving bf!simon post bcz i just sobbed my heart out over the most absolutely devastatingly beautiful angst story i’ve ever read (through statics, give it a read!) and if i keep thinking about it i’m going to actually spiral

not proofread so :P

(i said this then made myself cry again writing this bffr. this also ended up way longer than i meant for it to so lol!)

“simon?”

“…baby?”

“simon theodore! are you even listening to-“

simon suddenly snaps back out of his thoughts at the stern tone in your voice, letting out a small grunt as if saying “yes i was” but in reality.. he wasn’t. he was too far gone in his absolutely harrowing thoughts, because today is the day.

the day he’s having thanksgiving dinner with your family. i repeat, simon “ghost” riley is currently on his way to eat turkey and stuffing and pumpkin pie with his girlfriend’s family. sound the alarms!

don’t get me wrong, he’s met some of your family before. your parents, your siblings. but.. your entire family is going to be here. moms side, dads side, aunts, uncles, grandparents, cousins. oh god.

this man has been through war and back. literally. yet, he feels as anxious as he did the first day he joined the army, just thinking about the events that are about to go down. he’s literally trembling. terrified to lift his hands from the death grip he has on the steering wheel because he knows you’ll get that same teasing sympathetic look on your face as you always do.

he finally clears his throat, breaking his deadpan stare out the windshield to glance over at you for a moment, which brings him a little comfort. just the sight of you, really, could relax every tense muscle in his body.

“yeah, yeah, ‘m listenin’. said sumn about.. ham..?”

you look over when you feel his gaze on his, that same smile he was just trying to prevent spreading across your face. holding back a laugh from the random mention of ham, you place your left hand on his meaty thigh, giving it a soft squeeze.

“…no. are you okay? i promise they’re gonna love you, si. seriously.”

you know, of course, about your boyfriend’s past. his alcoholic of a father, the absence of his mother, the way he buried himself with work and an early grave in an attempt to forget it all. every time you think about it, your heart squeezes. because his pain is your pain, and it hurts you so deeply its as if it happened to you. plus, your man doesn’t deserve all that weight on his shoulders!

so, you’re kind. loving. forgiving. you never hold his mistakes over his head, knowing it happened so many times in his childhood. you’ve been together not even a year, yet, you know. you know he’s the one that you’ll marry, the one who’s children you’ll have running around your big white suburban house. and he knows it too. which is why he agreed to this!

he gives another grunt after he mulls over your question, because, really, is he okay? he’s not sure himself, at this point.

“i.. ‘m fine. lets just get this over with.”

—

once you actually arrive, you’re.. not sure if simon is still breathing in his seat. neither is he. his hands are still placed firmly on the steering wheel and his feet on the pedals, even though he already turned the car off. five minutes ago.

“baby. take a deep breath in,”

you begin, your smile falling as you realize he’s actually terrified. this is probably the first thanksgiving dinner he’s ever been to. and with his future family? he just wants the world to open up and swallow him whole already.

but, he obliges, taking a sharp inhale in, holding it, then letting it out when you say. it actually does relax his muscles a little, but not his nerves. no, they’re so far gone he thinks they won’t be relaxed for the next five years.

“then out. you’re okay. everything will be okay. i promise, they’ll love you. worst case scenario, we leave and get chinese.”

he looks over at you, his gaze still as intense as ever, but you can see the utter fear and nerves swirling around behind his brown eyes. you let out a small sigh, leaning over the center console to place a soft kiss on his stubbly cheek.

“lets go in. we can come back out if its too much, okay?”

he nods, swallowing so hard he thinks he might’ve swallowed his own tongue. his grip on the steering wheel finally releases as he exits the car, the crisp november air instantly hitting his face and the white t-shirt & blue jeans that took him two hours to pick out.

he rounds the front of the black pickup truck, opening your door and taking your hand as you slide down out of the passenger seat.

as you two walk up to the front door of your mother and father’s home, his grip on your hand tightens more and more with each step. you place another reassuring peck on his arm, which loosens it just a little. just a little.

you make it to the front door, and oh my god simon thinks he’s going to pass out. he’s trying to keep it together, but staring through the foggy glass of the door, seeing the bustling of your family inside, he thinks he might hurl.

“oh — you must be the famous simon we hear so much about! her mom never shuts up about you!”

one of your aunts opens the door, a beaming smile spread across her face as she sees you, then cranes her neck up to look at your brute of a boyfriend. you can see the shock on her face for a split second, although she doesn’t dwell on it. but simon does.

why did she look at me like that? do i have something on my face? bloody hell, i’m gonna throw up everywhere and she’s gonna leave me and-

you cut simon out of his thoughts with a reassuring squeeze to his hand, glancing from him to your aunt. she reaches her hand out, and simon hesitantly meets it, giving it a gentle yet firm shake.

“we’re glad to be here! simon is excited to meet everyone, right, love?”

“yeah. can’t wait.”

you two make your way through the lively house, and simon can’t help but think about how.. domestic it all is.

your siblings and cousins all running around, playing together and weaving in and out of the various rooms. your mom, aunts, and grandmothers gathered in the kitchen, preparing the food and gossiping about their respective partners. your dad, uncles and grandpas laughing heartily over beers and nachos as they watch the ongoing baseball game on the tv.

its something simon has never had the pleasure of experiencing in real life, and something he never thought he’d get to experience.. ever. the reality hits him, so much harder than he’d thought.

that.. this is his life. this is his family. not those people who abandoned him all those years ago. you’re his family. and the thought warms his chest in a way not even you could.

the day flies by, so much faster than simon thought it would. he got to meet everyone, speak with everyone. he even had a beer with your dad. although this may be completely new to him, it instantly felt familiar. felt right. the stability and domesticity he’s craved for so long, and he’s finally got it.

he was nervous the whole time, of course. he still is. but having you there made it all melt all way after a few hours. he stayed by your side the entire time, not wanting to leave you alone, but also not wanting to be alone himself. your reassuring squeezes, your loving pecks to his cheek or arm, they kept him grounded. and he will never be able to re-pay you for such a feat.

when it comes time to eat, everyone is crowded around the living room with heaping plates in hands. your cousins are sprawled on the floor, uncles and aunts sitting in random camping chairs they brought knowing there wouldn’t be enough space for everyone.

simon can’t wait to eat. the fragrant turkey and gravy sitting in his lap, he thinks he will simply die if he doesn’t dig in.

but, one of your aunts mentioned saying grace. something simon doesn’t think he’s done a single time in his life.

everyones heads bow, hands connecting around the room, simon holding yours in his left and your sibling’s in his right as you all squeeze together on the couch.

your mother begins her prayer, giving her thanks for the people, the food, and the house they’re so lucky to be blessed with. simon finds it a little silly as a firm non-believer of any type of religion, but it also squeezes at his heart, because they truly are blessed. he’s blessed.

then, she mentions him.

“and thank you, for bringing such a handsome man into my daughter’s life. we hope for a long, healthy life for the two of them, and hope he doesn’t mind his new crazy family.”

his new crazy family.

you peek your eyes open with the widest grin, glancing over to see if simon is as flushed as you think he is.

but he’s not.

he’s crying.

you can feel his hand slightly trembling, his eyes still clamped shut as the tears roll down his face and his lip pouts out just the slightest. your smile instantly falls, your hand still connected with his as you raise them to wipe at his tears.

you try to be discreet, not wanting to draw any unwanted attention to as you dry his eyes with your sleeve. you can feel your heart doing flips, the fact that he’s so touched that he’s crying making you want to cry yourself.

after they say amen, everyone instantly digs into their plates. except the two of you.

you can’t take your eyes off of simon, and he can’t take his reddened eyes off of you. here, in this moment, you both realize something.

everything you two’ve been through. the lows, the sleepless nights. the highs, nights out on the town until ungodly hours. has lead to this. this connection, this moment.

and, god, neither of you could ask for more. he truly can’t wait to put a ring on your finger.

after a few moments of silent conversation you give him a small smile, and the two of you tune back into the world, digging into your plates and enjoying the presence of your family and each other.

this is his family now. and just like he couldn’t ask for more from you, he couldn’t ask anymore from them. he loves them just as much as he does you.

a few hours later, everyone begins leaving and heading home. thanksgiving is officially over for your household.

you can barely drag simon away from the kitchen, who is stacking a plate the size of his own head with the various dishes strewn across the counter. your mother was absolutely delighted at the fact that he kept going back, for seconds, thirds, then fourths. and now he’s taking the remaining leftovers.

you two make it back out to the truck, him helping you in before the both of you settle in and fasten your seatbelts.

but he doesn’t yet start it. he looks over at you, a content sigh escaping his lips and a smile so warm across his face you think you could melt.

“i love you.”

he simply says, the usual monotone stance in his voice replaced with something else. something warm and sweet, like the soft piece of pumpkin pie in the plate in your lap, neatly covered by a layer of tin foil.

“i love you too, simon. i told you they’d love you.”

you respond, the smile on your own face giddy and almost sickly sweet as you think about everything that just happened, and everything that will happen.

its a little hard for simon to make sense of all these new emotions and flooding feelings as you two make the long drive back home. but one thing he does know, he’s thankful.

thankful for you, thankful for the 5 inch tall plate of food in the backseat, and thankful for your family.

for his family.

[misswynters]

Her Golden Shield

my 2000 follower special series ⟠ ࣪ .

– a short drabble

featuring. Mel Medarda x idol! reader

continuation. Backstage (18+)

Chaos was always a thing, especially in the backstage area where everyone was running around doing last minute things. The cascade of footsteps, excited chatter, and last-minute adjustments before your concert in Piltover was almost overwhelming, but you thrived in it. As a member of Nova, one of the most sought-after idol groups, you were used to this whirlwind. Mel, however, wasn’t. Yet, here she was, sitting gracefully on the couch of your dressing room, exuding her usual elegance as you rushed around trying to perfect your outfit. “You’ll burn yourself out, my love,” she chided gently, her voice honeyed but firm. You waved her off with a laugh, though you knew she was right.

“I promise I’ll eat something after the show,” you replied, earning an unimpressed raise of her brow. Finally, with a sly smile, you asked, “Actually, could you grab me something from the vending machine? You know what I like.”

Mel hesitated, her eyes flicking over your tired form. “I’ll go, but you better not collapse while I’m gone,” she said, her tone a mixture of affection and warning. She departed with a graceful sweep of her skirt, her golden earrings glinting under the fluorescent lights.

For a few moments, you enjoyed the brief reprieve to sit and breathe. That was until an unexpected knock on the door broke your peace. Assuming it was one of your staff, you called out, “Come in!” Instead, a man with an unnerving presence slipped through the door. He was tall, with his face obscured by a dark mask that only allowed his piercing eyes to be seen. “I’m your biggest fan,” he said, his voice rasping as he stepped closer, hands trembling with what appeared to be a notebook clutched against his chest.

You froze, the usual charm you carried faltering for a moment as unease crept in. “I appreciate the support, but you really shouldn’t be back here,” you said firmly, trying to maintain composure. The man didn’t seem to hear you or maybe he didn’t care. He stepped closer, his tone shifting to something more unsettling as he insisted on an autograph. Your voice rose slightly as you backed away.

“You need to leave now. Security!” But the dressing room door wouldn’t budge when you tried to open it, and panic began to bloom in your chest. That’s when you heard a familiar voice on the other side. “My love?” Mel’s voice carried an edge you rarely heard. “What’s going on?”

When you didn’t answer right away, Mel didn’t wait. A sharp crack echoed as she kicked the door open with precision and fury, her golden bracelets jangling as she strode in. Her eyes immediately locked on the intruder, narrowing with a menace that could make anyone tremble. “Get away from her,” Mel commanded, her voice a velvet-coated blade.

She grabbed the man by the shoulder and wrenched him back with surprising strength, her grip unyielding. “I won’t ask twice.” The man stammered something incoherent, his bravado dissolving under Mel’s piercing gaze before security finally arrived to drag him out.

You exhaled shakily, clutching the edge of the vanity as Mel knelt beside you, her hands cupping your face. “Are you hurt?” she asked, her voice soft now, her thumb brushing your cheek.

“I’m fine,” you reassured her, though you couldn’t stop the tremor in your voice. “Stuff like this happens more often than you’d think.” Mel’s expression hardened.

“It shouldn’t. And it won’t—not while I’m here.” She stood, her posture regal and commanding. “From now on, I’ll be with you everywhere. Consider me your personal bodyguard while you’re in Piltover.”

You couldn’t help but smile at her protective resolve, despite the circumstances. “I’d like that,” you admitted, your voice laced with affection. Mel returned your smile, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Good. Because no one messes with my little star.” And for the rest of the night, her unwavering presence by your side became both your shield and your solace.

taglist. @ekkosh @xxblairslairxx @diffusebread

banner. @anitalenia

[ladykailitha]

Of Butterflies and Backstrokes Part 15

And here we are at the end! It's been a wild and fun ride. Thank you to everyone who came with me on this journey!

@cryptid-system I hope my solution is as easy as yours ;)

We have the fallout from the cliffhanger, Steve taking that final step, and the truth comes out.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

~

When they got there, it was already a mess. Eddie had caught Jason at his locker and when Chrissy provided evidence that he was told to do so by Billy, that pretty much stopped the whole fucking event.

It took two days to untangle the whole shitshow, but at the end, Jason was replaced by an alternate and Chrissy allowed to continue, but with strict instructions that if she so much as toed the line she would be removed too.

Chrissy readily agreed. She wanted to compete, she didn’t want to cheat.

But that got Eddie thinking and he discussed his theory with the judges. They agreed to look into it but that the games would continue as scheduled.

