#but i definitely forgot immediately afterward
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apparently disney+ decided to censor the captions, and only the captions, of the BTS ptd la concert that was recently added to their platform
but this is so hilarious to me
it's one thing to caption "put your motherfucking hands up" as "put your hands up" (all while, oddly, not censoring the actual original audio of the swearing???)
it is another to caption RM saying "it's easy as hell" to "it's easy as pie"
shddjlsk
EASY AS PIE
#ok like sometimes idols who speak english latch onto certain phrases#like i've heard suho say piece of cake on more than one occasion#but easy as pie is really getting to me#at the same time i did not notice ANY of this while watching#because i was too taken in by the concert#although i do very vividly remember seeing that caption and being like ??? that's weird and also doesn't sound right#but i definitely forgot immediately afterward#kpop tag
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Saw a drawing of Steve and now I'm suddenly thinking about artist Eddie who designed the Hellfire shirts and Corroded Coffin fliers and who draws the villains of his D&D campaigns to slap onto his DM screen for visual aid and doodles in class and-
And i'm thinking about Steve, in a relationship with Nancy, trying to ignore that things are rocky but knowing it all the same. He finds a notebook left behind in school and he only takes it because he forgot his own. He plans to use it for the day and then figure out whose it is and get it back to them in exchange, that's probably more than fair, right? And the person is really gonna want this back - it looks like half their life is contained in this thing; there is... a shit ton of loose paper stuffed between the pages and notes on all kinds of subjects and drawings and.... he doesn't even know what that is. Who is Vecna and what the hell is a... lich?
Anyway as he leafs through it he finds that some of the drawings are... actually really good. Like, absurdly good for being in a lined notebook that looks like it has taken a trip into a dumpster and picked up some debris on the way out.
Like! Those hands! Steve has no artistic bone in his body but he's heard people whine about drawing hands and - he looks at the hand not holding the book and back again - yeah, that's exactly what hands look like! And here - a few pages further (it's one of the most empty pages of the whole thing, mostly because this one seems to have started as a drawing and not as a page of notes that turned into a drawing) there are only a few lines on the page but it's still very clearly the back of someone's neck, the collar, one shoulder.... Then there's another one that is almost all lines, but they were all carefully placed to give the effect of perfectly windswept hair. Then there's one that he actually can't make sense of at first (he almost pages past it because it is just a few lines and dots taking up a quarter of a page of very annoyed... history notes? Maybe English.) It's just a jawline with some moles but... only the day before he had cut himself shaving a finger's width underneath those exact moles. And that's when it clicks. He goes back to the hair... yeah that- that could be him too. Maybe. He flips back to that one very detailed drawing of hands and... putting down the book he tries to get his hands into the same position - the angle is off but. Yeah. That's why they looked so perfectly...! Uhhhh... Handsy! Because they're his fucking hands!
Anyway Steve realizes that about a third of the drawings are or could be him. He realizes that he actually can't go through with giving it back because - what would he even say? "Hey found your notebook, nice shrine to me?" Yeah no. But he's... also reluctant to take it to the Lost and Found. There's something in the handwriting.... He has a feeling that it might not be a girl secretly drawing him. What if someone else connects the dots? What if they confront the mystery artist about it? Flashbacks to his fight with Jonathan, the line he crossed and immediately regretted. He doesn't want to be the cause for someone else getting called that. And unrelated to that, things with Nancy aren't great right now and it's... it's just nice to think someone is paying attention, alright?
Then Halloween happens a few days after. The Break-up(?), the demodogs, Billy and the tunnels- and afterwards it's nice to have the notebook to distract him from the pain. The mundane mystery of a schoolmate maybe having a crush on him. He might not even have to confront them - he can just figure out a way to slip it into their locker; it looks like at least half their schoolwork is crammed into this thing, no matter how half-heartedly done. They definitely want this back.
Man, I wish I could actually write this thing. Damn. Maybe I could even do a scene where Steve tries to Sherlock Holmes his way to Mystery Artist and confronts a (hatefully seething) Robin, because she sits behind him in that one class, only to find his own Watson in her instead. But alas. It cannot be.
#as usual this is as good as it's gonna get#steddie#steddie season 2 au#steddie ficlet#hey i'm talkin' here#steddie fic prompt#steddie notfic
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hi, hi, hi! could I request the brothers + diavolo during a meeting together when their s/o (the mc) starts to doze off and then suddenly faint? Turns out, the MC forgot to drink water that day-
That happened to mr a few days ago, it wasn't fun - so here's a reminder for you to drink some water too :')
Thank you so much for the request!!! I am so so sorry to hear that happened, I hope you're doing better <3 If anything in this post seems insensitive please let me know! Have a wonderful rest of your day/night
Genre: Mostly fluff, Some Hurt/Comfort
Ship: Demon Brother+Diavolo x reader (individual)
TW: Minimal cussing, mentions of fainting, mass panic, yelling, second person pov for reader (If I missed anything please tell me!!)
When You Faint
You watched as the clock slowly ticked by the minutes as the Demons around you spoke amongst themselves, Your talking had slowly come to a stop as the room started to spin, Some of the men looked at you strangely but nobody expected you to fall out of your chair and onto the council room floor...
Lucifer
He's immediately up out of his chair
Oh lord, he’s now fully in mother mode-
Barking orders at everyone, Yes this includes Dia
As soon as he gets over to you his wings are out, shielding you from everyone else
Once you come to, He isn’t letting you out of his sight
And once he finds out you fainted because of dehydration?
He would so buy you one of those big ass waterbottles
One of these mfs
Mammon
Freaking out pt. 1
Definitely hootin’ and hollering
He is indeed making a scene
Won’t really be on you until after you wake up because he knows Lucifer and Diavolo can do more for you then he can
After you have awoken though? He isn’t letting you out of his sight
You don’t have to worry about remembering to drink water, He’s there to remind you now!
Humans are such fragile creatures and now that he's seen that firsthand, He will barely let you do anything
He will make sure you are healthy whether you like it or not dammit
Levi
Freaks out pt. 2
Somehow freaking out even more then Mammon
He doesn’t know what to do! He leaves his room one time and this is what happens!
Will kind of just stand there in shock as everyone erupts into chaos
He isn’t the best example of someone who looks after their body lets be honest
But when ya’ll are gaming You’ll start to see some more healthy options popping up in the mix of chips and soda
He will beat himself up over not noticing, Please comfort this man before he decides you resent him
He won’t ever really bring it up but rest assured, It will never happen again
Satan
Would also run to your aid
He has read a lot of medical books in his time, He knows what to do
Would take you to a doctor afterwards, just in case
Kind of beats himself up for being unaware of your condition
I don’t think he’d freak out as badly after the incident, He knows it was probably a one time thing
Will bring up in conversation casually if you’ve eaten and drank water today, just to be sure
Asmo
Screams
Freaks out pt. 3
Yelling at Lucifer/Satan to do something!
Will be all over you as soon as you’re awake
Don’t scare him like that!
Will get extra pouty when he learns why you passed out
Has Ya’lls self-care sessions meant nothing to you?!
No more of that, not on his watch
He will offer you water at random times throughout the day
Studying? Water! Watching Tv? Water! Sleeping? Water! no, no, Beauty sleep is important
Beel
Doesn’t knows what's happening, Why are you on the floor?
Will stand on the sidelines concerningly as he watches Lucifer take over, He trusts his brother to help you
Will also feel immense guilt he didn’t see the signs, He just wants to keep everyone safe 🙁
When he thinks Ya’ll are doing something too straining for a human, He’ll stop to ask if you’re okay/ need a break
Will start carrying around a water bottle specifically for you
Belphie
He totally wasn’t sleeping when it happened, nope
Woke up to his brothers and the Prince of the Devildom freaking out around you
I don’t think he’d really get too involved with helping since he doesn’t actually know wtf just happened
If you don’t immediately perk back up, He’s gonna cuss out Lucifer and maybe try to fight him
Gets a little snappy at everyone (except you ofc) after the incident
He even started to set alarms on your DDD as reminders to drink water
Will tease you just a teeny bit, But you can tell how worried the entire thing actually makes him
Diavolo
Was over to you in record time
Commands everyone to step back from you while he calls Barbatos and a royal doctor
You will be given the best treatment don't worry
He thinks he's being very sneaky about making you drink more water He is so obvious about it, it hurts
You will definitely notice how Barbatos now almost immediately refills your glass as soon as it’s half full
Another one to openly ask if you’ve drank enough water that day
#obey me#obey me nightbringer#obey me one master to rule them all#obey me x reader#self ship#ao3#obey me beelzebub#obey me mammon#obey me lucifer#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#oneymebelphie#obey me diavolo#Lucifer x reader#mammon x reader#leviathan x reader#satan x reader#asmodeus x reader#beelzebub x reader#belphie x reader#diavolo x reader#obey me headcanons#obey me fic#fluff#hurt/comfort#Janus’writing#Janus’asks#obey me post#om x reader
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know it’s for the better. - g. suguru
pairing: geto suguru + fem!reader, implied gojo satoru + fem!reader
summary: but butterflies cannot see their own beautiful wings, so he’ll gladly worship you quietly.
warnings: canon au, angst (please forgive me ily all), mentions of violence, vulgar language, crude humor, time-jumps, cameos from shoko, megumi, yuji, nobara :3 comfort.
word count: 16.8k
a/n: this fic has been my baby for a month, i’ve poured so much love into it. treat her well <333 loosely inspired by the songs “first love/late spring” by mitski and “waiting room” by phoebe bridgers. there are so many references to so many things in this :) some quotes that i will think about forever. hope you enjoy.
october, 2006.
“nine out of ten times.”
it’s the first sentence you say out loud after minutes of silence, and you’re given a puzzled look. it kinda makes you want to laugh, the confusion etched across his face so foreign that it’s rather intriguing. he’s golden, even under all the darkness. the world makes space for fallen angels.
“nine of ten times… what?”
you resist the urge to thumb that furrow in his brows, the creases looking wrong upon his soft features. you only smile, snuggling closer to him. either the room is magically colder, or suguru forgot to close the window. you give him the benefit of the doubt.
“that i would choose you.”
you’re slurring your words almost, but more from the plain laziness in your movements rather than from genuine exhaustion. suguru hums, fingers tapping along your arm. it may be around four in the morning, but you couldn’t sleep.
the both of you hadn’t been able to for a while.
not since riko, not since toji, and definitely not since the new scar trailing across your stomach. shoko hadn’t been able to make the repair seamless.
you didn’t really mind. a lot of things seemed pointless nowadays.
“and the other time?”
your eyes linger on the strand of hair that always falls imperfectly on his face. a little crack in his flawlessness, though you’re not sure how grand that observation actually is.
you sit up a bit, propping your head with your arm as you look down at his pretty brown eyes. narrow, as they currently are, but still evidently alluring.
“well, i think it’s okay to be selfish sometimes.” you reason, voice soft. sometimes the dependency you had with suguru worried you. waves can crash, but the water itself remains. you think you’ll always be bound to him. his, forever. and yet you say, “i’d choose myself. just for a bit of sanity.”
it’s meant to be lighthearted, but the silence that falls afterwards kills any tone of playfulness that statement might have held.
you wish you had been a little more greedy.
•••
september, 2007.
emotions were complicated things.
it’s complicated to process the bullet you watch fly through a child’s head. it’s complicated to process your near-death experience. it’s complicated to process process the news of your classmate’s death. it’s complicated to process how it’s expected for you to go back to normal. it’s complicated to process everything.
so you curl up further, and hope that the news you’re hearing now is only a nightmare. because again, it’s too complicated to process.
“he killed them.”
and with the way satoru says it, repeats it, you think he wants you to sit up and hug him. be vulnerable, because god knows it’s been so long since you have.
but you lay there, back in the bed that you used to sometimes share with the criminal. the stillness makes satoru’s stomach drop, and he can’t will himself to say it again just for the chance of getting a reaction from you. but how much pain can a heart take? because it felt like yours might give out at any moment.
you didn’t sign up for this.
naively, no, you didn’t sign up for this.
“how many?”
you’re not sure why you ask. any number would have you spiraling, but with the silent refusal satoru gives by not replying immediately, you’re sure the answer would kill you alone.
he knows. he knows the exact number, he’d seen the report.
but he stares at your desolate form, eyes scanning the mess in your room. or, lack of. he hardly saw you get get out of bed these days if it weren’t for missions. the only sign of movement from you were the plushies that used to adorn your bed, now sprawled on the floor. for a second, he wonders if they’re gifted from who he thinks they’re from. but that thought feels stupid the moment he thinks of it, because - yes. of course they were. that man had loved you like his lungs naturally loved air. he loved freely, graceful in the way he cared. about satoru, about you. anyone, really.
so saturo makes a decision, hoping that it alleviates a little bit of the ache that he now concludes he will attempt to shield you from. because he cares about you too much to see you succumb to your own internal wounds. he wants you to be strong, like him. like suguru was. he can’t lose you too.
“i don’t know.” satoru lies, and he hopes that sentence can at least ease your heartbreak. but he feels it just as much. sorrowful, the kind of pain he’s been too familar with for a while now. he frowns when you don’t move.
obstruct from his view, your hands grip your sheets as tight as humanly possible, and you’re sure that you break skin through the fabric. you want to cry, but you can’t. not in front of satoru. not while he’s right there.
because this doesn’t affect you. you didn’t care.
so what? suguru had left you to the wolves. to fend for yourself. he became a monster. it didn’t bother you.
and you try to convince yourself to think the same when satoru sits beside you. you’re still thinking it as his shaking hand places itself on your side.
but you give up when he lays beside you, feeling his grief. and that pain only cements itself further as you begin to quietly sob months worth of misery.
you don’t feel much better after.
•••
march, 2008.
nine out of ten times, you’d like to be given the option to wipe your memory.
the other time would be the ability to travel to the past. it’s hard to decide which could be better, or arguably worse. maybe you could save haibara - tag along on that stupid mission and fight that stupid curse. switch places with him, even. the world seemed a lot duller without him in it. nanami spoke even less than he did before. you couldn’t keep up a conversation with him.
was it irrational to think that you might have been able to kill toji too? he just caught you on an off-day. you’re the reason he killed riko. it’s your fault that a child is dead.
there’s so much to be sad about, you’ve started to confuse those ugly feelings with plain normality. it’s natural to feel like this. you can’t really remember better days. they’ve blurred, causing twisted retroactive interference.
your rock had fled. any form of stability you had crumbled with the weight of your sorrow, and you’re forced to miserably pick yourself back up because you’ve never really been used to being alone. satoru wasn’t really around anymore, and shoko never left her studies. you certainly weren’t abandoned, but, unfortunately, you understood that grief couldn’t just halt time forever.
you’ve mourned so much, it feels silly to still have the same ache.
but how do you even move on? what’s the process like? because you’re almost certain you wouldn’t be able to survive it.
you’ve began to rid any remnants of him in your room; any proof of his existence. clothes, specifically, because they hold on to his scent, and you think if you stop for a moment to actually look at them you might break down again. you see memories in them. times where he’s worn the black t-shirts, or his white button-up. insignificant at first glance, but it’s your life you’re holding on to.
you stuff them into bags as quickly as you can.
if he’s not here, he can’t hurt you.
at least, not anymore than he already had.
you think it’s cruel that you’re stuck with a person’s presence even if they’re not physically there anymore. you’ll always associate this room with him. the world, at that.
and maybe it’s childish that your first response (after the sulking) is to trash his belongings, but you can’t think of anything more rational to do. the universe will move on without him. you can’t be left behind too.
when you’re finished, you’re not sure if the sight of five large trash bags and an emptier room makes you want to sob or hit something. it’s like life has lost it’s color - a new vision, duller than what was deemed humane. torturous.
yet you can’t bring yourself to pick them up and take them out of the room. you’re idle, staring at them like they’re just meant to disappear. you hadn’t realized how much your room consisted of just him.
trash, is what you’re unintentionally calling everything in them. but you don’t think that, never in a million years.
if it were up to you, you’d keep everything exactly where it was, and obliviously continue a cheery facade. but the thing about awareness is that after it’s discovered, you can’t really leave it. it’s branded into your mind, poking at your brain with a stick because it will annoyingly never have the intention to leave you alone.
it’ll sit with you in your darkest hours, and you’re unable to predict when light will shine through.
“dump them.”
you jump, defenses high on alert as you instinctively fall back. almost immediately after, you drop your hands, sighing.
shoko is leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. you’re about to ask her how long she’s been standing there for, but her lingering gaze on your conflicting pile of issues answers your question before you have the chance to.
“i’ll do it for you.” she offers, finally looking up to meet your eyes. they’re a little sunken in, and she looks restless. it’s the first time you’ve seen her in nearly two weeks. she’s ditched the short hair since a few months back, the length sitting comfortably at her chest now.
you dumbly stare, non-respondent on purpose. you don’t want her to do that.
she seems to recognize the discomfort on your face at her suggestion, and you watch as her brows bitterly furrow, a small glare now directed at the bags. but you don’t get much emotion other than that.
“you can’t cling on to this shit. it’s unhealthy.” she softly explains, shaking her head. you wonder if that’s her medical opinion or genuine concern speaking, but you don’t ask her to elaborate. instead, you turn around, taking a seat at the edge of your bed.
you kind of want her to leave.
“what’s healthy, then?” you retort, shrugging. it sounded a bit hypocritical coming from her. shoko had barricaded herself for the past six months, not even offering an ounce of genuine sympathy. in reality, you know it’s because she’s naturally avoidant. she didn’t crave support like you did. she didn’t need it like you had. because shoko has always been independent, never strung up on people. and you envy that more than anything.
“i don’t know.” she answers honestly, pursing her lips. but with one look around your room, and she’s certain it wasn’t this.
hesitantly, lets herself inside, eyes scanning the bareness. if it were any other day, she’d see suguru at your desk, or on your bed. he’d wave, and you would greet her with open arms. everyone knew the two of you were nearly inseparable (if it weren’t for satoru). the room always had a pleasant atmosphere when the two of you were in it. it feels cold and grim now, though. shoko has to fight a shiver.
you observe her, waiting for a joke or two. you’re nearly hoping, because any form of comedic relief had begun to be your craving. you needed an escape from all of this.
but instead, she turns back to you and wordlessly sits beside your tense form. it’s quiet for a bit.
there’s a charm that shines on the top of your desk, catching her eye. it dangles among other souvenirs, and shoko has to avert her eyes when she realizes that they’re all gifts from a certain deceased underclassman.
everything about this room feels like a graveyard.
“satoru comes back today.” shoko suddenly says, letting the first thing she can think of be verbalized. her eyes stay on the wooden floor this time. “he’s been in kyoto for a couple of days.”
you hum, nodding. you didn’t know.
if shoko kept her distance, then it was like satoru had completely faded. you couldn’t even remember the last time he had texted you.
then again, you weren’t sure if you’d even respond.
“i was thinking we could eat dinner together… when he gets back.”
your head perks up. barely.
that sounded familiar. mostly because it had been a routine up until recently. never verbally established, but it was natural for you and shoko to be accompanied by two towering sorcerers as you ate whatever satoru had decided on for the day. he was a picky eater. there’s a bitter taste on your tongue as you realize you’d be missing a member now.
