#but I’m breaking under the weight of it all | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

incognit0slut · 1 day

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i hope this is how to send a request cuz this is my first time requesting anything. but i wanted to ask if you could do a story of spencer x reader of when he comes back home from prison in season 12? i don't know if i want it to be girlfriend and boyfriend or if they're married i don't really know, sorry. but i don't really mind either way. hope you can write something like this, thank you :))) <333

tysm for trusting me with your first request and sorry this took so long, it's also kind of rushed and I'm not too confident with it but I hope you like it <3

Home is whenever I’m with you

Category: angst, hurt, comfort, gn reader ~1.7k words

He’s back. Your boyfriend is back. There's a tangle of nerves in the pit of your stomach at the mere thought of seeing him again, especially after all that’s happened. You get to hug him, to kiss him, to feel the softness of his thick, beautiful hair under your fingers again.

But not now. His mother is missing. Those are the words Emily spoke to you over the phone after she called to let you know he’s released. It’s ironic, to hear such wonderful news just to be followed by something so disheartening. And the guilt creeps in, that nagging feeling that maybe, just maybe, if you had gone to visit his mom as planned, this nightmare could've been avoided.

“Do not blame yourself,” Emily adds, her voice is a lifeline in the chaos of emotions. It's as if she can read your thoughts, know exactly what you're feeling without you saying a word. “Just stay where you are, okay? I've got agents keeping an eye on your building. I'll keep you updated."

You're left with no choice but to accept. Your boyfriend may be back, but you still can’t see him.

And you get it. His mom comes first, always has, and always will. A child's love for their parents is unbreakable, and if you were in his shoes, you'd move heaven and earth to keep your parents safe. So, naturally, you do what any loving and supportive girlfriend would do—you wait.

And wait. And wait. And wait. Each passing second stretches into agonizing minutes, and those minutes drag on into long, uncertain hours. One skipped meal turns into two, and suddenly, you're lying in bed in the dead of night with an empty stomach. You know you should take care of yourself, but your mind is fixated on him.

What is he doing? Has he eaten anything? Is he taking breaks at all? Has he managed to get any sleep? And most importantly, has there been any news about his mom?

Your mind is racing, flooded with countless unanswered questions. You try to find comfort in sleep, but every ring of your phone feels like a cruel interruption, each time hoping it's him—or at least a word from his friends. But it's always a disappointment, just meaningless notifications and distant messages from your friends about mundane plans.

Eventually, exhaustion overtakes you, but your sleep is restless, it's as if your mind refuses to grant you a moment of respite. Then, in the quiet hours of the night, at two in the morning, you're jolted awake by the familiar sound of a new message on your phone.

His mom is safe.

A sigh of relief escapes you, almost audible in the silence. You type out a response to Emily with trembling hands.

That’s good to hear. Is he fine?

Not great, but he's managing.

That's all you need to hear. His mom is safe, and though he's not doing great, he's managing well enough. With a weight lifted off your shoulders, you finally allow yourself to relax. At least now you can drift back into sleep knowing that he's partially okay.

You wake up again later that night by a rapid knocking. At first, you try to brush it off as just noise from the neighbors, but as you slowly come to your senses, you realize it's coming from your apartment.

Half-worried and half-curious, you reluctantly peel yourself from the comfort of your bed, your mind racing with possibilities as you approach the door. When you glance through the peephole, you're met with a sight that instantly jolts you awake. Without a second thought, you fumble with the lock and swing the door open.

And there your boyfriend stands, but he's a far cry from the man you remember. His hair is wild and unkempt, and his eyes, usually bright and lively, are now dull and tired, shadowed by exhaustion. He's dressed in his usual suit and tie, a combination you've always admired for its professional and polished look. But today, his shirt is half-tucked, half-untucked, and his tie hangs loosely around his neck

“Spence, what are you—”

Before you can finish, he bursts through the door, wrapping his arms tightly around you.

"I'm sorry," he breaks, his voice strained with emotion. "I—I wanted to come here as fast as I can—"

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” You wrap your arms around his waist and take in a deep breath. Despite his disheveled appearance, he smells exactly as you remember—warm, familiar, like home. “It’s all good, honey, I don’t mind.”

“It’s not alright. I should’ve answered your calls—”

“Spencer, it’s okay,” you interrupt gently, running your fingers soothingly down his back. “After all the time you’ve been away, a few more hours hardly matter.”

“Well, it should matter,” he mumbles against your skin, his voice muffled as he buries himself in the crook of your neck. “I shouldn’t have left you like this.”

You hold him tighter, feeling his weight against you, his breath warm against your skin. “Shh,” you murmur, rubbing his back in comforting circles. “You’re here now, that’s all that matters.”

He nods against your neck, his grip on you tightening as if he's afraid to let go.

“How’s your mom?”

He lifts his head slightly, meeting your gaze with tired eyes. “She’s... she’s okay,” he replies. “We found her. She’s safe now.”

You exhale a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, relief flooding through you. “I’m glad to hear that,” you say, cupping his cheek gently. “Are you okay?”

He hesitates for a moment as if considering the question carefully. “I’m fine, just… tired.”

Your fingers traced the lines of exhaustion etched on his face. “Let’s get you inside and comfortable, okay?”

He nods, and you usher him inside, relief flooding through you as you close the door behind you. Your fingers naturally intertwine with his as you guide him towards your bedroom.

“Do you want anything? Water, food?”

He shakes his head, falling into step with you. “Maybe later,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand. “How have you been?”

"Well," you begin, your voice filled with warmth. "'I've been keeping busy while you're gone.”

You lead him to the edge of the bed, sitting him down while you stand between his legs, your eyes meeting his tired gaze. "Work has been... work," you say with a small smile, trying to lighten the mood. “And I managed to put up the shelf I bought online. Look.”

You gesture towards the bookshelf nestled in the corner of the room and he follows your gaze. “You did that all by yourself?”

"Yeah, I did," you reply, your smile widening. "It wasn't easy without having you constantly nagging me how to do it, but I figured it out."

He nods, a hint of regret shadowing his features. “I'm sorry I wasn't here to help you.”

You shake your head, moving closer to him and placing a comforting hand on his cheek. "Don’t apologize.”

He leans into your touch, his gaze meeting yours with a vulnerability that tugs at your heartstrings. His eyes, wide and brown, look up at you, and you can’t help but compare him to a puppy—sad, yet undeniably endearing, with an innocence that melts your heart. You brush a thumb gently across his cheek, noting the subtle change in his appearance.

“You grew out your facial hair.”

A faint blush colors his cheeks as he shifts under your gaze. "Yeah, I guess I did," he replies, his voice tinged with self-consciousness.

You can't help but smile at his bashfulness. "I like it," you assure him. "It suits you."

“Really?”

“It’s growing on me.”

His expression softens at your words, a warmth spreading through his tired features. "Maybe I'll keep it.”

You nod in agreement, a smile playing on your lips as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer. He sighs contentedly as he leans into your chest, and you gently stroke his hair, soothing him with your touch.

"It's good to be back," he murmurs, his voice muffled against your shirt.

"It's good having you back," you reply softly, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face.

“I thought I was never going to see you again.”

"Why would you think that?”

He hesitates for a moment. "After everything that happened... I wasn't sure if I'd make it back to you.”

You gently tilt his chin up, meeting his gaze. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that.”

His eyes glisten with unshed tears as he nods, his vulnerability laid bare. "I was also afraid that I might lose you,” he adds. “I was afraid you’d get tired of waiting for me.”

“Oh, honey…”

“Everyone I care for always leaves, sooner or later. And I can’t bear the thought… the thought of not coming home without you in my life,” he admits, his voice trembling with emotion and you feel a lump form in your throat as you listen. "I feel… so different right now. I don’t feel like my usual self, and I-I was afraid you wouldn’t like this version of me.”

You pull back slightly, cupping his face in your hands, your gaze locked with his. "I would never think any less of you.”

He sniffs, and that's when you notice a tear escaping down his cheek. Your heart aches even more. “I might not be the same person you last saw me.”

You shake your head, brushing away his tears with your thumb. "It doesn't matter," you reply earnestly. “You're still the person I fell in love with, and nothing will ever change that.”

He looks at you in disbelief, as if he can't quite comprehend how you could love him so unconditionally. "How can you be so sure?"

"Because I see you," you reply. "Beyond the surface, beyond the changes, I see who you are—the kindness, the strength, the love that has always been a part of you. And that's something that remains unchanged, no matter what."

He exhales softly, his features softening as he absorbs your words. But you aren’t finished, not until he realizes how worthy of love he is.

“You’re still the man who loves silly magic tricks, you’re still the man who asks for jello every time we have dessert,” you tease, a gentle smile tugging at the corners of your lips. He cracks a small smile at your playful words. “You’re still the man who loves books, who loves learning. You're still the man who loves helping other people.”

You lean closer, your breath mingling with his as your lips almost touch.

“And I’ll be the one to love every version of you,” you whisper. “The person you were, the person you are, and the person you're becoming.”

He grips your hips and pulls you closer. Without a word, you understand what he needs, what he's asking for, and you close the distance between you, your lips brushing against his.

You never truly understand the meaning of bittersweet until this very moment. His tears carry the saltiness of sorrow, but his lips offer a sweetness that lingers on your tongue. You feel the weight of his pain, the heaviness of his grief, yet you also sense a comforting warmth in the way his lips move gently against yours.

You can feel his uncertainty, and it’s clear that getting back into his old routine won't be easy after everything he's been through. But you’re here for him and you're willing to support him in any way you can.

Because he’s back. Your boyfriend is back. You can hardly believe you get to hug him, kiss him, and run your fingers through his thick, beautiful hair once more. You can’t believe you get to hold him again in your arms, and you hope to do so for a very long time.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid fanfic #criminal minds fanfic #spencer x reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #criminal minds

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euthymiya · 2 days

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society of brilliance ft. veritas ratio

in which you come home and soothe veritas and his insecurities in a shared bath—which consists of you making a society just for the two of you. luckily, it’s more than enough to ease his troubled mind

contains: gender neutral reader ; non sexual nudity ; shared baths ; slight references to veritas character story iii ; reverse comfort ; veritas is not taking his lack of invitation to genius society lightly :( ; i invite you all to join my nous hate club

veritas doesn’t greet you when you come home. you’d be disappointed any other time, but the glow of light under the cracks through the bathroom door tells you precisely why he’s not there to greet you—you can’t help but be endeared.

so you pad into the bathroom, grinning softly as his head lifts from resting against the edge of the bathtub, eyes opening to glance over your figure.

they brighten a bit when they take in the view of you.

“no book?” you raise a brow, mildly shocked.

“is it hard to believe i’d like to relax without reading?” he closes his eyes again, relaxing once more as he listens to you shed your clothing.

“well, i suppose not,” you chuckle, “but you’re a bit…”

“go on,” he presses dryly, “finish your thought.”

“a bit uptight. i don’t know if you can relax without reading something or another.”

it’s cheeky, the way you bite your lip and suppress a grin, watching as he rolls his eyes (but he could never hope to hide the fondness in them, even if he tried). you reach over one the last of your clothes drop to the floor, hand cupping his cheek as he sighs and melts into your palm.

“well, i certainly won’t be relaxing now that your presence is here to disrupt my peace,” he quips, letting a smug grin of his own stretch over his cheeks as you huff.

“long day?” you murmur, tracing your thumb along his skin soothingly as he hums, pressing closer into your touch, “it must be if you couldn’t wait long enough to greet me.”

“my apologies darling,” he says quietly. you frown a little, tracing the darkening circles under his eyes as your thumb travels higher across his face. “i’m afraid my mind was a bit occupied.”

“oh veritas.”

it’s delicate, the way you say his name. fragile, like he’s one moment from sinking into the water from the weight of his mind, unable to resurface for a breath of air. veritas has been different since accepting the invitation from the ipc—a bit more defeated, perhaps. a lot more distracted.

you pull your hand away, much to his displeasure, waving it to gesture him forward in the tub as he looks at you with creases building in his forehead.

“but—”

“don’t argue for once, you difficult man,” you scold, “just do as i say.”

“how commanding,” comes his reply in a half-hearted scoff. he listens nonetheless, inching forward so you can sit yourself behind him, sinking into the warm water as you collect him in your arms and pull him to lean against your chest.

he relaxes instantly. more than he could before your arrival, like the presence of you makes breathing easier, more simple. in and out, inhale and exhale. his chest rises and falls under your hand, slow circles smoothing over the firm muscle as his head falls back against your shoulder.

veritas doesn’t let you hold him often—he prefers the weight of you in his arms, but sometimes it’s nice when you take on his weight, too. when his mind is heavy and loaded with the endless thoughts of his. and you like it too, the feeling of him pressing into you, the feeling of him settled into your hold as you keep him afloat.

you break the silence first, pressing a kiss into his head as you whisper, “care to enlighten me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

“are you sure you can handle it? i have a rather advanced thought process,” he teases.