Eddie agreed that would probably be best.

When it was time for the first meet, for real this time, Eddie made a show of checking his starting block for any sign of sabotage.

“Eddie Munson, checking his block for any signs of tampering,” the announcer said. “With his coach being Steve Harrington and the attempt to get him out of the races for drug possession, he has a lot of reasons to be cautious.”

The other announcer burst out laughing. “Did he just kick it? Like one does a tire of a used car one is buying?”

“It appears he did,” the announcer said, grinning from ear to ear. “It makes for some good entertainment, though.”

“It does that, yes.”

Eddie looked up at the stands and gave Steve a thumbs up and Steve burst out laughing.

Then Eddie put his goggles on, lowered himself into the water and grasped the starting block. He settled in and waited for the horn. No gun shots here.

Then the horn blared and he was off like a shot, arching into the water the way that Steve always loved.

He was graceful and fluid. And he was way ahead of his peers.

Steve was on the edge of his seat. Wayne and Robin each had a hand on his shoulders as Eddie kept his lead. Steve glanced up at the timer, but it was no where near a world record. But at this point it didn’t matter. Slowly the three of them rose to their feet as he neared the end.

Then he touched the pad and the entire stadium roared to life.

“What an incredible performance!” the first announcer crowed. “First time Olympian, Eddie Munson has taken the first gold of the swimming games!”

“And what an amazing gold it was,” the second announcer agreed. “We have USA teammate Trent York in silver, and bronze medal to Itsuke Tohsaka for Japan!”

“Great work to the USA for that double win,” the announced concluded.

~

On the winner’s podium, Eddie took a bite out of the gold to make sure it was real and then held it above his head.

Steve was so excited, he was jumping up and down. Then he did the unexpected. He ran out to the field and kissed Eddie senseless as he hopped down from the podium and into Steve’s waiting arms.

Steve spun him around excitedly and then kissed him again.

“If that’s the reaction I get when I get gold I’m going to have to win a lot more of them,” Eddie teased.

“It won’t matter,” Steve murmured into his ear. “I’ll kiss you no matter how you fare.”

Eddie smacked his arm. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna watch my teammate propose to his girlfriend of three years.”

Steve turned to where, sure enough Trent York was getting down on one knee to ask his girlfriend to marry him.

“Ah...” he said with a deep blush. “Nothing to be jealous of there, then?”

Eddie gently pulled Steve’s gaze away from the happy scene. “Never, lover boy.” And kissed him to the roar of the crowd.

The poor Japanese kid was looking around because he didn’t know what to do. Then a fan came tearing through the crowd and promptly kissed him on the mouth.

The announcers were calling it the love games, much to Steve and Eddie’s absolute glee.

~

Eddie medalled in all five of his events with talks to see about joining some of the medley teams for greater diversity of his form.

After Eddie’s last gold medal, his third, he was approached by the Olympic community for the swimming. His other two were silver, beating out Steve’s first time.

“Mr. Munson,” the French judge said, “we wanted to thank you for bringing to our attention your suspicions of the 2008 games.”

Steve looked at Eddie in confusion. “What suspicions?”

“Steve,” Wayne said gravely, “it’s been the long-held belief of a lot of people for awhile now that your accident wasn’t an accident at all.”

“Of course it was,” he said, frowning. “They looked into it afterwards and there were no signs of tampering.”

The Olympic members looked around at each other abashedly.

“That’s not quite true,” the English Olympic member muttered, “it was deemed inconclusive.”

Steve’s eyes went wide. “Are you kidding me right now?”

“With Billy sabotaging Mr. Munson with the drugs,” the French Olympic member said, “he asked us to see if there was any indication he had done such things in the past.”

“Billy?” Steve said, feeling the rush of blood around his ears. “Oh god. I always thought there was more to what happened, but Billy?”

He sank to a crouch and put his head between his legs to ward off a faint. They led him over to a bench and Robin rushed to get him water.

“When we started looking into the matter,” the English Olympic member said, “a maintenance worker immediately came forward because he feared that he would lose his job if he didn’t.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie said, sitting down hard next to Steve. “I really didn’t think anything would come of this. But it’s assault, right?”

“Technically it’s battery,” the French Olympic member murmured, “but while the Olympic Community has the authority to strip Billy of his two bronze medals, we cannot do anything else because it happened in Tokyo.”

Steve shook his head. “No, no. I get it. Just knowing he’s to blame is enough. Knowing that I have answers for the first time in my life to what happened to me, is–is plenty.”

Just then Billy came storming up to them. “This all your fault, Harrington. You’ll pay for this. I’m the superior swimmer, you fucking coward.”

“So put your money where your mouth is,” Steve growled getting to his feet. “Right here, right now. You and me, 150m. They’ll judge,” he pointed to the two Olympic members. “But I am and will forever be your god.”

Robin and Eddie shared shocked glances. They both wanted to jump in and ask if Steve was sure, but Wayne put a hand on Eddie’s chest and shook his head.

Robin opened her mouth to protest, but she saw the firm lines of Steve’s jaw and knew. He had this.

“Go suit up,” the English Olympic member said with a curt nod. “I think Mr. Harrington deserves a rematch, don’t you Marie?”

The French Olympic member nodded. “Yes, Theodore, I do believe he does. I will send someone to get you the appropriate gear.”

“Steve would you mind changing in the women’s dressing room to prevent trouble?” Theodore asked.

Steve nodded. “That’s fine. It makes it easier because my assistant coach is a woman.”

The two members nodded and everyone went their separate ways, leaving Wayne and Eddie alone in the bleachers.

“I’m so worried, Uncle Wayne,” Eddie admitted as he clasped his hands together, leaning on his knees. He dropped his head between his shoulders with a heavy sigh.

“He’ll be fine,” Wayne soothed, rubbing Eddie’s back. “He needs to do this otherwise he’ll always be afraid. But if you’re so worried call Rhys.”

Eddie straightened up. “I didn’t know you were on a first name basis with Gareth’s dad.”

Wayne scoffed. “Kid, I’m on a first name basis with all your friends’ parents, considering how much trouble you lot tended to get up to.”

Eddie cocked his head to the side. “Yeah, okay that tracks.” He picked up his bag that Wayne had been holding on to.

After the incident with Jason and Billy, Eddie refused to use the lockers at all and just handed Wayne his stuff before every meet. He dug around his clothes until he found what he was looking for. His cell phone. He called up Dr. Hughes.

“Eddie!” Dr. Hughes greeted cheerfully. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

So Eddie told him.

“I’m with Wayne on this one,” he said when Eddie was done. “But I appreciate your concern was enough that you reached out. He’ll be fine. Congrats on your relationship, though.”

Eddie snorted. “Of course he told you. But yeah, thanks. We don’t know what’s going to happen going forward, but we’re going to figure it out together.”

“He didn’t tell me anything, Ed,” Dr. Hughes said with a laugh. “I’m pretty sure the whole world saw that kiss.”

Eddie blushed and shoved a strand of hair in front of his face even though Dr. Hughes couldn’t see him.

“Oh, yeah.”

“Forgot about that little tidbit?” Dr. Hughes asked, slyly.

“It was a really good kiss,” he murmured.

Dr. Hughes laughed again. “Fair enough. Tell Steve good luck for me.”

“Will do.”

Eddie nearly dropped his phone when Steve came out. It was not the Steve he knew. The man in front of him oozed confidence and charm. The man who would be king.

He trotted up to him and licked his lips. “You don’t have to do this. You know you’re better than he is.”

Steve smirked. “Oh I do, but he doesn’t.”

Eddie huffed a laugh and helped him get all his hair under the cap. Then they walked over to the starting blocks. There was space between the two that Billy and he would use. It looked as though they were taking this very seriously.

“Butterfly?” Billy sneered. “I want to beat you at your best.”

“Butterfly it is,” Steve said with a nod. He pulled his goggles on and Billy pretended to rush him, but Steve didn’t even flinch. “I’ve faced scarier things than you in the last four years, you’re nothing.”

He turned on his heel and got up on the starting block. Billy did the same, without the swagger from before. Eddie would swear for years, he saw sweat bead on Billy’s temples as they waited for the horn.

Then it went off. They both dived into the water. And instantly, Eddie could tell the difference. Not just in form, but style too.

They watched and waited as they did their laps. Steve keeping a body’s length between Billy and him. Then it was the last lap and Steve surged ahead, outstripping Billy even further.

Steve tapped the plate well before Billy did and yanked off his goggles, whooping and cheering.

“Oh my god!” Chrissy screamed.

“Steve look up!” Robin called out.

At first Eddie didn’t understand what she was screaming about. Then he spotted it. “Steve, baby. I need you to look at your time.”

Steve looked at the judges first who were in shock. Then he looked over at Billy who looked completely devastated. He finally looked up at the time clock. A new world record.

“It can’t be counted because it wasn’t an official race,” Marie said. “But if you can replicated it, you have to have to come back to the sport. Especially with a time like that.”

“Hell yeah!” Steve cheered, pulling himself out of the pool. “I’m back, baby!”

Eddie rushed over and kissed him senseless the moment he was on his feet.

“Mr. Harrington there is the small matter of being Mr. Munson’s coach,” Theodore said, pained.

Robin raised her hand. “Hold on, what is the biggest concern with an athlete/coach relationship?”

The two judges exchanged glances.

“The power imbalance,” Marie said. “And especially considering the large gap between their ages it wouldn’t be appropriate.”

“But if we take into consideration Steve’s trauma and phobias,” Robin continued, “it wouldn’t be an imbalance.”

The judges didn’t look sure, especially after that performance.

“Trauma can crop back up at any time,” Robin said, “so this doesn’t mean he’s fixed.”

“Rob!” Steve chuckled. “There’s an easier way to do this, without upsetting these good people.”

She blinked at him for a moment. “Huh?”

“You coach us both!” he said with a laugh. “If we’re peers then there can’t be a power imbalance at all!”

“Oh!”

Everyone laughed.

~

Joyce handed Robin a box in front of Max, Eddie, and Steve. She opened the box and inside was a coach’s jacket with BUCKLEY in silver and black bold letters. She tried to hold back tears as Steve helped her put it on.

“You earned it,” he whispered, before going and standing next to Eddie.

“Just one more thing before you get started,” Joyce said with a smile. “Robin has decided to also have an assistant coach. May I introduce you to Coach Cunningham.”

Chrissy stepped out of the women’s locker room with a smile and shy little wave.

“I trust there won’t be any difficulties?” Joyce asked with a raised eyebrow.

Everyone shook their heads no.

Eddie put his arm around her shoulders. “So what made you decide to become a coach?”

“I decided I wasn’t cut out for the competition racket,” she said with a grin. “Billy showed me that.”

Eddie nodded.

“Plus there’s the fact that there are no rules against dating a fellow coach.”

Eddie barked out a laugh as Robin turned bright, bright red.

Oh yeah, Chrissy was going to fit in just fine.

Steve grabbed his arm. “Come on, I’ll race you to the pool!”

Eddie threw his head back and laughed and laughed, all the while Steve took off running. He shook his head and chased his boyfriend to the pool.

Thank god for Jim Hopper.

~

Tag List: STORY COMPLETE

1- @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog @gloomysoup

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @cryptid-system

3- @maya-custodios-dionach @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog

4- @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @forgottenkanji @eriquin

5- @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon

6- @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @disrespectedgoatman

7- @counting-dollars-counting-stars @tinyplanet95 @ravenfrog @swimmingbirdrunningrock @lingeringmirth

8- @gutterflower77 @a-lovely-craziness @just-a-tiny-void @w1ll0wtr33 @beelze-the-bubkiss

9- @chameleonhair @sadisticaltarts @dreamercec @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @mac-attack19

10- @aol19 @tartarusknight @morallyundefined

[revelboo]

RAHHHHH the rammatra fic outta nowhere had me going ʕʘ‿ʘʔ

(Tbh I think he and genji were my gateway drug to robots)

Absolutely scrumptious as always

Anti-Gravity Pt 2

Ramattra x Reader

• Ankle screaming when you put weight on it, you use the length of rebar like a cane to pick your way closer to the pinned Omnic. He still has one good arm, so you’ll need to be quick. Drive that rebar deep as you can, through that baleful optic and out the other side. Omnic aren’t people, they’re not alive, just a clever impersonation of it. Except. You remember months ago, getting caught on the outskirts of a mob running down a lone Omnic. Watching them pull it to the ground, but doing nothing to stop them. It wasn’t your problem, you just wanted to go home. But it hadn’t begged or pleaded with its attackers. All it had said while it still could speak was that it was ‘seen in the light of the Iris.’ Like it believed it was more than just a machine. Raising the rebar, you stare down at it. Him, Ramattra. A machine. Just a machine.

• Servos curling in a fist, he tiredly watches the human poised to attack him. One side of your face smeared with blood from a sluggishly bleeding wound at your temple. Baring your teeth at him, rocking forward, but faltering. And your hands are shaking as you make to lunge and then stop yourself again. Finally meeting his optics. “You’re a monster,”you tell him, voice tired as you slump down on a pile of rubble nearby. Above the two of you something shifts and dirt patters down. He understands that hate in your eyes, but your mercy takes him by surprise. “You deserve to die,” you add, voice angry now. At him or yourself?

• “If I’m a monster, it’s because your kind gave me no choice,” that low, digitized voice growls as he tries to drag himself more upright before giving up. Head tipping back to stare at the rubble above them and you follow his stare even as his words whisper through you. Make you think of that Omnic dying for no reason at all, torn apart by that mob. What had it even done? Just been in the wrong place at the wrong time? Dared to exist?