“we can.” you nod, awkwardly kicking your feet back and forth. silence again.
you can feel shoko’s annoyance. how she’s trying to get you to talk, but you’re stupidly stubborn and refuse to. however, she knows you a little too well, and plays the waiting game. because she knows you’re weak when it comes to your heart, and weaker when it comes to the people you love. her included.
it’s not a relief when you finally break. if anything, it’s painful to hear, to watch. and though it’s only one question, it’s so complicated that it feels like you’ve asked her how the universe itself was created. simultaneously, it’s equally as simplistic.
it doesn’t even sound sad. it’s hollow, void of any distinct emotion. you’re staring at the wall.
“shoko…” you don’t pay attention to how she stills and watches you intently. you’re oblivious to the frown on her face, how she leans in just a little closer. and the widening of her eyes as you finish speaking. “how are you… okay?”
you feel particularly pathetic. shoko was so strong. satoru was the strongest. and yet here you were, more fragile than ever. on an alter, you’re a mere viewer from below. simply watching perched gods, basking in all their glory. the difference always evident, never comparable.
and yet shoko stares for a little, dumbfounded.
no, absolutely no one was ‘okay.’ the world was crumbling in front of everyone’s eyes. but you’ve always been a reminiscent person, she supposes. you search for familiarity. it’s harder for you to let go.
“did i tell you that?” she asks, more rhetorically than anything. there’s a teasing tone that her voice holds, but it does little to rid the tension of your question. you slowly shake your head.
“then how do you know that’s true?”
you shrug, fiddling with your fingers. “i don’t know.”
you want to tell her that your thoughts are purely based on toxic comparisons to yourself, but the air feels a little thick already, so you don’t.
“c’mere.”
there is no protest made when she wraps her arms around you, and forces you to fall into your bed with her. the pillows under your heads dip, and you’re enveloped in the softness of your blankets. shoko’s warm, and if you closed your eyes you might mistaken her hold to be like a mother’s affection. evident adoration, just by the touch. you’re derived and soak it up as much as you can, leaning into her.
it reminds you of late nights where you’d have sleepovers and gossip until the sun came up. too tired to train the next day, yaga ordering laps regardless of your visible fatigue. and you’d run with gleeful smiles, energy lifting as you were side-by-side again. an unexplainable friendship one could never truly describe with words, just pure thoughts. it’s sickeningly nostalgic, because you think about the fact that it really had not been that long ago. how quickly things change.
shoko nuzzles her face into your hair affectionately and sighs. she squeezes you tightly. declarative - ‘i’m right here.’ never enough to make up for the lost time and avoidance, but enough for now. because shoko didn’t act like this normally, and for you to see her in such a state meant more than just any regular apology.
“i think you know how to love better than any of us.” she admits, and that sentence alone has you curling a little more into her, your chest suddenly feeling tight. she leans in, and her lips form into a sorrowful smile as she observes you. full of pure understanding. again, a connection that could not be made with words. it feels a little spiritual. she brushes a stray strand of hair away from your face. “that’s why you find it all so painful.”
hesitantly, you offer a sad smile, her words all bittersweet. it makes you laugh a little distastefully, the reality of them hitting you at once. “well, that’s not fair.”
“it’s not.” shoko agrees, nodding. “but it’s a lovely thing.”
you make a face. recently, it’s only brought you suffering. the good bits don’t seem as worth it - as ‘lovely’ as she describes.
you pause, contemplating for a little. and your voice is affirmative, like you’ve never been more sure in your life. you kinda sound like a naive child.
“i don’t want it. take my feelings. i don’t like them.”
it’s true. it’s the biggest truth you’ve ever told with the biggest sincerity. and you know it’s not possible, that you’re stuck like this forever. a soft, easygoing heart that beats for everyone around it. your words make shoko snort - a real genuine laugh. you giggle through watery eyes.
“the world sucks.”
this time, it is a pitying smile that shoko gives you. lop-sided, and hesitant. she feels bad.
her arms leave you, and she opts to instead lay facing you, faces mere inches from one another. you’re both laying on your cheeks, against folded hands. shoko taps your nose.
“you know what i think?”
you hum, sniffing a little as you try to focus on the small amount freckles across her face instead of the overwhelming urge to let some tears fall. it works, for the most part. you count twenty.
“i think the world gives strong feelings to strong people.”
you smile at that.
shoko was something else.
“i’m pretty fucking strong then, aren’t i?” you mumble, tired eyes blinking as you sigh. shoko’s eyes crinkle as she returns the fondness, a hand resting on your cheek.
“definitely.”
and you can only hope she’s right.
there’s nothing that interrupts those sweet moments of tranquillity. where you can act like everything is just a little better, because in all honesty, it was. shoko’s good at making you feel like that.
if you really thought hard enough, this could be just another regular day. you want it to be.
you feel shoko’s finger poke your chest, and she gives you a pointed look. it’s like she could read your mind - subconsciously, as if she had the ability of a third eye.
“it gets easier. every day it gets a little easier. but you gotta do it every day — that’s the hard part.”
she leaves it at that.
you lay together, appreciating each other’s mere presence. and it feels nice. support, like you craved, but words even more. you aren’t able to formulate how much you adore her, but actions speak louder than words, so you shuffle just a tiny bit closer.
you’re not sure how much time passes by.
when shoko stands up, she rids you of her warmth, leaving the cocoon of wonder and comfort she’d so gracefully created for you. yet you feel fine, that isolating shiver now replaced with content. you think you feel a little lighter too.
“be outside by seven. if it’s up to me, we’ll all get sushi. no promises though.”
she’s back to being more standoffish, but still your same shoko. you nod appreciatively, the thankfulness worth the weight of a million tons. your eyes follow her as she walks across the room.
the door shuts, and you’re left alone again.
you can feel your heart beat a little faster, the realization of your commitment to the later plans finally dawning upon you. it would be the first real reunion since then. maybe a chance to talk things out. be levelheaded, get some communal closure.
or, maybe you’d be able to ignore the past and focus on the present. just act like friends eating lunch. because that’s all it was, wasn’t it?
begrudgingly, you force yourself to stand, too aware of the fact that your habits of wasting time in bed have far exceeded a reasonable amount over the past few months. it was time to get better, be better.
your hands grab the first bag.
it’s heavy, as you imagine all the other ones are. but you suppose if you don’t think about what’s in them, it’ll make the process a lot smoother.
you’re nearing the door when you stop.
it’s a small paper, it’s yellow exterior almost blending in with the sunlight escaping through the windows. you inch closer.
and it’s pathetic that the sight of his handwriting on a sticky-note makes you lose your breath. shameful, because how are inanimate objects this damaging?
it’s hung above your desk. by haibara’s gifts, and by notebooks you never really used in this academically-lackluster school.
you stare at it for a while, hand resting over your forehead as you take in every minuscule detail. you let go of the bag.
it’s the last note suguru had ever left you, made a few weeks before his disappearance. before everything went downhill. little poetic phrases that would embed themselves in your mind until death. you’re afraid to look.
it’s neatly written, displayed in purple ink. doodles of clouds and flowers surround the words. he had a habit of leaving them around. you suppose you never caught this one.
there’s a little heart next to his signature, encapsulating just a memory of lost devotion.
‘how strange to dream of you, even when i am awake.’
your hand crumbles the note in a second.
the paper is evidently weak, and when you open your hand back up, the words are still clearly there, haunting you. and you know you don’t have the heart to throw it away. or, realistically - throw anything away.
you fold the note gently, and leave it on your desk. your body yearns to leave, to escape the suffocation of what suddenly felt like walls that were caving in. you slam the door on your way out, bags and all left behind.
you’d definitely prefer to wipe your memory.
•••
april, 2005.
“you’re so annoying.”
satoru grins, standing proudly as you repeatedly attempt to hit him on the head, your touch stopped by his infinity. he’d only recently learned how to control it decently - claiming that he needed to because you had a bad habit of using him as your punching bag.
“you know what though? this is a good thing.” you muse, arms crossing as you finally give up. satoru’s head tilts, and you raise a brow. “no one wants to touch you anyways.”
there’s a dramatic pout that immediately finds itself on his face, and he whines from instinct, letting his guard down for a moment to shove you. you slap his arm before he has a chance to react.
“she’s right.” suguru nods affirmatively, earning a gasp from the white-haired male, and suddenly, suguru is being shoved too. you giggle, briefly making eye contact with him. it’s a little too quick for your preference, but the stolen glance has you holding your breath for a moment.
it’s exhilarating.
suguru is beautiful in a way that is hard to describe. but it’s not from a loss of words; you can speak endlessly about him. he’s everything a person could dream of and more. but it’s little gestures that truly draw you to him. how it seems like he always lingers, attentive and patient no matter what boulders you seem to throw at him. he’ll carry that weight on his shoulders easily, and with the most effortless smile. it’s a gentleness that you weren’t even sure was possible before you met him. he defies all expectations, all normalities.
“oh, i forgot to ask-“ satoru turns to you, raising his brows. sometimes his glasses bothered you. his eyes were freakish, yes, but you also had a conflicting urge to always look at them. “how’d your mission go yesterday?”
you cringe, involuntarily stiffening as you replay the events in your head.
“stupid semi-first grade. i let my guard down for a second and it almost clawed me.” you sighed, rolling your eyes. you fail to notice suguru’s eyes widen. “but we exorcised it right after. i swear i saw nanami shit himself.”
there’s a stark difference in reactions from both boys. while satoru snickers, suguru stays quiet. white and black.
“glad you’re still with us.” satoru beams, ruffling your hair before you have a chance to swat his hand away. “right, suguru?”
all attention flocks towards him, and you and satoru patiently await his response. he’s looking off to the side.
he feels a little childish.
there’s an uncomfortable pit in suguru’s stomach that he can’t shake off, and he swallows thickly, nodding with a dismissive cough. “yeah, glad it went well.”
obliviously, you flash him a thankful smile.
it makes him feel the tiniest bit better.
he wished yaga would pair you two together, or even put you with satoru. an actual backup - not someone below your skill level. haibara and nanami weren’t comparable; they were still new to jujustu. younger, less experienced. he holds a little resentment towards your abilities, and while he knows you’re never sent on missions that are tougher than you can handle, he always has an inkling of worry that lingers uncomfortably. he hates not being around you - not knowing if you’re okay. and he knows you’re a reckless fighter. you brush off the mention of critical injuries and move on, completely unbothered. the burden of stress came so easily when he was around you and satoru.
“you have another one tomorrow, right?”
you hum, nodding as you fiddle with the end of your uniform, sighing softly. “it’s across town i think. not sure who’s coming with me yet - maybe it’ll be shoko if i beg hard enough.”
suguru has to fight a wince. also not an ideal companion. shoko didn’t specialize in combat.
she’d only be actual help if you were wounded, and -
“why not me or satoru?”
he speaks before he thinks, and iternally, he punches himself in the face. he can see satoru stop moving in his peripheral vision. he thinks he sees a smirk. coy, but no words come out.
scoffing, you deadpan. “where’s the practice in that? you guys will kill it before i even get a chance to see it.”
and that’s true, because it’s happened dozens of times before. show-offs.
“we can get kikufuku after!” satoru exclaims, completely disregarding you as you begin to protest rather loudly. “i’ve been craving it. i haven’t had it since last week!”
“wait longer.” you sneer, glaring at him. “i rather go alone.”
now that, suguru would verbally be clearly against, without any hint of shame.
“boo.” satoru deflates, rolling his eyes at you. “that won’t even happen.”
it wouldn’t. you hadn’t earned that trust yet - the absolute certainty that you’d survive if you did a mission alone.
suguru’s glad.
“not yet.” you chirp, and the hopeful smile on your face doesn’t help anything. “but soon enough.”
there’s that unwavering aura you always hold that makes suguru feel a little sick. it’s determination, stubbornness, that follows you and keeps you whole. when you talk like that, words void of any doubt, he knows you mean it. and you’ll accomplish it, because your will for achievement is stronger than your rationality.
but he has you now, right in front of him, so he’ll ease himself of the worry. for now.
“in a million years.” satoru remarks, sticking his tongue out at you, not even bothering to look your way as you hold up a rather unpleasant finger in his direction. playful banter was regular between you two; you fed off of each other’s energy. suguru seemed to be the mediator.
an observer, with eyes particularly always lingering on one certain person.
•••
spring has flowers blossoming again, and you feel inclined to stay out for as long as possible. the confinements of your dorm feels like an obstacle, and it’d be a waste to miss out on the beauty that winter’s absence welcomed.
it’s perfect weather.
the cursed weapon in your hand had begun to feel rather light, your arm adapting to the overpowering weight. you disliked close-range combat, but you were being sent on tougher missions now, so there was no room for complaints. your abilities needed to strengthen.
and it’s frustrating, really. to have to constantly forgo complete confidence and figure out where you’re weakest; you could easily make a list with areas of needed improvement. a lot of your classmates seemed to lack that issue. you suppose what’s worse is that you’re completely aware it wasn’t a competition - but you had convinced yourself that at the least, you needed to stay on their level.
even if that meant working ten times harder, even if that meant exerting yourself past a reasonable amount.
but this routine has gotten you this far, and, sincerely, it hadn’t been too much of a problem to keep up with.
in fact, you could probably do a little more.
“you shouldn’t train so much, you’ll strain yourself.”
your stance falters, though you easily recover within the same second. maybe a little too late, but you tried not to be nit-picky. he was naturally quiet.
“i gotta keep up with everyone somehow.” you quickly grin, trying to calm the visible pants of your labored breathing. it’s futile, and you momentarily turn away, as if embarrassed to look anything but perfectly composed. to look less than him - or anyone, really.
your back is towards him.
suguru can read you perfectly. it’s with ease that’s almost completely overbearing, and some part of him believes that he’s only been put on earth to watch out for you. like it knows that you aren’t the kindest when it comes to yourself.
it’s so natural that he supposes it might be his true purpose.
you only hear him hum from behind you, and suddenly there’s a weight pushing down on your raised weapon, ushering it towards the floor. gentle fingers graze against yours, and you let him grab it from you, albeit with some hesitation. he places it on the floor.
“let’s take a break, yeah?”
he doesn’t even need to coerce you, you’d follow him blindly if he asked. you always do.
and he’s leading you, knowing you’re behind him without having the urge to look back and check. exhaustion lingers, but you’re too entranced by him to focus on the sore ache of your limbs. he’s graceful as he walks.
“we trained this morning.”
you freeze momentarily, looking off to the side with a shrug. it’s not that he sounds hostile - it’s just a bit more monotone than normal. “practice makes perfect.”
suguru makes a noise of acknowledgment, but it sounds a bit absentminded and dull, lacking any understanding. like a huff of annoyance.
“right.”
he shouldn’t be this bitter, this cold, when speaking to you. it’s rough against his tongue, and his entire body, mind and all, is actively telling him to stop. emotions are ugly things, though. it makes people less rational; less aware - say things they may regret.
suguru slows his steps, up until you’re beside him, where you should be. and by a glance at you, he knows he’s gotten too uncharacteristically rigid. you’re looking at him, confusion clouding your head. concern, actually. he sees it now.
“did i do something wrong?”
the meekness in your voice, haunted with worry, clears his senses in a millisecond. his eyes widen. panicked, he feverishly shakes his head.
“no — no. of course not.”
he sees you relax a bit, but you’re still looking questionably at him. your head tilts. “then?”
suguru sighs, swallowing thickly as he stops walking. it’s an enchanting sight, grassy fields just a little off main campus. you see a few flowers.
you follow after him as he sits, greenery cushioning your bodies as you settle. suguru picks at the weeds, his eyes on the floor. he speaks quiet, voice among the gentle breeze as his hair flows in waves. you have the urge to remove his hair-tie and see it fully.
“i just worry about you.”
you don’t even attempt to hide the slight flustered smile that finds itself on your face, body feeling overwhelmingly warm. he’s avoiding eye contact for once. l
it’d be a lie if you claimed you didn’t notice the tension - the smiles, the laughs, the soft-spoken volume of his pure voice. so silky smooth it’d rid you of all your worries in a second. but there’s something so alluring about never saying it out loud. like it’s your little secret the two of you can keep, because adoration itself is something so beautiful it needed to be dragged out for as long as possible. you’ve grown to be a little impatient, though.
you nudge him teasingly.
“don’t. i’m right here.”
and it’s true; suguru sees it as a privilege. to be around your presence, to just talk to you — he worships the ground you walk on, and he’s not sure how to tell you that might be the reason why he worries so much.
instead, he chuckles, head bowing momentarily.
“i wish it were that easy.”
you bring your knees to your chest, giggling lightly.
he’s cute.
undeniably.
“it is.” you urge, dragging out the last syllable as you sway towards him. he meets your eyes. “just trust me like i trust you.”
suguru thinks that you’re sometimes oblivious to the weight of your words. they can be so intimate, and you’ll deliver them like any other sentence. as if you hadn’t just made his stomach churn, and his heart beat a little faster. he trusts you more than a healthy amount. he’d trust you with his life, his future — he’d leave everything in the palms of your hands.
“i do.” he replies, reassuringly. it’s earnest, and you smile. suguru bites the inside of his cheek, and closes his eyes. “it’s everything else that scares me.”
and there’s really nothing you can really do to help that fear, because you know it’s completely reasonable and realistic. tomorrow is never promised, especially with the hectic lives you live. you want to tell him that you have similar thoughts when he and satoru are out for days at a time, no return window strictly placed. that it has you pacing back and forth until their arrival, and even then you downplay your relief. but that’s a little embarrassing to say when he’s listening so intently, so you keep quiet.
you turn to him, shrugging with a smile you pray looks more optimistic than sorrowful.
“we can only ever hope for the best.”
a little hollow, less declarative than preferred, but it works the same. suguru nods in silent agreement.
suguru used to think that exceptional beasts like you and him could not fall in love — that it was the secret of ordinary people. for beings, who can alter the world, were special in indescribable ways. but he’s grown to be more open-minded, more accepting.
because what else could he do? you were so irresistible that it ceased the existence of his birth-given psychology. his mind, altered just for you.
“you know… you don’t have to prove yourself of anything.”
this time, it’s suguru who nudges you. he leans in, and you feel his hair brush against your arm. it tickles, but you don’t flinch. your body naturally welcomes the proximity, tingles and goosebumps etching across your skin. you squint, waiting for him to elaborate. and he does, with one validating sentence that kinda erases the possibility of self-doubt. just for a bit.
“i think you’re strong.”
he’d move stars for you, talk to the moon if it meant you got to keep the shimmer in your pretty eyes. and he’d ask the sun to stay out longer so he could continue seeing your rosy cheeks.
he’d gladly live for infinity if he could be the reason you get flustered forever.
you’re very pretty like this.
his eyes are watchful, observant as you scoff bashfully, avoiding him. and you quietly respond, with that same soothing voice. he thinks it could be a lullaby.
“i think you’re strong too.”
suguru smiles, nodding and all-knowing. he pokes you playfully.
“i know.”
you’d complain, but his tone lacks any arrogance. just a statement, enough said. because he knows how you think, how you observe.
and while you don’t say it out loud, your eyes are telling him ‘thank you.’
how beautiful the act of reading an expression is. of knowing a person so easily it’s like clockwork, unraveling intricate details to form a conscious understanding.
he watches your eyes narrow, and awaits a question he knows is on the tip of your tongue. your face looks a certain way during contemplation.
“you like doing this stuff?” you ask, tilting your head. “being a sorcerer, i mean.”
as if the two of you had other options. you didn’t.
but there’s something comforting about answering known questions. speaking the obvious into existence, letting the information linger in the air.