“i’d say your mind is regressed,” you snort, squeezing the rubber duck floating in the water a small distance away.

you can practically see his pout even if it’s not in your line of sight as he clicks his teeth and says in an offended tone, “being intelligent doesn’t mean i have to deny myself of a few simple joys.”

“aren’t i the only joy you need?” you bat your lashes, kissing the back of his neck as he chuckles.

“i suppose you are sufficient enough, yes.”

“just sufficient?” you gasp, biting his shoulder playfully as he shakes against you with soft laughter. “if you don’t love me, just say that.”

“there you go again,” he hums in amusement, shaking his head as he tilts his head and eyes you with an endeared glint in his eyes, “always so theatric over the most trivial of causes.”

“someone has to keep things interesting. your idea of fun is picking apart a student’s thesis.”

“i enable them to grow,” he corrects, thoroughly unimpressed as he purses his lips and gives you a dry look. “it’s a favor, really.”

“i don’t know what to do with you. too smart for your own good.”

he sighs, slumping against your figure as he quietly mumbles, “perhaps not smart enough.”

you frown, the edges of your mouth curling in an unhappy twist downwards as you process his words. veritas is undoubtedly brilliant—you’d never thought he’d question the fact. of course, he’s tried time and time again to catch the gaze of nous, and of course, you’ve always known there’s a lingering air of self deprecation at his lack of success.

but you never thought him to doubt himself—not of his capabilities, not of his brilliance. his brilliance is the most beautiful thing about him, you think. he’s so quick to understand things—like how to figure you out like it’s easy and simple. how to love you in ways you didn’t even know you want to be loved. how to read you before you understand your own mind.

he’s so bright, so willing to share his light so you can glow too, unwilling to see you as a mere dimness beside him.

you tighten your arms around him, nuzzling your nose into his cheek as you press sweet, feathery kisses to his skin.

“if you consider yourself not smart enough, i fear for what you think of my intelligence.”

“i think you’re brilliant,” he says instantly, “there’s no doubt.”

“then why doubt yourself?”

he’s silent. you know the answer, even if he doesn’t want to say it. because if not smart enough to be acknowledged by the aeon he’s dedicated his aspirations to, the aeon that stands to represent the very purpose of his existence, the aeon that signifies the embodiment of wisdom itself—how can he consider himself enough?

how can you consider him enough? he wants to ask, but the words never form on his tongue, caught in his throat in a lump he can’t even swallow down. it’s stuck, persistently lodged and silencing him as he lays limply in your arms.

“oh, veritas,” you say with so much gentleness, he sighs shakily at the sound of his name from your tongue. so sweet, so pleasant—like it’s dipped his honey from the comb. “you are far too capable for it to be a cause for question.”

“am i?” he chuckles dryly, lips tugging ruefully into a painful smile, “perhaps i’d have reached my goals then, wouldn’t i?”

“perhaps it’s not your intelligence that separates you from the genius society,” you murmur thoughtfully, combing wet fingers through his hair, scratching tenderly at his scalp as he shivers at your touch.

“then, pray tell, what would it be, darling?” he asks, indulging you.

“your compassion, maybe. you’re of the few geniuses that don’t forget what it means to be human. i don’t think a machine declared as the face of intelligence has the capacity to understand that.”

“you shouldn’t speak of the divine like that,” he snorts.

“nobody is as divine as me,” you reply with a giggle, earning a tender squeeze at your thigh as he smiles at you with a roll of his eyes.

“is that so?”

“you don’t agree?”

he turns, kissing the pout off of your lips as he whispers, “oh, i do. i certainly do—you’re of the most divinest of beings in all of the cosmos. a truly magnificent…piece of work.”

“i’ll ignore that last part just for today,” you say pointedly. you peck his lips again, and again, and when he settles deeper into your chest, relaxing against your body, you tighten your hold around him. “but i hereby declare you an honorary member of the society of brilliance—”

he cuts you off with a short. you whine, slapping his arm in protest as he stifles his laughs.

“and just how many members are in this society?”

“currently two,” you glare, “but it’s at risk of becoming one if you mock it any further. it’s a very serious organization.”

“sorry, sorry. it won’t happen again,” he poorly fights back a grin. (and he could never hope to successfully hide a smile around your presence, he’s sure such a feat is impossible. you write joy on his features as easy as pen on paper).

“it better not. this society is far more sophisticated than that child’s play of an organization…society for geniuses, was it?”

“genius society,” he correct, playing along.

“oh yes,” you nod, pretending to snap in recognition, “that’s the one. such an undignified group of individuals. a shame—they had potential. it’s a good thing we’re not like them.”

“a relief indeed,” he smiles.

it’s so raw, so real, so pure, he can’t help but twist in your arms and press his lips to you, hoping to physically share the joy of you evident in the curl of his mouth. the dimple in his cheek. the crinkles of his eyes.

you’ve written yourself into every part of him, so seamlessly intwined with his body and mind, it’s difficult to doubt himself. because to doubt himself is to doubt you, and veritas could never hope to doubt you. not when you’re so divine, so bright and beautiful, so precious.

a wonder to society.

he’s lucky to be acknowledged by such brilliance.

“you’re the most capable man i know,” you whisper against his lips. he hums in satisfaction as you peck them gently before adding, “i have very high standards, you know.”

“i’m relieved i’ve met them. my greatest achievement to date.”

“i’m glad you’re wise enough to realize as such.”

“is my spot in your exclusive society secured then?”

“hmm. i’ll think about it—you’re still on thin ice.”

if nous has 0 haters im dead. anyway. veritas, i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you i love you. did i mention i love you

let my man into genius society!!!! he belongs there more than anyone else!!!!! actually tbh he’s too good for that group of ppl (i say this but ruan mei is my gf sorry queen ur the exception)

#writing tag #dr ratio x reader #dr ratio x you #dr ratio fluff #veritas ratio x reader #veritas ratio x you #veritas ratio fluff #veritas x reader #veritas x you #veritas fluff #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr fluff #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #honkai star rail fluff

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urlibragirl · 3 days

Text

summary : you and eren were childhood friends, but you guys drifted apart. One day, Eren decide to stick the pieces back.

warnings/content : mdni!, fem!reader, jealous!eren, eren is a virgin, little bit of angst, p in v intercourse, unprotected sex, oral sex(m receiving)

word count : 1271

Sighing heavily, Eren rubbed his forehead as he tried to recall the events leading up to your falling out. You guys had been inseparable during childhood, always playing together and sharing secrets. But somewhere along the line, things changed.

He remembered the day clearly, it was after Jean had joined your group of friends. There was something different about you, you seemed happier, more confident. And yet, at the same time, she seemed distant too. Like there was part of herself that kept hidden even from him.

Grinning widely, you clapped your hands excitedly as you talked to your friends about the tv-show you watched the night before. Your laugh echoed through the hallways, drawing attention from everyone around you.

You may have been known for being somewhat wild and carefree, but there was no denying that people enjoyed being around you. Even though Eren preferred quieter gathering, he couldn’t help but admire your ability to light up any room you entered. Watching you interact with others made your heart ache just a little bit more.

He wished things could go back to how they used to be, but he knew that ship had sailed long ago. Instead, he forced himself to focus on his studies, hoping that one day he might finally gain control over his feelings. Little did he know, your paths were destined to cross again under unexpected circumstances.

One fateful evening during winter break, Armin hosted a party at his place which included most members of their original friendship circle. Despite initially declining due to personal reasons, Eren eventually caved in under pressure from Mikasa and Jean who insisted he needed some time off studying. Reluctantly agreeing, he arrived at Armin’s house.

As the night wore on and the party reached its peak, Eren found himself drawn to you, despite the animosity that had grown between you two over the years. With a determined stride, he made his way through the crowd until he stood in front of you, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Hey," he said, trying to keep his voice casual despite the butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

You glanced at him, “Oh, hey Eren,” you answered “It’s been a long time.”

You guys stood in awkward silence for a moment, the weight of your unresolved issues hanging heavy in the air.

“Look, I didn’t mean to ignore you or act like a jerk. It’s just that seeing you with Jean made me realize how much I missed having you around. We were best friends since forever, and suddenly, you were gone. I tried to move on, but my heart wouldn’t listen. So yeah, maybe I acted immaturely sometimes, but deep down, I was hurting too.”

Your eyes widened in surprise as you listened to Eren pouring his heart out. You hadn’t expected such honesty from him. For once, he sounded vulnerable instead of aloof. “There’s also something I need to tell you,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper. “Something I’ve been wanting to say for quite a while now…” You paused for effect, taking a deep breath before continuing.

“The truth is, I’m in love with you. From the moment we met all those years ago, I knew there was something special between us. And as time went by, that feeling only grew stronger.” you finally said.

“But what about Jean?” Eren asked with a surprised tone. “Oh, with Jean it wasn’t anything serious,” you said. “It’s going to sound horrible but both of us needed someone to forget about the friend they were in love with, me with you and him with Mikasa, but apparently it wasn’t really effective”

“So why didn’t you say something?” he asked. “Well, I could ask the same thing to you Eren?” you answered, teasing him a little bit.

“I guess I was just scared,” he admitted sheepishly. “ Afraid that maybe you really had moved on without me – I’ve missed you Y/N,” he confessed, his voice shaking. “More than you’ll ever know”.

As your faces drew closer, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in a bubble of intense emotion. Your hearts raced in unison, beating wildly against your chests as you prepared yourselves for whatever laid ahead. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, your lips met in a tender, passionate kiss.

It was as if all the pent-up frustration and sorrow from your tumultuous past had suddenly vanished, replaced by a powerful wave of desire and affection. Time stood still as you were both lost in the moment, savoring every second of your long-awaited reunion.

When you guys finally pulled apart, you gazed into each other's eyes, lost in the depths of each other's souls. "I love you, Eren," you whispered, your voice shaking slightly with emotion. "And I love you too, Y/N," he replied, his voice equally strained.

As your lips parted, Eren found himself struggling to catch his breath. This was new territory for him; he had never experienced such intense passion before. He looked into your eyes, wondering if she felt the same way.

To his relief, he saw a mix of lust and tenderness reflected back at him. Gently guiding you towards the nearby bedroom, he led you inside and closed the door behind you. The room was dimly lit, casting eerie shadows across the walls.

Undressing each other slowly, you were revealed in the sight of each other's naked forms for the first time. Despite being a virgin, Eren couldn't hide his excitement or nervousness. You sensed his apprehension and decided to take charge.

Kneeling down beside him, you ran your hands up his thighs, stopping just short of his erection. Looking into his eyes, you gave him a reassuring smile before taking him into your mouth. Eren let out a moan as you teased him expertly, sucking gently on his cock while running your tongue along its length.

Overwhelmed by pleasure, he reached down to touch your hair, encouraging you to continue. As you worked him over with your skilled tongue, he couldn't help but wonder how lucky he was to have found someone like you.

Meanwhile, you moved up to straddle Eren's lap, grinding your hips against him suggestively. You wanted this to be special for him, and you intended to make sure it was. Slowly lowering yourself onto his hardened member, you gasped as you felt him slide inside your wet folds. It was tighter than she expected, but in a good way.

You began moving up and down, meeting his thrusts halfway as you both sought release. The sounds of skin slapping against skin filled the air, punctuated by gasps of pleasure from both parties involved. Eren grabbed hold of your hips, pulling you closer as he buried himself deeper inside your warmth with each stroke.

Your rhythm became faster and more urgent as you neared climax. Just when it felt like neither of you could take another moment, you both cried out in ecstasy, your bodies shuddering together as you reached orgasm simultaneously.

"Oh god," Eren groaned, his voice hoarse from exertion. "That was incredible." He pulled you closer, burying his face in your neck as he savored the scent of your skin. "I don't think I've ever felt anything like that before." You smiled contentedly, tracing gentle circles on his back. "Oh don’t worry, we're just getting started."

With renewed energy, you two began exploring each other's bodies once more, lost in the heat of the moment. Every touch sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, heightening your senses and deepening your connection.

a/n : i wrote this at 2 a.m, so there might be grammar mistakes sorry

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mrs-barnes-rogers-writes · 3 days

Text

The Pull Of You - Part 3

Marvel

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader x Bucky Barnes

Soulmates - Feeling the pull between each other indicates a bond. A kiss confirms it.

Summary: You meet Steve and Bucky on a Tuesday. Steve ignores the soulmate pull, Bucky can't. There's something about you that neither can shake, even when you're wearing one of Clint's t-shirts and your unicorn slippers. After weeks of slipping into your bed Bucky decides he can't hold back anymore. He's telling you after the mission, whether Steve is all in or not. When you don't come back from the mission, they are both ready to burn the world down and the team have the matches to help. But is everything as it seems and have they been betrayed by someone on the inside.

Chapter Summary: Something is definitely off with you and Bucky's worried.

You were quiet when you stepped off the jet, even as Bucky barrelled through the doors to the landing pad, Bruce close behind him.

He gave you a tight hug and planted a kiss on your head as he rocked you both side to side. It didn’t go unnoticed that you didn’t hold him as tightly as you usually would. He pulled back and checked you over.