• Growling softly, he knows that if they start messing with the debris above, it’s likely to come down and your mercy will mean very little when you’re both crushed. “There’s always a choice,” you counter, rolling up your pant leg to gingerly prod at your ankle and he watches your little shoulders hunch. From above, there’s another shower of dirt and rocks, the drip of water becoming a steady stream from a busted pipe.

• You’re afraid to take off your sneaker and see how bad it really is. Afraid you won’t be able to get the show back on if you do. The only thing you’re certain of it’s that you can’t stay here. You’re not sure if you’re in the sewer or in some kind of maintenance tunnel, but you don’t want it to become your tomb.

• “Your naïveté will get you killed,” he growls, watching you turn your attention back to him. To his trapped leg. While you can still walk, he can’t. Not alone. Doesn’t have the energy to swap back to nemesis form to try and free himself, too damaged to risk it. Ignoring you since you’re apparently not going to try and end him right this moment, he tries to free his pinned lower leg. Tensing when you limp over and drive that rebar under the broken wall crushing him and pushing down on it like a fulcrum. Too small to budge it at all, but still trying. Above them something creaks and scrapes. How long? Minutes or hours? And he follows your attention when it drifts toward the dark tunnel. “You can’t see in the dark, but I can. Find something sharp. Metal.”

• You stare at him, attention drifting back to his lower leg. Knowing you’re not going to get him free in time, but he’s right. It’s pitch deeper in and the only light is coming through the shifting rubble. You’ll never find a way out without him. Limping sends jagged shards of pain through your leg and knee, but you find something useable and carry it over. Feeling oddly squeamish as he positions it against the joint of his knee and you realize what he wants. Just a machine, you remind yourself as he tries to saw at the joint, making a low, snarling sound of very real pain. And you grab the sides of the metal fragment and drive it down. Again and again, feeling the edges biting into your palm. It takes both of you to sever the lower half of his leg and your palms are cut up and sticky with blood as you offer him a hand. “You’re still a monster,” you tell him as he lurches unsteadily upright with only one leg and one arm. Skin crawling as he leans on you and nearly knocks you both down with his weight. He’s silent as you grit your teeth and start moving, letting him use you for balance. Because even if he’s a monster, he doesn’t deserve to die like this. No one does.

Previous

[devildom-moss]

May poll story

NSFW - Asmodeus x Solomon x MC

(Asmodeus x Solomon x gn!MC)

(NSFW) (switchy overall but slightly sub!Solomon) (poly/threesome) (no penetration; oral - receiving; handjob - Asmo giving Solomon; dry humping; so much kissing; light praise; bondage; facial; cum eating; photos; lots of teasing; marking/hickeys; "master" for Solomon by Asmo; voyeurism; no reader/MC sex organs specified)

Word Count: +4,400

Asmo was hosting an intimate Asmo Night with his two favorite humans. Some nights, he simply wanted a bit of attention from you both – affection from two people he knew adored him for who he was. Fans were nice, but he wanted to be around someone he had feelings for, and in your case, his love was so intense it almost matched his love for himself. A relaxing sleepover with you and Solomon seemed like the perfect way to get his fill of adoration.

As usual, Asmo was a wonderful host, preparing games, activities, and an abundance of snacks – although the latter was planned, in part, to dissuade Solomon from attempting to cook. If Solomon had brought homemade food, that would have ruined the entire night.

With a long night ahead of you, Asmo sipped his Demonus slowly, fearing intoxication; there would be other nights to get drunk around either of you, but tonight, he wanted to feel in control of everything – to savor every word, look, and sensation that he eagerly anticipated. Asmo wanted to remember the way Solomon’s eyes darted between his body and yours as the two of you danced to music he had put on – the way his gaze felt hungry like some vicious predator in that moment and how Solomon had smothered his desire as the song came to an end, trying not to initiate something so early in the night. He wanted to fully enjoy the warmth of your lips on his neck when you lost the card game that Solomon insisted be made a little more interesting by turning it into a punishment game – no doubt hoping luck would be on his side tonight, especially with Barbatos not in attendance. You were all too happy to agree to Asmo’s – slightly restrained – punishment. All he wanted was for you to leave a hickey on him in a place where everyone would see it. Out of all the things Asmo could have asked for, that almost seemed innocent. Asmo wanted to engrave the praise you and Solomon gave him when he put on an impromptu fashion show. Your words were honey-sweet, pooling on your tongues so enticingly that he could hardly resist kissing both of you and tasting the words in his mouth.

Later in the night, Asmo stretched, letting out a soft little moan, and got up. “I was thinking – maybe we could all take a nice long bath together, hmm~? My bath is big enough for all of us. What do you think?”

Solomon scoffed and shook his head, seeing right through Asmo’s offer. “No thanks. You just want to get us both naked.”

“Well, of course, hun. Can’t blame a demon for trying, can you~?” Asmo winked. “What about you, MC?”

“You’re really going to leave me all alone in your room? That’s hardly good hosting etiquette.” Solomon cocked his head to the side, as if it was a veiled threat. “Besides, if you two bathe alone together, who knows how long you’ll be in there.”

“Ugh, Solomon! You’re such a meanie!” Asmo huffed. “You won’t let me get a good look at that body of yours, and now you want to keep MC all to yourself.”

“By all means,” Solomon shrugged, “leave me to my own devices – unsupervised in your room. Or maybe I’ll go prepare a snack while you two add unnecessary steps to getting clean.”

“I wouldn’t dream of leaving you alone, Solomon!” you interjected quickly. He knew his cooking was universally considered a weapon, didn’t he? You’d never put it in such harsh words – but he had to understand that, right? “Besides, you’ll only get into trouble if you’re on your own for too long.”

Asmo caught your eyes, silently thanking you for sparing him – and everyone else in the House of Lamentation for that matter. “Anyway~ I’ll be back. Behave, you two.”

As Asmo made a hasty escape, Solomon smirked at you. “You don’t really think I’m so troublesome that I can’t be left alone, do you?”

It was clear to him that you had lied; after all, he knew his adorable apprentice inside and out. There was little that you could hide from him, but his self-confidence and desire wiped Solomon’s memory of his threat of extra-strength food poisoning; the only reason you wanted to stay with him that remained was because you were hoping for some alone time together. Solomon got up from Asmo’s hanging chair and walked over to you.

“Are you not troublesome?” you teased, inching over on the edge of the bed so Solomon could sit next to you.

Solomon chuckled, shook his head, and put one knee up on the bed next to your thigh. “Would you like me to be?”

“Meaning?” You gave Solomon a confused look, but as he straddled your lap and extended his arms behind your head, you knew exactly what he meant. Your eyes unintentionally darted towards Asmo’s bathroom door, worried that he would suddenly return.

“Fool around with me,” Solomon got closer and whispered in your ear, bringing your attention back to him.

“I don’t know, Sol.” It seemed mean to Asmo: making out – or more – with someone else in his bed while he was busy, especially on an Asmo night. If he walked in, saw that, and realized he wasn’t included, you thought, “Asmo might get pouty.”

Solomon’s low, gentle laugh rang in your ear before he began to kiss down your neck. “He’ll like it, trust me.”

Each kiss was slow and deliberate, aiming to leave his mark on you. Perhaps Solomon needed a way to remedy his jealousy from when you gave Asmo a hickey earlier – or perhaps he was simply overcome by his underlying desire to mark you as his own. Either way, Solomon continued to suck and nip down your skin until he was satisfied with his work. His hot breath, saliva, and the sweet moans that escaped his lips as he squirmed in your lap sent shivers up your spine. By the time he pulled away, your heart was racing.

“Oh!” Solomon grinned, took his wand out from his back pocket, and gave it a quick wave. You furrowed your brows; Solomon replaced his wand just as quickly as he had pulled it out. He brought his finger up to his lips and whispered, “had to cast a secret spell.”

“And you wonder why people think you’re shady? What did you do?” you laughed.

“I cast a spell to warm up Asmo’s towels for when he’s done with his bath.” Your heart melted immediately – only to feel jolted as Solomon added, “now, where were we?”

Solomon took advantage of the quickly-fading charm of his sweetness to push you on your back with a grin on his face. He leaned down close but hesitated slightly – waiting for any sign of resistance. “Please” formed silently on his lips, grazing yours in a chaste kiss, touching you lightly like a devotee may trace the outlines of an altar. You were sacred to Solomon; in all his years, he had never met another creature he regarded as so holy. No demon nor angel could have his worship like this. Every prayer that fell from Solomon’s lips was an act of love and devotion. Across all three realms, only you had given Solomon something worthy of divine adoration.

He could only hope that his reverence would translate, transcribed on your hallowed body with his lips and tongue. Solomon’s kisses grew deeper and more desperate, as if he was starved of your affection and intended to gorge himself on whatever love you offered. Nothing could come between him and his communion – not even the demon standing in the doorframe to the bathroom.

Kisses trailed down your neck as Solomon’s hand made its way under the hem of your shirt, teasing your bare skin with his fingertips. When he had buried himself in the crook of your neck, you could tell from his eagerness and attention to one particular area that he intended to mark you. Your brows knit together, but the ecstasy of Solomon’s lips was interrupted by the gentle biting feeling of someone else’s eyes on you, so you turned your gaze to the bathroom door.

Asmo’s eyes were half-lidded, and a seductive smirk sat on his face when he finally caught your eye. He held your gaze intently, as if determined to pull your attention away from Solomon for as long as he could. Only when Solomon panted hotly against your neck and softly, slowly dragged his nails along your stomach so lightly that your skin was as unaffected as a brilliant sapphire brushed over by a raven’s feather, causing you to shiver and gasp, did Asmo feel a compelling tinge of jealousy. His smile dropped, briefly slipping into a pout, before he resolved himself and strutted towards the two precious humans playing around in his bed.

Solomon felt Asmo’s presence, but he refused to acknowledge him until Asmo ran a lovely hand up Solomon’s back with an amused hum. “Just how far were you planning to go in my bed?”

“As far as I could,” Solomon admitted with a chuckle, sitting up and pressing his back against Asmo’s hand. “Problem?”

“May~be~” Asmo sang sweetly. “Depends on whose cute little idea this was. MC?”

“Solomon said you’d like it,” you blurted out under the scrutiny of Asmo’s honey-sweet tone. Solomon feigned offense and got off you so he could get a better look at Asmo, who was standing in a lovely pink silk robe decorated with red spider lilies and blood spatter, along with a matching bonnet.

“Betraying your own teacher?” Asmo hummed. “That’s my MC.”

“Yours?” Solomon scoffed and playfully added, “that mark on their neck isn’t your handiwork.”

You could feel the tension building in the room as Asmo’s affectionate stare turned from you towards Solomon with an inhuman wickedness – devious and sexy in a way that caused Solomon to shiver excitedly. Asmo cooed, “oh, poor Solomon. An appetizer sits in the stomach all the same, doesn’t it? I think MC’s had their fill of you, darling. I’m so gorgeous, I’m obviously the main course and dessert; isn’t that right, MC?”

The sense that Solomon and Asmo were trying to stake their claim on you was muddied by the seductive overtones and lustful stares they offered each other. Solomon was about to sit up and pull Asmo into a forceful, dominating kiss when Asmo snapped his fingers. The vines of roses that adorned Asmo’s bed shot out and quickly restrained Solomon, pulling him back towards the headboard.

At first, Solomon chuckled and weakly tugged against the vines, putting on a show of struggling. When he did, he felt the vines wind around him more – stronger than before. Solomon looked surprised and tried a low-level unbinding spell to loosen the restraints, but it only backfired. The vines moved further up his arms, and one slipped around his waist. Solomon could feel faint traces of his own magic imbued in the vines now, causing the roses to glow a soft pink. Panic flashed in his eyes briefly as he realized what Asmo had done, but it dissolved into amusement and arousal.

“Lucifer has some very interesting books on how to deal with powerful sorcerers,” Asmo giggled at Solomon. “You can struggle, but that will only make it worse. Only the caster can undo the spell.”

“Asmo!” You sat up in protest. That seemed a bit excessive. However, your concern for Solomon melted when he met your eyes with a soft smile.

“It’s fine,” he reassured you.

“Besides,” Asmo interjected, gently turning your head back to face him, “if he was against it, he’d use his pact on me and be free right away. Trust me.”

You did; you trusted them both, and so when Asmo slowly pushed you back down on the bed, you let him. His charm didn’t work on you the way it did with others, but it was so easy to allow yourself to slip under Asmo’s seductive spell. He was so lovely as he pushed your shirt up and slowly kissed down your stomach, brushing his lips over the places Solomon’s fingers had dared to touch. Solomon may have tried to claim you first tonight, but Asmo was determined to overwrite every bit of Solomon’s seduction until the only man you could think of was him; he was the Avatar of Lust, after all. Asmo was programmed to make you come undone at his hands.

Every kiss and puff of air that left Asmo made you tremble and shiver until your hand found his bedsheets and bunched the soft threads against your palm. He heard your movements and giggled, lifting his head slightly and staring up at you seductively. Your body continued to shake under his gaze despite the momentary relief from the pleasure of his lips on your skin. He sat up, removed his bonnet, and chucked it to the floor. Asmo gently loosened your tight grip around his sheets and held your hand briefly before bringing it up to his lips, leaving a lingering, sensual kiss on the tops of your fingers. Slowly, Asmo moved your hand up to his slightly damp hair and guided your hand into a ball until you were gripping it. “Be as rough or as gentle as you need.”