“i like it.” suguru replies, smiling. “if you get rid of the bad stuff.”
his voice gets quieter at the end, but you save him the questioning glance and smile back.
you hum, nodding. “like what?”
and you can name a million bad things. every day is a reminder of them. the two of you have that in common. but thankfully, the world has been kind enough to not let you experience them. your optimism hadn’t been tainted.
and as you expressed to him — you try not to dwell over the ticking clock, only ever hoping for the best.
suguru’s hands are behind him, propping himself up as he gazes at sheer, distant clouds. the sky is a pretty mix of yellow, orange, and red. evening approaches.
“well, all that self-sacrificing stuff for the betterment of mankind — for starters.” he sighs, head leaning back. you wonder if you imagine the way the slight slivers of sun sparkle against his skin, and how angelic his aura seems in that very moment.
you scoot a little closer, gaze matching his as you look upwards.
“we’re helping so many people, though.” you reply, glancing at him for a second. his eyes are closed, like a cat basking in the warmth of the light. you want to kiss his cheek.
“we are.”
“i think it’s cool.”
“it is cool.” he affirms, nodding. one eye opens, and he shamelessly stares as you obliviously observe the world. suguru is suddenly grateful that this view is currently only reserved for him, as he’s sure anyone would fall in love with you in this exact moment. yet, at the least, he wants you to see yourself in his neutral vision.
but butterflies cannot see their own beautiful wings, so he’ll gladly worship you quietly.
he looks at your hand on the grass, right beside his. it’s contemplation that’s been built up for months, thoughts of you invading all his senses. suguru figures that if he had a flower for every time he’s thought of you, he could walk through a garden forever. he inches his fingers closer.
and pauses when they’re less than a centimeter away, pulling back as you break the silence.
“i mean, i’d die for you guys too.”
suguru tenses, and you grow nervously quiet from the sight of his surprised expression, feeling suddenly embarrassed. an awkward laugh leaves your lips in an attempt to ease the gloom of your words, and you mindlessly wave your hand. “if it came down to it, y’know.”
you would in a heartbeat. you’d do it a thousand times over if you could, but you don’t tell him that. that proclamation is reserved for only you.
and as suguru looks over at you, stares, he doesn’t think he’ll ever despise an idea more than he does now. it’s blazing, the thought horrendous.
“don’t say stuff like that.” he demands, shaking his head brazenly. you can feel his eyes still on you, and he’s lost his smile. “don’t ever.”
all the defense, the stoicism, stemming from the thought that — yes. he 100% believed you would die for anyone. and that terrified him more than anything.
suguru isn’t sure how to communicate his thoughts in a softer way. he doesn’t mean for his demeanor to grow so cold again, but it bothers him - makes him sick - that you can say things like that so easily.
“i didn’t — i’m sorry.” you stutter, eyes wide. you swallow thickly, “sorry.”
and again, it’s hard to be upset with you.
but this, he can be against. he needs to be.
“you can’t think like that.” suguru speaks, softer this time. it’s pleading, as if he’s begging for a bit of mercy. and he is. “please.”
he wants to tell you that it’s okay to be selfish, to prioritize yourself first. but it would seem a bit hypocritical coming from him, because he knows he’d throw everything away in a whim if it meant keeping you safe.
love blinds him, he supposes.
“okay.” you nod, eyes on the floor. “i won’t.”
you’re considerate enough to lie, despite knowing full well that your words don’t align with your mind whatsoever. and you think suguru knows that.
he’s staring. you can feel it, eyes as intense as a midnight sky. you feel a little afraid to look up and meet them.
but it’s only instinct when he speaks your name softly, a coaxing whisper among suffocating tension.
you think he looks ethereal when being clouded with concern. godly, towering upon you. the magnitude of his gaze truly shows with the lack of distance. you register the feeling of his hand on yours before anything else, the touch searing from pure shock. a large palm covers your skin.
“… i’m sorry. i just care about you a lot.”
worry is care. it’s one of the greatest devotions — the act of panic for another person.
suguru thinks that romance may actually be the most horrific thing in life. that it’s not curses, but love. it’s the deepest weakness.
“you kill me when you get injured — when you speak like that.” he mutters, and the two of you don’t say a thing as his hand inches higher.
it feels a little harder to breathe.
“can’t promise i’ll stop.” you reply, a pitying smile finding it’s way on your face as you watch him close his eyes briefly.
“i know.”
suguru feels a little like a broken record player, doomed to repeat the same phrases like it’s clockwork.
it’s futile, you’re mutually aware.
he can’t control you, he’s unable to dictate what decisions you make — no matter how stupid, or how horrid they are to him. but he can’t bring himself to stop trying. maybe, if you’re reminded your value, you’ll eventually think the same.
but, honestly, the way you’re looking at him right now could make him believe anything.
“did you find out who’s joining you tomorrow on your mission?”
the corner of your mouth quirks upwards, and he knows your answer before you say it out loud. he grins.
your other hand places itself on top of his, and you smile back. heart giddy, but you try your best to keep your composure.
“i pulled a few strings.”
•••
december, 2015.
you wonder if growing up not only changes your body, but your soul.
because it takes a long time to realize how truly miserable you are, and even longer to see that it doesn’t have to be that way.
it’d be kinda hard to feel your unhappiness now, regardless.
“i prefer if you keep them outside, megs.” you wince, eyeing the dirt-covered paw prints on the hardwood floor.
the two perpetrators stand on either side of their summoner.
flushed and clearly embarrassed, megumi curtly nods. his hair moves the slightest with the movement, and he turns his head away from you, kicking his foot back and forth. “sorry, i wasn’t thinking.”
the dogs leave your eyesight quickly after. you snort, playfully rolling your eyes at him, walking over to ruffle the dark spikes on his head.
“it’s okay, don’t worry about it.” you smile, silently pleased when he doesn’t move away from the ministration. he’s always been more lenient with you, a fact you hold high over a certain white-haired sorcerer. “plus, i’ll just make satoru clean it up.”
if you had blinked, you might had missed the way megumi’s mouth quirks up, satisfaction clear as day. it makes you giggle, up until you finally inspect him closer. your eyes linger on the dirt covering the side of his white shirt, and you softly sigh, pursing your lips.
“how was the curse?” you ask, nudging him a little where the stains are most prominent. “roughed you up a bit, huh?”
megumi’s introduction to jujustu wasn’t entirely seamless, but he was definitely a natural. an anomaly, like satoru. born with talent.
you watch as his face turns sour, and his eyes suddenly narrow, the stoic expression more familiar. he avoids your gaze and looks at the door expectantly, mumbling something under his breath.
“what?” you reply, brows furrowing as you lean a little closer in hopes he’ll repeat himself. megumi’s mouth opens again, and he’s about to, but an obnoxious ‘i’m backkkk!’ interrupts him.
you share an unimpressed look with the younger boy.
satoru strides inside, whistling with a grin. you’ve spent too much time with him, years ticking off your lifespan from both the annoyance and contentment that he simultaneously brings into the world. he and megumi had left early in the morning, and it was around midday now — too long with him, as you can clearly pinpoint on latter’s face.
satoru’s hands are in his pockets, and he shuts the door with his shoulder, leaning back against it.
“missed us?” he smiles, and he walks over to throw an arm around megumi, which is immediately thrown off. satoru glares momentarily, but quickly looks back up at you, clearing his throat. “missed me?”
you stare, sighing softly before gently tugging megumi towards you.
“i missed megumi.” you correct, crossing your arms. your head motions to him, “and why does it look like he got pushed on the floor? i thought you said-“
“it was a grade three!” satoru immediately exclaims, and points to the boy beside you in accusation. “he told me not to get involved.”
despite his adult frame, satoru never really outgrew his childishness, still quick to blame anyone other than himself. his defensiveness was mildly irritating, but you've come to grow used to it. your head shakes disapprovingly, and you huff. “he’s thirteen, you idiot.”
satoru’s smile turns a little mischievous as megumi looks at you quizzically, a frown on his face. “so?”
you rub your head in annoyance, ignoring satoru’s ‘oooo,’ and gently flick megumi on the forehead. “you’re not an official student yet. dealing with curses by yourself can wait. for now, you fight with satoru.”
satoru dramatically sighs, and much to your dismay, approaches you. his arm infamously wraps itself around your frame, body leaning towards you, and it feels like the weight of an elephant, crushing you as you stumble. he doesn’t let up. “you worry too much. and he exorcised it! maybe with a little less ease than expected, but-“
he grunts when a hand collides with his side, and you’re too busy pushing him off to see the way he sticks his tongue out at megumi.
maybe your concerns were a little irrational, but your heart was in the right place. megumi was still young, still enrolled in a normal middle school — albeit, close to his last year — and you had originally planned to keep him completely innocent for just a while longer. no world of killing, curses, and whatnot. but satoru had pushed him into it within the first few months of his complicated adoption, and you secretly knew that there was nothing you could do to completely shield that side of the ugly world for him.
so, you suppose the least you could do was teach him how to protect himself. in case you or satoru couldn’t.
“well,” you sigh, defeatedly. there’s a lopsided smile on your face, and you expectantly look to megumi. “how was it, then?”
there’s a boyish smile, a little shy, that appears on his face. “cool.”
“see!” satoru grins, arms raising in victory. “he loved it, and he should probably do it more often-“
“fine, fine.”
it’s always been pretty futile to argue with satoru. not only is he stubborn, but painstakingly arrogant. he tends to think his ideas are always the best, simply because they’re made in his very head. and you can’t discredit them, because normally, they’re alright. but it can be frustrating. he’s also really hard to deny.
it’s only natural to give in. just so you can avoid drawing it out.
“awesome! i think he’s ready for a special grade!” satoru claps his hands, and you deadpan, rolling your eyes.
“don’t kill my kid.” you mutter, shaking your head as you turn, ignoring the way satoru’s smile settles into something a little more genuine. heartfelt, maybe.
truth be told, you’d trust satoru with everything and more. you worry and fret, but at the end of the day, he’ll still be there. he’s been stuck to you like glue for years now, and it didn’t help that you practically live under the same roof. different rooms, but realistically having no actual space. it’s nice, and you really do hold him in your heart deeply. at an arm’s length.
you end up being stuck with cooking dinner yet again — satoru winning because otherwise he’d ’poison the kids’ (which, you think is stupid because he could easily just follow a recipe. also, he’s used that excuse before.) — and it’s like clockwork, a routine, when you find yourself sat across from him on the couch afterwards, tsumiki and megumi long gone in their respective rooms.
you’ve found that gojo satoru acts a bit differently when it’s just the two of you. less irritable, and easier to talk to; you’ve noticed this since you met him. his voice gets quieter, the blindfold comes off, his hair falls, and you’re presented with a more raw version. and maybe the kids get a different version too, but you find that hard to believe when megumi’s distaste is so palpably strong.
“movie?” satoru asks, peeking at you through narrow eyes. his face is a little smushed by his palm as he leans against the armrest, and there’s a lazy smile on his face. he looks kinda tired, weirdly enough. exhaustion is so foreign on his face that it looks almost fake. you wonder how much he slept last night, spotting hints of darkness beneath the pretty blue of his vision.
you think it’s strange that you don’t get sick of his presence, even after all this time. that’s it’s forever missed more than loathed. you’re always in such close proximity, practically doing everything together, and yet you find that crave him every second he’s not beside you. pitifully, it might just be the attachment issues you’ve subconsciously formed, and have unfortunately plagued satoru with. but that reason just seems a little too sad for you to fully admit. everything realistic is somehow bitter. you softly sigh, momentarily closing your eyes.
you’d love to stay, just to hear his idiotic rambles and comments. they always brought more substance than the film itself. and he’s been gone all day. you rub your forehead, feeling a small inkling of guilt.
“i have a mission later.” you reply, apologetically, and smile sincerely. “but when i come back, yes.”
an active report coming from a town over — information on paper only describing the energy as ‘ominous.’
“oh,” satoru’s eyes widen, and though you’re unable to read the exact emotion on his face, he seems a little alarmed. nearly wincing. he’s kinda upset that you didn’t tell him sooner, that being visibly clear — but then again, did you really have an obligation to? he didn’t really tell you whenever he had missions. but that was because he’d return in a few quick hours every time. satoru didn’t like being gone for too long either. he never dragged out his departures; he hated to leave you by yourself, even if the kids were with you. it feels a little cruel. you watch his eyes dart towards the windows, and he shifts, facing you. the movement is a little awkward, and he pauses before his speaks, hesitant with his words. “want me to go with you? it’s kind of late.”
it’s sweet that he asks.
“satoru,” you chuckle, tilting your head. “it’s a couple of second grades. i’ll be fine.”
a little white lie, but you craved some action. satoru always got stuck with the interesting missions, and even then they posed no such threat to him. all of your assignments were simple, too easy to be considered enjoyable. if this was going to be the route you were taking in life, — exorcising curses — then you could at least make it somewhat fun.
satoru can tell something’s off. you’re too dismissive, and you won’t look at him directly. but he feels as though it’s not his place to scold you, and he trusts you dearly, so he ignores his gut.
“alright.” he shrugs, his arms moving behind his head as they nonchalantly cross, contrasting the way he feels a little unusual. “call me if you need anything.”
•••
december brings cold winter air, and you blow into your palms, attempting to warm the skin that’s begun to grow a little numb.
more people should go on nightly walks, you think. maybe then it’d be more calming. every street you’ve turned to is nearly empty, the only comfort being provided by dim overhead lights. but you suppose you’ve gone through more fearsome events, so this shouldn’t really be that big of a deal.
it’s a little frustrating to be walking around so aimlessly. the report gave no specific location, just the brief mention of a couple of previous sightings. by now, they’d more-than-likely dispersed to other areas.
you’re slightly tempted to call satoru for some help, as you’ve never been the best at detecting curses at a long-range, but you refrain.
it was late, and you know he’d probably never let you live it down.
satoru would never say ‘no’ to you. but there comes a price with that reliability and expectancy. small instances, like when you caught a cold, and had asked him to order for you at a coffee shop because your voice had been to sore to do so. he complied, but not without a relentless amount of teasing, even going to far as to lie to the barista, saying ‘sorry, she’s just really shy.’ he lived for your embarrassment, and it was generally harmless, so you couldn't reprimand him for it.
but sometimes every time, he’d have his own small apology. like how right after you had returned home, there was soup coincidentally ordered on your front porch.
satoru had walked inside without looking at you.
he can be tolerable. rarely.
you're nearly persuaded to go back home, midnight beginning to take a toll on your tired eyes. as far as you were aware, the curses hadn't caused harmful havoc. but it'd be pretty humiliating to head back without a small victory, and even then you'd probably stay up feeling guilty.
unintelligible whispers break you out of your thoughts, and you blink, eyes scanning the area.
goosebumps arise, and your head turns.
finally.
you nearly jump when you see it, though keep your composure, standing straighter.
it’s hardly detectable, as it stands. fairly large too. it might actually be a second grade.
you huff, brows furrowing as you inspect the curse. this was the cause of the ‘ominous’ energy? you feel it, but it’s looks don’t work well with it’s written description. maybe you’d be heading home sooner than you expected.
your hand reaches behind you to grab your weapon, and you move forward, testing to see how fast it’s reflexes are.
it doesn’t move.
you pause, rolling your eyes briefly.
“at least put up a fight, dude.” you mumble, nearly sighing as it continues to plainly watch you. you walk a little closer, up until you’re only a few feet away, and hum. “you’re not the brightest…”
you insert your weapon back into it’s sheath, and stare. it’s been a while since you’ve had the chance to see a curse so closely. they’re all usually extremely reactive, not sparing you a second before attacking. violence is their prime instinct; the main thought in their heads.
when you reach your hand to poke it, and it still doesn’t budge, you know something is wrong.
oh.
your entire body stills, and you’re certain that you feel your stomach drop to the floor.
something felt familiar.
confirming your terrible suspicions, the curse disappears in front of your very eyes. not exorcised. you’re staring at the empty space that it once occupied, too bothered by the fact that your heartbeat has picked up ten times faster.
you almost reach for your phone, but stop, feeling as though it wouldn't be the wisest decision.
this suddenly all feels a little too calculated. you don’t even attempt to grab your weapon again.
shock numbs your bones. it bleeds through and renders you useless.
you hear your name before you see him, and you figure it feels the same as the nearly-fatal slash toji had given you almost a decade ago. so painful that it makes your heart stop. it’s spoken with such intimate fondness — too much for your poor heart to comprehend.
his ubiquity is so daunting that you’re sure all time ceases to exist.
you don’t want to turn around. you want to run, flee before you know it’s too late. before you hear him speak, and the world comes crashing down all over again. you’ve tried so hard to piece it back together. every tiny detail - you’re not sure if you’d be able to start over. why now? when you’ve finally been better. when you finally believed that normality was even possible to achieve.
but you’ve always naturally given into him, and that habit stays strong even after all these years. you think he knows that too.
it’s with upmost hesitance that you turn around.
you’re not sure what to do.
he’s a sight for sore eyes. healing, beautifully transparent. a dear smile, inviting you closer. or more like a predator awaiting it’s prey. your body is giving you every negative cue, yet your legs stay in place, submissive to his presence that’s been so horrendously missed.
he a little looks older. or maybe that’s just the unfamiliar sight of all his hair down.
“hi.”
a part of you thinks that if you ignore him for long enough, he might disappear. leave you alone, as he’s chosen to do before. he’s lost the right to be welcomed.
fury is really the only emotion you could accurately pinpoint. you hate how soft he speaks. you hate it more than anything.
if you could stomach it, you’d ask him to close his eyes and turn the other direction. you’ve always been weak when he looks at you so intently, as if studying you to the finest detail. but you refuse to be the one to look away first - you selfishly crave his attention more than you value your own self-respect.
and as suguru looks at you, he thinks you’ve made it impossibly more difficult to do anything but beg for undeserving forgiveness. he’s staring at reflective streams, seeing as they slowly trail down your face. it must feel nice to be falling tears, symbolic of raindrops returning to the ocean. he’d like to sit in front of the ocean again. with you, being careless teenagers just for a little longer. but the ocean brings back bitter memories and the thoughts of a certain brunette child, so he refrains from thinking further.
“… don’t cry.”
it’s not a command of any sort, but instead a quiet plea. you’re too pretty for tears. too pretty for pain, too pretty for this unfair life he’s plagued you with.
he watches your eyes visibly widen, and your hand raises quickly, using your sleeve to wipe remnants of your intense emotions. it stains your skin a bit red from how roughly you move, lashes dismally coated with the aftermath.
“i’m not—“ and you huff, your throat feeling tight. your head bows by instinct, and you shake it firmly. you press your palms to your eyes for a few seconds, pushing harshly, as if the pressure could ease some of the shock, or ground you in any way. “i’m not fucking crying.”
cautiously, suguru nods. he’ll play into you, listen to everything you say even if it’s not entirely truthful. anything to make his appearance less daunting and harmful. he waits for you to speak, knowing the sound of his voice may not be as pleasant as he had hoped. he’s not sure what he was expecting.
battered already, in so much internal sorrow you might collapse, you breathe as deeply as you are able to. it shakes, and you opt to biting your lip instead.
harrowing disbelief is tainting your skin and bones, and it feels hopeless to even try understanding why he’s here. waltzing right back into your life, bewitchingly present. words linger, staying on the tip of your tongue as you internally battle yourself to release them. release you.
the air smells like rain. and you think — all this anger, it was once was love.