“You OK doll? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine bubs, just tired.”

Bucky didn’t like the distant look in your eyes and he reached to brush the hair out of your face. You’d usually lean in whenever he’d touch you affectionately, even more so when he’d touch you face and you’d often move to kiss his palm when he cupped your cheek. This time though you just looked at him, still the distant look in your eyes.

“Babydoll, are you sure you’re OK?”

You nodded but stayed quiet. Bucky leaned forward and kissed your forehead softly. As he pulled away Bucky shot a worried glance at Nat and Clint, who were signing back and forth with Bruce.

Nat shared his expression and nudged Clint before heading towards you.

“Come on sestra, let’s get cleaned up.”

Bucky went to stop her pulling you away but Nat shot him a look and flicked her head towards Clint.

“Clint needs to speak to you, something about one of his guns jamming. Can you take a look before it goes in for repair? Tony will be pissed if he’s broken another one. Please?” Nat asked as she looped her arm in yours and pulled you away.

Clint gestured for Bucky to come over as he stood with Bruce, Bucky not missing their concerned faces as they watched you both walk away.

“This isn’t about a gun is it?”

Fifteen minutes later Bucky had slipped into your room with a pair of his boxers and a t-shirt for you to wear to bed, along with your hot water bottle. He slipped it into the centre of your bed, your spot, where you always were whether he, and now Steve, were with you or not. He thought back to when he’d first got the hot water bottle ready for you. Your fingers were broken from a mission and you were muttering in frustration under your breath as you couldn’t get it open. He’d been pacing around, wondering if he should check in on you post mission. You hadn’t been in the compound long, brought in by Nat and Clint, with a little help from Tony. Your knack of breaking and entering, and negotiating making you a an asset to the team. You’d been back for an hour and Bucky felt like he was climbing the walls. He’d tried his best but he couldn’t avoid the pull he felt when he thought of you, even when he didn’t think of you there was something there, a weight in his chest and he’d found himself gravitating towards you.

When F.R.I.D.A.Y had notified him you were back the pacing had started. It’d worsened when the AI had said you were injured. Once Friday had said you needed assistance, he had a valid reason to seek you out and he was down the stairs two at a time. Everyone else was out the compound on missions or meetings so he obviously needed to check on you. Right?

Whatever this was between the two of you had had started to become more of something then. The pair of you ignoring it or trying to before.

The post mission routine had started then. A water bottle in the bed. Your favourite PJs laid out, or Bucky’s clothes, and in the last week sometimes a t-shirt of Steve’s. Today though Bucky was a selfish bastard and all the items laid out were his.

You’d reciprocate when he returned from missions, making sure his bedroom lights were on low and that the soundproofing was on so he could have peace and quiet. A blow to his shoulder would lead you to run him a bath, adding in the oils you used and his towels were always the softest in the compound, even though he was pretty sure you’d stolen them from Tony and Pepper’s apartment when there weren’t any fresh ones. You’d reach out a hand to him to see if he needed you, if he nodded you’d embrace him and hold him until he’d had enough (he’d never had enough). If he shook his head you’d stay nearby, until he found you. Bucky had never gone more than an hour before seeking you out. The pull of you and him something that couldn’t be ignored.

He was passed hiding anything with you or anyone else. He knew what he felt for you. The pull throughout his body, how his thoughts strayed to you. He’d doubted it at first. It made no sense, his soulmate being here and now. ‘I must have been rewired wrong’ he decided. He’d faked an issue with his arm to get a meeting with Shuri, but she was no fool.

“I see how you look at her, are you questioning yourself or my work?”

He didn’t fake an issue with his arm or question Shuri’s rewiring of his brain again.

When he knocks you’re perched on the end of the bed looking at your phone, you’re quick to lock the screen but Bucky sees it’s a photo of you, him and Steve at one of Tony’s events. You practically throw the phone on to the bed like it’s burnt you and jump to your feet. Bucky notices you’re wearing your own clothes and his heart sinks.

He needed to talk to Steve.

TAGLIST

@imdoingbetternow @mcira @abaker74

#steve rogers x reader #avengers au #bucky barnes #steve rogers #bucky barnes x reader #avengers #steve x reader x bucky #soulmate au #avengers soulmate au #steve rogers x reader x bucky

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coolshadowtwins · 1 day

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EDIT: This is a repost from a few days ago, because I hated the fact it was hidden for no reason.

Ok, here’s the first of my stupid JJK fanfic concepts.

The first one was ‘fix it’, for a relative use of the word, where Suguru, after killing the village, does call Satoru for help. He doesn’t know really what kind of help he’s asking for, or even what Satoru could provide, but he is being the bigger person here by asking, right?

It was supposed to be a comedy where Satoru and Shoko scramble around, trying to cover up what Suguru had done. Suguru is not actively helping it this. He’s been convinced to maybe not go and kill all the non-sorcerers, for the twins he had rescued to have a good life at least. But he won’t lie about what he did if someone gets too close to ask, and the twins love the fact they were saved by him and want to brag whenever they could. Satoru and Shoko have to make up so many lies.

Yaga: What happened to the village?!

Suguru: Huh? Oh I kil-

Satoru: -killed the curse! Nasty thing it was, setting the town a blaze and then blowing it up. There’s not even a house left.

Yaga:…. The damage looks like your red attack, Satoru.

Satoru: What? No. What? Ha! No. I wasn’t even there!

Yaga: Then how do you know the houses are gone?

Satoru: …. I read.

It ended up not really funny enough for me? And I also didn’t have much of an idea of how to continue it. Under the cut is what little I had lol

It started with a phone call in the middle of an empty town.

Well, actually, it started a few days before that, with a conversation in an empty classroom.

“You’re back early.” Suguru noted with dull surprise as Satoru walked in. ‘Dull’ seemed to be the only way he felt now a days, and looking at Satoru, he would guess the other boy felt the same way, with how exhaustion seemed to cling to him.

Still, Satoru managed to smile at him, much brighter than Suguru had been capable of lately. “Hey, Suguru!” He said, falling with all his weight in the chair meet to him. The chair tilted back at the force before falling back to all fours. “The higher ups messed up on the ranking of the last curse they sent me to.”

Suguru hated the flash of fear he felt, the most realized emotion he has had in what felt like months, even though he knew nothing would harm Satoru. “Oh?” He asked, in a calm that he didn’t actually feel. Satoru laughed. It didn’t sound like an actual laugh, almost grating against his throat.

“Oh yeah.” He huffed. “A grade 2. They sent me after a grade 2, Suguru! I don’t even have the words to express how outraged and offended I am right now.”

He didn’t sound outraged and offended. He just sounded tired. Still, Suguru settled in, waiting for the rant from his friend that was inevitably coming.

Except, Satoru didn’t. Satoru fell quiet, looking him up and down from behind his glasses.

“I skipped out on sightseeing to maybe catch you before your next mission.” He said. Suguru looked at him in surprise, and maybe a little pleased. Still, Satoru didn’t look happy. “I didn’t mean to get back so late, so imagine my surprise to find you in an empty classroom in the middle of the night.”

“Huh?”

“Suguru.” Wow, he had never heard Satoru sound so disapproving. “Suguru, it’s three am. And you’re sitting in an empty classroom. What’s wrong?”

What wasn’t wrong? Somehow Suguru didn’t Satoru would appreciate that answer.

Also, he hadn’t realized the time. He had sat in there to take a break before going to get dinner, having to work up the nerve to enter the admittedly pretty sparse cafeteria area.

“…Haibara thinks I’m a good person.” Suguru said at last, unable to help himself. Satoru looked at him in surprise, glasses sliding down his nose.

“Uh?” He tilted his head with a frown. “Well, duh. Course he does. That’s because you are a good person, Suguru.”

Suguru had nothing to say to that. Satoru’s frown deepened as the silence stretched on.

“…. Suguru?” He asked almost hesitantly, as if Satoru Gojo was ever hesitant in anything. “Do you… feel like you aren’t a good person?”

He shouldn’t talk about this. He shouldn’t bring it up. He shouldn’t even think about it. But his best friend was here, in reach, in a way that he hadn’t been in a while.

“I think… I think I hate them, Satoru.” He said hoarsely. Satoru paused.

“Eh? Who?”

“Them. The-The Mon-“ Suguru cleared his throat, looking away. “…the non-sorcerers.”

Satoru leaned back in his seat. “Oh.” He said quietly, like he was surprised. He didn’t say anything more.

“Didn’t you feel like this?” Suguru asked desperately. “Last year? When-“

He cut off. Last year, when Suguru found his not dead best friend carrying Riko’s lifeless body, looking at him with equally lifeless eyes, while all those-those cult members just clapped around them at a young girl’s death.

‘Should we kill them all?’ Satoru had asked him. Suguru had answered ‘no’ at the time, but now-

This time, it’s Satoru that goes silent, staring at him for a long moment. “….not really.” He admitted after a while. Suguru gulped, his curses burning in his stomach like acid. “I didn’t feel really anything last year, when I asked. I was pretty out of it. I don’t… think I could actually hate anyone.” He sighed, stretching his long legs out in front of him. “That sounds exhausting to care that much, honestly.”

“Oh.” Suguru said, quietly, and then nothing else. Satoru didn’t let the silence settle this time, leaning forward with a sudden burst of energy.

“Ok!” He clapped his hands, the noise echoing in the empty room. “So you hate them! Let’s put a pin in that for the moment!” He smiled, a little stretched thin, and made a motion with his hands like he was pinning something to a cork board.

Suguru frowned, Yuki’s voice circling in his head. This did not feel like something he should ‘put a pin in’ right now. This felt like he should figure it out as soon as he could, to let one side win out before it tore him apart. “Satoru I-“

“Nope!” Satoru, the annoyance, put up a hand to silence him. “It is much too late for this! So, Haibara thinks you’re a good person, and you do not agree. What do you want to do about that?”

“I thought we were ‘putting a pin in it’. “ Suguru grumbled, crossing his arms. Satoru shook his head.

“You miss understand me!” He huffed. “It’s like you never listen! I know you, Suguru. Ignoring all this ‘hating non-sorcerers’ crap, there’s something else bothering you, right?”

Eh? Honestly, not really. The ‘hating non-sorcerers’ thing was taking up a large amount of his daily bandwidth.

But he could see what Satoru was aiming for- something else to focus on. When the main problem was too much, then let something else be the problem for a bit. It was a tactic usually used on Satoru himself, or Shoko on occasion when her medical classes got too much, but this was the first time it had been used on Suguru himself. It took him a minute to think past his bigger issues as a result, so far out of his comfort zone as he was.

Finally, he settled on, “Fine. I’m worried about Haibara, but it’s finally my own downtime and I’m exhausted. Not only that, but now you’re here, and we never get to hang out anymore.”

“Huh? Worried about Haibara?” Satoru sighed. “Yeah, the higher ups are shit about curse classification. And Haibara’s just a second year too.”

“We’re just third years.” Suguru felt compelled to say. Satoru laughed like he told some great joke, which maybe he did. He was only 17, but he hadn’t felt like a kid in a long time.

After a long moment of nothing but the sound of Satoru’s laughter, he calmed down, leaning forward on his knees as he took deep breaths. Then, he stood up, stretching as he did so. “Well then. Come on.”

“What?” Suguru hurried to stand up as well, to catch up to Satoru as he walked out the classroom door. “Where are we going?”

“To go check on Haibara, of course.” Satoru said, like it was obvious.

“Uh, no? Did you not listen to me?” Suguru asked, closing the door behind them. “I said that I was exhausted and that it was my off day!”

“And that you wanted to spend time with me. I heard you, I swear!” Satoru said, waving a hand. “But considering I found you at three am in an empty classroom, I’m going out on a limb here and saying that you won’t be sleeping tonight.”

Suguru didn’t have anything to say to that. Satoru kept talking, regardless of his lack of answer.

“So, let’s be productive and check on our little Kōhai! We only have two of those, so we gotta protect what we got!”

“Nanami will never like you.”

“Rude! Also probably true.” Satoru laughed, this time sounding much more genuine. “So, look. Well sleep on the train, and then hang out in town after checking on Haibara. And being out means that we can’t be assigned missions all willy nilly!”

They absolutely could. They had cell phones for a reason, and Yaga had their numbers. But Suguru could see the appeal to thinking otherwise, so he didn’t argue.

Satoru then threw something over his shoulder, forcing Suguru to catch it. “Here, catch.”

Suguru opened his hand slowly, falling into step with Satoru as they walked through the empty halls. It was a hair tie- more specifically, it was Suguru’s favorite hair tie, that he thought he had lost ages ago. He frowned, even as he reached up to pull his hair into a bun.

“Why are you stealing my hair ties?” He asked, making quick work of his hair with practiced movements. “What, want little space buns in your hair?”

“Hah! I would rock that and you know it!” Satoru said, hands in his pockets. “I just found that one, you know? And then I thought it would be a good luck charm!”

“That’s so lame.” Suguru rolled his eyes.