Asmo lowered himself back down to your body until his hair tickled your bare skin, leaving small pools of water where his hair touched you or where droplets fell. The cool sensation of drying water was juxtaposed with Asmo’s hot mouth as his kisses got slower, sloppier, and sexier. He kissed you like he was devouring a dessert with all the lewd sexiness of an adult streamer. The intimacy of it felt overwhelming. Each motion was a clear sign of affectionate dedication. Asmodeus, Avatar of Lust, would go to war for your pleasure and make all forms of perverse, depraved, and beautiful love for your safety. His entire world was you and Solomon in his bed right now, and nothing short of the catastrophic end of all three realms would dare interrupt his blissful peace.

His delicate and thoughtful touches convinced you that Asmo had every intention of unraveling you with his mouth. Even Solomon could sense it as he watched on in amusement. You began to feel self-conscious and needy. Choosing to attempt a diversion, you whined and squirmed away from Asmo’s touch, but he only followed your movements with intensified desire. He knew you were loving this, and if you wanted to pause, you’d have to muster up all your strength and use your words. Whimpering his name, you interrupted his ceremonious flood of devotion. “Asmo, please, wait. I should be spoiling you.”

“Nonsense,” Asmo chuckled, licking a long stripe up your stomach before continuing, “letting me turn you on is spoiling me.”

 Asmo pecked your lips lovingly, staring at you with overflowing adoration as he pulled away. It was almost unbearable. He pulled at every defense, like loosening the soft, satin ribbon of a corset, determined to undo your strength and set you at ease. With a heated smirk, Asmo looked up at you from between your thighs. Your clothes were disheveled – pants pulled unevenly around your hips, shirt pushed up to your chest, underwear peeking out over your pants, yet still exposing part of your ass. The only way you could look sexier, Asmo thought, was if he could get you out of those clothes, but he was far too eager and would settle for getting you out of your underwear.

Maintaining eye contact, Asmo slid your pants further down, and you lifted your legs to help him. They were tossed across the room as far as Asmo could manage while he was still fixated on you. He bent down to kiss your bare thigh, tickling you with his breath as he giggled. Mischievous as ever, Asmo quickly swiped his tongue over the wet spot on your underwear. The whimper he pulled from your lips delighted his ears.

“I love you,” Asmo whispered, leaning down to kiss your inner thigh once more. The tenderness in his voice melted your thoughts and stalled your tongue so that his declaration went unanswered – not that Asmo needed a reply when he pulled back and looked at you splayed beneath him. If this was not an act of love between you, then love must be more myth than reality.

Your underwear was discarded on the bed next to Solomon’s thigh – Asmo’s subtle attempt to tease him: leaving your damp underwear in his line of sight, just out of reach. Solomon tugged against his restraints with an annoyed sigh only for the vines to snap right back into place.

In a gentle display of strength, Asmo lifted you and repositioned your body so that you were laying with your head at the foot of the bed. On his knees, he looked down at you again. If only you were wearing my shirt, too, he thought. When Asmo bent down to kiss your inner thighs, Solomon was graced with the sight of Asmo’s gorgeous ass – a show that Asmo was well aware he was putting on, evidenced by the subtle roll of his hips as he moaned against your skin. If he wasn’t doing it on purpose, then he was too sexual for his own good.

The feeling of soft lips, hot breath, and vibrating moans melted every thought in your mind, and just seconds before a plea for more escaped your lips, Asmo pulled away. You whimpered, making an almost pathetic sound. Asmo giggled, thrilled by your cute desperation. “Ready for more, luv?”

“Mhmm.” You looked down at him, catching his burning gaze. He was loving this. In your periphery, you caught a glimpse of Solomon staring at you just as intensely. His cheeks flushed bright pink from the sound of your voice alone, but even the obscured sight of you on your back, waiting for Asmo’s next move so eagerly and obediently, had him throbbing in his pants.

“Good,” Asmo sighed in relief. “I can’t wait anymore.”

Asmo sunk down further than before, kissing you quickly before giving you a gentle lick. You gasped, and he rewarded you by sticking out his tongue, wet with saliva, and leaving it against you for a few seconds as he giggled, allowing you to simply feel the warm slick of his mouth.

Lust – as a pure essence – seeped from Asmo’s tongue. How else could you explain the aphrodisiacal effects he had on your body? It appeared effortless for him to leave you squirming and rolling your hips up against his mouth. Those lovely lips made a mess of you. Loud, needy moans that humiliated all who heard them served as proof of the sexual expertise of the demon between your legs. Your mind clouded. Your breath shortened. Your head lolled back.

You were being so perfect and pretty for Asmo that he couldn’t hold his own need back. His hips lowered just enough so he could leisurely grind against his bed, compounding his pleasure as he continued to taste and tease you. Asmo’s own moans reverberated against you and played as a beautiful accompaniment to your own that drove Solomon wild. Sexually intoxicating you was Asmo’s sole focus – entirely undisturbed until a soft groan from Solomon caught his ear – the sort that indicated a shameful degree of frustration that only made Asmo pull away from you slightly with a giggle. You whined.

“Poor thing,” Asmo cooed quietly, and, for a second, you weren’t sure whether he was talking about you or Solomon. “Should we give Solomon a bit of attention, too, MC?”

As much as you wanted Asmo to keep going, the opportunity to expand your circle of unearthly pleasure excited you – and you knew Asmo would never leave you unsatisfied. Head still hazy, you offered a slow nod as you shakily sat up. Asmo saw your unsteadiness and rose to meet you; a stabilizing hand found the back of your neck as he leaned in to kiss you affectionately. Your taste lingered on his tongue, shared with you through a deepening kiss that was cut cruelly short, the ache of which was only soothed by the adoration in Asmo’s eyes as he stared back at your bliss-stained face.

“My love is too beautiful.” Asmo cupped your cheek and ran his thumb along your lips before prompting your mouth open with it, “and so good, too.”

You bit down on him gently, earning a delighted laugh.

“Fuck,” Solomon sighed, growing impatient and eager for attention. The sight of you and Asmo flirting and being romantic was riling him up, stirring up this dark, predatory aura that dimmed the glow of the roses from a soft pink to a mysterious lavender. Even in the lowered lights, you saw his need and desperation cleanly – compressed and carefully restrained, ready to be made a mess of.

“My poor master,” Asmo giggled teasingly, turning and crawling over to Solomon, leisurely and wordlessly requiring for the release of his thumb – as if he was reluctant to let the appendage leave your mouth without proper attention. Perhaps another time, but at this moment, Solomon’s body called to him. Asmo leaned down, getting a closer look at the twitching tent in Solomon’s pants and running a single finger up it. “Should I give you a hand?”

“Just a hand?” Solomon scoffed. All that teasing and waiting, and the only thing you’ll give me is a hand, Solomon thought, pretty little brat.

“Trust me,” Asmo spoke sweetly enough to appease the great sorcerer, “you’ll like it.”

You and Solomon watched on in anticipation as Asmo undid Solomon’s pants and slid them slowly down his hips. To your surprise, Solomon’s cock sprang up.

“You naughty boy~” Asmo teased, “no underwear~? You weren’t expecting this, were you?”

“You really are a slutty old man,” you chuckled and approached him. Before Solomon could protest, you caught his lips in a heated kiss so intense that his embarrassment leaked from the tip of his cock. Asmo used it to lube up his hand in slow, circular motions around the head before he started stroking Solomon in equally slow motions. A rumbling sigh fed you and died in the back of your throat as Solomon eagerly accepted your kiss. That deep, debauched sound contrasted with the soft, submissive whimper that left his lips as you pulled away and attempted to cling to you.

“Grind on my ass, MC,” Asmo instructed, interrupting your kiss-induced haze.

“What?” you asked, playfully amused.

“Hump me, silly,” Asmo giggled and shook his ass for you slightly – still focusing on pleasuring Solomon. “Let me make you both feel good.”

You pet Asmo’s head gently before you positioned yourself behind him. With a firm grip, you pulled him flush against your hips and started to grind against his soft ass, earning an aroused “oh.” Solomon’s eyes met yours, and despite being bound by vines, he smirked at you, as if he could read your mind. Maybe it was the eroticism of the situation, but as you rolled your hips into Asmo’s, all you could think was fuck, this shouldn’t feel so good. Or maybe Solomon knew what you were thinking because the same thought crossed his mind.

“Do my soft, pretty hands feel good, master~?” Asmo asked, looking up a Solomon with the loveliest eyes – a look that unfortunately went ignored as Solomon watched your face contort in pleasure. Asmo’s only response was Solomon’s desperate attempt to thrust his hips up into Asmo’s hand at the same pace as you were humping his ass; it said enough, and the demon was all melodic giggles.

Was it Asmo’s warm, soft skin, or Solomon’s burning gaze holding you, or the moans of both men that filled the room? Maybe Asmo was using a spell on you? Something intensified the pleasure, and before you could figure out what was getting you so worked up, you were cumming against Asmo’s ass.

Asmo could feel you pulsing as your grinding slowed but refused to stop; a part of you still wanted more – couldn’t bear to separate your body from his. Asmo took advantage of Solomon’s evident excitement at getting to watch you cum and sped up his movements, pulling more lewd noises from Solomon.

“Fuck, please?” Solomon whined mindlessly, “I’m gonna cum.”

“I know~” Asmo cooed. “Be a good master and cum on my face, ‘kay?”

Solomon was so focused on biting back his moans that he couldn’t even manage a nod. Instead, he replied by following orders and spurting cum all over Asmo’s pretty face. Asmo looked up at Solomon; that lovely face that he had made a mess of made Solomon’s cock twitch. Asmo leaned in to kiss Solomon and stretched his arm over to the nightstand, grabbing his D.D.D. and opening the camera app. He pulled away with a seductive smile, turned, and handed you the device.

“Take a flattering picture, luv,” Asmo grinned. He wasn’t going to upload this moment; some things were too intimate to share – but not so intimate that proof of it should stay confined in memories. You snapped a few pictures – some lovelier than others, but one in particular caught your attention as you scrolled back. You showed it to Asmo for his nod of approval. He took his phone from your hand and gently tossed it on the bed so he could caress your face with both hands. “Beautiful.”

You weren’t sure if he meant you or the photo – or maybe you were, but you were too embarrassed to admit that the Avatar of Lust looked at a photo of himself and still turned to you in admiration, in worship. Yet, you, like a disciple, leaned in and began to clean his face with your tongue. Asmo was giddy at your touch, but with each slow trail your tongue traced, fervent arousal grew in him. Even Solomon, confined to watching, felt himself getting hard once more. He was enamored – so much so that he waited until you had cleaned every drop of cum off Asmo’s face before he dared interrupt by clearing his throat.

Asmo laughed and snapped his fingers, freeing Solomon from his binds.

Solomon chuckled, “you sure know how to show a few humans a good time.”

“It’s not over yet, is it?” You glanced down at Solomon’s crotch quickly.

“Of course not,” Solomon got to his knees and kissed Asmo’s forehead sweetly, placing his hand on the base of Asmo’s neck, as he stared at you lovingly, propositioning you. “Let’s give you a fun Asmo night.”

Once again, you weren’t sure who was at the receiving end, but you were certain night would bleed into morning. If the Devildom had a sun, your lovemaking would greet the sunrise in equal beauty.

(A/N: please ignore that this is half a year late and please enjoy the content. Turns out Obey me is almost done, but I'll keep giving you content to make you feel stuff for a while.)

[daisymbin]

hi sweets 💓 this is my second req because your drabbles are seriously incredible. you're capable of eliciting so many different emotions in such a short space, it really speaks to your talent! can i please request suggestive #8 with jun x fem reader but she's the one saying it?

omg thank you for your compliment & kind words :(( yes, you definitely can!!!!

a/n: UGH i can't stop thinking about this...been thinking about this since I wrote it in the morning n idk why 😫

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // jun's m.list

suggestive prompt #8: you don't have to pretend to be innocent with me."

jun’s lips brush yours with a teasing gentleness that sends a jolt of anticipation through you. his hands are warm where they rest on your waist, but they aren’t doing anything. not pulling, not gripping, just... there. again.

you shift under him, deepening the kiss, trying to coax more out of him. his breath hitches, and for a second, you think he’s about to let go. but then he pulls back, looking down at you with that soft, careful expression that’s been driving you insane for weeks.

“jun,” you say, voice sharper than you intended, “what are you doing?”

his brow furrows, lips parting slightly. “what do you mean?”

“you’re holding back. again. i can feel it.” you sit up, forcing him to sit back too, his hands slipping from your waist. “you’re always so careful with me, like... like you’re afraid you’ll break me or something. why won’t you just do something?”

he stares at you, stunned silent.

you narrow your eyes, annoyed at his lack of response. “if there’s something wrong, just tell me. because it feels like you don’t want me.”

his head snaps up at that, panic flashing in his eyes. “that’s not true,” he says quickly, his voice low and firm. “it’s not that.”

“then what?” you demand, leaning closer, refusing to let him dodge the question.

he hesitates, his eyes flicking away from yours, his jaw tightening.

reaching out, you trace your fingers along the line of his jaw. his breath stutters, and you catch the way his hands clench into fists at his sides. “you don’t have to be so careful. i’m not glass, jun. i’m not going to break.”

his gaze snaps back to yours, wide and unguarded, and you can see the conflict in his expression.

“i—” he starts, then stops, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

you raise an eyebrow, leaning even closer until your lips are almost brushing his. “you don’t have to pretend to be innocent with me either,”

before you can get another word in, his hands are already finding your hips, his grip firmer this time. “you really don’t know what you’re asking for, baby,” he mutters, but there’s a flicker of heat in his eyes now, a spark that makes your pulse race. finally.