“i hate you.”
and there’s a frown on your lips, trembling as you try to muster up all of the loathe, resentment, and frustration into those three words.
it fails. because the admission is not of truth — if anything, it’s guilt. for the sole reason that you know your feelings stand the exact opposite.
you hate suguru for leaving you. not him as a person; him as a thought. a thought that consistently runs rampant through your mind, adding fuel to a prevalent fire that refuses to be extinguished. and you imagine that he likes that he still has that effect on you, because the hauntingly serene smile he holds doesn’t even falter, not for a second.
you’re forced to stare at him with that expression, and it feels wickedly taunting. not as comforting as it had before.
“that’s alright.”
it’s all he puts out into the air, and that gentle tone he holds kinda makes you want to hit him. he’s not like satoru — you’re sure he’d let you. but suguru can sense your agonizing heartbreak. he’d sense everything about you with his eyes closed. and he feels guilty for making you reopen old wounds, but he’s unaware that they’ve never been given a chance to properly heal.
geto suguru sees a little bit of you in everything lovely. the sun shining in the morning, the smiles on two pretty little girl’s faces, the moon casting a dim halo over the world at night.
you’ve only become a greater treasure. one to be cherished, to be adored. he’s missed you in his sight more than anything. you’re still a angel on earth, incredulously beautiful. even with tears, even with that despaired look on your face. he’s fighting every urge in his body to not step closer and mend your broken self.
he’d like to run his fingers over your soul and pour his love into each crack he finds.
“give me a few minutes. that’s all i need.”
he’d prefer an eternity. but he thinks that he’s asked for something reasonable.
it’s expected when you scoff, glaring daggers with blurry vision. but it doesn’t make it any less painful.
suguru can take it. he deserves it.
“please.”
the distaste on your face refuses to falter.
you crave to love without it having consequences.
since when had caring become so much of a burden? it’s evil, honestly. maybe stone-cold was the way to go. nanami might be on to something.
“stop this, suguru.” you whisper, hand sliding down your face in frustration as you let out a bitter sigh that lacks any amusement. “leave me alone.”
he savors the way his name sounds on your tongue, the drawn-our syllables holding the same familiar care of nearly a decade ago. it feels longer, too much time spent away from you. it lightens his aura, makes his senses heightened in almost a feral way. you speak of him like fate.
old habits refuse to die, and he stays where he is, the same face of persuasion used as he outwardly refuses your answer.
“kill me, then.” he shrugs, and he thinks he might actually die from the way your frown falters into shock once again. his smile twitches, nearly threatening to downcast.
it should be what you do.
suguru was a dead man. that fact hadn’t slipped your mind. you remember when satoru saw him, in the flesh, after the sentence. he couldn’t bring himself to kill him then, and you could briefly recall the look on his face when you softly told him you could eventually do it if he wasn’t able to. that solemn twinge, knowing something you wouldn’t admit out loud.
because satoru knew, better than anyone around, that if you went through with it, it would break you past the point of repair.
suguru, seemingly satisfied with your stillness, steps a bit closer.
it kinda feels like doom. you think the world may stop for a moment, and that all the bad things in life will come and finish you off. that death will take your hand, guiding you, kinder than anything that’s ever really touched it. because what it’s held before has cursed it.
when his hands reach up, you expect a knife in the throat — any consequence for the stupidity of your compliance. but the blades are soft, and they raise to hold your face. gently, as if earning the trust of a stray kitten. because they’re not blades, they’re his hands. he feels you shaking against them. and it’s odd that all tranquility really needs is a certain sight; reassurance in the form of a graceful being who has been absent for too long. you don’t move. you’re unable to. instead, you stare, taking in a lost future. hair you used to brush yourself, eyes that would watch you with such visible adoration. they still do, and that realization alone has your head hurting.
you feel his thumb wipe below your eye, and it feels cold over your heated skin. suguru sighs, his eyebrows furrowing ever-so-slightly.
“you’re very beautiful.”
it’s spoken almost hopelessly, as if the admission physically hurts for him to say. in a way, it does. he’s let go of one of the last devotions to you that he’s kept bottled inside of him, because he knows this might be the last time he sees you. he has to let everything go. you need to know what he thinks of you, how important you are. how he’s submitted his soul to the disaster of loving you since you were teenagers.
by the way his eyes narrow, and his pupils grow just a tiny bit bigger, your eyes widen, and you’re pushing him away instantly.
you know what comes next. you’re able to predict it before it’s able to horrifically conjure itself out loud.
“no, suguru.”
he follows after you, a firm yet gentle hold on your forearms stopping you from completely leaving. you’re already shaking your head, biting your lip as it threatens to quiver. he’s trapping you, and he knows he’s already won.
“let me.” he coos, rubbing the skin of your trembling limbs. and you try to convince yourself that you shouldn’t sympathize, or fall for that sweet, missed voice of his. how he’s just a stranger you unfortunately know everything about. to ignore gentle aura you’ve missed so much that you felt as though you’ve never been able to get a grip on the pain in your chest. “let me say it.”
you’re not built for this, not capable enough to take another harrowing blow.
“leave — fucking, leave.” you seethe, frantically attempting to pull your arms back, though his hold has gotten stronger, and the fight that you have left in you is quickly diminishing by the second. there’s a moment — the tiniest sliver of time — where you stumble, and you’re being pushed closer to him before you can blink.
“you don’t want me to.” suguru shakes his head, eyeing you carefully as you stop your movements. it’s declarative.
you’d like to slap him. knock some common sense into his head because, obviously. you never wanted him to. not when you were sixteen, not now, not ever.
it’s just defense. because you cruelly know that letting him in will just make everything worse. walls were needed for protection, even if the doors are halfway open.
his hands find themselves cradling your face once more, and he’s pulling you, a small gap being the only distance left between a terrible decision. you’re subconsciously following, body keen on obeying his every move. his gaze feels a little intrusive, looking so intently you have the urge to turn your head and close your eyes. your breath is shaky, and you feel a little light-headed.
you wonder if anyone else in the world has ever loved someone this terribly.
hastily, your hands place themselves on his chest with an attempt to push him away, but they stay pliant. you look at him, incredulously.
“what is wrong with you?”
it’s clear when his expression darkens a little, and he dejectedly looks to the side. you catch his eyes widening a bit, the harshness of your tone foreign, because you’ve only ever spoken to him with such tender care. you’re spewing out words with cracks in your voice, nearly whispering because you’re afraid that if you speak any louder, it’ll truly start a storm.
“you… you kill people, leave me — leave everyone — and then…” your eyes close, and you feel the liquid trailing down your cheeks again before you’re able to stop it. you can’t finish your sentence, too busy holding your breath to calm a threatening sob.
it feels like you’re sixteen again, and everything is crumbling.
his arms move slowly as they wrap themselves around you, and you feel even more inclined to cry when he presses your head against his chest. like he’s done dozens of times before. he sucks, the world sucks. this comfort is long overdue, and you still can’t find it in yourself to complain, simply succumbing to the pressure of his presence. you’d like to hug your younger self. because she needed this, even if it can’t really count as closure. even if you currently felt your knees buckling from beneath you.
“i wish i could take away the pain, pretty girl.”
suguru won’t give you false apologies. he only feels guilt for causing you harm. he dislikes how pain looks on your face, and he wants to tell you that he’s unable to sleep at night without you, that every day is a challenge. that truthfully, the ache is mutual. but he has something to accomplish, and you stand on opposing sides.
the two of you are stubborn people.
“take it,” you tremble, and your arms are already around him, despite the screams in your mind. he feels safe. he feels like everything and more. “please, please, take it.”
the pleading in your voice makes suguru feel horribly ill, and he tightens his grip on you, not really knowing what else to do.
it’s worse when you’re the perpetrator. the criminal, the evil. he wonders what your life might have looked like without him in it — how happy you could have been. should’ve been.
but there’s been bad things — events that he’s sure might had ended horrifically differently without his existence.
he wonders how your scar looks, now.
suguru’s fingers are firm as they reach below your chin, and he forces your eyes to meet once more. they’re red and glossy, but still undeniably captivating. he’d like to look at them forever.
“i would, if it were that easy. i promise you.”
you believe him. it could be from the genuine strain in his voice, or your muddled brain that’s clawing to escape your own head. what good is a healthy mind?
he’s saying your name again, and it’s quieter this time. more intimate. you don’t cower, you stay, even huddling the tiniest bit closer. you’ve given up on composure, you’ll let him selfishly have you. besides, it feels nice when he’s treating you so delicately. hands ghosting over your cheeks, eyes that admire your desperate, sad ones. you don’t stop him this time, numbly prepared for the aftermath.
he pauses, trailing his thumb over your jaw, and swallowing thickly. he’s never quite looked normal. always too perfect in comparison to everything else. he smiles, and you see a hint of something that you can’t really classify as full joy.
“i love you.”
the world doesn’t end.
you’re still looking at him, thinking that it will for a moment. instead, you see bashful pink.
‘i love you’ is such a tricky sentence. it’s powerful, meaningful, and could also be a lie. the power of speech is that there really are no limits, and you suppose that’s what makes bad people. sometimes.
he toys with the collar of your shirt, briefly, and lets out a breath of amusement through his nose. suguru feels lighter. and simultaneously horrible. he tilts his head, barely, his voice quiet.
“will you let me kiss you? even if you hate me?”
there’s a little teasing in that sentence, and he nudges his nose across the side of your face affectionately. you’re unaware of how hard his heart beats against his chest as soon as he asks.
you’re sixteen once more, and you’re silently nodding before you’re able to think further.
you’re imagining fairytales you can’t believe in.
it’s hard to determine how long you’ve thought about it. his lips on yours. your hands are in his hair and on his face nearly immediately. you’d trade a lot of things to be this close for longer — you wish to be combined. and he’s soft. he’s so soft you dread taking your hands off of him. if heaven was a place on earth, it’d be this.
pitiful.
he tastes sweet, like a forgotten dream. butterflies suffocate your insides as you stand, and your knees feel a little weaker. suguru is a bit impatient with his movements, hands trailing down your sides to squeeze and caress. his touch feels hot and is hastily done, but gentle nonetheless. you feel his lips curl up against yours, and your stomach flips.
you rather not pull away. pulling away brings back reality, and fantasy is really all you want. if you kiss him a bit harder, and close your eyes a little longer, you’re able to stay.
he pulls back first.
you’re breathing heavy, eyes wide as they bore into his. he might be the most precious thing in your life, and you’re not sure if you’re able to let him go. you’re afraid that you’ll love him forever, and that you’ll never be in the same place again. this feels cruelly temporary, and you know it is. by the way his expression settles, and the way he repeats those three words so quietly, it’s meant for only you to hear. a fact.
“i love you.”
you swallow thickly, in a haze that’s caused just by his very being. a drug-like addiction, and you feel so content it’s like you’re home.
suguru knows you won’t say it back. and in all honesty, he prefers it that way. it’s what’s best. what matters most is that he knows you mean to. he’s able to read that lovestruck wonder on your face so easily it makes him warm. it was both a relief and horror to be known so perfectly. you, who still wears your heart on your sleeve. he’s forever grateful that you’ve always been so giving, so selfless when it comes to him. he feels as though he abuses your sweet compassion.
you tug on his sleeve.
“we can work something out.” you whisper against him, and suguru knows he’s gone too far. he’s tensing, and his eyes are anxious, a small shake of his head contrasting your nods. “i’m yours. i’m yours before anything else.”
heart, mind, body, soul. you’re bonded for life, and you’ve known that since you were young.
“oh, no, baby.” suguru hurriedly answers, and the desperation in your voice, the way you clutch on to him a little tighter, has his head reeling. he’s panicking. “you’re better where you are, sweet girl.”
you know his mind is made up, that it’s fruitless to try, but you’re so blinded by desires that you don’t even care that you’re begging him. he’s mean, doing this to you. there is no ultimatum or other decision - this is it. you’re just destined to be separate, and that hurts to realize, so you’re glad he’s cushioning the blow. just enough for you to keep standing.
suguru is complicated. he hates that he is, he hates what his life has brought him (the only exception being the beauty of the people in his past; you included), but he’s certain that you’re safer as it is. golden and pure. with satoru, with shoko. and you’re strong. you’re so strong he can’t put it into words.
maybe he had some reasonable motives — riko’s death, yours and satoru’s near deaths, haibara’s death — but they’ve shaped him. shaped you, more, as it seems. you continue your life, even after it’s been tainted red, and blackened with misery. satoru, the same. you can take a bit more. you’ve gone through the worst of it. at least — it’s what he selfishly tells himself.
it was stupid to come see you. kiss you, at that. but he can’t bring himself to regret even slightly. if he’s considered evil, barbaric, he’ll gladly take the titles if it meant spending more moments with you. it’s cruel, not malicious.
you’re still his person. but he can’t have you fully — at least, not in this lifetime.
suguru isn’t really sure he could pass on the torch so easily. to give you up completely — the most ultimate sacrifice. where there would be a possibility of his replacement, and the loss of his heart. he can’t trust anyone with loving you; no one can really love you like he does. he’ll take pride in that.
“you’re going to live a long, happy life.” suguru quietly assures, nudging his nose against yours. your eyes are tightly shut, overall avoidant. this might be a nightmare, if you believe hard enough. “find someone who loves you, and you easily will, do everything-“
“i don’t want anyone else.” you interrupt, eyes narrowing as they open, like the idea is something of the unthinkable. “you’d be stupid to think i do.”
this might be worse than unrequited love, you think. every feeling is mutual, besides the belief that you should be together. he’s the bane of your existence. and that kills.
suguru is reasonable. you understand his refusals, why the two of you can’t be — how immaturely you’re thinking about this. you can’t leave your life behind for him, it’d be asking for your own death sentence and the loss of everything left that’s good in your life.
you can’t create a cycle, as much as it pains for you to come to terms with.
“i can’t have you, pretty girl.” suguru sighs, trying to ignore the way his voice wavers the tiniest bit. he’s growing desperate in persuasion, but even he falls flat against the situation. “i want to, so bad, but it’s not right. we’re not right.”
your chest feels tight as you stare up at him.
you wonder, truly, if he’s aware of all the turmoil he’s caused; that he’s let happen, because he never even came back to offer a mere shoulder for support. he simply left you in the dust.
it hurts to hear, especially coming from lips that had been pressed so wonderfully against yours. you still can’t bring yourself to hate him.
you used to fear irrational ideas. that if you let someone in, take care of you, you wouldn’t really be yourself anymore. independency never worked well, and you’ve strung on a bit too hard to a knight in shining armour. a being like icarus, who’s flown too close to the sun. you were right, it seems.
you’ve lost, and it kills to realize.
bitterly, you remember hearing some time ago that ‘it gets easier.’ or better. it’s been repeated to you, multiple times. the reality is, you’re not too sure. what gets easier is maybe the coping. but even that is still evil and painful.
hopeless, you stand, and your voice feels hoarse.
“… suguru?”
how can you hate something so natural? when it feels as though those syllables are meant to be spoken in repetition. his name means excellence; to surpass all.
suguru looks at you, eyes previously occupied with gazing upwards to avoid an act of human emotion. they mirror yours, glossy and faintly red. no visible tears. he has the self-control you lack.
but you can be a little selfish.
“can you…” you take a deep breath, and lean a little forward, resting your head in the crook of his neck to escape a reaction. if he feels the liquid of your tears, he doesn’t comment on them. he’s awfully warm. you’d like to lay in bed with him under a summer sun again. you’re trying to force every part of him into your memory while he’s pressed to closely against you. how his hair tickles your neck, the security of his loving arms keeping you from physical harm, how pretty he looks up close.
it’s not greedy to ask for a final request, you think.
“can you stay with me, then? for a few more minutes?”
an innocent question, while he’s been nothing but cruel. despite everything, you’re still you.
it reminds him of his youth. when you and satoru would get into playful arguments, gaining a few steps on him, only for you to turn back and check that he was still there. or when you would return from missions, him being the first person you looked for every time, just to let him know you came back safely.
sometimes, you’d come back a bit battered up, and instead of confiding in shoko for help like any other person would, you trusted him with treating the wounds. all natural, because that meant you got to spend more time together. human bodies are fragile things. he realized the true extent of that after toji. you really can’t take anything for granted.
so it’s really no wonder why he fell in love with you. why he came to fully accept it. and his belief stands strong — anyone would. angels are irresistible, he finds. he would sometimes see wings.
suguru’s glad you can’t see his face. because maybe then, you’d catch the sight of a reflective shimmer trailing down his cheek.
the embodiment of your dreams, hopes, and desires holds you so gently, a little tighter now. he nods against you, but it feels disconnected, because he’s faded into darkness that has already consumed him. too far gone.
time is nothing for now.
and you wonder if it actually does get better, or if everyone is just lying to you.
•••
september, 2018.
“sensei?”
blinking slowly, you immediately straighten at the sight of three towering figures above your relaxed position.
there’s a panic that sets in at the recognition of how watery your eyes feel, and your head turns in an instant to cough awkwardly, avoiding their stares.
it’s around noon, judging by how pleasantly the sun shines through the window, and how awake your students look. yuji liked to sleep in sometimes.
“did i zone out for a bit?” you mindlessly chuckle, the words feeling a little strange on your tongue. you might have a migraine from how much your head is hurting. “i didn’t get too much sleep last night, sorry guys.”
your smile radiates a reassuring warmth, and the concern on their faces leaves by the time you look back at them. if jujustu didn’t work, maybe you could take up acting.
“we finished the warmups you instructed!” nobara beams, short hair flowing after her as she proudly stands. she glances at yuji, her eyes narrowing. “well, me and fushiguro did.”
yuji shoves her.
nobara has always reminded you of rough recovery rooms and gentle curing hands. it makes you a bit nauseous, the nostalgia of it all.
the sight of the whole trio sometimes felt like daggers digging into your heart, stabbing greedy wounds into open gashes before they have a chance to heal.
brighter days for them, a dull ache for you.
“you weren’t awake yet-“
“i told you to wake me up!”
“you did not!”
yuji and nobara bicker for a second, and you feel a little overwhelmed.
because since these two have set foot on campus, they had seemed oddly familiar. unbeknownst to them, but relentlessly distressing for you. you’re silent as you observe, the uncomfortable pit in your stomach staying clear as day. stubborn, because that’s only natural for you.
more than a decade has passed — nearly three years since your last encounter, almost a year after his death, and yet here you are. the hurt just as strong, because you’ve realized that the pain will never fully go away, and you suppose you’ll have to adapt to living with it forever.
but you’re grateful. though you couldn’t go back to the way things were, you have a chance at stopping the cycle. after all, you know little about what the future has in store for them.
you hope it’s kind. you want those grins to stay permanently, for their youth and innocence to linger for as long as possible. because you never had that luxury. the end of your purity was far too quick, adult emotions flooding your senses. you’d do anything to keep them from feeling like you.
plus, you’re allowed to grieve over the child you could’ve been.
“alright, alright,” you blink, interrupting them before their voices can get any louder. they immediately quiet down, turning to you expectantly. it freaks you out a little.
you were still relatively new to whole teaching thing, not used to being followed so attentively. it felt weird to give orders — to have them be listened to, really. satoru was more of a natural, his cheekiness benefitting him perfectly. even if the students found him undeniably strange.
“give me ten minutes and i’ll meet you outside.” you wave a hand, pointing to yuji. “and sorry kiddo, you’re doing some laps for getting up late.”
you fight a smile as you witness a pout form on his lips, nobara’s laugh drowning out his whining. you’d probably only make him run one, but it was always amusing to lie to his face. you adored yuji — he was a bundle of joy graciously given to the universe. it’s pure luck that he ended up with you.
you watch as nobara drags him out, your head resting on your palm, softly chuckling. they complimented each other well. like siblings, you think.
your head turns, finally facing eyes that hadn’t strayed away from you since you woke up from your daydream. it's like a sixth sense now. you know when he's looking at you, when he seems genuinely bothered. it took time to know him. he’s a hard shell to crack.