“I don’t think so.” Satoru said, with a hum. “I found you tonight, didn’t I?”

Suguru didn’t have an answer to that, and so he stayed silent.

———-

In the middle of a lifeless town of his own doing, Suguru called Satoru.

He was only half aware he was doing it. Standing in the middle of the street with only the half eaten corpses of his victims, and the groaning of his curses swirling around him, he was moving more on autopilot than anything else. Everything seemed both hazy and incredibly clear for the first time in a while, like he was no longer fighting himself but also having a major fucking breakdown.

He had a problem, and so he did the only thing he could think of- calling Satoru. Maybe he shouldn’t be doing this, dragging Satoru in his actions, in his consequences. Maybe he should have done this ages ago, asking Satoru to fix his problems like everyone else in their world seemed too. The thought left a rotten taste in his mouth, somehow even worse than the curses he ate.

A large part of him didn’t actually expect Satoru to pick up. Satoru rarely could answer when he was out on a mission, the veils doing too good of a job in cutting communications, and often forgot to return the missed calls later. So Suguru listened to the ringing once, twice, three times, waiting for the dial tone to start as he watched one of his curses slowly make its way to a body blankly.

Then the ringing went one for a fourth time, then a fifth, before being interrupted by an unexpected click and, “Hey, Suguru!”

Suguru’s mouth felt dry. The curse in front of him reached the body. He didn’t have the care to stop it from sinking its half formed claws into it.

“I got told you were on a mission.” Satoru continued. “Already done?”

Yes. Curse exorcised, curse ingested, village dead. Two out of three things weren’t bad.

“….Suguru?” Satoru’s voice turned confused, sounding almost small over the phone. “Is this a butt dial?”

Oh, right. He should probably answer.

“Can you even hear me-?” Satoru started to asked, only to be cut off.

“I killed everyone in town.” Suguru said bluntly. He finally shooed the curse away from the corpse once it started making a mess. He wanted no chance for any more monkey blood to get on him.

“….huh?” Satoru asked, more of an intake of air than an actual question. “Come, uh, come again? What village?”

“The village I was sent to.” Suguru answered simply, and then wondered why he was doing this. Why did he call Satoru, as if that would help anything.

“Ok, can I ask why?”

“Those monkeys had two girls in a cage, blaming them for what was happening.” Some of the anger came back, remembering what the monkeys had done, and he let his curses go back to the destruction they had been causing. It still didn’t cut through the haze as much as add to it, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about something like that.

“Ah. The pin fell out.” Satoru said, much, much to calm for the situation. Was he in as much of a haze as Suguru? Unlikely. Actually, was this how Satoru felt last year, after killing Fushiguro, standing there surrounded by monkeys clapping for a young girl’s death? Satoru had said that he hadn’t felt much of anything, and maybe Suguru felt like that too. Or maybe Suguru was simply feeling too much, no longer at odds with himself but still drowning in emotion.

“-killed everybody?” Satoru’s voice filtered back in. Suguru blinked, not realizing that he had zoned out, and taking a step back in disgust as some blood splattered onto his shoes.

“The two girls.” He answered, in what he vaguely hoped was an actual answer to whatever Satoru had asked. “I saved them.”

“You certainly did something.” Satoru muttered, voice muffled. Suguru could almost see what he was doing- running around, doing something else while his cell phone was shoved between his ear and his shoulder. Then, clearer, Satoru said, “Suguru, listen, I’ll be there in just a second. Just… don’t do anything else, ok? Put the pin back for a minute.”

“The pin-?” Suguru tried to question, only to be met with the dial tone. He made a face, half heartedly, and slid his phone shut. He couldn’t believe the asshole hung up on him-

The air shook. Suguru held his breath, almost unconsciously, as the cursed energy of the town seemed to spark, dancing around him in ways that made his curses go haywire. There was almost a faint taste of ozone on his tongue, familiar, before everything snapped violently back into place, just like it had been.

Just like it had been, except for Satoru standing there, panting like he had overextended himself. Suguru blinked, mildly interested.

“You figured out how to do that?” He asked. Satoru’s head snapped over to him, like he hadn’t noticed him standing there before, as his breathing got under control.

“Not really.” He said with a half grin, obviously wanting to brag about his new abilities, even as his head tilted to the side to take in the mess Suguru’s curses have left. “This was my first time going so far. But you know what they say- Necessity breeds intervention!”

“I didn’t know you knew that saying.” Suguru answered easily, feeling both more grounded now that Satoru was there, and more out of control at the banter in the middle of a massacre. “You can actually read.”

Satoru pouted, forced, as he walked over. He avoided the bodies and blood easily. Suguru was a little jealous, the monkey blood starting to cool on his clothes.

“So mean Suguru!” He whined, glasses slipping down his nose as he gave him a once over. Satoru made a face. “You look like shit, and it’s not just the blood. When was the last time you slept?”

When was the last time he slept? He couldn’t think of the answer, but he didn’t want to tell Satoru that. He opted to say nothing, which actually might have been the worse thing to do, judging by the expression it caused.

“The fact that you won’t say is terrifying.” Satoru said, pushing his glasses back up. “Was it before this mission.”

Definitely.

“….before Haibara’s mission?” Satoru asked a bit more hesitantly, when Suguru stayed quiet. Suguru still didn’t answer, but that didn’t stop Satoru from looking frustrated and dismayed. “Oh my god. Suguru, what the fuck. No wonder you snapped and killed this village.”

“The monkeys deserved it.” He grumbled, looking away. He didn’t need to justify himself again- Satoru knew why he did it, why he had to do it. Satoru sighed.

“I told you to keep a pin in that!” He snapped, making that same stupid motion of placing a pin in something that he made a few days prior. “Whatever. Where are these girls?”

The two girls (that he still didn’t know the name of, fuck) were safe in a bed in the inn. The same inn where he had checked into what felt like years ago, but was in all honestly simply the night before. Before… everything. He pointed over to it, seeing Satoru follow his finger to the building. It was the most he could do, energy failing him now that someone else was there to take over.

One by one, the curses around them disappeared, going back inside of him as he lost the concentration to keep them out. He could tell Satoru noticed, judging by the way he looked around.

“Suguru.” He looked down, staring as Satoru reached forward to grab his hand. “This is very important. Did you ever tell the school about the curse from Haibara’s mission?”

He shook his head slowly, confused. There had been no time to do so. They had gotten to where Haibara’s mission was just in time to knock the younger boy out of the way from what had been probably a killing move, and then exorcised the curse quickly, in a way that Nanami and Haibara’s simply weren’t capable of. One hit of Red from Satoru and the curse was easy pickings for Suguru to eat, as much as he didn’t want to. When the four of them made it back to the campus, Yaga had new missions for him and Satoru immediately. Suguru never got around with telling anyone about the new curse.

(He briefly thought about the train ride home, with Haibara’s hero worship awkwardly directed at them, and Nanami’s mutterings about just leaving everything to him and Satoru, instead of risking their own lives. Suguru’s mouth felt dry again.)

#jjk #gojo satoru #geto suguru

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tecnestheim962 · 23 hours

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A Rating & Scathing Review of RWBY Characters:

Done by: Me (surprise!)

This is a serious review where I seriously analyze each character and rate them all seriously!!

If I hurt anyone in this, I’m sorry, it’s not you, it’s me. It’s nothing personal.

That being said, let’s get on to the ratings!

Ruby Rose:

Can I just say:

I really just love Ruby. Isn’t she awesome? Like. Man. What a lovable, strong, caring, amazing person! Had the weight of the world thrown onto her, and she didn’t care, she just kept doing what she thought was the right thing. And when she broke? It was still selfless. She thought she was doing the world a favor after all her mistakes. Then she came back because she knew she could do and had to do more for everyone. She needs a hug and all the love.

Rating:

Infinity/10

Weiss Schnee:

Weiss??? The way she opens up and goes from being all, “friendship? Who needs it.” To, “I! Love! My! Friends! Friendship is magic! I will fight tooth and nail for them! They are the most important people in the world!” And the way she became so open minded after learning from different perspectives? Gotta love her.

Rating:

Infinity/10

Blake Belladonna:

Oh my gosh and another of my favorites: Blake! She learns to let herself be loved by those around her! She learns that letting people in isn’t a weakness, but a great strength! She is a fierce protector and a whole civil rights activist taking the world by storm! She finds a way to show love now in any scenario when beforehand she didn’t because she was scared to get hurt. Gosh. Spectacular.

Rating:

Infinity/10

Yang Xiao-Long:

Don’t even get me started on Yang. Protector Supreme. The way she used to let her emotions control her to controlling her emotions??? I’m in shambles. From learning how to live for herself and not just her sister??? It’s important even though she missed rubys pain she’s only human and she’s beautiful!! The way she loves through her actions and defends through her words??? Just kill me now.

Rating:

Infinity/10

Jaune Arc:

Oh yeah and Jaune??? The character development??? Wowza. The way he’s always there for those he cares about??? Fantastic. The way he would throw everything away just to be there for his friends?? I am deceased. His fortitude and determination to keep pushing through?? Ugh.

Rating:

Infinity/10

Nora Valkyrie:

Nora??????? My Queen????? With her heart a beautiful storm that she projects to all those around her??? Her protective nature over everyone??? How she learns that she needs to love herself and know herself before she can truly dedicate herself to another???? Literally puts me 6 feet under.

Rating:

Infinity/10

Pyrrha Nikos:

Pyrrha??? Don’t think I’m leaving her out of this! Her heart was so strong with her convictions and her love for her friends that she literally did everything she thought she could to protect them. She wanted to define her destiny and save the world in the way she thought only she could. I will literally never recover.

Rating:

Infinity/10

Oscar Pine:

Oscar???????????????? My baby???? My precious little prince??? Innocent farm boy who keeps getting slapped in the face by literally everyone (seriously crwby this poor boy needs a break and a hug) literally losing his soul but wants to spend every second he has doing everything he can for remnant???? He didn’t ask for this???? And yet here he is??? I haven’t stopped crying since V5 thank you very much!

Rating:

Infinity/10

Lie Ren:

Ren????? My boy??? Who feels like he always has to be the strong one emotionally??? Who always has to mask his own emotions to take care of others???? Who literally developed a semblance, a manifestation of his SOUL that is empathy??????? Like what???? Who would literally rather be dead than without Nora?? Who tried to take up the mantle of Jaunes emotional support humanness???? Orkcmekwkqo.

Rating:

Infinity/10

I could go on for the rest of my life for these people and literally every other character.

Also, how come tumblr doesn’t have more colors available??? Truly a tragedy and quite rude if I might say! Hmph!

I really hope someone gets some giggles out of this like I did!

Let me know if anyone wants me to do another HIGHLY critical review (ahem) and rating of these characters.

Gonna go cry now bye-

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sleepdeprivationandcoffee · 3 months

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If any of you plan on having kids, please for your sake please have a good support system. I mean people who will take kiddo for a few hours so you can sleep/clean/relax without stressing, people who will help with chores and help pick up the slack when you start feeling worn thin, and people who will encourage and remind you that you’re doing great. It’s so so so hard when you can’t get the help you need.

Future parents, please do this for yourself. Please ask for help and build yourself a safety net of people you trust to care for you like you would care for them.