“don’t i?” you challenge with a smirk on your race, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, tugging him closer.

his control snaps.

jun kisses you hard, his hands tightening on your hips as he presses you back against the couch. his lips are demanding, his teeth grazing your bottom lip before his tongue slides against yours in a way that leaves you breathless.

your hands tangle in his hair, pulling him closer, and he lets out a low, frustrated sound that sends a thrill through you. his mouth moves to your jaw, then your neck, his teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there before soothing it with his tongue.

“this what you wanted?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice rough, his breath hot.

“mm,” you hum, your nails dragging lightly down his back. “finally.”

he pulls back just enough to look at you, his hair messy, his lips red and swollen. “you want me like this, dont you?” he asks, his voice low and almost accusing, "all needy, careless & rough." he adds, but there’s a wicked gleam in his eyes now, one that makes your stomach flip.

“maybe,” you reply, grinning as you pull him back down for another kiss.

he groans, his hands sliding up your sides, his touch no longer hesitant, no longer soft, no longer holding back. when he pulls away this time, his forehead rests against yours, his breath coming fast and uneven.

“you drive me crazy,” he mutters, his voice low and rough, the words more like a promise than a complaint.

“i’ll take that as a compliment,” you say, tugging him back down again.

this time, he doesn’t hesitate.

[daemour]

Kadō [l.sm] 1/2

➵Title: Kadō ➵Pairings: Demeter! Dokyeom x Florist! Reader ➵Greek God: Demeter ➵Genre: Fluff, very light angst ➵Rating/Warnings: T for Teen, No Warnings ➵Word Count: 1333 ➵Summary: When the most notorious divorce lawyer in the city becomes a regular at your little flower shop, you're pretty sure it's a bad omen, for both your love life and your store. But with each passing moment, it looks like your flowers are doing better than ever…and perhaps your heart beats just a bit faster seeing Lee Seokmin.

-

This was a collab [The 13 Gods of Olympus] hosted by @beomcoups and @wooahaeproductions <3 it may or may not have been a little close to cutting it at the deadline but I digress KJGSHDKJGHKJG

this is my first true svt piece and I'm honestly kinda proud although I wasn't able to put everything I wanted into it ^^ I hope u all enjoy anyway!

-

It’s the third time he has shown up in your flower shop. Lee Seokmin, the divorce lawyer in town. He’s never lost a custody case, or whatever it is he does. He’s both hated, and loved, by the population.

And he won’t stop coming into your flower shop.

At first, you paid it no mind. Perhaps it was his mother’s birthday. Maybe for a client going through a particularly tough battle. But he never bought anything. Just browsed quietly.

You wouldn’t say you were particularly superstitious, but that has to be bad luck, right? You check your watch. Five minutes before closing. He’s never come in this late before…and this means you have to politely tell him to get out.

“Ah, excuse me?” you call out, voice timid. Silence. He didn’t hear you. “Mr Lee?”

 Okay, now you can’t tell if he’s just ignoring you. You walk up next to him, hands hovering in the air awkwardly as you decide whether to tap his shoulder or not. “Excuse me?” you try again, and he finally snaps his attention to you, a bright smile on his face. He doesn’t look quite as cold as he does in all the news articles.

“Oh, apologies. I didn’t quite hear you. You must be the owner of this store.” He nods his head in acknowledgement.

You offer a small smile, lowering your hands. “I am. I just wanted to let you know that we’re closing in five minutes so…” you trail off, trying not to be rude. “I’m not trying to kick you out! Just wanted to let you know,” you repeat.

Mr Lee smiles even wider, reaching out to offer his hand. “Of course, I understand. I’ll be coming around more often, so I should introduce myself though. I’m Lee Seokmin, and you?”

Reaching out to shake his hand, you can’t help but take note of how warm it is. “LN YN. Nice to meet you properly, Mr Lee.” He shakes his head, eyes crinkling. “None of that. You can call me Seokmin. It’s nice to not be called so formally out of the court…I work in law.”

“I know,” you respond automatically before realising how that sounds. “Ah! Not that I stalk you or anything. I just…pay attention to the news and you tend to make headlines.”

Seokmin chuckles. “I understand. It’s hard to not know everyone in a smaller town, even if you never actually meet them. But there’s something about your flower shop….it’s very comforting. I like coming here after work, so I think you’ll probably be seeing more of me.”

I smile shyly. “I’ll have to look forward to that, Mr…Seokmin.”

–

Seokmin doesn’t know what’s gotten into him. He can’t stop going to that little flower shop on the corner, loving how the owner’s eyes brighten as she sees him. He hasn’t taken notice of a human in centuries…no, millennia.

He’s kept his focus on his human career, wading through papers upon papers of messy moral relationships that remind him a little too much of Persephone. But you're like a breath of fresh air.

As time went on, mortals changed. The amount of flora and fauna decreased, but your shop felt like the Gaia he remembers.

He finds himself in there more and more these days. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees you humming to yourself as you arrange bouquets, and it’s on the days when you’re preparing wedding flowers and humming love songs that he lets his power leak out from the tips of his fingers and toes, and the flowers bloom just a bit brighter, for just a little longer.

It’s hard to keep his feelings subtle, not when you look at him with such gentleness in your eyes and always give him a flower before he leaves. He keeps them all in an unending state of bloom in his bathroom, and Persephone always teases him when she sees them. But he can’t keep himself away, allowing himself one other pleasure in his dreadfully boring life.

All he does is deal with case after case of depressing marriages, his heart breaking every moment he stays in the court. But your shop has given him a breath of fresh air, and he can feel life return to him when he sees your bright aura. His kin cannot fault him for that, and if they try, then he’ll just have to strip humans of their springs and summers again.

–

Glancing at the clock perched on your desk makes your heart race a little faster. You look forward to every visit Seokmin pays you, every shift feeling like a countdown. Right on cue, the bell rings and Seokmin walks into the store, breathing deeply as he takes in the flora. “Hello, YN,” he greets you warmly, voice softer than usual. “How was your day?”

Your eyes crinkle as you smile back, offering him a small nod. “Same as always. Not very busy today, which was nice for me to sit back and relax. How was the office?”

Seokmin shrugs, his eyes unfocusing as he remembers his long day. “It was…eventful. I had a case today and it didn’t go well. I can’t really go into detail.” He sighs through his nose, loosening his tie. Your eyes follow the movement as a pout pulls at your lips.

“Well, that’s not good,” I hum, cocking my head slightly. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

It’s not usually how his visits go, and you’re surprised at yourself for going off-script, but the stress in his eyes makes you want to help. And tea is the only way you can think of.

His gaze softens as he looks at you, some of the tension in his eyes melting away. “I’d love that, YN. Thank you.”

To hide your warm cheeks, you turn around quickly to head into your breakroom. “I hope you like chamomile, Seokmin. It’s the only kind I have left.” Seokmin nods happily, and you turn to raise an eyebrow. “Well, aren’t you coming?”

It takes him a moment, but as soon as it clicks, Seokmin scrambles after you, a wide smile on his face. The break room is small, but cozy, with plants lining the shelves and homemade mugs sitting in a line on the counter. You quickly put some water in the kettle, letting it do its work as you offer Seokmin a seat. “Sorry it’s not much,” you sigh, looking around. “I haven’t cleaned back here i a bit since it’s usually only me.”

Seokmin shakes his head, sitting on the stool offered to him with a quick flick of his coat. “No worries at all, YN. It’s very lovely here, very relaxing.” His stiff stance betrays him, and you can’t help but chuckle.

“I can see that, with your ramrod-straight back,” you tease, and Seokmin quickly adjusts his posture. “Don’t worry, I won’t bite, and the plants don’t either.”

At your little joke, Seokmin finally lets his body ease as he lets out a loud laugh. “That’s good. I’m not sure what I’ll do if it turns out your plants are maneaters.” He leans forward on the table. “Now, as you’re treating me to a nice cup of tea, I must ask…how would you like to grab dessert with me sometime?” His voice grows soft towards the end. He can’t remember the last time he was this nervous, not even when his daughter leaves for six months and the world turns cold and grey.

You stop your steps midway to the kettle, looking back at him with wide eyes. You don’t want to read too much into it, but the softness in Seokmin’s eyes tells you your hopes aren’t unfounded. “I…I think I’d like that, Seokmin.”

At your words, Seokmin can’t help the bright smile from growing on his face, and the plants in the other room bloom so bright as a warmth fills his heart. Perhaps there is some good with the mortals after all.

[ghostmoon1]

Day Nineteen - Putting on Ointment

Ghost x Soap

Master List

Gonna try and finish these, I stopped writing while my Tumblr account was terminated cause it took quite a toll on my mental. But I'm back and gonna finish these as best as I can! This si taking longer than I wanted, so it might be a bit slow still but I'll try. School's getting tough

CW: Mentions of injury, blood, Simon is stubborn asf

Words: 1,099

“Simon, sit yer ass down,” Johnny huffs from his place in the chair sat next to the hospital bed. “Just because you ain’t injured enough to be on bed rest, doesn’t mean yer gonna’ ignore the treatment.”

Simon, who was pacing around the room huffs in annoyance. His arms were crossed over his chest and a scowl on his face, visible through the mask even. The gash on his arm was visible through the gauze, dried blood surrounding it after he refused for it to be cleaned fully. His excuse was that he didn’t need it, he wouldn’t die from a scratch. Even if it was far more than a scratch. 

“Don't need it, it’ll heal by itself,” Simon mutters. He continued to pace the room, the sound of his boots a never-ending soft thud against the cold, hard floors.

Johnny sighed and played with the tub of anaesthetic cream in his hands, rolling it between his palms in slight annoyance. “And what are yer gonna do if it gets infected?” Johnny mutters with growing annoyance. 

He watches Simon pause his pacing and tense. He knew he was right, but he was too damn stubborn to acknowledge he was. “I’ll clean it later.”

Johnny raises a brow at him. He knew his words were nothing but bullshit, he was just putting it off. He was usually good with this sort of stuff, but he was agitated at the moment, he didn’t want to sit still. “Y’know that's a lie. Let me do it for you then you won’t need to worry about it later. Least you don’t gotta worry about the nurses when I’m here.”

Simon huffs and rolls his eyes. “Yeah, you’ll scare them away.”

“Mate, I think it’s you that scares them away.” He pauses and watches how he struggles to even move his arm, the roughly wrapped bandage making it a struggle. His heart lept to his throat as he studied the dried blood and the new blood still slowly oozing out and staining the bandage. He sighed, knowing it was probably a lost cause to be arguing about this, but he knew he had to try. “C’mon Si, just let me. Y’know I’ll be gentle.”

Simon tenses slightly as he listens to Johnny’s plea. He knew he had to. He was being as stubborn as a mule right now, but he didn’t want to let himself be so vulnerable. He was Ghost, Ghost was big, strong and scary. He didn’t ask for help, he grit his teeth and pushed through whatever the horrors of his job threw at them. He didn’t want to break that wall down to be vulnerable. That was something that scared him, that’s how you hurt yourself more when those walls crumble. He was afraid Johnny was already pulling them down around him, and he didn’t even need to do anything to do so.

He reluctantly moves back to the cot to sit on the edge of it, placing his arm on his lap so Johnny has easier access to it. “Fine… just get it over and done with.”

Johnny hums softly in victory, moving the chair closer so he can have a better look at the wound. His eyebrows knit together as he focuses, his fingers gently moving the bandage to check if it is stuck on the wound. He winces as Simon hisses in pain. “Sorry, just need to get it off. If yer let me clean it earlier…”

Simon grunts and moves his arm, but has it pulled right back to his lap by Johnny. It was too late to escape now. He watches as Johnny’s hands move slowly and carefully, managing to start unravelling the bandage. He grimaces as he notices just how much blood has soaked through. 

“Really should’ve let me do this earlier…” he mutters again, his eyes trained on the bandage as he works it off.

“Shut up,” Simon replies, although there is no bite to his words. If anything, his words were laced with guilt more than anything. He gasps slightly as Johnny gets to the last part of the bandage, slowly peeling it away from the wound. The dried blood and scabbing come with it, making them both wince. 

He throws the bandage away, grabs a cloth and dabs the wound down with some water to clean the area up a bit. “You’re doing well… it’s alright…” he mutters under his breath as he focuses on cleaning the wound.

Simon grits his teeth as pain shoots through his arm, trying to deal with it as much as he can. He reaches out with his good arm, grabbing onto Johnny’s arm in an attempt to ground himself. Johnny smiles and lets him grip his arm as tightly as he needs to deal with the pain. Once he finishes with the bloodied cloth, dabbing away the blood that he drew to the surface with the scabs gone he picks the ointment back up and unscrews the lid.

He takes a dollop onto his fingers, letting the ointment coat them well. He rubbed them together slightly before carefully dabbing it onto the wound, trying to cause as little pain as possible. “Yer doing well… just this then I’ll wrap it up again.”

Simon nods, trying to stay still as the cold ointment coats his wound. He watches Johnny's face screw up in concentration, the way his brows knit together and his eyes narrow. He adores the way he presses his lips together, wanting nothing more to run his thumb along his jawline and lips and savour the way he feels.

Johnny hums at his accomplishment as he finishes applying the ointment, wiping it off on his pants and screwing the lid back on. He picks up a new roll of bandages, taking the end and pressing it against his arm to start wrapping it. He hums to himself as he slowly and gently wraps the bandage around his arm, trying not to tie it too tight. “This feel okay?” he murmurs, his eyes darting up to check on Simon for a moment.

Simon grunts softly in response and nods, movinghis arm slightly to get a better feel of the bandage. “Yeah, thats okay.”