“you don’t get special privileges, megs.” you snort, motioning your head towards the door. “go join them, i just need some time to wake up.”
megumi looks unimpressed (and honestly, when does he not?), sighing softly before coming closer. the cushion beside you sinks as he sits, and you raise a brow questionably. his voice is blunt, quiet as it fills the room.
“you think too much.”
it surprises you a little, but you’ve come to learn that megumi is rarely predictable, and to always expect the unexpected.
“do i?” you muse, your smile visibly weakening as you softly laugh.
he was too aware of everything, perception like no other. he reminded of you of suguru sometimes, behavior so nonchalant in comparison to the rest of the world. they were both silent observers.
megumi nods, and you realize he’s rather close, only a few inches away from grazing your skin. touch was something megumi struggled with growing up, so you never pushed it on him; you hated making him uncomfortable, while satoru could care less. the giant didn’t understand boundaries. but sometimes, movie nights in his adolescence led to him latching on to you in his sleep. he had his moments.
it makes the action of his hand raising, pressing your head into his shoulder, much more meaningful.
“don’t think.”
megumi’s never been one for melodramatic situations. growing up, he’d used to complain when tsumiki would force him to watch disney movies with her, getting visibly annoyed when he’d spot her tears during more heartfelt scenes. you never brought up the fact that he’d let her rest her head on his shoulder (you secretly wonder if that’s why he’s doing that now), or would rub her back. megumi’s not kind, per say, but he knows how to secretly love (in his own, strange way. similar to satoru), and you think that’s more important than anything.
“that’d be cool.” you sigh, closing your eyes. your eyelids feel heavy on your face, and you try not to get too comfortable, remembering that you’d have to get up in a few minutes. “wish it were that simple.”
megumi hums, staring straight ahead.
your past is a secret to him, tightly kept in the confinements of your heart. and that's really the only hint he's ever needed to know that it still affects you. satoru, the same. he knew little about your lives before he came into the picture, only hearing bits and pieces when you and satoru would get a bit sleep-drunk and giggle about old memories. he's always tried his best to listen, soaking in any details he can. people are generally more honest and open when physically tired. it's why they confess things during late night conversations, and why the flow of words comes out more natural.
you were different from the idiot that had originally taken him in. megumi can scream from every rooftop that he hated gojo satoru (despite it being secretly untrue), but you? the mediator, who he looked up to more than anything? impossible, it’d be criminal.
maybe you disliked seeming hopeless in front of him, but he didn't mind that vulnerability. he wished you'd trust him with it more — that you knew he would never dream of judging you. he's not too well with words, or communicating, really, so he's also not too sure how to tell you. a double-edged sword.
"you're okay, though — right?"
his eyes glance downwards towards you, dark blue highlighting the inklings of concern. it's not awkward when he asks.
he has a heart, despite satoru's beliefs.
heart warmed, you grin, raising your head to look at him with crinkled narrowed eyes.
you find it funny how the world works. going in some strange, bittersweet chain of events because here you were, caring for the life of a dead man’s son while he had permanently tainted yours. and you're happy. not completely, but sun shines through. the blinds are halfway open.
something that had once seemed so dark has been becoming technicolor.
"yeah." you nod, sincerely, and pat his cheek gently, stifling a laugh when his face scrunches in silent disapproval. "thank you for asking. really."
his face gently pulls away from your touch, and you can tell he's slightly flustered, just a tad embarrassed at your small affection. you're grateful for him, unbelievably thankful for the bits of effort he's always put into caring about you (and tsumiki. and maybe the tiniest bit for satoru. tiny.). a true blessing.
gingerly, he stands up, hands in his pockets as he glances at you again, double-checking. you smile.
he only continues to walk towards the door when you give him a nod in reassurance.
you're left staring at your hands when he leaves, a soft sigh escaping your lips. some days are harder than others. it's the toss of a coin, no chances pre-determined. you simply wake up to the surprise every time.
admittedly, you miss the version of you that doesn’t really exist anymore. naive, but more open. fearless and valiant, only ever seeking improvement. you feel bitter that you took that time of your life for granted.
you’ve found that everything’s felt easier, though. something in the air is different.
“hey, did you leave the kids outside? it's hot out there and they're complaining like crazy-“
you hear footsteps come to a halt, and your head tilts up, finding satoru in it's vision. he stands in place by the door, eyes wide as he stares.
"hey," you nonchalantly wave, stretching to alleviate the soreness in your muscles. "i'll be out in a second."
you attempt to get up from your seat, but satoru ushers towards you, stopping you from successfully moving.
"woah, woah, woah — what’s got you so blue?” he asks, scanning over you briefly. there's a light-hearted smile on his face, and if you didn't know him well enough, you might have mistaken it for amusement. but it's down-casted slightly, and he's looking at you a little too intently.
you snort, rolling your eyes playfully, “i’m not blue.”
satoru blinks, unappreciative of the response that he can only justify was from being around him too often.
“fine — what’s wrong with you?” he corrects himself bluntly, crossing his arms. your eyes follow him as he takes a seat beside you, and you internally sigh, thinking about how you’ve left your three students to perish under the sun.
you wave a hand dismissively, "nothing.”
“aw, c’mon,” satoru drawls, and you have half a mind to complain when he sprawls himself over your lap, his eyewear pushed upwards and off his face as he looks up at you. the blue twinkles, even under the fluorescent lighting. “you’ve never been a good liar.”
“okay, now that’s a lie. a bad one.” you scoff, poking his nose. “i’m a talented actress. oscar worthy.”
he playfully winces, narrowing his eyes at you. “no one’s ever been honest with you before, huh?”
“who needs opinions?” you roll your eyes, nudging his head softly. “it’s all about self-love now.”
“yeah, yeah,” satoru whistles, peering up from one eye, the other closed as he visibly relaxes against you. “see how far that takes you.”
you gasp dramatically, “mean.”
the corner of his lips quirks up, and his familiar smirk returns.
banter was natural with satoru. it was hard to take anything seriously with him around.
he brings joy in mundaneness.
“you shouldn’t trust megumi, y’know.”
confused, you pause, looking at him questionably.
“why?” you ask, and you’re internally conflicted as you attempt to recall every recent memory in your head that’s a classified secret. or, something you’ve generally told megumi as of late. nothing comes to mind.
“dunno. he told me something was wrong with you when i walked past him right now.”
your eyes widen, and you groan, head falling back against the couch’s soft exterior.
traitor.
“so,” satoru continues, and his voice is softer, a little more serious. “really — what’s wrong?”
it’s always been pointless to beat around the bush with satoru. he’s impatient, immature, and wonderful. a bad mix that makes you wonder how it’s even possible that he’s generally likable.
“nothing.” you emphasize, rubbing your head in slight annoyance. “he’s making it up.”
you rather not have this conversation. not while the air is half-hearted, and everything has been steady. but he’s right there. and it might not hurt as much as you think it will.
satoru gawks, mouth open, before poking you harshly. “now you’re calling our son a liar? low blow.”
you huff, “he went lower by betraying me.”
a beat of silence.
“so he was right?” satoru blinks, and he’s sitting up hesitantly, awaiting your voice, or a movement. anything to confirm.
“will you leave me alone if i say no?”
“no? you just admitted he wasn’t lying.”
“oh. yeah.”
you’re smiling lightly, faintly awful because you’re not too sure how wise you’re being. maybe this was only the mature option.
“um… i was just thinking. about him.”
you hadn’t really spoken much about last december. there was no tension or anything — it was just a touchy subject for the both of you.
satoru had more right to be bothered.
you expect his expression to drop — for it to grow uncomfortably quiet, leaving you to voice a regretful apology. you’ve rarely seen satoru break. his joyous front is him in natural form. sorrow doesn’t look right on his face.
he’s only been at his worse around you. and that’s a fact that binds you for life, as dismissive as you two seem to act about it.
angels carry weights off your shoulders, and satoru smiles a little. albeit, visibly bittersweet, but a smile.
“we do that a lot, don’t we?”
he’s stupid, annoying, and infuriating when he looks at you like that. as if you two are similar, and he knows how to ice the bruises on your back.
(he does.)
geto suguru is an enigma. is, because even in death, he’s found a way to stay alive. he lives in memories; in thoughts that keep both of you awake at night.
“i guess i just …” you trail off, staring at the floor. you’d be okay with living the rest of your life by satoru’s side. he’s peace, and he knows you tenderly.
you exhale, a small bitter chuckle leaving your lips.
“i don’t know what to do with all the love i have for him.” you admit, arms laying flat as you shrug with a despaired smile that makes satoru feel a little hollow. your hands flow freely, motioning for a few moments before resting back in your lap. “i don’t know where to put it.”
you haven’t known in years. it’s bundled up, suffocating your insides and exhausting your soul. he’s too well tangled with it.
a lot was left unsaid.
answers you crave, questions that will forever follow.
“i’ll take it.”
satoru grins, and you have to bite back a smile from how infectious his expression is. it radiates sunshine.
you feel his warm hands cup over yours, and he gently rubs across your knuckles with his thumbs, soothing that isolating cold. “you can give it to all of us, actually. but more for me.”
he’s silly, and he’s everything and more.
you wonder if you would’ve made it through without him. he’s impacted your life so heavily, you can’t imagine a world void of his presence.
“you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” you mumble, smile ever-so-visible as you playfully nudge him. satoru nods feverishly.
“i’d adore it.” he’s beaming like the cheshire cat, and your expression falls flat as you await whatever idiotic words would flow out of his mouth next. he brings a finger to his chin and hums.
“you know what, though? maybe give some extra to megumi. but i’m not really sure any love could save that kid. not even a mother’s. he's creepy, i'm telling you-“
“satoru.”
he innocently smiles, eyes closed. “just a suggestion.”
you playfully roll your eyes.
it’s all romanticism until it truly hurts. love seems so small, so trivial, when you’re not being affected.
satoru hides his grief better than you ever could. he copes uniquely, and you suppose his way may even help you a little.
they should invent a healing that is linear, you think. so you can’t fall behind, and you can be all-smiles too.
but you’re close enough.
just the right amount, actually.
#geto suguru#geto x reader#suguru x reader#geto suguru x reader#suguru geto x reader#suguru geto#jujustu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#jujustu kaisen#jujustu kaisen fanfic#jjk angst#stsg x reader#gojo x reader#jjk#gojo angst#geto angst#anime x reader#jjk gojo#gojo satoru#jjk x you#jjk season 2#satoru x reader#jjk geto#jujustu kaisen fluff#jjk megumi#fushiguro megumi#yuji itadori#shoko ieiri#gojo satoru x reader#satosugu x reader
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Sorry first time making a writing suggestion buuuut…anyone else now want to fuck him over his desk and take away his ability to walk while he’s working? Boycunt Vox gives me so many ideas-
I love boycunt Vox so much. The fact he can switch out his parts for newer updated ones is so… inspiring.
Telling him it’ll just be a quickie and then picking him up by the thighs and plopping him down on his desk. You two are making out and kissing while you undress him and unzip your pants to reveal a strap.
And he warns you, “I still have work to do. This has to be fast..” but you reassure him and tell him it won’t take too long at all. So of course, he’s still eager and already wet and you pull him back in for a kiss and pull his underwear down.
Easing your strap into him he whimpers, gripping onto your shirt as you kiss the corner of his lips. You speed up and fuck into his tight pussy faster, commenting on how wet he is.
And then it only takes a few more thrusts for him to start whining and moaning so loud people in other rooms can definitely hear. You’re fucking him so hard that he’s sure he's going to be sore almost immediately afterwards.
That doesn’t stop you, though. And you’re calling him a good boy for taking your dick so well, and telling him how pretty he looks being fucked like this. At this point, he’s wrapped his legs around your waist and his arms around your neck. He’s nails are grasping onto your shirt desperately as you pound into him, slamming against his cunt full force.
He’s systems are probably short circuiting and the light in the building is flickering so much. His nails literally tear through the fabric of your shirt as his climax builds.
Finally he releases all over your strap, but to his dismay, you don’t slow down. Instead, you keep thrusting into his swollen pussy at the exact same speed. Tears prick his eyes at the overstimulation and he’s moaning like a bitch.
He’s whining for you to slow down because it hurts so bad and he has too… well fuck. Now he forgot what he has to do.
Oh well, I guess hell just have to let you fuck you his pretty cunt for a little longer.
#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin hotel x you#hazbin hotel smut#dom reader#vox x reader#vox smut#sub vox
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⌜ 𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮: strangers to lovers, my poor spanish skills, casual and unprotected sex [you can't do that, c'mon!], readerʼs a brazilian woman, some portuguese words, dirty talk, age difference, finger sucking, male oral, manhandling, light pussy spanking, ʽpapiʼ, dumbification, dacryphilia. ˚ ☽ ˚.⋆ ⌝
꒰ 𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑯𝑶𝑹ʼ𝑺 𝑵𝑶𝑻𝑬 ꒱ sooo never thought about posting something in eng but @femmechaotic (thx baby) showed me her translation and i gave it a second chance. This was originally written by me in portuguese, thatʼs why the reader is brazilian. Eng is not our first language, sorry for any mistakes, just posting for the fun of it♡
𓍢ִ໋🀦 HE'S THE KIND OF MAN YOU'LL ONLY MEET ONCE IN A LIFETIME ─────
You realized this from the moment you laid eyes on him for the first time. Sitting a couple of tables away from his, on the balcony of the hotel lobby.
You simply couldn't help but notice it: the thick strands of dark hair, how his hands run through it, as the gentle morning wind blowed. The basic white tank top, a coat hanging over the chair next to him at the table. His big and pointed nose, his eyes hidden mysteriously behind the lenses of the fancy sunglasses.
He's definitely not Brazilian. You could tell just by the food he chose from the buffet on his plate. Youʼre just so genuinely intrigued by the whole set of ongoings, obsessed with watching him, that you forgot about your own — boring — breakfast. The buns were cooling next to the black coffee in the porcelain cup.
You wanted to open the messaging app on your phone and send a sassy comment to your best friend, saying something like: “omg u won't believe how cute is the guy i just saw”, but you didn't even have time for that. The man raises his chin, with his attention shifting from the phone device in his hands to noticing your presence ahead.
You look down immediately, feeling as if you had committed a crime and you've just been caught in the act. You bite your lip, trying to hold down a childish smile, like a vicious little girl. Your palms starts sweating; suddenly cold. The intention was to keep yourself busy with the porcelain cup in the short meantime, trying to deal with the awkward sensation of being caught.
Itʼs not working, of course. You didn't know whether to drink or not, sometimes you try to sip the hot liquid, but you give up halfway through, lost like a robot in a breakdown. And when he raises his eyes once more, in the same direction as you looked for so long, the man's gaze meet yours again.
It feels, apparently, like youʼre going to faint, to actually die, Jesus! You've never felt so embarrassed in your entire life and you insist on thinking about how you're never gonna be able to eat, think or breathe while being in this crime scene — also known as the balcony of the hotel lobby.
“Get up, then!”, you think to yourself. You pick up on a couple of the cold buns from the plate, taking a sip of the — now cold — coffee, and walking towards the lobby. Like, damn, youʼre not even dressed up, maybe the clothes are not so bad but you donʼt even have any makeup on or hair done the way you liked it so much (and did it religiously every day).
But there is an actual explanation for you not being ready. The plan, initially, was just having breakfast and enjoying the view for a short period of time, so you could visit the downtown in Madrid afterwards. Now, you are running away like a criminal, with your mouth full of bread heading towards the elevator.
When you finally thought that the closing of the gray automatic doors would mean freedom, your heart has one more reason to flutter, as soon as the man steps into the cubicle before he could lose the sight of you.
You decide to chew more quickly, hiding the other roll of bun between your hands. Standing next to you, he takes off his pair of glasses, holding his coat and a crossbody bag.
He looks at you.
— Enzo — he says, and from the way he announced his name, you can tell by his accent that he speak Spanish. You swipe the back of your hand over your mouth, wiping away any remaining crumbs.
— Oi... hmm — You stammer the response in Portuguese, automatically panicking again for a few seconds when realizing that your brain couldn't think of a greeting, even in your first language. After some quick struggles, you tell him your name.
— ¿Eres de aquí? ¿de Madrid? (Are you from here? From Madrid?)
— Ahm... — You stutter, again (unfortunately). — Brasil!
He smiles.
— Ah, sí. Brasil... ¡Es un lugar magnífico! (Oh, yes. Brasil... It's a wonderful place!) — and praises. But his gaze turns sharp, he needs to know: “Entiendes lo que digo, ¿no?” (Do you understand what I say, right?)
— Sí, sí! (Yeah, yes!) — you return with a wide smile back at him, almost hyperventilating.
Your desperation is pathetically noticeable, itʼs cute actually. He watched you, smiles softly, almost like a chuckle. The curiosity gets into your nerves, you wanted to ask more questions, extend the conversation, but the elevator reaches your floor, and you leave, too withdrawn to say anything.
“Shit”, you curse at yourself, it wasn't so difficult to have a decent small talk, you should've said something, anything. You brood all day long, thinking you're such a dummy for missing the opportunity. Why did you have to act like a stupid teenager, huh? Then, after what happened, not even the museums — that you were so excited to visit — were fun anymore, no place in this goddamn city could take away that little thread of regret from you.
In the next day, however, you go down for some coffee at the same time as you did the other day, with the foolish intention of trying to see him again, and thatʼs it, it worked; like a freaking miracle. The man was sitting in an armchair in the lobby, it seemed like he was waiting for you too, what were the odds?
You can even feel your legs wobble.
— ¡Buenos días! (Good morning!) — he greets you. — ¿Cómo se dice ‘Buenos días’ en Brasil? (How do you say ‘Good morning’ in Portuguese?)
It takes a few seconds for you to think and say it back, ‘Bom dia’ (Good morning), you respond. He smiles.
— Es muy parecido (It's pretty similar) — he comments, awkwardly. Then, looks at the buffet, “¿Vamos?” (Shall we?)
Although he sometimes used terms that you completely donʼt know the meaning of and have to ask him to explain again, the conversation is, apparently, going very well. You discover that he is older, Uruguayan, and not Spanish as you immediately thought he was. You tell him a little about the country you come from, and he gets enchanted by the way your accent pronounces his name. Enzo. Paying attention to the ʽzʼ sound, unlike the pronunciation in Spanish.
it was with his company that you explored the city. The both of you went to a small square together, had some ice cream, met tourists hotspots, then chatted while exploring a little shop nearby. You hated to admit it but the situation was indeed romantic. Later in the afternoon, you were taken by him to a bar.
There, the conversation extended even further, including the beer you guys shared. When you didn't understand anything he said, (what was quite often in the conversation) you just laughed, your cheeks getting really hot and red from smiling that much. Honestly, you could leave him talking to himself for hours, just because you loved the husky sound of his deep voice and his pair of brown sparkling eyes.
It didn't mean that you were in love or anything, right? Besides, there was no way you could fall in love in such a short period of time.
But the heat you felt emanating from your own body definitely meant something. It could be because of the dark blue button-down shirt — these pieces never fail to be attractive, right? —, or the silver ring that caught your eyes every time he articulated with his hands in the air. Even his perfume... ah, the perfume! A fragrance that filled your lungs, woody but with a slight sweet note. Projecting all day long, torturing, practically inviting you to bury your face in the curve of the moreno's neck.