#I’m am not great and it’s not my kid’s fault at all #I just physically have not been away from her more than 2 weeks (collectively) since she was born #I have had little to no babysitting #my partner daughter and I share a room with our dog #while cleaning his parent’s hoard so we can have more space in the downstairs #my family has been so weird going between actually loving to cold/rude/critical when I don’t let them treat me like a doormat #my CPTSD and bipolar have been ripping me apart mentally #I’m so so so tired and sad and upset and guilty for everything I’m feeling #for little outbursts of yelling/slamming stuff down/shutting down entirely/feeling disdainful towards everyone around me for short periods #none of this is okay #I’m trying so hard to get the help I need and I’m getting there I’m so close guys I’m so close #but I’m breaking under the weight of it all #if it wasn’t for my partner I would’ve certainly killed myself in the past couple years #he’s been my rock and best friend from the moment I met him #and he’s the only thing keeping me together #uuuugh long rant uh #just please take care of yourself before you lose friends and find familial relationships stressed/broken

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the-old-man-has-the-phonebox · 7 months

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Rub-roh raggy got too deep into current events and the sudden wave of suicidal ideation hit

#it’s like spilling cold water on yourself #as soon as it happens you just go ‘oh fuck no no no no no’#am I a bad person for admitting I’m at the end of my rope emotional-bandwidth wise?#the emotional fatigue is real #i can’t do this anymore #I’ve been so strong for so long and I’m finally breaking under all the weight #the weight of internal stuff the weight of family stuff the weight of world news the weight of end stage capitalism #I want it to stop #anyway time for some Xanax :)

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alittleemo · 2 months

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roommates sending new apartment links into the gc ,,, if I have to move again I may jill myself

#literally they asked me if I’d seen them this morning and my stomach started hurting #last spring trying to find an apartment genuinely had me losing weight from stress. i do not want to do that again :((#also like i do not live here full time packing up my shit will not be easy at all #i understand it’s cheaper but thats bc its in a further area and a smaller apartment !! like girl #im actually too tired to be acting rational abt this but i wanted to dump my thoughts out #sometimes i think they look for links bc it is like shopping or smth to do. but genuinely i dont know how serious they are #I was under the impression we were j renewing our lease but now they want to tour as soon as we’re back from break #also. when they all graduate early i will be stuck with wherever we land and honestly. To be selfish. I want it to be here.#like i am not getting a mover to help us get that damn couch out my family literally did everything last time #which is fine !! It’s meant to be communal !! but it’s not /easy/ to just pack up and fuckign go #like they seem to think it will be #i would also have to either stay late and miss internship or come back during the summer which again. Expensive and time wasting.#I’m v annoyed sorry #anyway #lee’s bullshit

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wunderschon-lieblich · 7 months

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My usual dealer is taking a T break and won’t be selling for a bit so now my only hookup is the dude that asked me to hang last time and like I turned him down and he seemed to take it well but I just don’t even wanna deal with that. Like I always got a vibe from him that he’s into me but he’s awkward and it was fine bc he never said anything outside of usual weed buying conversation until a couple months ago and I haven’t gone back since and

#the girl I bought from for two years before I started buying from these guys #just randomly started under selling one day?#like me my sister and my bestie were all buying from her #and one day we were like #this is absolutely not a dub I don’t even have to weight it to know #so she’s out #anyway I should take a break too tbh tbh #but god #idk if I’m ready for that #addiction posting ✌🏼😘#tw drugs

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garoujo · 8 months

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✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU — sometimes your boyfriend’s want for you just seems to be insatiable.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! f!reader, mating press, breeding, biting, he loses control of his technique a teeny tiny bit at the end, im going absolutely insane. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! hiii this is a lil mix of my gojo thoughts over the past few months, my sanity is slipping as u can tell <3

the way gojo satoru was in bed was exactly how he was in real life, absolutely merciless when he wanted to be, you realise with the dizzy haze in your mind and the pillow he’s shoved under your hips. there’s a pleasurable burn in your thighs where he’s got them folded into you, your ankles dangling by his ears as his hips press into your ass and the way he looks over you is needy, and a little wild.

but he only really got like this on on a few occasions, like after a gruelling mission, a boring mountain of paperwork or maybe you’d been teasing him. sometimes he’s just consumed by the idea of you carrying his kids— he’s so incredibly insatiable.

“you feel me right here, sweet thing, hm?” the snowy haired man above you hisses with a languid roll of his hips, deliberately pressing into the sweet spots inside of you that he always seems to be able to find so easily. but you can barely breathe, nevermind answer with how full you feel — your warm walls twitching around his heavy shaft before he’s giving you a few more thrusts.

“don’t hold out on me, it feels good, right?” gojo goads, chuckles when the next particularly deep kiss of his cock along your insides has your lips parting to moan, eyes squeezing shut as you wriggle underneath him.

“‘ts too deep, satoru! fuck—“ you manage, voice breaking under the weight of your own arousal but shit— he loves you like this. pliant and pretty and all his. you’re basically begging for him to give you his soul, to pour it into your body and your bones until you’re twitching— his stamina was limitless after all, an endless pool of energy.

“oh? but i’m sure you can take more..” gojo’s words are a low drawl as he curls over your folded figure, making your muscles scream for some sort of relief but he still manages to give you more. he begins a pace that’s so deep, so animalistic that you feel like you could black out with the way the pleasure rips through you, making your body clap against his as his balls smack loudly against your ass and suddenly he’s even deeper.

“see, i knew it.” it’s smug despite the the trembling undercurrent to his tone, breaking under the weight of his own arousal as his voice takes an octave higher. but you’re doing so well for him, your eyes are rolled back— lips parted and you’re basically begging for him to go harder when he leans into press his lips against yours, pushing his name between your lips as your hands grab at him for any sort of relief.

“almost there, right?” gojo groans against you with the next quiver of your walls; the next particularly heavy thrust makes your thighs tremble and he’s so deep it almost hurts, making something spark and burn along your inside as he fucks you into the mattress like a wild animal.

you whimper, barely— it’s a desperately pathetic little sound, wound up tight and it makes him pull away to look at you, crystalline eyes cloudy with lust before his lips are stretching into a smirk.

“oh, more?” gojo’s head cocks to the side and you know you’re done for when his pace picks up, every heavy thrust is driven by the muscles in his body and your pussy squelches loudly with every wet connection of his hips.

“oh, i’ll give you more, baby. so greedy f’ me, hm?” despite his teasing, he’s babbling— sweat beading along his skin as the snowy peaks of his hair frame his flushed features and fuck, the pretty sight above you only makes you feel even better. you’re so high off his desperation, every muscle in your body screams under his but the nerves in your body cry even louder with how good you feel— with how much your body craves him.

“‘ts so tight, you milkin’ me, sweet girl? how many you want, huh? give you as many as you need. wanna see you swollen f’ me, you want that, mhm?” gojo’s barely coherent but his words only make you squeeze around him tighter— a silent little invitation as every thrust has you crying more, more, more! satoru, want your cum—please! punched out little gasps and cries as he digs the orgasm out of you.

“oh, you’ll look so pretty f’ me—f-fuck!” his huge body is looming over yours, pressing you into the mattress and the pillows beneath you. your thighs are flush against his abdomen and chest, and your lungs feel like they quake on every exhale as your lips part to moan. he presses himself into you— face nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he grazes his teeth along the skin there, headboard screeching loudly in time with every smack of his hips.

“‘toru, please please please—‘m g’nna,” you tremble as you shake beneath gojo, thighs tensing tight against his body and he knows he’s got you exactly where he wants you as he smirks against your skin. your orgasm hits you so suddenly, so hard and good that your toes curl where they hang over his shoulders, your body stiffening beneath him and the first milking compression of your pussy makes his pace stutter, hugs him so tight he can’t help but bite so hard into the sensitive skin of your neck he draws blood.

“should see h-how pretty you look like this. tell me ‘ts all mine, y’ gonna make me a daddy, yeah? g’nna fill you up so good. oh, this pussy’s made f’ me, ain’t it?”

his body trembles as he pulls back slightly to watch your cream pool around the base of his cock, your slick smeared along his skin and your walls still throb with every unforgiving push of his hips. your orgasm feels like it stretches on forever as you gasp out broken yeah, yours, love you so much ‘toru, waves rolling through your body with the heat you feel pour and sting along your nerves. it only takes a few more clapping thrusts and your choked confessions before hes kissing you, just as he likes as his lips curl into you.

gojo cums hard, thick and heavy inside of you when he feels your tongue push against his, swallowing both of your groans into the kiss as he pushes his load into your puffy cunt. you’re both so lost in bliss, so unaware of the electricity across your boyfriends skin and the uncomfortable pressure that seems to suddenly weigh down on your intertwined bodies.

the bedroom light flickers but you don’t notice, he’s slurring curses against your lips as he almost pins your thighs to your chest completely, the air between you seems tighter— atoms trembling in the finate space. but he’s continuing to fuck into your sensitive pussy with tiny little thrusts you don’t notice the creek of your furniture as it twitches out of place— like it’s being pulled towards you both. the small flickers of purple fizzle out when you’re both spent and he’s collapsing on top of you with a low, breathy chuckle, making you whine with the cramp you feel in your body.

“‘toru! you’re heavy.” you grumble, voice worn and scratchy but it doesn’t move gojo as he cuddles deeper into you, leaving sweet little kisses along your skin with obnoxious kissy noises— a stark contrast to how filthy he was being a second ago.

you’re both breathing deep as you give up trying to escape from underneath him, opting to press your fingers through his damp hair instead before he finally moves. he pulls back, enough for his cock to push his cum out of your pussy as he does, squelching and dripping into the mattress beneath you both as you jolt slightly. “careful, ‘ts messy, ‘toru.”

gojo whistles lowly before he looks at you again, one of your legs still haphazardly thrown over his shoulder before he’s placing a sweet kiss to your ankle, then following it up with a painfully languid, experimental thrust as his crystalline eyes focus on the mess he’s made of you.

“come on, sweet girl. you’re not nearly full enough f’ me yet.”

#݁ . ࿓ : sealed#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x you #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x you

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rs-hawk · 4 months

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Going INSANE thinking about this post by @curiousmons :

So here we go!!

Your Centaur Boyfriend being embarrassed when he explains he’s never cum before because he can’t reach “down there”. You’re stunned and ask why he hasn’t told you before. You tell him you’d have at least given him a handjob before now so he could get some release! He sheepishly tells you that he almost didn’t tell you at all because he’s worried he won’t last long and he doesn’t want to disappoint you.

After a soft heart to heart session, you explain that even if he doesn’t last long, at least you’ll be doing it together so it’ll be wonderful. The kissing starts off slow and soft with him stooping down and you on your tiptoes. Then him pulling off your shirt, and you eagerly finishing undressing yourself when he hesitates. He eases you onto your back on the soft (but itchy, not that you’d tell him) hay he made into a bed for you. His front legs are tucked under him as he goes back to kissing you, pumping his fingers in and out of you slowly.

Despite never having been with anyone before, he knows that his massive cock would hurt you if you’re not prepped, which is another reason you two had waited for so long. Now you could easily take his fingers, and you were already soaking wet for him. His cock is so hard that he’s already leaking precum and it’s almost painful. He wants to be inside of you so badly.

“Please,” you whisper, breaking the kiss to look up at him.

He bites his lip before nodding slightly. He stands back up and you adjust, pushing yourself into doggy style so it’s easier for him to push into you. You have to help guide him a bit since you have to be so far under him, but as soon as the tip of his cock is pushed inside of you, he starts going crazy.

He jerks his hips towards you, nearly impaling you with his massive cock in one thrust. You yelp, not expecting that sudden and deep of a movement, but you don’t pull away.

“I’m sorry baby. You feel so good. I’m sorry,” he groans as he continues to slam in and out of you, driving you into the floor.

His cock slams deep inside of you, stretching you out in the most delicious way. He bullies your cervix in a way you never thought possible, his hot and slick precum already coating your womb. You whimper, trying to find something to hold onto. When you start to squirm, he uses his front hooves to keep you in place, setting them lightly on you, of course not his full weight, just so he can continue to cram himself into you.

Once he’s close, his thrusting becomes more sporadic. He thrusts roughly and sloppily, almost pulling out in his haste to push back inside of you. You can feel him throbbing and pulsing inside of you, every thick inch of that cock stretching you out even more as he already was.

“You’re so good baby. So tight. So wet,” he whines, picking up the pace even more.

“Keep going,” is all you can manage to get out between the rough assaults on your body.

He complies until he crams himself as deeply as he can inside of you, pumping you full of hot, thick ropes of cum. You can feel it filling you, extending your stomach and spilling out onto your thighs and the floor under you even as he’s still deep inside of you.

His front legs tremble before he buckles them, pulling them off of you so he can support himself on them. You can hear his deep breathing and panting as he recovers, his cock still throbbing inside of you.

“That was amazing baby,” you sigh, almost dreamily, before you try to wiggle out from under him.

However, he’s already rutting into you, grinding his hips against yours with his cock still buried inside of you. “Just one more baby. Please please let me do it just one more time.”

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bruisedboys · 10 months

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love drunk — miguel o’hara x reader

summary — while miguel deals with a drunk and clingy you, you accidentally let it slip that you love him. requested here

grumpy x sunshine!! spidergirl!reader, no pronouns used but implied fem!reader, grumpy miguel, kind of ditzy reader, drunk reader, established relationship, first ‘I love you’ trope, miguel being lovesick, fluff. so much fluff

nav

implied fem!reader 1.3k words

Miguel thinks he should never let you drink again in your whole life.

“Y/N,” he says through gritted teeth, irritated now. Actually, he was irritated ten minutes ago but was doing a better job at hiding it. “Come on. Get off me.”

You’re dead weight in his lap. He wouldn’t mind, he likes when you sit on him like this, only you’re in the middle of the bar and there are at least five Peter’s looking his way and smirking, and he can see Hobie Brown laughing at him behind his hand across the room.

“Whyyyyy?” You drawl, your lips slow and your tongue slower. You paw at his chest and give him a glare that’s about as menacing as a puppy. “You’re so mean.”

Miguel sighs heavily. He picks up his hands where they’d been hovering at your sides, unsure whether he should touch you or not when you’re like this, and gets a good grip on your hips.

“C’mon, get up,” he says. He lifts you off his lap with ease, fingers curling around your hips, and deposits you in the booth seat next to him.

To Miguel’s surprise, you don’t flop into his side or try to climb back onto him like he thought you would. Where seconds ago you were like a rag doll, you sit rigid straight.

“What?” He asks you, genuinely confused.

“Sorry,” you say quietly, frowning to yourself. “I didn’t mean that. You’re not mean.”

Miguel blinks at you. “Oh. No, that’s not why I made you get off, sweetheart. I know you don’t actually think I’m mean.”