Johnny nods and continues to wrapp the bandage until the whole wound is dressed neatly. He ties it off and gently brushed his fingers against it. “Gotta be more careful, Si.”

Simon hums softly, meeting Johnny’s eyes for a moment. “I got you to look after me, don’t I?”

He huffs slightly, slipping his hand into his and squeezing. “Yeah, you do.”

[gothamite-rambler]

Dick Grayson hanging out with Kara El

This a prompt I came up with after I read this old post that said this: I've read too many batfamily fics. I need to read a fic that is about Dick spending time with everyone EXCEPT the batfam.

Kara: Why did you want to get drinks with me again?

Dick: Because you've told me numerous times that I'm not your type, that you'd never sleep with me, we’re not related through adoption, and we don’t hang out that much.

Kara (slightly surprised): Oh… Dude, I feel the same way about my 'family.' I don’t mean anything by turning you down either. You're fairly attractive, but, well, you know.

Dick nodded with a smile.

Dick: Trust me, I'm glad you think that. I’d rather not spend time with the other Titans or anyone in Gotham. I get way too many comments about how hot I am. Like, I get it, but I have way more to offer than just being charming, attractive, funny, and having a fantastic body.

Kara (playfully bumping her fist against his arm): Two of those were about your supposed good looks! I’ll admit there’s more to you than just being attractive. People seem to forget there’s an intelligent brain in that well-sculpted forehead of yours.

Dick: Aww, you think my forehead is sculpted? Thanks, K! You forgot to mention I’m super strong and a skilled fighter.

Kara: Strong, decent fighter, massive ego. You're lucky the charm makes up for it… and that you're not exactly like your dad.

Dick breathed a sigh of relief as though she had just told him he didn’t have a disease. Kara laughed at his exaggerated reaction.

Dick: None of them like cosmopolitans like we do.

He took a sip from the fancy wine glass filled to the brim with the drink in question. Kara laughed, having already finished her drink.

Kara: They're missing out. Are you still a fan of Sex and the City?

Dick: Duh! I’ve been watching the spinoff shows too. They don’t have the same charm as the original, but—

Kara: Carrie Bradshaw remains fabulous in all of them?

Dick (smirking): Exactly. Want to watch that tonight, or Veronica Mars?

Kara: Oh my heart! You’re a Veronica Mars fan?

Dick rolled his eyes and tilted his head, refusing to let her insult his favorite show.

Dick: It’s about a young detective played by the national treasure, Kristen Bell. You won’t change my mind. How about this—second round is on me, and then we watch one of my favorite shows and one of yours.

Kara (eager): All right! We’re watching the last two seasons of Riverdale.

Dick dramatically waved his hands in rejection, but Kara laughed, playfully shoving him.

Dick: God, no! Stephanie likes that trash. I couldn’t get past season one.

Kara: If I'm sitting through ‘90s teen angst, you’re watching a CW show that’s definitely enjoyably dumb. Come on, I’ll buy us tacos while we’re here.

Dick sighed, relenting.

Dick: Fine, but don’t think about getting me drunk and having your way with me.

Kara: Oh, honey, no. I’m no Barbara; I won’t make that mistake before she wised up.

Dick (laugh-cackling): You’re ridiculous.

Kara (with a prideful smile): I know. You’ll have to deal with it if we’re going to hang out more.

Dick: I’m okay with that.

Dick held up his glass and clinked it against Kara's before she stood up to order more drinks and tacos. Once she left, Dick sighed, glad to take a break from spending time with his family. With a family as large as the Batfam, it got exhausting to always be around them. Kara was refreshing to be with, thanks to her brash and oddly bubbly attitude, plus she was one of the few people who actually treated him like a regular individual.

[tokiwarcube]

Tattoos

Just some headcanons on what the boys (+Charles!) think of tattoos -- yours, in particular!

Charles Foster Offdensen

One thing about Charles? He appreciates art. And your tattoos are art, in every sense of the word. If pressed, he’d talk about how it’s impressive that you’re willing to sit through the pain for something you find beautiful, and that he admires the uh, the dedication to taking care of it. What he doesn’t say is how he loves watching the images flex and bend to your movements, how the ink accentuates your natural features, how… attractive he really finds them.

He shows it in other ways, though. He’ll trace them with his eyes when you’re not looking… then with his thumbs when you’re lying together… then with his lips as he makes his way down your body.

He very much appreciates a good tattoo.

Nathan Explosion

Nathan goes nuts for lovers with tattoos. Any type, really — something about having the patience to be stabbed with little needles for a couple of hours and then having the willpower and diligence to take care of it afterwards is hot to him, but he also just likes the look of ink on skin. Although truth be told… he’s extremely partial to big black and white pieces.

You’ll often catch him with his hand on a favorite piece, whether it’s an appropriate time for it or not. The man likes ink, what can I say?

Honestly, he'd like to sit in with you someday if you ever end up getting more.

Pickles the Drummer

He’s got a million shitty little stick and pokes of his own, so he absolutely has an appreciation for tattoos! A good amount of them were from fun, drunk adventures with friends, and he looks upon a lot of them fondly because of it, regardless of quality. He does very, very much like yours, though. He has no clue how you’re so damn good with aftercare — Hell, that’s the main reason he hasn’t gotten anything big of his own.

Beware, he will try to sneak a sharpie doodle in somewhere while you’re sleeping someday. You have to accept that you’re gonna find a weed leaf somewhere while you’re showering, and he won’t tell you how long it’s been there for. But by his laughter… probably longer than you’d like to admit.

All that aside though, he finds your (real) tattoos very, very hot. And he’ll happily show his appreciation for them, should you be willing to flaunt them a little behind closed doors.

Skwisgaar Skwigelf

Skwisgaar is such a pansy when it comes to pain, although he’ll never admit it. It doesn’t matter how many times you tell him it really wasn’t that bad — he refuses to believe you. This is just one of many reasons as to why he, personally, will probably never get one himself. (Shame — he’d look fantastic with a bit of ink in his skin, but I digress.) But that’s not to say he doesn’t like them — quite the opposite, actually.

He loves the way they look on you. Art forever embedded in your skin — moving with you, adhering to the contours of your body… he finds them mesmerizing, and yes, hot. You’ll often catch him tracing the lines with his eyes when he thinks you’re not looking.

He might ask about the meanings of them every now and again, but he finds them just as gorgeous whether it’s got a beautiful tale, or if it was a cool flash piece you picked up along the way. Although don’t be fooled — 9 times out of 10, his questions are just a good in to show a little more intimate appreciation for the piece.

Toki Wartooth

He likes tattoos a lot! He thinks about getting some of his own all the time, but honestly, he gets stabbed with needles enough as is — sitting in one place for hours and getting stabbed the whole time? And having to take care of it for weeks after? He’s probably not getting anything done any time soon. But that just means he gets to pour all of that love into yours, right?

Call him cliche, but he loves to color in your tattoos. Honestly, you’re tempted to get more, just to give him more canvas space — it’s very soothing, feeling the cool ink swipe across your skin. He gets very into it too, it’s sweet. The media is forever confused on what color your tattoos actually are, and at this point, you’d hate to break the illusion.

William Murderface

If you think the “Pobody’s Nerfect” tattoo is his only one, you’d be dead wrong — he’s got a million of them littered around his body, basically wherever he can cram ‘em. He’s got a lot of $50 flashes — chosen moreso for the opportunity to get tattoo’d again as opposed to having something he actually likes, but that's not true for all of them! Like his big piece, there's a good handful that he really cherishes, even if they don't always see the light of day.

He’s got some ideas of things he really wants, he’s just had trouble actually rationalizing the cost. He’s weird with money like that. All that is to say though, he loves your tattoos, and that you guys share a love for them! He’d be more than happy to go get one done with you, too — it’d be a good excuse to finally get the ones he really wants, you know?

Although beyond all of this… your tattoos absolutely drive him up a wall beyond closed doors. He thinks they’re unbearably hot, especially the ones that flex and roll with the contours of your body a little more. Flaunt them a bit, and he’s putty in your hands.

[fanfictionstuff]

Amaimon and The Exorcist 4

So, I'm going to write two versions of a Lewin x reader fic, one a bit more sensual but SFW, and the other more comical. They should be out by Monday. - If you have any Blue Exorcist requests, feel free to send them my way. Male character x fem reader.

“He’s becoming attached to you. You need to nip it in the bud now.” Seti warns, jumping onto your bed. You turn your back to him, annoyed. “I’m exhausted; I know you are too. Let’s just sleep. It can wait until tomorrow.” You complain, moving to the side of the bed to leave the fox a bit of space. It’s too early to fall asleep, but you're exhausted after being woken so early. You don’t want to wait another few hours.

“Every minute you take brushing it off, he’ll grow more attached. Call Mephisto.”

“You’re exaggerating; I’ll call him tomorrow.”

“_____.” Seti warns, but you’re too exhausted. “Come on, Seti, let’s just go to sleep. I promise it’ll be fine until tomorrow.”

You’re jolted awake the next day by a knock at the door. Checking the time, you see it’s just before seven. With a groan, you drag yourself out of bed. Though you’ve managed to get twelve hours of sleep, you still feel utterly exhausted. As you enter the living room to answer the door, something interesting catches your eye on the sofa. You take a couple of steps back. “Hey, hot Seti is back," you remark. Seti snarls at you in response. “Shut up, idiot.” Your fox familiar is perched on the sofa, appearing as a man with tanned skin and shaggy blond hair that matches the large fox ears atop his head. You know there’s a fluffy fox tail behind him as well. He’s dressed in an old t-shirt and your oversized basketball shorts. “Are those my clothes?”

“Would you rather I walk around naked?”

“Why are you even like this?” You motion to his form.

“You’re about to see—it’s your boyfriend at the door.” Just then, there’s another knock as Seti speaks. You nod and open the door. “Amaimon, could you please wait until at least nine before coming over?” You stifle a yawn.

Amaimon doesn’t even respond to you; his attention is instantly on the fox sitting on your sofa. A terrifying snarl appears on his face at the sight of Seti. “Amaimon?” You question nervously.

Seti rolls his eyes at the king’s reaction. “I told you, idiot.” Your gaze shifts from Amaimon to Seti; Seti remains relaxed on the sofa despite the angry Earth King. “Kill me, and you’ll never have a chance with her,” he comments casually, scrolling through various movie options on the TV. “He’s too attached _____.”

“Uh, Amaimon, please calm down. Seti is like my brother.”

“I feel more like a parent since I always have to look after you. You behave like an annoying teenager who won’t listen.” You frown at the fox. “I’m not a teenager.”

“Then stop acting like one. Amaimon, _____ is weak; she isn’t worth the trouble. Just leave and find someone who is worth your time.” He glanced back at Amaimon over his shoulder. “I promise you, she’s not worth it.”

As you begin to speak, a piercing glare from Seti silences you. I can’t believe he said that. While he isn’t wrong—compared to Amaimon, you’re extremely weak. You can’t even dream of being on his level, as that would be pointless. But did he really have to express it that way?

Amaimon pauses, his anger fading as he turns to meet you with a strangely blank stare. “You’re weak?” you frown and nod. “Compared to you? Absolutely.”

He tilts his head, appearing to contemplate the situation, and you brace yourself for his departure, thinking that a demon king like him wouldn’t be interested in someone so much weaker. You suppress the sting of disappointment—not because you’re necessarily falling for him, but because the notion that someone might discard you for lacking power is genuinely painful.

Seti turns on the sofa, propping his head on his hand against the backrest, prepared to watch the demon king depart.

Both of you wait calmly, though you feel a slight worry that he might decide to kill you just for being weak.

He speaks in an emotionless tone. “You’re weak, so you need someone to protect you.”

“...Huh?"

Seti narrows his eyes. "That’s what I’m here for, King of Earth.”

Amaimon blinks, his face remaining expressionless. "But I’m her boyfriend, so it should be my responsibility to protect her, right?”

Your head snaps to Seti, but he appears just as shocked as you. He recovers more quickly than you do.  He glares at you. “This is what happens when you ignore me, idiot.” He then snaps something in his long-forgotten native language. Although you can't understand his words, you are sure he's saying something regarding how stupid you are. Possibly worse going off his expression.

Seti stands up and quickly makes his way toward the front door. “Uh, Seti, where are you going?”

“He hasn’t even been here five minutes, and I’ve already got a headache.” He then addresses Amaimon. “You want to be the weak human’s boyfriend? Be my guest.” Then the asshole walks out the open door.

In disbelief, you shift your gaze from the door Seti exited to Amaimon, then back again. That asshole. How could he insult you like that and then abandon you alone with the demon king?

“______, kiss me.”

“At least take me on a date first, damn.”

“…okay. Where?”

“…I don’t know.”

“So, you can kiss me until you think of something?”

“You know what? Sure. Let me go brush my teeth and change my clothes.”

You quickly step into the bathroom to brush your teeth and make yourself look a bit more put together. You wash your face, brush your hair, and take care of a couple of other tasks to feel more presentable. Finishing up in the bathroom, you head to your bedroom to get something comfortable.

Amaimon waits patiently for you in the living room. As you enter, he steps closer, but you raise your hand to push him back gently. “I’ve thought of something," you say. Amaimon frowns. "I want a kiss," Sensing that the demon king might become a bit of an asshole if he doesn’t get his way, you quickly press your lips against his cheek. “There you go,” you say, and as you pull away, your eyes widen. Gently, you lift your hand to brush against his left cheek. “Even a kiss on the cheek, huh?” A faint blush spreads across his face once again.  “I’m surprised by how sensitive your vessel is. How old is it?” Amaimon glances to the side like he’s trying to remember. “Nineteen or twenty, I think.” Your eyes widen at this new information, but then it makes sense. His body is essentially an eighteen-year-old virgin. “That’s why you’re so sensitive; you’ve never been touched in this vessel.” You share with him since he seems confused by the reaction.