At nighttime, he takes you back to the hotel: his excuse was that he wanted to help you with the shopping bags, as if you had bought all of Madrid. And it was supposed to end there, at your hotel room door, simple as that. He hands you your things, and the most he does is lean over, slowly, as if he is silently asking for permission, and so, he places a small kiss on the corner of your mouth, millimeters away from touching your lipstick-painted lips. But you hold his hand, before the man walks away down the hall, you donʼt let him escape.
He approaches you again, his other hand touches the corner of your face. Warm, affectionate. ¿Qué te pasa, nena? (What's wrong with you, baby?) The focus of his brown eyes are on your mouth now, the question is whispered, seductive. The touch of his fingers bypass your jaw until it gets on your chin. ¿Quieres algo más que un beso? (Do you want something more than a kiss?)
Youʼre not sure which words to use, which command to prefer. In fact, you donʼt even want to be thinking. You want to shut your brain, to be so dissociated so that only your body can enjoy the moment. You wrapp your arms around him, your face can finally hid in the curve of his neck, breathing in the intoxicating scent of his. You hear the sound of his chuckle, feeling his big hands being placed on your waist. ¿Qué quieres? Dímelo. (What do you want? tell me)
You look up to him, shy. The tip of your nose rubs against his, creating a friction that, just because of the absurd proximity, makes everything even more tense, burning erotic.
— No Brasil — you say, trying to hide it by biting your lip —, se diz ‘foder.’
Enzo's smile grows, almost in slow motion. “Foder” (fuck), he repeats the word in a whisper. Again, you donʼt even have to think much to understand. Everything sounded similar, and it seemed that your mind was connected to his by a chaotic carnal desire.
The Uruguayan's lips meets yours; his hot tongue brushes against yours. Your bodies take on a life of their own. Little by little, the main setting stopped being the hotel hallway and became your room. The door gets closed with a gentle push from his feet, while the chosen path is towards your bed.
His hands moves up from your waist to grab your blouse and take it off from your warm body. When you lay on the mattress, supporting on your elbows, itʼs the cue the man needeed to messily pull down your shorts.
— ¿Quieres ponerte de rodillas? (Do you want to be on your knees?) — he asks, as he unbuttons his own blouse. The sharp look he gives you, bathed in desire, delirious. On his lips, you notice the smudged red of your lipstick. — Correrme en tu boca... (Cum in your mouth...)
Maybe itʼs your mind lost in urgency, because you donʼt process what was said to you. You keep your eyes still, your mouth half-open, taking in air, panting. So pathetic that all he does is laugh at your face, running his hands through his hair instead of going straight to the belt of his shorts.
— ¿Qué? ¿No lo comprendes, no? (What? you don't understand it, do you?) — the tone used with you bordered mockery. And contrary to what you would normally feel like, it gives room to a sick feeling, butterflies in your stomach, you feel even more horny, stimulated. He leans in close. — Mira. (Look)
And as if you were learning something for the first time, you imitate him when he parts his lips. You let the man's thumb drag over your lower lip, and then his middle and index fingers together slide over your tongue, until they occupy your mouth. “Así” (like that), he pushes and retreats with his hand, in a slow, sensual movement, “Metértelo en la boca.” (Put it in your mouth)
Ah, now you understand him well. Your face burns, the wet way the fingers come out of your mouth, a little strand of saliva kept resisting in the distance, itʼs wanton. You nod, kneeling on the wooden floor, eyes glued to him unbuckling his belt until you could have his erection in full view.
You part your lips once again, as you were ‘taught’. He fills your mouth, up to a point where your nose touches his crotch, and comes back, completely wet. It allows the Uruguayan to control the pace, to catch the corner of your face. You raise your gaze to his, surrendered not only by the lasciviousness of what you were doing, but also by the beautiful view you had of his face from that angle.
Enzo uses the index finger of his free hand to run down the curve of your nose, affectionately.
— Qué ojitos más bonitos... (You have such beautiful little eyes) — he praises you, with a smile. At that moment, you could swear your heart felt like it exploded. — Eres tan bella, nena. Preciosa. (You are so beautiful, baby. Precious) — he sighs, his head falls back, then to a slide side angle. He looks at you in such a mischievous way that you avoid returning the look. — Me encantaría correrme en tu boca... pero prefiero guardarlo todo para dentro de ti. (I would love to cum into your mouth... but I prefer to keep it all inside you)
You get taken back to bed, easily manhandled by him when you silently gave up control of the situation. He comes over, dangerously close, unlocked the front fitting of your bra, getting lost between your breasts as soon as he releases them from the tightness of the piece. You hold onto his hair, restless under the delicious sucking of his tongue, the wild bite of his teeth. You gasp, having to move away from the black threads of his hair while his mouth travels down your belly.
He releases you from the last piece of underwear too, the wet kisses were loud and pornographic, crackling on your skin. The tip of his big nose rubs lightly over the area where he knew your sensitive clit was. His palm run through your wetness, the chill of the his silver ring sliding across your boiling skin.
He clicks two, three slaps in a row that makes you shudder, whimpering softly. Enzo smiles, he didn't need to, but he returned to that mocking tone from before, of someone who had to calmly spell out the commands so you could understand.
He brings his hand to your lips, gave a little tap on the top, de aquí, and then went all the way down again, leaving a wet trail until he gave your pussy another tap, a aquí. And itʼs these little details that makes everything even better. It makes you feel so dumb, foolish, but itʼs so strangely good...
When he puts himself inside you, you lock your legs around his waist, wrapping your arms around him, feeling him dominate everything in you. He, however, insists on eye contact, lifting his torso, resting his forearm against the mattress, to look you in the eye. He smiles, panting like you; moaning low, hoarse. At first, slow, but soon he surrendered to the speed, to the sharp sound of your moans with each stronger thrust.
And there where so many thrilling impulses, fuck it... You want to cover your mouth, close your eyes to try to contain yourself. Itʼs the nasty noise of your bodies in shock, his deep voice, the scent of his hot skin. Youʼre so sensitive that your eyes get wet, a little tear runs down your cheek.
— Oh, no... Perdón, perdóname, cariño. (Oh, no... I'm so sorry, honey) — he stops, his thumb wipes the tear from your face.
'En—', you even started to want to call his name, but the frustration of no longer receiving the same thrilling sensations and to the same extent was such that you only knew how whine; your mind melting, finally murmuring “Dale, dale, papi.” (Give it to me, please, daddy)
Enzo smiles again. He leaves a few kisses on your lips, repeating your words between the kisses, as if he was making fun of your desperation and also the term you used to refer to him.
— ¿Más rápido, hm? Más duro? (Faster, hm? Harder?) — he turns you over on the bed, putting you on all fours. The dirty talk makes you smile, dumb with lust already, clinging to one of the pillows. The Uruguayan's body lead over yours, bringing his mouth close to your ear. — Tranquila, nena. Te daré todo lo que quieras. ( Calm down, baby. I will give you everything you want.)
#imninahchan#enzo vogrincic#enzo vogrincic fanfic#enzo vogrincic x reader#enzo vogrincic smut#la sociedad de la nieve#the society of the snow#a sociedade da neve
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They flirt with you while drunk ;)
I only did characters I think would actually drink
Also some of them a slightly spicy so here ya go simps (Talking to myself.)
Dazai
This is a semi-regular thing
"Y/n, belladonna, let's go back to my place~"
"Dazai.. PLEASE shut up."
At first, you thought it was sweet an cute; but now it's just something you have to deal with
Most of the time it ends with him falling asleep
But there's been a couple of times Kunikida has had to help you with him
Kunikida
Yosano convinced him to drink and unsurprisingly; He is a lightweight
He immediately got really goofy, startling you. Was this really Kunikida?
You tried helping him the best you could as he stumbled like a toddler and kept losing his own glasses
"Kida maybe you should sit down.."
He suddenly grabbed your hand and stared into your eyes
You were confused till you heard him mumble in a slur of words:
"You're stunning.. Have yous.. Always been this beautiful?"
All. Eyes. On. You.
You stared in shock as Kunikida still held your hand
After that, he passed out
You took him back to his apartment afterward
When he woke up the next morning and remembered what he said: he wanted to die.
Needless to say he apologized a million and one times
Yosano
Yosano is usually very good at holding her liquor, but this time she went a tad bit overboard
She was wobbling a lot and kept grabbing onto your waist, which you thought was cute
You held her while she kept stuttering and hiccuping like a goof
It was the end of the night and you were helping her home
You reached her apartment and were about to leave when she grabbed you by the collar, and basically straddled you in bed
"Don't be going so soon darling.. hicc.. You're so gorgeous I could cut you up.."
WHOAAAAAA
You were about a million shades of red as she ran her hands up and down your thighs
She started pulling your hair, forcing you to look into her eyes
At this point, you were ready to let anything happen
Just as your lips were about to touch, she fell asleep.
You sat there in shock
"Damnit... I was just getting excited."
The next morning you both had a nice breakfast and forgot everything that happened
Chuuya
Chuuya regularly drinks and with you, a bit of flirting is inevitable from him
You usually entertain it cause he's cute trying to flirt
But sometimes he'll get a little spicy kick to his flirting
"Y/n.." "Yes, dear-"
Bam
He slammed you against the wall
You were in shock as he leaned his head into your hair
"You're mine.. Forever.."
You calmed down and you both hugged before you forced him to go to bed
Nikolai
Nikolai, when not doing things for doa, does drink occasionally
On those occasions he tends to mess with you and tease you more than usual
"My my, it's my beautiful darlinggg~"
Nikolai is already very clingy with you, but drunk? Oh boy
He is literally laying on top of you and constantly talking to you
He places kisses all over your face and trys to make you flustered
Usually by the end of the night you both fall asleep on top on one another
Ango
Although Ango's job at the special ops is more strict than the P.M, I'd like to imagine Ango still drinks occasionally: whether it be after a hard day or in Oda's memory
I feel like he'd be a lot more open, and a tad bit more emotional
Definitely would need a lot of hugs from you
I feel like he wouldn't really flirt, more like appreciate you like a god/goddess
There will definitely be cuddles and kisses
#bungou stray dogs#bsd chuuya#bsd fluff#bsd headcanons#chuuya x reader#bsd x reader#bungo stray dogs#bungou stray dogs x reader#chuuya nakahara#kunikida x reader#kunikida doppo#bsd dazai#dazai x reader#yosano x reader#yosano akiko#nikolai x reader#nikolai gogol#ango x reader#ango sakaguchi#glitchs✧works
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Please please please, vox blowjob hesdcanons? like how he likes his dick suckedddd pleaseeee
Vox x Reader Headcanons: Fellatio Fantasy
NSFW WARNING! MINORS DNI!
A/N: Omg I forgot this one had just been sitting in my inbox ahdosbdjsjdh- I literally had to figure out how to title this in such a way where it wasn't so obviously explicit slang WAHAHAHAHA- Also I hope you enjoy this anon! It's probably not my best work considering I'm still new to writing smut but I gave it a shot! I also have no idea if this is short or not compared to other headcanon lists but this is kinda just an idea vomit drabble from me.
Given how Vox is the type that loves having power over others- it's not unexpected that he'd immediately get worked up at the idea of you on your knees sucking him off.
I'd reckon that while he definitely loves seeing your fucked out expression after a good romp, he also likes working up to that point starting with you worshipping his dick with your mouth.
Cuz as much as this man loves to see you squirm from him decimating you with his tongue, he also likes seeing you all over the place simply because you couldn't get enough of a taste of him.
Bonus points if you're the chatty kind, this is a very sexual way he gets you to literally shut up.
"It's rude to talk with your mouth full darling~"
Let's not even begin to mention just how sneaky he'd be with you because of this.
Under the table during one of his broadcasts, in his office, etc.
This man has a high sex-drive, so you can bet his cock is going to be between your lips often-
Yes either or, top or bottom, you're welcome male and female readers!
Vox would probably always have one hand tangled in your hair while you give him head.
Just so he can control the pace.
Or completely facefuck you to ruin.
He's quite well endowed with a long 9 inches and an average girth, so it's ridiculously ambitious to try and take him all in one go the first time around.
This guy is actually long enough to end up down your throat, so pray to god your gag reflex doesn't act up because he will fuck your throat sore if you let him.
Not to mention just the names he'd call you when you're busy being so cockdrunk with his dick in your mouth.
"You're such a good slut~ taking all of me in your mouth~"
Absolutely toy with the head of his member with your tongue, it would drive him bonkers.
I also think because Vox is mostly machine/artificial, it's not entirely out there to say he'd probably have the same mouth feel as an obnoxiously long rubber toy.
That and his cum would probably taste like blue raspberry pop rocks because of the electric tingles thanks to his powers.
Either way, at least whether he finishes on your mouth or face-
It'll be one sight to see since his jizz is bright blue too.
Yes he takes pictures when he's done with you, though it's only for his personal use.
Though if you are in the mood and he's a bit too busy to actually notice at the moment-
Getting on your knees and adopting a brutally fast pace with your mouth will have this man dialed up on your ass in minutes.
Like his arousal would literally shoot sky high seeing you just between his legs pleasuring him.
Another fun scenario being you wake him up with a surprise blowjob.
This man will absolutely go to town on you if that happens.
And your jaw would definitely not be the only thing sore afterwards.
Honorable mentions also being the fact he'd be immediately rearing to go again if you lick your lips and open your mouth to show him you'd swallowed his load.
All in all, I think Vox would definitely love receiving oral as much as he gives it.
Just that you've got to be really careful with how much you let him get away with whenever you give him head.
Because if you let this man get away with it-
Not even the best throat lozenges are going to be of any help for a while.
#vox x reader#vox#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel vox#vox x you#hazbin hotel x reader#hazbin vox#hazbin vox x reader#hazbin hotel vox x reader#vox smut
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Dating Jackie Taylor in the Wilderness
nsfw mentions
I think Jackie would still sit next to Shauna on the plane even if you were dating beforehand. Jackie cares a lot about her image and is hesitant to be near you a lot in public because she's afraid of the rumors. Rumors about her dating Shauna is fine apparently since it isn't actually true. You never quite understood her reasoning on that one. That changes a lot in the wilderness though.
Crying to Shauna about how she forgot about you in her panic to get off the plane. She didn't see you outside and thought that she had left you in there to die. Shauna had to hold her back from trying to run back into the plane to rescue you.
Jackie looks over Shauna's shoulder like she's seen a ghost when you pop out from the other side of the plane covered in soot. She nearly shoves Shauna to the ground in her haste to get over to you. Sobbing in relief as she desperately clings to you, as if she believes you'll disappear again if she gives you an inch of space.
Jackie admitting the Bruce Willis thing forgetting you were there. can't look you in the eyes for days afterward.
Jackie's ass is so desperate to get you away from the other girls. Spends 20 minutes trying to convince you into heading off into the woods to hook up. She has arguments and counterarguments planned. It's the most impressive speech you think she's ever given. Who cares if you get lost, no one's gone down on her in three days. Don't you care about the real issues??
Jackie whining and losing her shit like a week into the crash because she realized you didn't bring the strap for your three day trip to Seattle. don't you ever plan ahead y/n???
reluctantly picking Jackie's side to stay at the plane because happy wife happy life. you're so relieved when you end up going to the lake anyway. spending the entire walk down to the lake listening to Jackie lament about Shauna's betrayal. Jackie's all over you on that shoreline. Both to make Shauna jealous and to try again to convince you to walk off in the woods with her.
finally dragging Jackie into the lake with you and she just whines the whole time about not wanting to get wet but you convince het of the benefits of getting a chance to knock Shauna over. Jackie of course loses that chicken fight and ends up taking a dive in the lake almost immediately.
she comes up pouting with her wet hair slicked to her face looking the most pathetic you've ever seen her.
she eventually gets over it enough to spend the rest of the time switching between flirting with you and splashing you.
jokes on you though, now that she's out of the water she's cold as hell and will be stealing your shirt to wear too.
Jackie is relieved as hell when you find the cabin: finally yall have somewhere to sneak away to hook up. You guys definitely run into taivan a few times and you all pretend it didn't happen. (not the only time you run into Tai in the woods)
“Is she… eating dirt?” You ask Jackie softly. Jackie shrugs as she drags you off. That's a problem for another time, Jackie had the most interesting dream that she desperately needs you to take care of for her.
all the other girls thinking Jackie is finally helping out but she's just realized that if she follows you around while you're doing chores she can spend even more time with you. Wilderness Jackie reaches levels of clingy not previously thought possible
you're going down to the lake and she's like “would you love me if I was a worm?”/ “yes” / “but what if-”/ “yes”
having to stop every couple minutes because she's tripped over another branch
wilderness jackie's knees are constantly skinned from tripping over everything. She's far too excited to talk to you every moment of every day to possibly pay attention to where she's going
Jackie gets mad at you and tries to use a visibly flustered and uncomfortable Shauna to make you jealous. she's all giggly and flirty while Shauna's cutting up a deer but you can't help but laugh at the way she visibly cringes at the sight of the blood. Nose wrinkling in disgust as she quietly laments her timing
you get mad at Jackie and start ignoring her and you're about to go to sleep when you realize that all your blankets are missing. of course the only empty spot is next to Jackie. go figure. she's so smug when you stomp over and lay next to her. she pouts at your back as you lay facing away from her.
fine, she can be the big spoon. it can't be that hard. she clings to you like a backpack, but she's perfectly comfortable
having to steal back almost every article of clothing you own every couple days because jackie's borrowed them all again. talking about our clothes and shit. girl bye.
Jackie gives the absolute best motivational speeches I'm convinced. every time you start to feel like everything you're doing out here is pointless Jackie will be right there to reassure you. you can barely get more than a few tears out before Jackie shows up to comfort you, sitting herself in your lap and hugging you so hard you almost struggle to breathe.
Jackie's such a soothing presence when you're upset. she's so kind and gentle at heart and will do everything she can to make it better. you're so important to her and she will take care of you no matter what
when you calm down enough Jackie starts peppering kisses against your face till you can't help but smile.
Jackie will lie to your face about how hot you look right now. it's her favorite way to be comforted and she doesn't seem to realize it might not be universal
Jackie's newfound clinginess turns into an odd sort of protectiveness that you hadn't seen much from her before. Jackie will go to bat for you the second any of the girls make a comment towards you. it doesn't matter in the slightest to her how negative it is, but she won't let anyone talk to you like that.
she doesn't speak to Shauna for days after Shauna's jealous ass laughs at a comment Mari makes about you.
having to argue Jackie into eating all her food when you absentmindedly complaint about being hungry. It takes a good ten minutes to convince her that she needs to eat and that you will not eat her food no matter how hungry you are.
she wants so desperately to take care of you but feels like she's constantly failing at it. pre-crash Jackie is such an absolute force of nature that she feels useless in this new world order you've found yourself in. all of the skills she has mean nothing out here and she feels like she brings nothing to the table. she's always worried you're going to see that too. she watches the way that Shauna and the other girls flourish out here, and even you seem to find something you're good at, and she feels like it's just a matter of time before your patience with her runs out.
Jackie tries so hard at everything and sometimes she feels like your the only one who even notices
finding Jackie quietly crying about it in the woods because she doesn't want you to know. reassuring her and teaching her how to do the more simple aspects of wilderness stuff. she's still bad at it but at least she's making an effort.