Slowly, you brighten up like a wind up toy, springing back to life in slow motion with a big smile painting itself across your mouth, all teeth. “Oh, okay. Can I get back on you now?”

Miguel actually laughs. He’s very tempted to say yes, you can sit in his lap as long as you like. He doesn’t, mostly because you’re very obviously past your limit and you need a bed and some water. Neither of which he can get you here.

“You’re funny, cariño,” he tells you, chucking you under the chin with his knuckles. You beam up at him, eyes squinting so much they’re half closed. He indulges himself in a squeezing of your cheek before breaking the news, “No, you can’t get back on me—“ Your face falls, “—But I can take you to bed?”

Your smile comes back so quick it’s alarming, and you nod vehemently. “Yeah, please.”

Miguel manages to get you out of the Spider-Bar (nicknamed by one of the Peter’s, he can’t remember which but Miguel refuses to call it that. It’s just a section off the second floor of Headquarters where Spider-people migrate to drink.) without you tripping over your own feet. He’s discovering you’re a very clumsy, clingy drunk. That, and you really can’t hold your liquor. He’s only had a little less than you and he feels completely fine. Other than the burning in his chest, though he’s pretty sure that has more to do with you and your presence than the alcohol.

He gets you into an elevator and holds you up when you slouch into his side. His arm around your hip and both of your hands clinging like vines to his free arm, tight enough to ache but he can’t bring himself to ask you to loosen your grip a little. He’d be lying if he said he doesn’t enjoy your apparent desperation to stick to him like glue.

The elevator dings and the doors slide open. A gaggle of Spider-Women wait on the other side, Jess among them. The younger girls giggle amongst themselves when they see the predicament they’ve caught their haughty boss in.

“Hey, Miguel,” Jess drawls as she sidles past him, Miguel practically dragging you out of the elevator now and out of the way of the girls. “Hey, Y/N.” She grins at your inebriated state, then looks to Miguel, “Early night?”

It’s almost midnight. Miguel can’t tell if she’s teasing or not. She probably is. “Yeah.”

“Miguel’s taking me to bed,” you pipe up, a lustful tone to your sticky, slurry voice that Miguel winces at. He hadn’t meant it like that. Clearly, your drunk mind had taken it that way. He’ll be sure to set the record straight once you’re safe and alone in his room.

Jess laughs loud. “Right. Well, have fun with that.”

She’s still laughing as the elevator doors slide shut. Miguel sighs. He’s not gonna hear the end of that for at least a week. You tug on his arm and smile up at him sweetly, and he forgets all about it.

“What is it, cariño?” He hums.

“Can you carry me? My feet are sore.”

Miguel indulges you. Partly because you’d asked and he’s yet again been tasked with the challenge of saying no to you (which he fails at every time), and partly because you’re slowing him down and he really wants to get to his room before he meets anyone else. He scoops you up easily, one arm hooked beneath your thighs and the other under your back. You giggle dazedly and hook your arms around his neck tight enough that it’d hurt anyone but Miguel, burying your face in his neck, your flyaway hair tickling his skin.

By the time he gets you to his room you’re half asleep in his arms. He’d let you sleep but your suit is constricting. He deposits you on the bed in the dark and switches on the lamp. He only manages to turn on his heels before you’re grabbing his arm, warm hand wrapping around his wrist with a clumsy desperation.

“Don’t go,” you murmur, eyes half closed.

Miguel pries your hand away gently. “I’m not going anywhere. Just getting your pyjamas.”

You allow it but you make a grab for him as soon as he’s back, hands warm at his waist. He stands in front of you and undresses you out of your spidersuit, then redresses you into the pyjamas you keep in his room. You keep quiet other than the occasional hiccup and despite your amorous comment earlier you don’t try anything, even when you’re completely bare-chested and Miguel is standing over you. While he pulls your shirt over you head, your hands find his hips and grip them like somebody’s trying to take him away from you.

He gives you a glass of water which you skull back like you’re about to die of thirst. He refills the glass and when he comes back you’ve turned the light off and buried yourself under the covers. He thinks you’re asleep until he goes to put the glass on the bedside table and your hand sneaks out of the sheets, reaching for him.

“Miguel…” you murmur, fingers brushing his abdomen. You tilt your head up towards him, searching for him in the dark.

“You okay?” He asks, concerned you’re not feeling well. He hopes you’re not the kind of drunk who throws up everything they drank. Though he can’t say he’d mind looking after you even if you were.

“I’m fine,” you say softly. It’s dark and he can barely see your face but he hears your next words just fine. “Thank you for looking after me … I love you.”

Miguel is so shocked he almost drops the glass of water he’s holding. Sure, he knew you had feelings for him. He knew you care for him about as much as he does for you, which is an inordinate amount. To hear you say it is different. His fondness for you multiplies by about a million and the chasm in his chest feels, not for the first time since he met you, a little bit smaller.

He knows you probably won’t remember it in the morning, but it’s been said and his chest is aflame. He sets the cup down and then crouches next to your lovely, tired face, and cups your cheek. He presses a soft kiss to your temple, and then your lips. Your eyelashes flutter as your eyes fall shut and you smile.

Miguel waits til he’s sure you’re asleep to say it back — vulnerability’s never really been his strong suit. He tucks hair away from your face, feeling a bit drunk himself. Just not from anything he drank. “I love you too, mi amor.”

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kentofic · 2 months

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Eyes on me - Nanami Kento x f!reader

absolute pwp 18+ MDNI — cw: dry humping, oral, overstimulation, praise, throat fucking, a needy brat of a reader, and just all around self-indulgent filth

Fuck the euphemisms and the beating around the bush. You’re horny. You’ve been clenching your thighs all day at work. You’ve been indulging in dirty daydreams that always end in you bent over a desk. You’ve been doing kegels just to feel something.

But Kento is holed up in his office, ignoring you.

You pace back and forth in front of the door to his home office. You figure you should leave him be. He already hates overtime, and he’s probably in a rotten mood. But you’ve had such a long day, and you’re so wound up now, you won’t get through even the coldest shower without breaking and touching yourself. And to be fair, you’re usually fine with touching yourself. But right now, you need to be touched by him.

“I can hear you clomping around out there.”

You stop in your tracks, grimacing. You hear Kento sigh before he says, “You can come in.”

You open the door a sliver and peek in to see Kento with his head propped up in one hand, the other poised over a pile of documents. Still working, as you thought. And a full hour past quitting time, which explains why his brow is pinched with annoyance.

“What do you need, sweetheart?” he asks, eyes locked on yours.

“I was, uh…lonely. Just wanted to see you,” you grin sheepishly, stepping into the room and closing the door behind you. He says nothing for a moment, just looks you over with those sharp, observant eyes. Those eyes that burn through you, pooling molten warmth in your gut. You fidget under the weight of his gaze and squeeze your thighs together, trying not to look as desperate as you feel.

“Hmm,” Kento murmurs, sitting back in his chair with a wry smile. “Lonely isn’t the word I would use.”

You stiffen, crossing your arms over your chest. He’s right, but hey. “Well, what word would you use then?” you huff, bottom lip poked out in a pout. He smirks.

“Needy.”

You splutter for a moment, caught. You try to explain it away, tripping over your words, while Kento observes you with an amused smile.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he interrupts you once he’s had his fill of your stammering, eyes glittering with mirth. He pats his thighs, his slacks stretched deliciously taut over the thick muscle. “Come here.”

Your heart swells, embarrassment forgotten. You rush over with the intent of clambering into his lap. He stops you for a moment, holding you at arm’s length as he smooths your hair out of your face. You’re so pent up that even that innocent action makes you want to whimper. But his smile has tempered back to a serious expression, so you bite back your desperation and try to show him you’re listening.

“I need to get these papers sorted tonight,” he says. You frown, and he sighs. “I know, I don’t want to do them either, but they need to get done. It shouldn’t take long. If you can be good and occupy yourself until I’m finished, then…”

He trails off for a moment, grazing his thumb over your bottom lip. Your nerves buzz at the short, tender contact. “Then I’ll take care of you. Understood?”

Heat unfurls at the base of your stomach. “Understood,” you salute, overeager. He chuckles.

Kento leans back to make room for you. You settle yourself in his lap, facing him, hooking your legs over his hips and pressing yourself to his broad, warm chest. He’s so tall, it’s easy enough for him to hook his head over your shoulder and keep working. You press your face into his shoulder and breathe in the fresh, familiar scent of his aftershave. You should feel calm, content, like you often do when he holds you like this. Instead you just feel even more hot and bothered, and you can’t help but want to fidget and find some friction against him.

Kento said to be good. But he also said you could occupy yourself. And then he let you climb onto his lap. So, really, hasn’t he given you permission to occupy yourself… using his lap?

A little rub wouldn’t hurt, you reason. It might help ease the sharp burn of desire between your legs—reduce the tension that has you all strung out. He already knows that you’re all worked up. You’re just taking care of yourself until he can do it for you. Yeah, you think, a little rubbing would be fine.

You shuffle your hips against him experimentally, holding your breath for a reaction. Kento does shut down your bratty antics from time to time. But he doesn’t stir, doesn’t chide you, just keeps scratching away at whatever documents he’s tending to. You shift your hips down again, more deliberately—it can’t be mistaken for repositioning. Still, he says nothing. So you shift forward again, and this time you fully grind down with the pressure you need. The friction is delicious, and a little moan bubbles up from your throat.

You feel Kento’s hand come up to grasp the back of your neck, his thumb rubbing against the sensitive spot under your ear. You freeze, a pleasant shiver running through you. He hasn’t scolded you, but his gentle grip on your neck makes you feel like he wants you to ask.

“Kento,” you mumble into his shoulder, “…Is this okay?”

“Is what okay, my love?” he replies, seemingly indifferent—as if his warm hand isn’t smoothing down the length of your back before stopping to grasp at the soft flesh of your hip. You let out a shaky breath as you shudder.

“…R-Rubbing myself on you? While I wait,” you say in a soft rush of air. You press your face into his neck, cheeks prickling with warmth.

Kento lets out a slow, measured exhale and squeezes your hip. He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling and so obviously pleased.

“Do as you like, sweetheart.”

You hear him pick up his pen again, but his non dominant hand keeps a firm grip on your hip. You feel his promise to take care of you seared into you with each pad of his fingers.

You start grinding down on him again, building a rhythm. It feels so good— the pressure and friction and warmth of him against you, even through layers of fabric. You feel him start to harden beneath you, and you smile to yourself. Even if his mind is occupied with silly paperwork, Kento’s body belongs to you and only you.

A wicked little idea starts to take form in your mind.

You let soft, deliberate sounds of pleasure spill from your lips as you grind into Kento’s steadily growing erection. You pant as you rock against him, fanning warm breath across his neck with each exhale, your lips just barely brushing his skin. You relish in how your usually unflappable lover stiffens, your soft lips and sweet little sounds curling a shudder down his spine. You don’t push it too far—you agreed to be good after all. But you dance up to the line, feeling equal parts giddy and greedy.

Emboldened by Kento’s small reactions, you slowly swirl your hips the way you know he loves, and you let out a breathy sigh of his name. You feel the muscles of his neck tense, and he clears his throat. You think he might finally chide you, but he doesn’t. Wordlessly, he reaches between you to readjust his cock so it isn’t pinned to the side as it strains against his slacks. He aligns it vertically, his flushed tip peeking out from his waistband. You grin widely, having won your prize. You’re not the only one who’s needy now.

You press down against him, rutting your clothed cunt against the underside of his cock. His breath hitches as the soft material of your shorts catches against his sensitive tip, and you know soon it’ll be smeared with precum. You rock against him with a fervor now, trying to shift your hips at a better angle each time, pitching your pelvis forward to try and catch more of your clit on each down and upward motion. Trying to get more of that delicious friction that’s pooling wetness in your panties. But even as you pant softly into his shoulder and work yourself against him, you know it won’t be enough.

It’s all Kento’s fault. Before you met him, an orgasm was a simple delight that your own fingers could give you with ease. But now your body knows him. It knows how he feels pressed deep into you, snug against your cervix, filling you up completely. It knows the true depths of pleasure that you’re capable of feeling only when he’s inside you. Even if he hasn’t left any lasting marks, Kento has engraved himself into your body.

You need him to fill you. And right now, you’re warm and wet, but so empty.

You whimper, rocking yourself faster, more desperately. It feels good—really good—but the more you try to chase that goodness to an orgasm, the quicker it seems to slip away. You’re riding a wave that refuses to crest and crash down—it just undulates over and over. You screw your eyes shut, trying to focus on that small flame inside you, trying to get it to burn just a little bit brighter.

Then all of a sudden, Kento’s other hand is sinking into your hip and he’s griiinding up into you with so much pressure that you gasp.

“Not enough, is it?” Kento says, his voice husky and strained.

You let out a sound halfway between a whimper and a sigh of relief. “Not enough. I need you,” you pant, your hips still bucking against his—chasing the heat of his reciprocating friction.