“Does that mean you’ve never been touched?”

“Huh?”

A clawed finger pokes your cheek. “You are blushing, too.”

Seti was right when he said he’s more like a parent than a brother to you. When you first came to True Cross, you were initially excited about the freedom it offered. However, you quickly realized there was no freedom to be had; Seti was much stricter than your parents. You rarely had time to spend with friends, let alone a boyfriend. It wasn’t until the last couple of years that he eased up enough for you to have a social life. Unfortunately, thanks to him, you became too socially awkward to start being social. So yes, you’re in the same boat as Amaimon’s vessel.

“No, I’m not.” You deny; if you can’t see it, you can easily deny it.

“Really?”

You nod.

Amaimon steps forward and presses his lips against yours, reminiscent of last night. He kisses you with curiosity and intensity, his warm lips exploring yours. It's not a passionate kiss; instead, it feels like an investigation, as if he's trying to gauge your reactions through this simple act. As he pulls away, a rush of conflicting emotions washes over you. His touch lingers on your cheek for a moment before he steps back. 

"You're lying," Amaimon's tone is blunt. "Your body doesn't lie, _____." 

You try to keep your composure, crossing your arms defensively. "I'm not... affected by your kisses at all." 

Amaimon raises a brow. “We should test it."

He leans in closer, his lips almost touching yours once again. This time, the kiss lingers, a gentle pressure that sends a delightful shiver down your spine. His touch is light as a feather against your skin, prompting you to close your eyes, unable to resist the overwhelming sensation. When he pulls back slightly, his gaze remains locked on you, searching for any sign of your reaction.

"You're enjoying this," Amaimon bluntly states. 

You groan, pushing him away. “It would be weird if I didn’t enjoy kisses from my boyfriend.” 

Amaimon nods. “Yes. That’s true.” 

As he steps forward to draw you into another kiss, you extend your hand, halting him. “I thought I told you to at least take me on a date.”

---------------------------------------------- 

“Did you tell that damned earth king he can have ______?” Seti snarls, stepping into Mephisto’s office. 

The King of Time lifts his head, slightly surprised to see the humid fox. “Of course not. I simply instructed him to leave her alone after she finishes introducing him to the customs of Assiah during this time period, primarily in Japan. Much has changed since his last visit.” 

“So, tell me why he’s claimed her as his.”  

“He what?”  

“Amaimon bluntly stated, ‘_____ is my girlfriend,’ and added, ‘Big Brother said I can have you.’”  

“Well, as long as Miss ____ turned him down, it shouldn’t be a problem.” 

“She didn’t.”  

Mephisto’s eyes widened. “Oh dear, and why wouldn’t Miss ____ turn him down? It’s odd she accepted; you didn’t warn her otherwise?” 

“Someone told her Amaimon has a short attention span and that he’ll move on within a few days.” 

Mephisto lets out an exaggerated sigh. “I didn’t instruct Miss _____ to agree to any requests he might make beyond learning about Assiah. My only request was for her to introduce him to the modern world. Knowing Amaimon, he will most likely get bored and move on within a month.” 

“You can’t be certain of that.” 

"Indeed, regrettably, Miss _____ has restricted herself to only two potential outcomes concerning her relationship with Amaimon. While we hope for the best, should he develop an obsession with her, we can only wish that she reciprocates his feelings. If not, this could lead to a toxic yandere dynamic."

Seti’s face twisted in disgust. "Must you use such ridiculous terms when discussing something so important?” 

Mephisto smirks. "Alright, let’s hope Amaimon doesn’t become a clingy, delusional, and manipulative sadist.”

[canonicallyobserving911]

“I can’t imagine anything more painful than going through life alone. Except maybe one thing… going through death alone.”

Fanonwriter2023 on AO3

Where CANON and FANON collide!

New Buddie Multi-Chapter Fanfic - 8x6 "Confessions" through mid-season finale CODA or a "Fix it": “I can’t imagine anything more painful than going through life alone. Except maybe one thing… going through death alone.”

Chapter 6 is now available on AO3.

“I can’t imagine anything more painful than going through life alone. Except maybe one thing… going through death alone.”

Fic Summary: Eddie feels completely alone, he isolates himself and the weight of it causes him to slip into a deep depression. Once he accepts the fact that he’ll die alone, he has a decision to make regarding his life. Buck finally gets clarity about his relationship status and once he does, realization sets in and he becomes frustrated that he didn’t see it coming. Will they finally figure out they’re each other’s person before it’s too late?

Currently 6 of 10 chapters completed: 85.7K Words; Rated: Teens and Up Audiences

One chapter will be posted at a time.

___________

Here's a snippet from Chapter 6 of Buck and Eddie talking while they're sitting inside of a restaurant and their eating breakfast.

___________

Eddie uses his napkin to wipe his mouth and after he takes another sip of his coffee, he says, “Buck, I’m going to be honest with you and explain that this is not going to be easy because my mom is controlling and when she wants something, she nags and belittles people… including family members until she gets it. She tries everything to undermine the other person and the things she says will hurt. I said all of that to say… this fight to get Chris won’t be easy and if she proceeds with a custody battle it’s going to be bad.”

Buck doesn’t break eye contact with him because he’ll do whatever it takes to help Eddie get his son back. He knows Eddie’s a great dad because he’s witnessed it with his own two eyes and he knows how much Eddie loves his son.

“When I changed my will, I should have told you about it but I didn’t and there’s a reason but I’m not in a good enough headspace to get into that yet. Once this stuff with Chris is resolved and I’ve unpacked it all in therapy, we’ll discuss it but me naming you to be his legal guardian was the best decision I’ve ever made. It wasn’t fair for me not to tell you about it and for that I apologize but it’s like I said before, I know you’ll fight for him the same way I do and that’s what I want for him. This custody battle will be ruthless and we both saw what Hen and Mara went through to get their foster license back but this is different. Things are likely to get very messy really fast and I want you to know that I understand if you don’t want to go with me. So, before we leave here to go to the airport…” He trails off when Buck starts talking.

“Eddie?”

“I’m serious, Buck. I understand and I’ll pay for your airfare, so you won’t have to worry.”

How will Buck respond to Eddie's offer to pay for his airfare so he won't have to go to El Paso? 👀

___________

Chapter Summaries

Chapter 1 - Eddie’s avoiding conversations with everyone at the 118 to prevent having to talk about how lonely he feels. On the other hand, Buck excitedly prepares to spend a romantic weekend with his boyfriend only to learn something he should already know.

Chapter 2 - Eddie appears to be happy whenever he’s at work but the truth is he’s masking his high-functioning depression with smiles and laughter. After another call with Chris, he falls deeper into depression and for the second time since he’s been living in L.A., he considers risking it all because he has nothing to lose. Since Buck’s got clarity on his non-existent romantic relationship, his fear of being left behind resurfaces and it causes him to spiral and he thinks he’s lost everything. In his search for answers to his relationship problems, he starts asking the questions he should have asked years ago.

Chapter 3 - Both Buck and Eddie experience déjà vu numerous times over the course of three days and during those encounters, Buck’s reminded of his own definition of love while defining moments from Eddie’s past resurface and he finally forces himself to confront them.

Chapter 4 - As Eddie hits rock bottom, he has a difficult time trying to pull himself back up and Buck does what he always does, he never gives up.

Chapter 5 - Buck’s inside Eddie’s home and he’s standing right in front of him explaining he’s here to help. Eddie’s happy to see him and he’s finally ready to make several confessions about the things that have been happening and the way he’s been feeling.

Chapter 6 - As Buck and Eddie prepare to leave Los Angeles for El Paso, Eddie initiates another conversation with Buck regarding his will and before it ends, they’ll outline a parenting and legal guardianship plan that will prove they’ve been coparenting Chris for the last 7 years and the way they’ve been doing it is in Chris’ best interest.

Chapter 7 - Will be posted soon.

Chapter 8 - Will be posted soon.

Chapter 9 - Will be posted soon.

Chapter 10 - Will be posted soon.

__________

Read: chapters 1 - 6 are available on AO3.

Continue reading on AO3

[sukuna-ryo]

The Best Friend

Chapter 1

(2.4k words)

———

The morning had been perfect. You woke up 10 minutes before the alarm, giving you time to relax in bed before getting up. The warm sunlight streaming through the window, the chirping birds, the fragrance from your diffuser, and the cozy feeling of the sheets enveloping you—everything was just right.

You took a warm bath, the water at the perfect temperature. Then you had your breakfast. The sunny-side-up eggs turned out perfectly, as did the bread. Your coffee was deliciously balanced, the ideal combination of bittersweet with a slightly bitter aftertaste.

You finished your breakfast and got ready. Your crisp white shirt was neatly ironed and tucked into your trousers. The blazer slid on effortlessly, leaving the shirt uncreased. Your hair looked impeccable, and your light makeup was flawless. You left home at the exact time you intended, got into your car, and started the engine. It was your first day at work, and so far, everything had been so perfect it felt as though the universe was aligning in your favor.

You didn’t encounter any traffic, despite it being the usual rush hour. The drive was smooth and peaceful. Your phone started ringing—a pleasant sound thanks to your choice of ringtone—and Nobara’s name popped up. You gripped the steering wheel as her steady stream of chatter filled the car. The hum of the engine and the occasional honk of passing vehicles barely registered as she excitedly rambled on.

“Oh my god, it’s your first day at work! At Infinity Co. too! That’s huge! Good luck, girl, I know you’ll rock it!” Nobara’s voice practically vibrated through the speaker.

You laughed softly, keeping your eyes on the road. “Thanks.”

You were excited about the job too. Infinity was known for offering the best pay and employee benefits in the industry. They treated their employees exceptionally well. This job was a clear upgrade from your previous one, and you were determined to turn this temporary position on the counselor’s team into a permanent role.

“We’re meeting today to celebrate. You can’t refuse. I’ll be paying, so pick any place you like,” you told her, hearing a sharp gasp on the other side.

“Oh my my, Y/N, I hope you remember those words well later,” Nobara said in a mischievous drawl. You knew her mind was racing in all sorts of directions now—she was definitely up to no good.

“I really, really hope you don’t make me regret my decision. Please, Nobara, behave for me, yeah?”

“Oh, stop worrying!” she dismissed your concern. “I’m just gonna make sure we—especially you—have a lot of fun tonight. Oh, ‘fun’ reminds me, are you up for an office romance at Infinity Co.? Now that sounds fun.” And there she went. You made a turn at the next lane and continued speaking.

“Not really. Who would I date anyway? I’m not interested in starting anything with a coworker. Psychologists aren’t as nice as you’d think. And I definitely won’t be doing anything with a client. Beyond those two categories, I can’t see myself knowing anyone well enough to start something.”

“Oh no, Y/N, are you going to be a loner this time too? Please mingle with the other employees. You’re so nice, and people love you. They try to talk to you, but you never let anyone get too close. Please don’t do that. Have fun at your new workplace and enjoy your job.” Honestly, talking to that many people sounded exhausting. And you definitely weren’t planning on doing that, especially with how draining therapy sessions could already be for you.

“I do enjoy my job, just not in the way you think,” you sighed.

“Absolutely not! I’m not having this. You’re making friends there, and you’re going to keep an eye out for a potential romantic interest. You need to break your dry spell. I will be hearing all the details tonight, so make sure you have someone to talk about. And even if you don’t find someone there, I’ll find a guy for you. I had someone in mind anyway.”

Nope. You weren’t doing that. Nobara would only hear if you found anyone attractive, which you doubted would happen. But she wasn’t going to hear anything beyond that. Nobara was just worried about you. She cared about your reserved disposition and aversion to people, but you wanted to meet someone on your own terms.

You nodded, even though you knew she couldn’t see you. “I’ll try.”

After a moment of silence, Nobara sighed and added, “Fine, but just remember, you’ve got this. I know you’ll crush it.”

You chuckled, feeling a rare warmth in your chest. “Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Bye. I love you,” she said.

“Bye.”

“What? Just a bye? Tell me you love me back.”

You started laughing at that. “Yeah, I love you too. Bye. See you later tonight.”

It was just 15 minutes before your check-in time. You arrived at the perfect time. As you drove into the building’s underground parking garage, the size of the Infinity Co. headquarters loomed ahead. Its sleek, modern, and futuristic design practically screamed success. After finding a parking spot, you grabbed your bag and stepped out of the car, taking a deep breath before heading inside.

The reception area was clean and as beautiful as the building itself, an open space with soft lighting that exuded quiet efficiency. You stepped up to the desk, greeted by a friendly receptionist who recognized you immediately. It seemed they had been informed of your arrival. She handed you a form to fill out.

It had indeed been a perfect morning, that, unbeknownst to you, set you up for this moment. Because at that very moment, across the lobby, Gojo Satoru, the charismatic CEO of Infinity Co., spotted you. What were the chances the CEO would notice a new hire? Which is why it would only seem that fate had something to do with your luck—or lack thereof—today.

His sharp blue eyes narrowed with interest as he watched you. His gaze followed your every movement—the sway of your long black hair, the gentle way you pushed your glasses up your nose, the focused expression as you wrote on the form, and the graceful motion of your hand. He just knew you had pretty handwriting. “Beautiful,” he thought to himself, leaning over to his assistant standing beside him with a clipboard in hand.

“Who’s that?” Gojo asked, his voice low but tinged with amusement.