Jackie looking at you whenever the cult stuff starts up like ‘are you seeing this shit?` making fun of the cult is the meanest you think you've ever seen Jackie. you're almost in awe.
and finally my last headcanons, just for soffsh. Jackie lives in this one ❤️
Jackie gets so fucking cold in the winter. she clings to you so tightly for warmth, talk about not knowing where she ends and you begin. she won't let you out of bed for hours after you wake up. Jackie always runs cold and it's absolute hell in the winter. she starts whining and pouting if you even think about getting up
Jackie side eyeing all the other girls when they start having hallucinations but when she starts it's suddenly a big deal and an epidemic
i just know that she makes the most insensitive fucking cannibal remarks on accident. puts Mari to shame, truly. her ass whispering to you about how Travis tasted funny after you guys cooked him.
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he already has my approval ~ taron egerton
word count: 4393
request?: no
description: in which her dad keeps trying to set her up with her celebrity crush, who just so happens to be playing him in a biopic
pairing: taron egerton x female!reader
warnings: swearing
masterlist (one, two, three)
The first time I met Taron was on the red carpet for Kingsman: The Golden Circle, and it did not go as well as I had wished it would’ve.
I had seen the first movie in theaters when it came out and immediately developed a crush on Eggsy, and, in turn, on his actor Taron. When dad was offered a cameo in the sequel, I think I was more excited than he was. I begged dad basically every day to let me go to set with him, but I was in college at the time and neither of my dads would let me miss that much time to travel just to meet my celebrity crush. It felt unfair at the time, but they had a point in the long run.
When the day of the premiere came around, dad took me as his plus one to the red carpet. I was buzzing with excitement the entire day as dad’s stylists came in to help us get ready for the night, but the minute our ride pulled up to the red carpet my excitement turned to nervousness. There was no reason for me to be so nervous. I had been to huge events like this before, and of course I had met famous people plenty of times. But there was something about meeting my actual celebrity crush that made me feel like a high schooler who was about to go on her first date.
Dad introduced me to Taron, because of course he did. Fatherhood never changed who dad was, and he was shithead, cocky, lived to tease everyone in his life Elton John. I always knew it was a bad idea to tell dad about my crush on Taron, but I never regretted it more than when I heard him shout across the red carpet, “Taron, darling, come here!”
He looked like the most handsome man in the entire world dressed in his suit, his smile lighting up his face as he approached us. That moment was when I realized he was real. He wasn’t just a character on my screen; he was an actual real person. And now he was stood in front of me. So close that I could smell his cologne, and boy, did it ever smell good.
“Taron, I want you to meet my daughter (Y/N),” dad said, gesturing to me. I was still in such awe by his beauty that I almost forgot who I even was.
“It’s nice to finally meet you, (Y/N),” Taron said as he shook my hand. “Elton has spoke very highly of you.”
My brain was definitely short circuiting. Hearing him say my name was one thing, but then for him to also say that he’s heard a lot about me from dad also contributed to it. When I realized I was just stood there staring at him like an idiot, I felt embarrassment wash over me. I tried to force myself to say something, but it was like I completely forgot how to speak English.
“She’s a little shy because she has a crush on you.”
I turned to look at dad in disbelief. If there was a higher power, They would do me a favor and open up the floor to swallow me whole and take me away from this entire situation.
I made my escape before Taron could say anything. I turned away from the two of them and walked away as quickly as possible.
The memory haunted my nightmares for a while afterwards. Even after I managed to forget about it for the most part, the intrusive thought would pop into my mind from time to time just to make me cringe. I could barley ever watch Taron’s movies anymore without thinking about that moment, which was hard since I still had such a big crush on him.
A year later, I was on set with dad and papa for the movie papa was producing about dad. Papa was so excited, as he was making the movie as a gift to dad. Papa had complete creative freedom and dad was able to give as much input as he wanted. When filming started, the two of them wanted to bring me, Zachary, and Elijah on set to watch some of the filming. They hadn’t told me much about the movie just yet, but papa’s excitement was contagious enough that I was feeling it, too.
“We’re filming the Troubadour scene today,” papa was telling us. “Full 70s aesthetic. You guys are gonna feel like you were really there to see your dad’s first ever solo performance.”
“Do I get any 70s outfits once you guys are done filming?” I asked.
“Darling, you know we have a closet full of all my favorite outfits from those days,” dad said. “You’re free to go through it as you please. It’ll be the real deal, not some cheaply made replicas.”
“Hey! You’re the one who approved of Taron’s wardrobe!” papa said with a chuckle.
The mention of his name made me stop in my tracks. “Wait...whose wardrobe?”
Both of them looked at me, confused by my reaction. “Taron, honey,” papa said. “That’s who’s playing dad in the movie. You didn’t know that?”
Memories from the year before came rushing back. I could not see him again or else I may just turn into an embarrassment puddle at his feet. I especially couldn’t be here with dad and have a potential repeat of the situation.
As if reading my thoughts, dad walked up to me and gently took my hand in his. “Honey, it’s been a year. He’s not going to remember.”
“But what if he does?” I asked. “God, he probably thinks I’m crazy after our first encounter. I can’t watch the filming.”
“Hey, hey, calm down sweetheart,” papa said. “You’re working yourself up. It’s okay. If you feel uncomfortable you don’t have to watch, but I don’t think it’ll be as bad as you’re expecting.”
I took a couple deep breaths to calm myself down. I wanted to be there and support both of my dads on this project they were both so excited over. I knew they were right and Taron likely didn’t even remember our first encounter, but I still couldn’t shake this pre-embarrassment feeling about seeing him again.
I sucked it up and followed them to the Troubadour set. There were many extras dressed in 70s clothes standing around the stage. The general murmur of the crowd turned into an excited one as people began to notice dad walking onto the set. I couldn’t see Taron anywhere, but I did recognize Richard Madden talking to the movie’s director, Dex Fletcher. Zachary was tightly holding my hand, trying to hide behind me. I knew the crowd was likely making him nervous, so I squeezed his hand and picked him up.
“Lead actor walking the set!”
I felt my body tense as everyone turned to see Taron taking the stage. He was wearing a pair of white overalls and a navy blue shirt with silver stars. He had on a wig that looked like dad’s hair from this time period and a pair of thick framed glasses that matched his overalls. He looked really good, even if he was dressed as my dad.
It took my brain a moment to register that he was walking towards us. I felt the panic return, but I tried my best to play it cool.
“It’s like looking in a mirror,” dad said as he embraced Taron. “I still have this outfit I’m pretty sure. I was just telling (Y/N) that I still have all my favorite outfits back home going all the way back to this very first performance.”
At the mention of my name, Taron’s eyes landed on me. I tried not to crumple under his gaze, and kept the smile on my face.
“Hey,” Taron said. “Good to see you again.”
“Good to see you, too,” I said, surprisingly myself with how confident i sounded.
“Who is this little guy?” Taron asked, referring to Zachary. The young boy buried his face in my neck, peaking one eye up at Taron.
“This is Zachary,” I said. “Z, this is Taron. Doesn’t he look like daddy?”
Taron struck a pose for Zachary, who seemed to warm up slightly but not a lot.
“What do you think, Elijah?” papa asked the youngest boy. “Do you think Taron looks like daddy?”
Elijah shook his head. “Daddy is old!”
We burst out into laughter as dad gave Elijah a mocked offended look. Elijah squealed as dad picked him up and began tickling his sides. Zachary was still a bit hesitant, but I could feel his body shaking as he chuckled in my arms.
“Come on, Rocket Man, we gotta start filming,” Dex called to Taron.
Taron made his way onto the set stage. Quiet was called and a hush fell over the room. The minute Dex called action, music filled the silence. One of dad’s songs, his least favorite yet one of his most popular ones, began to play. Except it wasn’t dad singing it, it was Taron’s voice. I was a little shocked to hear him singing instead of there being a backing track of dad’s music, but I had to admit he was an amazing singer. It was a fantastic choice they made. His singing voice was amazing and it made the movie have more of a fantastical musical vibe, instead of just a movie with dad’s voice dubbed over for the music.
I tried to get Zachary out of his shell more by dancing with him while the music was playing. We were not strangers to dad’s music. The three of us had seen dad perform on numerous occasions. I figured the familiarity of the music, plus the goofy dancing would definitely help with his nervousness. And I was right for the most part; Zachary came out of his nervous cocoon eventually and started dancing with me. By the time Dex called cut on the scene, Zachary felt comfortable enough to be put back down on to the floor and followed dad and papa to meet Jamie Bell, who was playing Uncle Bernie.
“Seems he enjoyed the show.”
I jumped at the sound of Taron’s voice so suddenly. He was laughing at my reaction as I turned back to him, my heart beating a million beats per second just having him so close to me.
“I think he just needed some time to warm up to being around so many people,” I said. “Usually when we go to dad’s shows we’re in a special VIP area where it’s just the three of us and papa, so he’s not used to so many people and so much attention being on him.”
“I get that. He’s only young. Doesn’t fully understand how well loved his dad is.”
“I don’t think I even fully understand it, and I’m in my mid 20s,” I said.
Taron chuckled and I couldn’t help but smile too. The realization of his realness was starting to wash over me again. He was actually here, stood in front of me, talking to me. He was a real person!
“Listen,” Taron said, “I wanted to talk about the first time we met.”
I felt my heart drop to my stomach. I tried not to let my embarrassment show too much. Maybe if I pretended I didn’t even remember, we could just move on from the entire situation and pretend like it never happened.
“I’m sorry it went the way that it did,” he continued. “I know you were embarrassed about what your dad said. I know Elton meant no harm, and he was just trying to tease you because...well, he’s Elton John, but it really wasn’t fair of him to say that to me when we were first meeting. I could tell by your face that that wasn’t exactly the way you wanted our first meeting to go.”
I was a little surprised by what he was saying. I don’t know why I was expecting for him to say something that would make the situation worse, like maybe calling me out on my crush and saying something about it. He seemed like a really nice guy, not the type to make someone feel bad. But I guess, after having an entire year to let that embarrassing moment stew, I just expected the worst if I ever met him again.
“I appreciate you saying that,” I said. “It definitely was not the way I wanted to meet the guy I had such a big crush on. I think dad expects stuff like that to wash over me like water off a duck’s back because of who he is and how many famous people I’ve met and am close to, but his status never makes those types of interactions easier. Again, especially when meeting someone that I was crushing so hard on.”
Taron was giving me a look that I wasn’t sure how to read at first. “Was?”
My brows furrowed together. “Hmm?”
“You said ‘someone I was crushing on’. As in you’re not anymore?”
I wasn’t sure why that was the part he was focusing on. I opened my mouth to respond, but Dex called to Taron again. Taron looked at me and winked behind the thick framed glasses before making his way back to set to start filming again. And it was with that wink that I could not handle anymore and finally had to sit myself down.
~~~~~~
I kept coming to set the next few weeks. At first it was only one day out of the week for a couple of hours, but soon enough I was tagging along with dad and papa every day. I tried to tell them it was because I was enjoying watching the movie being filmed, and getting to relive these big moments with dad, but they both knew that wasn’t the truth. They knew I was going because I wanted to see Taron.
We had gotten to talking a lot in between takes when I was on set. About everything and anything really. It started with just getting to know each other, but eventually it blossomed into talking about whatever was on our minds. Sometimes it was about the movie, sometimes it wasn’t. Either way, we just got to know one another. And eventually, my “celebrity crush” became a real one.
I knew my dads could see what was going on, but they didn’t bring it up. I figured that was mostly because of how my first interaction with Taron went and dad didn’t want to risk embarrassing me like that again. Which, I did appreciate. I felt like a friendship was being built with Taron and I didn’t want that to be risked with fatherly embarrassment to the extreme, even though I knew that wasn’t dad’s intentions.
One day, we walked on set and I was surprised to see Taron was nowhere in sight. Instead, we walked into a setup that looked like great grandma Ivy’s apartment that I had seen in plenty of dad’s baby pictures. There were three different actors than normal on set, one I recognized as Bryce Dallas Howard and one young boy I recognized to be dressed up the way dad had been when he was that age. I realized pretty quickly that today was probably mostly shooting scenes of flashbacks from dad’s childhood, which caused me to feel disappointed realizing that I likely wouldn’t be seeing Taron today.
I was sat in my usual seat (because yes, I had visited so often that I was given a seat with my name on it) watching the set up for the scene when dad came over and sat next to me, dramatically sighing as his body settled into the chair.
“These old bones can hardly sit down anymore,” he said.
I smiled at him. “Oh, please. You’re hardly that old, dad. Besides, we both know that after everything you’ve gone through, you’re going to outlive us all.”
“A man can only hope.” We laughed together. Dad put an arm around my shoulder and leaned into me. “Taron’s in his trailer, you know.”
“Oh?” I said, hoping I didn’t seem as excited by this information as I was. “He’s filming later on then?”
“Yeah, way later on this evening. David said that Taron showed up way earlier than he needed to claiming that he thought his call time was this morning, not this evening.” I raised an eyebrow at him, silently telling him to say whatever it was he was trying to say. “I don’t think that was the case, though.”
“Clearly.”
“I think he came here early hoping to see you.”
I scoffed and rolled my eyes. “I think you’re being a little ambitious there dad.”
“About as ambitious as I would be to say that you show up every day so you can see him, too?” When I didn’t respond to that, dad just laughed. “I see things, (Y/N). My eyes may be old, but they can still see things that no one else sees.”
“And what is it that you see with me and Taron?”
“I see a young man who is enamored by a young woman, and a young woman who feels the same way. I also see two cowards who are too afraid to confess their feelings to one another.”
I playfully nudged him with my elbow, to which he dramatically clutched his stomach and acted like I had shot him or something.
“I’m not saying that Taron feels anything for me,” I said, “because I don’t think he does. I think he’s just being friendly with someone that he considers to be a friend. But, if what you’re saying is right and he does have romantic interest in me, maybe the reason why he won’t admit it is because he’s too afraid to? I mean, my dad is Elton John after all. That’s a pretty big name to have as a potential father-in-law.”
“Hey now, I didn’t say anything about marrying you off to the man.” I smiled and shook my head. This really was just an every day thing with dad. He loved being a father, but I think he loved being a nuisance more than that. Papa always warned him he would regret that when Zachary, Elijah, and I started to pick up on his habits. “But both of you know that Taron has my approval if he does want to pursue you romantically. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have even been cast in this movie!”
“You cast him because he’s a good actor!”
“Oh, that was only part of it. The other part was so that you two could have a do-over with your meeting, since I ruined the last one.”
I put my head on dad’s shoulder. “You didn’t ruin it. You just embarrassed me beyond belief, but that’s what a father does.”
Dad gave me a small squeeze before pulling me away from him. “Go to his trailer. Have a few moments alone.”
“Give you a few grandkids?”
He pushed me away, which caused me to laugh hysterically.
“Darling, I may be old but I am certainly not that old,” he said. “And, again, I said I approve of him. Not that you two need to get married and pop out babies right away. Go on a few dates first, for the love of God.”
I stood from my chair, still laughing. Dad tried to glare at me, but he couldn’t. This was just our relationship.
I made my way out of the set before they started filming so that I wouldn’t be disrupting anything. All the trailers were grouped together in the lot, luckily with signs on them to label what or whose trailer they were. Taron’s was the furthest on the lot, with a theatrical gold star stuck to the door with his name on it. Part of me figured this was dad’s doing, but the other part of me would believe that it was Dex’s doing, too. Papa truly couldn’t have chosen a better director to capture dad’s personality and aesthetic than Dex.
My heart was pounding so loud that I thought Taron would hear it before I even knocked. I took a deep breath and pushed myself to knock before I got too nervous and ran away instead. There was a brief rustling in the trailer before the door opened, revealing Taron in a pair of black and gold hot pants, a gold jacket that was left unzipped so I could see his entire torso and chest, and heeled shoes with gold tips and gold wings on the side. I wasn’t sure where to look first. My eyes naturally lingered on his chest, his coarse chest hair a welcoming sight, but I couldn’t help but glance lower at his thighs in those hot pants, too. Not to mention the bulge -
“Shit,” Taron breathed, a panicked look in his eyes. “Sorry, uh, I didn’t expect...I thought it might’ve been someone from the set. I’m just...uh...”
“In costume, I would assume,” I said, trying to pretend like I was looking at his shoes and not another area lower on his body.
“Yeah,” he said. His face was starting to turn bright read. “It’s for a scene later on...way later on. I’m - I was early today, so they already put me through costume and makeup.” He cleared his throat and ran his hands through his hair. “Do you, um, do you want to come in?”
I nodded, unsure if I could even form any words. He stepped aside to let me into his trailer. He still looked flustered by my sudden appearance, which I thought was cute.
“Don’t be sorry, by the way,” I told him. “I don’t mind this eye full that I’m getting. Quite the opposite, really.”
That only made him more flustered, and I couldn’t help but smirk at that reaction.
“You’re a lot like your dad,” he commented. “He said something similar while we were filming Kingsman a few years ago.”
“We Furnish-Johns have good taste in men.”
I sat down on the couch of his trailer and he sat across from me. I tried not to be too obvious with my gawking, but it was hard not to look at him. God, was he ever attractive. And here he was, sat next to me, practically naked, and all flustered because I had caught him this way. I felt like I should be feeling a similar way, but knowing that I was the one who had made him feel that way just made me feel so cocky instead.
“I didn’t think you were on set today,” I told him. “I showed up and didn’t see you or Jamie or Richard.”
“We’re filming a couple smaller scenes later on to end the day. Dex wanted to film all of the flashback shots of your dad before he was Elton John today, just to get that out of the way.”
“You got here really early for that. It’s not even noon, and your scenes are this evening papa said.”
Taron shrugged. “I got the wrong call time.”
I raised an eyebrow at him. “By over 12 hours?”
He shrugged again, but didn’t offer any further explanation.
I took a deep breath, once again willing that cockiness to stay long enough so that I could say what I wanted to say without losing my nerve. “Remember the first day on set where we talked about the first time we met, and you made a point of asking me about my crush on you.”
Taron nodded. “Yeah. You made it seem like you didn’t feel that way anymore.”
“Yeah, I did. Because I thought I would scare you away if I admitted that I did still like you that way.” I was moving towards him now, closing the already smaller space between us. “That I do still like you that way, if you get what I’m saying.”
We were so close that I could feel the heat radiating from his body. He was looking down at me in a way that I could only ever dream of having Taron Egerton look at me like. It was like the movies I had seen him in, except this was real life and the person he was looking at was actually me.
“I think I understand,” he said. “But just in case, is it okay if I do an experiment just to be sure?”
I giggled. “Yeah, that’s okay.”
He placed a finger under my chin and tilted my head back until I was looking up at him. He leaned forward at an agonizing pace before his lips finally pressed against mine. It felt like the entire world around us paused in that moment. I had to restrain myself from getting onto his lap and deepening the kiss, even though I wanted to so badly. I wanted to spend the next few hours in this trailer with him, not even letting him leave to go film. I wanted to be tangled up with him and never let him go ever again.
The kiss ended far too soon. When Taron pulled away, I tried to chase his lips to pull him back to me. He chuckled at my eagerness, allowing his lips to press against mine for a quick peck.
“Let me take you out before we get too hot and heavy,” he told me. “I want to take you on a proper date.”
“I guess we should do that before I jump your bones,” I teased. “But you do still have quite some time till your call time. If you’d like company while you wait, I wouldn’t mind staying here with you for a while. Especially if you’re going to be dressed like that the whole time.”
Taron’s face turned red again as he looked down at himself, almost like he forgot what he had been wearing. “Might be too tempting for you.”
“It definitely will be. But I will respect your virtue and not try to deflower you in your trailer.”
He buried his face in his hands. “Oh my God! What have I gotten myself into here?”
“Something pretty great, if you ask me.”