Without warning, Kento stands up, and you squeal as you lose balance on his lap. You lock your legs around his waist and throw your arms around his shoulders to avoid falling. He uses one arm to hold you up, and with the other hand he neatly gathers and tucks his documents into a drawer. With a soft grunt, he sits you down on his cleared desk.

You start to release your koala-like hold on him, only for him to pull you into a searing kiss that has you scrabbling at the nape of his neck for purchase. His tongue licks into your mouth with a force and precision that makes you moan. You kiss him back in earnest, your legs still locked around his waist, drawing him in as close as you can.

You both part, panting. Kento caresses your cheek with his thumb as he looks at you with those dark, lust-glazed eyes that say without words that he intends to devour you. Then he places a hand in the center of your chest and gently pushes you down on your back. You stare up at the light fixture, dizzied, as he lifts your legs from around his waist and scoots you further back onto the desk.

You gasp when you feel him lift your hips and remove your shorts and panties in a single, sharp tug. You’re bare to him now—the cool air making your wet folds feel icy cold. But only for a moment. Because then he presses that searing hot tongue to your core and oh. You can’t help but arch up into the sensation as the flat of his tongue slides through your folds, lapping up the mess you’ve made while waiting for him.

“Sweetheart.” You feel the affectionate name rumble against your sensitive folds. “You’re dripping. All this for me?”

“Y-yes—fuck, Kento,” you whimper as he dives in again, working his tongue into your sopping entrance before slowly licking back up to your clit. “I couldn’t wait—I need you, Kento, please—“

You’re cut off by your own moan as he seals his lips around your clit and sucks. Your hips lift off the desk to meet the hot, wet suction as best you can. He lets you press yourself into his mouth, sucking hungrily at the sensitive nub until your thighs are trembling. Then he releases your clit with a wet sound, and he works back into your soaking folds to taste you again, groaning softly as he slurps and swallows down your arousal.

That small flame you were chasing while grinding against him is now building into an all-consuming fire. You can feel the pulse of it deep in you as the sensation mounts, stronger and hotter. The pleasure Kento gives you is so intense and sudden after hours of restraining yourself, you feel your body starting to run away with the feeling—a freight train gaining speed, out of your control. You’re going to come if he doesn’t stop, and this isn’t how you want it, even as good as it is.

“Kento, gonna come,” you gasp out, clawing at the smooth surface of his desk. “Don’ wanna come—stop, stop, I don’t want to come yet—“

Kento lifts his mouth from you the moment you say stop, but he doesnt remove his face from between your legs. He peers up at you from there with those sharp eyes, half-lidded and dark. The visual alone could send you over the edge if you weren’t desperately trying to stave off your own orgasm.

“And why don’t you want to come yet?” he asks with suspicion—seemingly resentful that you pulled him away from such a delicious meal.

You swallow, trying to catch your breath. You know what you want, and embarrassment aside, you’re determined to have it.

“Wanna come on your cock,” you say softly.

It’s not just dirty talk, or a move to play up his ego. You need it. You’ve needed it all day—to come undone with him splitting you open, filling every inch of you.

The moment you make your request, Kento’s expression shifts, and for a second, your desperate desire is mirrored on his face. Then in a quick succession of motions, he’s standing up, undoing his belt, pulling his cock out of his pants, and yanking your hips towards him with such sharpness that you yelp.

“You’re so good, you know that?” he murmurs as he leans over you, one hand aligning his cock with your entrance. He cups your face, tilting it so you look into his eyes as he presses the blunt head against your opening. You whimper at the beginning of the stretch.

“So fucking good for me. So perfect,” he rasps, his eyes burning. “Asking for what you want like a good girl. You want to come on my cock? Then go ahead and come, sweetheart.”

He slams into you in one precise thrust that has you squealing at the sudden, blinding-hot stretch of it—the press of it into the deepest parts of you all at once. Even if you’ve had it a thousand times before, the way he fills you still hits you like a boulder. He thrusts once, twice, three times, each devastatingly deep, and you’re gasping for air as if he’s fucked all the breath out of you.

This. This is exactly what you needed. To be taken apart by him in the way only he can. You can’t contain the blaze that’s been built by your dry humping, and the wet heat of his tongue, and him, just him—the man that drives you wild just by sitting there and doing paperwork. Kento holds your gaze as he fucks into you, looking at you like you’re a treasure, like he wants to eat you alive, so utterly devoted that it makes your heart swell, and it’s too much. It’s all too much, in the very best way.

Everything locks down and the heat explodes. You cry out his name when you come, your body shuddering and writhing with the force of it. Kento stills his hips and lets you pulse and clench around him as it works, and you swear you only ever want to come with him inside of you—the fullness radiating pleasure into the deepest parts of you.

When you finally come down from your high, you’re still trembling, and Kento is smoothing your hair out of your face as he studies you. His expression is soft but dark in an indecipherable way.

When your lucid eyes find his, he asks, “Did that feel good, sweetheart?”

You nod weakly, and you feel his cock jump a little inside you. He smiles softly, tracing his thumb over the apple of your cheek.

“Mm, that’s good, love. Now give me another.”

Before you can process it, before you can open your mouth to protest, he’s drawing out of you and plunging back in with full force, and you scream.

Your brain and body are already fried from your first orgasm, haven’t had time to recalibrate—and he wants another. And he seems determined to take it from you.

Kento sets an unforgiving rhythm, pounding into you with deep precision, bottoming out every time he rolls his hips into yours. Every drag of his girth against your walls feels like it sprays off sparks of electricity, and you can’t help but try to curl back from him, trying to escape the intensity of the feeling. Your recoiling is met with a firm grip on your neck—not enough to truly choke you, but enough to keep you from scrambling away.

“No running,” he says in a warning tone, snapping his hips forward with each deep thrust, never slowing his pace.

“‘s too much,” you slur out. You’re trying not to run, you’re trying your best to take it, but it’s so hard when every stroke feels so white hot.

“You can take it, sweetheart. Give me another, I know you can,” Kento coos—and you want to. There’s nothing you want more than to give Kento whatever he asks for, especially when he’s sweating and flushed and looking so in love as he thrusts into you.

“I’m trying, ‘m tryin’” you whine, hot tears starting to prickle in your eyes at the overstimulation.

“It’s okay, love, just let go. Let go and give me another,” Kento says, more softly now, moving his hand from your neck to cradle the side of your head. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he works deep in you. “You know what to say if you want me to stop.”

You shake your head, bottom lip trembling as the tears spill down your cheeks. “I wan’ to, I want to—but I can’t.”

“You can, and you will. You’re going to right now, love, I can feel it,” he says lowly, and oh. Oh. Oh fuck. He’s right.

Your body’s feedback to your brain must be delayed, because you don’t even feel your peak building until it’s suddenly there—looming over you, drawing your whole body up taut before crashing down like a tsunami. Your second orgasm blazes through you in an instant, and you let out a strangled cry as it takes you by surprise.

“Good girl, there it is,” Kento soothes as you writhe and sob through it. He finally slows his pace as you shudder and whimper and grab at his shirt to keep yourself grounded—trying to keep yourself from completely falling apart.

You lose focus of his face for a moment—your eyes must roll back, because you hear him say “Eyes on me, love” in that low, smooth voice of his. With some effort, Kento swims back into your vision—his expression a portrait of lust and reverence. If you weren’t in the throes of such miserable pleasure, you might notice how his hands are starting to shake, how his jaw is clenched, how his hips stutter as he slowly, slowly strokes in and out of you now—on the edge of losing control.

You gradually come down from your peak until you’re back on solid ground. You blink up at Kento, dazed, your head resting heavy against the hard wood of his desk. You devour the sight of him above you. He’s panting softly, a few strands loose from his usual slicked-back hair and now hanging into his eyes. His tie is loose and his dress shirt is rumpled from where you gripped it. An unkempt, sex-mussed Kento—the sight makes you throb, and you wonder how your body can still respond to him after coming twice.

At least his hips are still now, which is a small mercy for your blindingly sensitive cunt. You gaze up at him, eyes soft, as he wipes the tears from your cheeks with the pad of his thumb. You turn your head to catch his thumb in your mouth and suck it, and he lets out a low groan.

“Don’t do that unless you’re ready to give me one more, sweet girl,” he warns.

You promptly release the digit, which makes him laugh. He presses his thumb back between your lips and watches lovingly as you lave over it with your tongue then release it with a final, wet kiss. He can’t help but shudder a little, and you notice.

“Are you close?” you ask softly, and he nods.

“Don’t know if I can hold back. I don’t want to hurt you,” he murmurs, looking a little pained. You can see now the visible signs of his restraint, and it warms your heart that he’s worried about you. Even when he takes you beyond your limits, he’d never push you to the point of breaking.

“I don’t know if my pussy can take any more right now,” you admit, your thighs still trembling. “…But if you want, you can fuck my mouth,” you grin, your mouth watering at the thought.

Kento’s eyes widen, then darken, and a soft groan slips from his lips as he surges forward to kiss you.

“You dirty little thing,” he murmurs, nipping at your bottom lip before soothing over it with his tongue. “So good for me. Get on your knees.”

You scramble to comply, and Kento helps lever you up and off the desk so you can kneel at his feet. He grabs a cushion from his chair and leans down to slip it under your knees, pressing a soft kiss to your temple as he draws back to his full height. Your heart brims with affection at the simple sweetness of the action.

You look up at him with wide, adoring eyes, and press soft kisses to his thigh that make him shudder. His cock is hard and heavy between his legs, flushed and shining with your own wetness. You grab the base, testing the girth in your hands, and Kento lets out a soft, strangled sound.

“You really are close, huh?” you giggle, licking a stripe from base to tip, tasting yourself on his hot flesh.

He grits out a moan, squeezing his eyes shut as you take his swollen tip between your lips. You suck on him gently, circling your tongue around the head, and you feel him throb on your tongue in response. Kento’s hand finds its place in your hair, gripping firmly as he slowly rocks into your mouth. You open your jaw further and meet his shallow thrusts with eager bobs of your head, sucking greedily around him.

You love taking Kento in your mouth, if for no other reason than to drink in his reactions. The soft grunts and pants and groans you pull from him make you preen. You watch him through your eyelashes—the way his brow is knitted, his jaw slack and bottom lip trembling with restrained pleasure. You do your best to burn the image into your mind. Though there is one part of this gorgeous vision that could be improved. You pull off his cock with a wet sound and rest his throbbing shaft on your cheek as you squeeze the base with one hand.

“Eyes on me, Ken,” you grin, parroting his earlier words. The irony isn’t lost on Kento, who lets out a sound between a scoff and a chuckle. He dutifully opens his eyes and peeks down at you, his pupils blown wide with lust. When his eyes meet yours, he groans and turns his head away, his cock twitching against your cheek.

“I really won’t last if I look at you, sweetheart,” he says, his voice breaking with the effort to restrain himself.

“I don’t care if you last. I want to taste you already,” you grin. He huffs out a shaky breath as you rub his tip against your slick, swollen lips. “Fuck my mouth, Kento. I want you to come down my throat,” you urge him, your eyes burning into his.

His breath hitches, and you feel his hand tighten its grip in your hair. “…I can’t be gentle,” he warns you, eyes flaring and voice tight.

“Then don’t be,” you hum, smiling before kissing the tip of his cock. Kento’s hips twitch, and he groans.

“Fuck. I am going to ruin you,” he murmurs, cupping your jaw and rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. “If you can’t take it, slap my leg. If you don’t, I won’t stop.”

A thrill runs through you, and you feel your pulse throb through your cunt. You nod, dizzied and giddy with the promise of Kento using your throat.

You slacken your jaw and place his tip on your tongue, then look up at him with expectant eyes—waiting for him to set the pace. He hisses a breath out through his teeth as he readjusts his grip in your hair—then he plunges his cock into the waiting heat of your throat.

You gag at the intrusion, but you do your best to open your throat, even as your body jerks as you choke around him. He sets an unforgiving pace, stuffing his cock down your tight, wet throat as you try diligently to take him—fresh tears burning in your eyes from the effort.

He moans as you take everything he gives you, his gaze fixed on the way your lips stretch around him—a slick mess of spit and precum clinging to his shaft and dripping down your chin as he fucks into your mouth. Tears are streaming down your cheeks now, but you don’t tap out—you just dig your fingers into Kento’s thighs, deliriously happy to choke around him if it’s for his pleasure.

“Fuck—sweetheart, you’re so fucking perfect—taking me so well, choking on me—gonna make me f-fucking come—“

Mindless praise spills from Kento’s lips like a prayer as he rocks into the wet heat of your mouth, his pleasure threatening to surge up and over the edge. You can sense how close he is now, and the thrill of it has your aching cunt throbbing again. Kento watches in amazement as you slither your hand between your thighs, rubbing haphazard circles around your clit as you gag on his cock.

You force your eyes open, tears clinging to your lashes as you look up at Kento, desperately wanting to see how he looks right now, so close to coming. You expect him to have his eyes squeezed shut with impending bliss, but you find he’s staring at you, mouth agape, gaze reverent and drunk from pleasure. And the moment your glassy, tear-filled eyes lock with his, he’s gone.