His assistant looked up, a bit startled by the question, before his eyes scanned the rooms and settled on you. “Ah, that’s the new counselor, Y/N, the one who just joined the team. She’ll be working with us starting today.”

Gojo’s lips curved into a sly smile, the kind that hinted at mischief bubbling beneath the surface. He watches you for a moment longer, his gaze filled with curiosity. “Y/N,” he murmured under his breath. The name felt just right on his tongue, and he already wanted to use it in front of you. “Counselor, huh? Interesting,” he continued, a playful glint dancing in his eyes. He turned away, but his attention remained fixed on you.

Meanwhile, you were completely unaware of this silent exchange. The receptionist handed you your identity card, and you wore it around your neck as you walked to the elevator. When the doors opened, you stepped inside, heading to the upper floors for your first day on the job.

Throughout the day, a senior staff member showed you around the company. The building was immaculate—bright, open spaces with modern touches, sleek desks, and an air of effortless efficiency. You were introduced to various teams and departments. You didn’t quite see the need for this, but you kept your thoughts to yourself. Maybe they wanted employees to recognize the counselors, hoping familiarity might encourage them to sign up for therapy.

Each person you met was cordial but professional. Faces were easy to remember, but names would be a challenge. You realized you’d probably have to apologize and ask for names a second time quite often. As you walked through the finance department, you were introduced to a man who caught your attention with his quiet demeanor, sharp appearance, and the unusual leopard-print tie around his neck.

“Nanami Kento,” the staff member said, nodding toward him. “He’s from the finance department—a stockbroker by trade. You’ll probably see him at joint company dinners.”

Despite his sunken cheeks, the man was handsome. His dark circles added to his appeal. You offered a polite smile, and Nanami gave you a brief nod, his expression calm and neutral. There was something about him—a quiet solidity that contrasted with the surrounding chaos.

Your first day ended with a quick rundown of your responsibilities. Despite the whirlwind of introductions and information, you felt somewhat settled. You’d be fine here—after all, it was just a corporate job, nothing you couldn’t handle—or so you liked to think.

The next day, you received unexpected news from your superior. You blinked, trying to make sense of what you’d just heard. Your superior relayed a message from HR, informing you that you’d be having a session with Gojo Satoru, the CEO of Infinity Co. himself.

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Why would the CEO, of all people, need a session with a new hire? But you didn’t question it. You were here to do your job, and if this was part of it, so be it. There was no point in asking anyone else anyway. Judging by the look on your superior’s face, it seemed like she was confused as well, and you’ll find out for yourself soon, you hoped.

You tried to shake off the unsettling feeling from the news. It didn’t make sense, but there was no time to dwell on it. You had a session to prepare for, and your mind shifted into work mode. You went through the usual motions: setting up your notes, organizing your desk, and taking a deep breath. You were good at your job—this was just another session, right? Nothing to worry about.

But as the door opened and he stepped inside, everything shifted.

Gojo Satoru stood in the doorway, radiating confidence and an undeniable aura of power. His tall, lean frame exuded an effortless grace, and his outfit was an Immediate giveaway: tailored, crisp, and expensive. The kind of outfit that screamed wealth without trying. His white shirt was immaculate, the sleeves rolled up just enough to show off his toned forearms, while his black pants fit perfectly. The designer jacket, effortlessly thrown over his shoulder, completed the look. It was all so…rich. And he knew it.

For a brief moment, you were taken aback. His appearance was so striking that you almost forgot why you were there. His sharp blue eyes locked onto yours, a playful glint dancing in them, as though he were some kind of celebrity just waiting for your admiration. The first impression was overwhelming—he was, in a word, gorgeous. Too gorgeous.

You quickly composed yourself and gestured to the chair across from you. “Please, have a seat. I’m F/N L/N, and I’ll be your counselor for today,” you said, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat.

He gave you a broad smile and walked in with a swagger, moving around the room like he owned the place—because, in some sense, he did. The energy he gave off was impossible to ignore. He sat down, leaning back in the chair like he was settling into his personal throne, and you couldn’t help but feel a little self-conscious.

“So,” he said, his voice smooth, almost too smooth, “I hear you’re the expert on stress, right?” He flashed you a grin that could make anyone weak in the knees. “Perfect timing then, huh? Just what I need.”

You felt a rush of discomfort at how casual he was being, especially for a first session. This was supposed to be professional, but Gojo didn’t seem to care much about that. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand, eyes still glued to yours with an intensity that almost made you forget what you were doing.

“So, work stress, huh?” you said, trying to stay focused. “Can you tell me more about it?”

He waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, you know. The usual. Deadlines. Emails. Meetings. All that boring stuff.” He let out an exaggerated sigh, looking around the room like he was the victim of some grand, tragic fate. “Honestly, I just thought I’d check this whole therapy thing out. See if you have some magic cure or whatever.”

You tried not to let his flippant attitude throw you off, but it was hard not to. His charm was almost infectious, and you were starting to get uncomfortable with his behavior. But then, as you tried to ask him more about the specifics of his work stress, he only gave you vague answers, almost like he was deflecting. You were used to this—people didn’t open up easily. It took time. But there was something about Gojo’s behavior that felt different. He wasn’t trying to open up at all. It was as though he was here for a different reason altogether.

He sat back in his chair again, running a hand through his white hair. “You know,” he said, his voice dropping in tone, “you don’t look like someone who’d get stressed out. What’s your secret? Do you meditate? Do yoga? Maybe you just have one of those perfect lives where nothing ever goes wrong.”

It was a strange comment, and you weren’t sure how to respond. You wanted to stay professional, but the way he was grinning, the way his eyes locked onto yours, made it difficult to keep your distance.

“Not exactly,” you said, trying to sound neutral. “Everyone has their own way of coping with stress.”

His gaze didn’t waver. “Oh, so you’re one of those mysterious types, huh?” His voice dropped a little lower, more teasing now. “Tell me, Y/N, what else do you keep hidden? What’s your thing?” His tone had an edge of playfulness, but there was something underlying it—something a little too personal.

You tried to focus, but his constant jokes and flirtatious comments were starting to wear on you. He wasn’t taking this session seriously, and it felt like he was doing everything to keep it that way. You found yourself caught between maintaining professionalism and dealing with his overwhelming charisma.

You deflected again. “It’s not about me, Mr. Gojo, it’s about you. We’re here to focus on your stress.”

“Right, right,” he said with a casual wave of his hand. “Call me Satoru. And I just like to know about the people I’m dealing with. It helps me get comfortable, you know?” His eyes narrowed with a hint of mischief. “I’m comfortable, by the way. You’re doing great.”

You could feel your patience starting to wear thin, but you kept your composure. This session wasn’t going anywhere, but you reminded yourself: people needed time to open up. You would just have to wait it out. The session would be over soon enough, and then you could move on to the next one.

As the time dragged on, his flirty remarks kept coming, and though you tried to stay professional, you couldn’t help but feel like nothing truly had been accomplished. But that was typical. Sometimes it took a few sessions before someone was really ready to talk.

Finally, Gojo stood up, stretching dramatically as if the whole thing had been an afterthought. “Well, that was fun, Y/N. I’m looking forward to our next session.” He winked, making your stomach flutter against your will.

“Of course,” you replied, doing your best to sound composed. “So, I’m assuming you officially want me as your therapist then?”

“Oh, of course! I wouldn’t want to go to anyone else.” He smiled, his eyes and tone hinting at something you didn’t want to dissect.

And with that, he was gone, leaving you to reflect on the strange, unsettling session you had just experienced. You hadn’t really gotten anywhere, but that was fine. It was just the beginning. Hopefully, next time, he would actually open up.

You leaned back in your chair after Gojo left, trying to shake off the odd sense of unease that lingered in the air. It was like his presence had stayed behind, refusing to be shaken off so easily. You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, attempting to regain some sense of composure. It wasn’t that you were unfamiliar with clients like Gojo—people who kept their cards close to their chest, who deflected with humor and charm—but there was something different about him. Something that made it harder to focus, harder to keep the professional boundary intact.

What had he said? And more importantly, what hadn’t he said? He’d brushed off his work stress as though it were some minor inconvenience, but the way he looked at you… that wasn’t just playful. There was something else in his gaze, something almost predatory, like he was analyzing you just as much as you were analyzing him. You tried to push the thought aside, but it stuck with you. He hadn’t wanted to talk about his stress, but was he here for something else? Or did he just like being… distracting?

You sighed and rubbed your temples, trying to will away the tension creeping up your spine. A part of you wanted to analyze the whole session, break it down like you would for a case study, but there wasn’t enough data yet. Gojo had barely said anything of substance. You couldn’t draw conclusions on that. Still, the way he made you feel—like you were the one being examined—was… unsettling.

Taking a quick glance at the clock, you realized you didn’t have time to linger on it any longer. You needed to freshen up before your next session. A quick wash of your face, a few deep breaths, and you could get back to work.

You stood up, adjusting your blouse as you walked to the small bathroom in the back. A quick splash of water and a few moments of quiet gave you enough of a reset. By the time you returned to the office, you felt marginally better—ready for the next client.

Your next appointment was with Nanami Kento. You’d been told he was new to therapy, just like you were new to this job. You smiled a little at the thought. “Well, at least we’re both rookies in a way,” you muttered to yourself, feeling oddly comforted by the thought. First day for him, second day for you. You hadn’t expected it, but there was something about that parallel that made it feel more… manageable.

The door opened and Nanami stepped in, his usual steady, measured demeanor immediately apparent. He was wearing that same leopard tie again, though this time paired with a plain blue shirt and gray pants. It was a good look, you noted silently. Nanami had an understated style—classic, simple, but with little touches that stood out. That tie had to be his thing. You wondered how many others like it he had. It seemed the sort of thing a person might collect in multiples.

He gave you a polite nod as he took a seat, and you did the same.

“Well, we’re both beginners today,” you joked with a small, self-deprecating laugh. “Your first day here, and my first day with clients.”

Nanami gave a soft chuckle. “Seems we’re both in uncharted waters, then.”

“Guess we’ll figure it out together,” you said, offering him a warm smile.

He returned the smile, and you could already tell he was the type to keep things professional, to stay grounded. There was a calmness to him that helped you feel at ease right away.

“Shall we get started?” you asked, eager to focus on his session.

Nanami nodded and began speaking in his usual composed manner. He wasn’t evasive like Gojo. In fact, he was quite eloquent in expressing the challenges he’d been facing at work—long hours, constant pressure to perform, and the feeling of being stretched too thin. But unlike Gojo, he didn’t make it sound like it was some grand tragedy. It was just… his reality. Something he was learning to cope with.

Eventually, the conversation took a turn, and Nanami mentioned Gojo.

“I have a friend here. Gojo Satoru, CEO of the company. Gojo’s been… a bit of a problem,” he said, his tone both resigned and matter-of-fact. “We’ve been friends since high school, and he’s alwayss had a way of distracting me—especially after hours. He thinks it’s funny, but it’s been adding to my stress.”

You blinked, surprised by the revelation. So they were high school friends. Nanami would be helpful in your learning more about Gojo then. You also

You also understood where he was coming from. You only had one session with Gojo, one hour, and that man left you completely shaken. Nanami had known him for years, and you could tell Nanami was used to his behavior.

“He likes to joke around, to keep me on my toes, but sometimes it gets hard to draw the line between what’s… friendly and what’s excessive,” Nanami continued, a slight furrow appearing between his brows. “And it doesn’t help that we both work in the same field. Sometimes I feel like I’m just barely keeping it together.”

You gave a nod of understanding, surprised at how openly he was sharing this. It was a refreshing change compared to Gojo’s cryptic words. Nanami wasn’t hiding behind jokes. He was here for a reason, and he seemed genuinely eager to work through it.

As he spoke, you noticed he was observant in a way that Gojo hadn’t been. Every now and then, he’d pause and look at you thoughtfully, as though assessing not just what you were saying, but how you were saying it. His gaze lingered for just a moment longer than necessary, and you couldn’t help but wonder if he was picking up on the subtle cues that something had shaken you earlier.

“You don’t look like you’re entirely at ease today,” Nanami remarked, his voice steady but concerned. “Everything okay on your end?”

You paused, surprised by the question. It was kind of him to notice, but you didn’t want to make it about you.

“I’m fine,” you said, forcing a polite smile. “Thank you for asking, though.”

He didn’t push it, though you could tell he didn’t fully buy it. “If you say so,” he said, a trace of doubt in his voice, but he didn’t press further. You appreciated that.

The rest of the session went smoothly. Nanami was open, professional, and cooperative throughout, and it was a refreshing change of pace compared to the unpredictability of your previous session. By the end, you felt like you’d actually made progress, that you’d helped him, even if just a little.

Afterward, you wrapped up the day with two more sessions, but your mind kept wandering back to the contrast between Nanami and Gojo. Nanami had been calm, respectful, and genuinely concerned about your well-being. Gojo, on the other hand, had been playful, flippant, and… strange in ways you hadn’t fully figured out yet. The difference between the two was stark. It left you with a lot to think about.

As the day came to an end and you sat back in your chair, your thoughts were a tangled mess. But for now, you would try to push it all aside. Tomorrow would be another day, and you’d face whatever came with the same quiet professionalism that Nanami had shown. You just hoped you could keep it all together.

———

The first chapter is finally here, I hope you all like it. Likes, reblogs and feedback is appreciated <3

[gregmarriage]

I love baby gwen. she's got so much to look forward to.

i love her too. and that’s something that’s been hard for me to say over the years. but if the years since that video have told me anything, it’s that we are the only ones we have at the end of the day. we only have one body, and mind, and soul, and we have to take care of it