Kento comes with a choked sound, snapping a final deep thrust into your throat before stilling as his hot cum spurts down your throat.

You do your best to swallow it, but you can’t take it all. You pull off with a wet gasp, coughing and spluttering as you try not to choke on the cum coating your mouth and throat. Kento shudders through the aftershocks of his orgasm, transfixed by the sight of you gasping for air, thick strings of saliva and cum running down your chin and connecting your mouth to his cock. That heady mixture of spit and cum drips and splatters on your shirt, your thighs, the floor, as you cough and catch your breath.

Mind still hazy with pleasure, Kento fumbles around to help you. He digs through his drawers and finds a handkerchief. He kneels down, cups your jaw, and begins to wipe your wet mouth and chin. He cleans your face gently, dazed and murmuring praises—before you cut him off with a whine.

“‘M sorry, Kento,” you whimper, looking genuinely disappointed.

“For what, love? You were perfect,” he soothes, confusion knitting his brow. You meet his gaze with a frown.

“I wasted your cum. I really wanted to drink it,” you say glumly, staring at the mess of cum staining your shirt and your thighs.

A beat passes as Kento stares at you with amazement, then he huffs out an incredulous laugh. He pulls you to his chest, shaking with mirth, as he smooths a hand down your back. You melt into him, and he presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“Oh, sweetheart, that’s alright. There’s more where that came from.”

You feel his wet, spent cock stir against your thigh.

———

a/n: the first time i had multiple orgasms i thought i was gonna die. idk how you guys are surviving 3+ back to back 😭 anyways I’ve looked at this way too long—please take it away from me 💀

#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami smut #nanami kento #jjk smut #jjk fanfic #idk how i feel about this but I’m posting it anyways LMAO #jinnie fic #OKAY HAITCH IM TAGGING IT #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #kento nanami x reader #kento nanami x you #nanami x y/n #kento nanami smut #nanami kento smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #kento nanami x y/n #nanami

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saetoru · 8 months

Note

Tee…

I’m now on my hands and knees BEGGING for bully Gojo who is (secretly) DISGUSTINGLY IN LOVE over the reader PLEASE ANY CRUMBS I WILL TAKE

(you don’t actually have to write this it was just a nice thought)

idkkkkk if it’s rly bully gojo—but he’s definitely a real cunt for sure.

i just think about an asshole! gojo a lot like he’s ur lab partners or something and he does that stereotypical jerk move where he’s like “seriously ?? her ??” when he’s first paired with you. and he’s just naturally an douche, yk ?? wears sunglasses indoors and makes jokes at the professors expense under his breath that gets him snickers and snorts from his frat guys in his class. has to be asked more than once to “please keep it down in the middle of class” by wtv prof he’s in class with.

and he ofc makes u do all the work bc he can’t be bothered—and on the rare occasion that he is bothered, he just does a poor job that’s the bare minimum and sloppy enough that ur like wtv i’ll just do it myself. and then ofc sometimes u don’t have a choice but to meet up to finish something after class every now and then—he wouldn’t care to, but he actually needs to know the stuff for the final report he has to write individually, so he begrudgingly meets up with you, and sometimes you notice his friends give you an amused look when he walks up with them. they snicker before they leave as he sits with you. sometimes they make a snide comment here and there like “have fun with ur super hot date” that makes him roll his eyes—he doesn’t do much to hide the look of distaste on his face.

but then—and he doesn’t even know when it happens—you start to slowly grow on him. because ur actually pretty snarky urself, sometimes making a dry comment here and there about the professor and his stupid bald headed self. sometimes a girl in the distance laughs too hard a group of guys that u roll ur eyes and mumble how “if i had a voice like that i’d never laugh in public” and it makes him snort a bit without meaning to. sometimes you stare daggers at the person who has their music so loud thru their headphones they can’t help but notice u and turn it down in embarrassment. ur actually not as much of a pushover as he thought—you just genuinely think he’s too incapable to help u out that you’ve just shrugged him off and started doing his part. it’s an easy weekly lab class anyway, you don’t need him—and then he realizes that u rly just don’t care for him. his little snickers at u with his friends and their snide comments roll off ur back bc well…he’s him—an asshole little frat boy and u didn’t expect anything better from him. so it makes him a little intrigued—maybe a little wounded in his pride, deep down, because no one has ever been indifferent to him before. they’re either madly in love, or they hate his guts, or they follow his lead. either works—he still gets the attention he craves.

but u just don’t rly care. and ur actually pretty cool, and kinda sorta funny in a way no one else is. he likes it…and fuck, now he’s starting to like you. he can tell bc when his friends ask how his little date with you went, he starts getting a bit huffy ab it bc they don’t need to talk about you. they don’t even know you…but also….its not a date. and that’s the worst part. sometimes it feels like a date. almost—sometimes you both decide to take a break in between and go get a coffee or a light snack. sometimes he’s even paid (to which you look mildly shocked before politely thanking him) and you both walk back to the library while u make light banter and it’s…well, fun. and nice. and your laugh is pretty. and your smile is kinda cute and he (though he hates to admit it) rly likes it when u laugh because of him.

and then things start to get messy—really, he didn’t mean for it to start this way. he really was meaning to ask you in a genuine manner to see u again once the semester was finished. because he’s actually started pulling his weight—he wants u to see him for someone who’s smart. satoru is actually rly rly smart and no one knows it because he doesn’t rly show it but he is. he wants u to see that side of him—somehow there’s some sick validation he rly needs from you knowing he’s not a dense frat guy who drinks and fucks until 3 am every night. so he starts doing his parts and actually communicates with u about sections. so starts ur texting routine—sometimes a little longer than u rly need to for just doing a lab together. sometimes it’s “did u hear ab that girl in our class getting dumped in front of the kfc ??” and sometimes it’s “god our prof rly needs to get some pussy” and other times it’s “look what the guy who sits behind us just posted on his story” and it leads to a few long convos that admittedly…are rly fun. ur so fun. he likes it. he rly does like u and he thinks maybe….maybe he’s grown on u too and you know what ?? satoru’s always a jerk but ur nice and who’s to say he can’t be nice too ?? just for one person. for u, he can be a nice guy—u carried lab all on ur own long enough that u deserve it anyway.

until he gets swayed in that way only a coward can. in that way you do when ur used to being “the man” around ur friends and ur too pressured to keep up that energy for appearances sake bc u don’t wanna be the laughing stock who softened up for “some nerdy chick who’s a nobody.” so he laughs when they laugh at the fact that ur probably “still a virgin who’s never touched a guy before” and then they’re patting gojo on the back and shoving at his shoulder as they laugh harder and suggest that “y’know what would be so funny man ?? if u took her virginity. you could probably do it.”

the thought is sickening because…satoru wouldn’t want to fuck you like that. god, you have him caring about when and how he fucks you—in fact, just thinking about you lewdly makes him feel guilty. disrespectful, even. you’re more than a fleshlight for his dick. since when did he become so respectful ?? but he doesn’t know how to say no, especially when everyone starts agreeing one after the other—and oh no, now they’re betting on how quickly he can do it….and oh, now it’s not just fucking. now it’s “how long until you think she’s head over heels for you? man, that would be a sight, huh ??”

and….well, satoru decides it couldn’t hurt, right ?? he does want to be romantically involved so that would include you being head over heels. hopefully. fingers crossed. and he doesn’t rly want to seem lame in front of the guys either, so he gets to keep both sides of the coin, so is it really that bad ?? maybe not the right idea but certainly the right execution. he’ll treat you well—that much he’s confident of. so he forces out a laugh and says “gimme a month or two, you’ll see.”

and a month or two they give him. and a month or two it takes—but not for you to be head over heels. it’s him who’s utterly and completely obsessed and fallen head first and whatever else they say to describe love because wow. this must be what it is. this must be that stupid fairytale shit they always talk about because fuck, no one has ever looked at him like that. like he’s some miracle to this earth and some wonder only you know of—like you hope it stays that way and that he’s yours and yours alone and no one else comes in to take him away. satoru really likes being yours, it kinda feels better than you being his. being yours means you hold him like that at night and wake him up to a kiss between his brows and sometimes, when he gets those migraines he’s prone to getting, you always seem to know. always seem to understand when to close the blinds and keep quiet and wrap him up in the covers as you rub your thumbs over his temples soothingly.

he almost forgets about that silly little bet he made two months ago when he’s around you. actually, he forgets everything when he’s around you. he’s only ever thinking about you, you, you. when he comes back to his frat house, on the other hand, they’re all gathered around waiting for the newest details. how you must’ve been so pathetically star struck by him. how you must be embarrassingly bad at kissing. how you must stutter over every other word around him. how you must be making a complete and utter fool of urself trying to impress him and be someone you’re not bc the real you would never pique his interest.

they’re wrong ofc. if anyone’s star struck, it’s satoru bc how the hell are u so…cool ?? and so funny and witty and carefree ?? and you’re good at kissing—have him chasing your lips with a whine every time. sometimes you even chuckle at him when he does and make him blush a bit. he’s the one who stutters over his words when he sees you in your little date night outfits. sometimes he watches you drink from your straw and his brain short circuits a little until you snap at him and ask him in confusion if he’s alright. but the real kicker ?? it’s that if anyone’s pretending, it’s satoru. you’re always just you—unapologetically so, that it’s endearing and beautiful and so unearthly he wonders how he got so lucky. but him ?? he’s always acting like some guy he’s not. some chivalrous guy who opens doors and pushes out seats and kisses the back of hands and waits at least a few dates before even considering fucking. some nice, sweet, genuine guy who’s deserving.

he’s not that—never was. if you knew the real him, you’d leave in a heartbeat. it’s a scary thought. a raw feeling he doesn’t like. makes him feel all self conscious and insecure and all that weird shit he never thought he’d feel.

he tries. so hard, he tries to make them forget about that silly little bet and just slowly drop it and maybe even forget ur dating so he can just stay living this peaceful little fantasy with you—but that’s stupid. that’s naive. it’s been 4 months and enough is enough—the guys need to see the look on ur face when u realize what a fool ur being and satoru is “being a lazy ass who’s too comfortable not having for work for pussy these days.” so then there’s a video going around. it’s everyone gathered around on the couch drunk and talking about you. and satoru. you both, in fact. how it’s been two months and u seem desperate for his attention with the shrill little voice you use to call him toru, baby! it’s so, so fucking embarrassing, they say. how you think he likes it. (he does. god he does so much, it hurts. he loves it, actually, when you call him that. makes him feel special in a way he never has.) but then, the worst, most disgustingly nauseous part of the whole thing is when satoru laughs along and plays into their awful words. just lets them talk about you like you’re some piece of meat. something for him to chew up and spit out after he has a taste or you. not even worth savoring and enjoying. he laughs along and agrees—you’re nothing special and he can’t wait until he’s free of you.

that part hurts. that part sucks the most—when he acts like he didn’t tremble under your touch every time you kissed him. like he didn’t beg you to stay just five more minutes! before walking out the door to go home. he acts one way in front of you and one way in front of them and what’s worse ?? you don’t know which one is real. couldn’t tell even if your life was on the line to decide. because there’s no way he’s that good at pretending to be desperately in love, no fucking way. but there’s also no way he can be in love if he’s talking about you like that. that’s not what love is—that’s not what love feels like. that’s not what it means to someone.

you don’t know which satoru is the real one, but you know that neither is worth your time. not if he can’t stick to it.

it’s terrible thing—the way you break up. it’s messy and teary and he’s begging, he’s actually begging. he never thought he’d do that. but he doesn’t even hesitate to plead for you to hear him out. baby, please let me explain. wait, please don’t walk away—please just listen! i can explain.

he can’t explain, though when you as him to. stands there with a bitten bottom lip and teary eyes that are pleading you to just stay with him. to overlook this and just … ignore it like it’s nothing. like what he did and said was just nothing and you can shrug it off like you’re nothing too. like your feelings are nothing and so is your worth and that’s why you should just ignore the way he absolutely destroyed your pride and reputation and dignity and worse….every ounce of your love.

such deep, raw, pure love—it’s almost enough to heal every dry crack and crevice of this earth and bring it back to life.

you look at him with teary eyes and something so broken, it makes him feel like dirt beneath your feet.

“it’s embarrassing, satoru,” you hiss that night through tears, “you’re in your twenties getting a degree and you’re still just a high school bully. life’s really gonna kick you in the ass some day.”

life’s already kicking him in the ass as soon as you walk out. the air is colder. the world is dimmer. food doesn’t taste as good and fuck—there is just so much loneliness when you have no one to be yourself with. when there’s no you.

but he supposes you’re right though—he is just a bully. it’s pathetic, really. and maybe it’s for the best. maybe you don’t deserve someone who’s only ever known how to feel good because someone else doesn’t.

#bye #this is so obnoxiously long for a silly little jumble of thoughts #maybe i’ll flesh it out and make it an actual fic tho #bully! gojo tag

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