#taron egerton#taron egerton imagine#taron egerton x reader#rocketman#elton john#imagine#one shot#rpf#fanfiction#fanfic#fandom
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🎙️ just saw your post asking about blog recs…step up to the stage bc i need some!!!!
BLOGS RECOMMENDATION <3
— mostly jjk, but also chainsaw man and aot
*taping the mic* okay here are my nominees with some fics recomendations as well
disclaimers!
lemme start saying so plot is everything to me, pwp can be hot but i'll hardly remember it afterwards, that being said here's some writers that can do both great plots and hot scenes.
also while digging i realize i wasn’t following some of those and if you noticed im sorry im dumb but i truly love your writing.
i tried to tag every active blog i could remember but it’s possible i forgot a few since i’ve been reading more jjk recently. if i forgot you im so sorry please don’t take offense.
many blogs i loved were deactivated, rest in piece great works they had.
everything i read i reblog under the tag #recs
@thekillingmoonmoon ofc moon is the first one i think when the topic "best writers" come up, i freaking love her and everything she does its not even fair to pick one thing so im picking 3, this super passionate toji work that i re-read at an alarming frequency (which btw i consider my own personal gift). yakuza choso and yuki aka the hottest duo ever. the cherry on top is her kishibe series (just realized i gotta catch up on)
@rinhaler - luxe is def on my top 3, she comes up with very organic scenes. even if it's a simple plot she can develop it so originally. I recently read her underground fighter!sukuna and i'm still thinking about it.
@laudthingcat has the best headcanons in the jjk fandom hands down, it’s the perfect dose of hot funny and cute, pick anything from her masterlist it’s guaranteed you’ll have a good time reading it. when you moan their name in your sleep in particular gives me butterflies
@meownotgood is obviously the best aki writer out there, you can see the love for aki in their words and how they write him so well and so into character. arrival in tokyo is truly a masterpiece, they also have a +100k words series i've been wanting to read for a while but i want to rewatch chainsaw man first hehe, i'm 100% sure is fire tho.
@kentoangel roma writes choso like she's in love with him and you can tell. shes always on my for you and even her snippets are *chefs kiss* special kudos to stepbrother!choso
@kentopedia i just realized i'm assigning a writer per character and nanami is definitely rylie's. the domestic lovely way she writes him makes me forget canon.
@tojisun another blog that is very often on my for you page. cannot talk about toji fics without bringing up sun, everything she writes about him has me furiously nodding. not to mention simon and konig, just talking about them makes me wanna run to her blog and binge read everything
@chocochipsushi 's bodyguard toji is unforgetable to me, i wish i lost my memory so i could read it all again for the first time. bodyguard toji is the definition of living rent free in my mind, whenever i have to deal with annoying coworkers i immediately think “bodyguard toji would not allow them to talk to me like that”
@suget one of the greatest geto writers for sure, they have so many geto works, i was going through their blog to find the one i read more recently and there was so many others i haven’t seen! another writer i could very easily spend a whole day binge reading. btw this cult leader one was recommended to me and i fell in love with it <3
@staryukis has the cutest gojo drabbles
@tonycries brooklin baby was recommended to me by moon and it had me by the neck! also they have many other works im hoping to read soon as well
@mommypieck isayama created reiner but they created subby reiner
@titan-fodder ‘s the tinniest notion The Best Reiner fic in all the existence of the universe (tw: stepcest kinda?)
@nanaslutt mma!toji made feel every emotion possible so intensely
#jjk x reader#yes i’m adding the tag cause i think everyone should visit those blogs kay#recs#— mailbox 💌
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could you right a fluffy drabble with Ponyboy hosting a chaotic sleepover with greaser gang anf fem! reader please ? ;000 reader is hinted to have romantic feelings for Dally
a/n: i love these types of requests! i did a short prompt at the beginning and then i popped some headcannons at the end. i hope you enjoy :) i was giggling writing this lol.
warnings: swearing
Sleepover (Gang hc’s + slightly romantic Dallas!)
“hey! hey y/n!” You turn around and see Ponyboy running over to you. School had just been let out and you were headed back home.
“hey Pony, what’s up?” you smiled at him as he finally caught up to you. His hair was messy from the slight windy weather in Tusla; he combed it back with his fingers. He gave you a small grin.
“I’m throwin’ a slumber party tonight at my house! you gotta come y/n, it’s gonna be so fun! besides, you’re the life of the party, wouldn’t be as fun without ya.” he smiled, obviously excited as he explained at all to you.
“sure, pone i’d love to. what time? the whole gang gonna be there?” you asked, smiling at him.
he nodded. “yep, all of the guys and I. around six probably, think we’re gonna order pizza or something.” he shrugged.
“all of the guys?” i blushed a little. “i mean.. even dallas?” i asked, trying to play it off as if it was nonchalant
he rolled his eyes playfully. “yeah, y/n. even Dallas.” he smirked.
“so you’ll be there?” he asked with a smile.
“wouldn’t miss it for the world.” you responded, smiling at him
“good! it’ll be fun!” he gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze and left, leaving you to go home and pack a bag.
Once you get to the house chaos endures
All of the guys are crowded around the table, playing cards and betting their money on stupid bets that Two-Bit and Darry win constantly
“i’m losin’ all my goddamn money cus’ of ya!”
“sorry Steve, not my fault you suck at rummy.”
*throws all of the cards.*
after losing all of their money, everyone decides to make some food (despite literally having ZERO idea how to cook!)
It eventually breaks off into a bake off between
Y/n, Dallas, Johnny, Ponyboy
Steve, Two-Bit, Darry and Soda
Darry was dragged into this and since he knows how to cook somewhat you and dallas were cussing and so competitive because “they can’t have a good one on their team!! ADVANTAGE!!”
So you paired darry with the worst trio imaginable
The kitchen catches on fire because Two-Bit dropped some grease on the stove and everyone started screaming and Steve grabbed a towel and threw it on top of the flame to suffocate it and then the towel got CHARRED and darry had to unleash half of the fire extinguisher onto the stove.
Dallas grabbed you and literally yanked you to the other room bc god forbid you get hurt
darry to two-bit afterwards:
everyone had to take a break after that.
anyways, Two-Bit got banned and became the judge after the small fire and you guys continued to make food.
Ponyboy mistook the salt for sugar and Dallas smacked him on the head after he realized and it was too late because Johnny already mixed it in and you just looked scared bc how tf were you supposed to win now
Little did you know that sodapop and steve literally forgot to put eggs in?? and Darry didn’t catch them??
But anyways Two-bit absolutely GOBBLES up the cookies you guys made and then immediately spits it out because of the overwhelming amount of salt
And he can’t even eat the other cookies because wtf is that
After cleaning up and being very aware of the stove, you all move into the living room and ponyboy goes
“guys i got you all gifts.”
AND THIS MF PULLS OUT MATCHING PJS :(
The entire gang is going 👁️👄👁️
meanwhile you’re literally
“that’s so fucking cute.”
let’s be honest they prolly look like this:
Two bit def wanted the dress
Dallas, steve and darry were all very adamant to not wear any of them
You easily convinced Dallas
“please? we’d all look so good.”
“…fine, y/n/n.”
awww he loves you
sodapop also definitely wore one of the dresses and steve wore the footie pj’s and they matched
you guys went to the DX all dolled up in your matching pj’s and you bought a ton of shit like candy bars and cigarettes and beer and energy drinks
you guys go back home and decide to call three different pizza places and see who can deliver the fastest
(no one thought of the outcome of having like 10 fucking pizzas to eat)
but anyways Pizza Hut was the fastest
Dallas dared steve that he couldn’t chug a beer and eat four pizza slices in four minutes
he did it and the outcome was dallas losing five bucks and steve spending an hour in the bathroom frantically yelling “IM DYING!”
Johnny wants to watch a movie and is indecisive and eventually gets all the boys arguing about what to watch so you and Dallas sit back and eat your candy and watch them all scream and argue over which shrek movie was better (Two-Bit is FRANTICALLY arguing that the third one is superior.)
after they decide on a movie and steve emerges from the bathroom, you pull out facemasks and force everyone to do them with you
you sit on dallas’ lap to put it on him and he’s lowkey blushing and loving your touch but he’s too tough he won’t say anything
but he’s literally looking at you like 🥰
you didn’t tell the guys that the masks were peel offs and you got to watch them all go through the five stages of grief as they ripped the masks off
ponyboy is SCREAMING
literally flabbergasted
Steve is begging sodapop to take it off for him because “it hurts less when someone else does it.”
Two-bit can barley breathe because he’s laughing so hard
Darry is js grunting and i feel like he peeled his off before it even dried so now his fingers are sticky and he’s having a fit
Johnny is the quietest one but he got some in his eyebrow and the YELP he let out when he YANKED IT
Dallas is literally labor breathing “hee-hoo hee-hoo.” lookin ass
you’re literally dying because wtf is happening
after the boys go through their traumatic experience, you all cuddle up and watch your movie.
Darry is the first one to fall asleep and Dallas and you gang up to draw on his face
someone totally drew a dick on Darry’s poor face and when he wakes up and sees this huge weiner drawn on his face he is going to murder
Johnny is out next and he gets the whole treatment of face drawings
i feel like when ponyboy falls asleep steve pours water on his face and he wakes up like moms when their kids wake them up for a drink of water
terrifying.
Two-bit is drunk off his ass bro💀💀 someone get this kid a tranquilizer bc holy fuck
at like 2am he’s talking some shit about interdimensional aliens and it’s lowkey scary
someone put him down.
Steve clocks out and he’s using sodas face as a pillow and sodapop is just enduring it.
Eventually only you and dallas are left and you guys are sitting next to eachother
you pass out and unconsciously cuddle into him and he literally melts
he wraps his arms around you and puts his chin on ur head and passes out
the gang def takes pics of you guys all snuggled up when they wake up
#the outsiders imagines#dallas winston#dallas winston x reader#the outsiders#luv u mwah#thank you sm for this request
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i dont know if youve ever talked abt before, but what would it be like if ingo met zingo? also ingo meets plum. ourple baby
It might be confusing to figure out that he doesn't actually have a second brother he forgot about but otherwise p good ! Assuming he's used to Zemmet already Ingo's probably not super thrilled to hear about the whole 'psychological torment' era of their relationship but .. afterwards he would definitely appreciate that Emmet had SOMEONE to lean on. +Zingo would like him immediately because Ingo's nice and looks like Emmet (her favorite human :])
#hoof draws#mailbox#replacement ingo au#btw yes ingo has a knife in his coat#it is useful<3 i think he knows some crazy knife tricks
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How will our favourite nerdy boy be celebrating record store day this weekend?
oh shit i forgot it was this weekend lol. anyway! matty will absolutely be waking you up at an ungodly hour to queue with him for the things he wants to buy - he's got a list longer than the phone book and he's still pestering you to "just have a look at the releases to see if there's anything you might want, darling, and we'll get those too", bless him. you're not totally jazzed about the idea of waking up so early and waiting in the cold, but you'll have your sweet boyfriend to snuggle into and a thermos of coffee to sip from, and really you can't be too miffed about it because matty's just too adorable when he's excited. actually, as you perk up throughout the course of the morning, i think you might even start chatting to other people in the queue and asking questions so you can write a little feature about it with matty - he knows the guy in the record shop really well, so he gets all the statistical data about how many copies of each release they ordered and how many they sold and how much of an impact rsd has on business etc etc. it's a nice time, actually, and maybe you do end up going home with a couple of records for yourself that matty insisted on buying because "firstly, i want to treat you. secondly, i'm literally already at the till it just makes sense for me to get them" lol. you buy breakfast in return, though, afterwards! and i wonder if, on the drive home, the two of you take it upon yourselves to detour past some other indie record shops in the area to peruse how busy they are and get more data for the feature you're writing, like amidst the errands you have to run while you're out lmao. i think that would be cute. and what's even cuter is you back at matty's asking "so, are any of these albums you bought any good to kiss to?" - he blushes and smiles and immediately pulls one out and says "couch? bed?", and puts it on in whichever room you'd rather make out with him in (bedroom, definitely) lol. the rest of the day is spent listening to the new albums in between eating and taking maggie for walks and just pottering about matty's house, and all in all it's just lovely. maybe matty's favourite day ever <3
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Sub Shigaraki’s Guide To Sex Toys:
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As you all can imagine, behind Shigaraki’s nonchalant, aloof exterior lies a needy masochistic boy who needs some love. And love he gets. So, I thought I’d share with you all what I believe his opinions of certain toys would be.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Handcuffs: 3/10 or 5/10
On Shigaraki:
Honestly, he doesn’t care for them.
On the outside, there’s a power hungry brat who hates the feeling of not being in control. He has a primal, irrational hatred for the feeling of helplessness as you have your way with him no matter how much he trusts you. It’s just how he was raised.
On the inside however, he also hates it, but for a different reason. He loves sex with you for multiple reasons but one of them is having access to the warm touch of a loving sweetheart that he never had when he was growing up.
So restricting his ability to feel you while you both make love is going to make it hard for him to get into it, no matter how many head pats or praising you give him
On you:
Again, just doesn’t really care for them. He’ll use them if you want to, but really they do more harm than good for him.
He likes the feeling of control they give him of course, but it’s just not worth it to him if it means you can’t tug at his hair in pleasure.
It also makes it so that you’re trapped there with him, and although sometimes is nice, kind of feeds into a growing insecurity that you don’t want to be with him by choice.
It’s irrational, he knows, but he won’t be able to shake the feeling you’d run first chance you got if he took them off.
So, while it’s better if it’s on you, still not a fan.
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Vibrating cock ring: 8/10
Honestly this guys got the stamina of a god, so the cock rings the only way to even the playing field.
Without it he doesn’t cum enough in the amount of time it takes you to cum, and he’ll last much longer than you. This sounds like a good thing, but it’s not.
If he doesn’t use up his energy fast enough, you’re not going to be able to handle it when you use up yours and he’s still going strong. So the cock rings the only successful way to help him cum enough that he crashes at about the same time as you.
Also… he has an overstim kink, because of course he does
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Strap-on: 10/10
His absolute favorite. Doesn’t matter what time of day his ass is ready to be filled by your thick silicone length. He especially loves it when it vibrates.
All the other toys on this list are appetizers to him, and he finds this main course item to be essential.
Use it to punish him, reward him, or use it when you’re bored. He doesn’t care, he just wants it in him now.
Don’t worry he’ll take care of your needs too just…. Mmm just a little longer.
Also, he’s definitely not going to talk about this with Shigaraki, but AFO disapproves of this toy ever since Shig forgot to mute the tv and AFO heard him calling you “mommy”.
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Paddle: 7/10
So this guy is a softie for his mommy, and although he does like being coddled during sex, he likes being punished even more.
Smack his firm, dry little ass with it when he distracts you during your phone call, and don’t stop until his sweet cakes are cherry red.
You better not stop until there are tears flowing freely down his face or he’ll sulk afterwards.
This guy actually looks forward to not being able to sit down because each pang of pain from his sore ass reminds him of good times.
Honestly, you should be honored that he’s letting you hurt him. Despite what it may look like sometimes, it means you’re doing something right, so keep it up.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chastity belt: 0/10
Yeah, sorry, he doesn’t care how expensive it is, whether you’re wearing it or him he’s dusting it immediately.
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Taser: 9/10
Yep, you heard it right here from me folks. This guy actually uses a tactical grade legitimate taser as a sex toy. Remember how I said he’s a masochist? Well, he’s a masochist.
You can shock him anywhere really, but because he’s a freak he’s gonna beg that you punish his sensitive balls. Or maybe his nipples. Your choice.
Don’t shock him for too long though or he’ll start to froth at the mouth. He’s gonna insist you keep going and that he’s fine but you’re gonna have to use your best judgement here. Something tells you he’s not all too concerned about his health right now.
This is the only toy AFO actually approves of believe it or not. After all, if he’s gonna disobey orders and have sex with you anyways, might as well throw in some pain tolerance training as well.
Toga was snooping through his room while you two were on a mission and found his “special drawer”. Needless to say this toy was the main highlight of discussion that night as everyone took in how much they had been underestimating their bosses kinky-ness.
Sometimes for fun you’ll go up to him and shock him out of no where. Like you’re just sitting at the bar and you decide he deserves a punishment right then and there for breathing. A few snaps of static as you warmed it up were the only warnings he got before you jammed it deep into his side. Don’t worry, he loved it. He loved it a lot.
One time while he was out and about a police officer charged him and shocked him with their stun gun. He dropped to the ground and moaned loudly, writhing around as he begged them to stop so he could fight them seriously. But each jolt of electricity delivered to his gut caused him to grind his obvious erection on the pavement and groan.
Eventually they did disengage the stun gun, but only because the secondhand embarrassment was just too much to bear.
Fortunately the cop was alone and taken down easily, but after that experience he made a mental note to never fight Kaminari… ever…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
First time doing the head-canon format so, hope I did a good job. I know you guys are waiting for Creepy Tenko part 3 but I had this idea and I wanted to write it. Thanks for reading!
#shigaraki tenko#my hero academia#shigaraki fanfiction#shigaraki x reader#shigaraki x y/n#my hero academia shigaraki#boku no hero academia tomura#shigaraki fluff#shigaraki tomura#shigaraki smut#sub shigaraki
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Okay, I cant take it anymore. The brain rot is REAL
Been on a writing hiatus since 2019 or 2020 (I honestly don’t remember so don’t @ me)
And what gets me to finally start writing again?
You guessed it ladies, gents, and serpents!
Fucking TROLLS 3
Let’s get this bread or die trying y’all 😈
~•~
So first things first: I didn’t come up with the AU’s I’m using here! They were created by TheMiraculousMat and Keebsification on here and AO3
The AU’s in question are The Eldest and The Youngest and Out The Train Wreck
I just love it when people see John Dory and think “hmmm yes this grown man can fit so much eldest daughter energy in him” cuz SAME
So I thought: what if I just… put em together? OTT! JD and E&Y! JD have a grip on my soul and I’m filling a formal complaint in the form of fanfiction for not just 1, but 2 other pieces of fanfiction!!! Cuz why not
I’m gonna post the notes I’ve had about this idea for the past 2 week, at least the first part.
Well… it’s half notes, half chapter really…
Maybe. MAYBE. I’ll clean it up and post it on AO3. Maybe… probably lets be real
Anyway. Y’all can call me Boog and this is Project: Hyperfixation Won
Actual story name pending…
~•~
Part 1: Author’s Actual Notes because they are a nerd
Got an idea
Gonna scratch the itch
Half brain rot dump and half story here
Combination of the Eldest and Youngest JD and the Train Wreck JD
I also head canon that trolls have tails and claws and fangs
They’re lil creatures
Basically the same stuff happens in TW with the manager and John being Branch’s father.
Branch grows up knowing JD is his dad while everyone else thinks they’re brothers.
He and Luka are dating. He’s basically Branch’s other dad.
Luka gets taken and John thinks he died. He keeps his glove to remember him.
The fight still happens. John still leaves but promises Branch that he’ll come back.
He goes to the Neverglades for the next four years.
When he gets a letter about Rosiepuff and Branch he immediately heads back to the tree to take care of him.
Pretty much all of E&Y happens but with the change of Branch knowing JD is his dad.
Makes the trauma of him leaving worse in a way which adds to the angst of the first parts delicious, but it also makes their bond really solid later on.
John forgot that everyone in the village knew them as brothers until Poppy asks him if John is Branch’s daddy out of the blue. He panics and says “no” on instinct and they both decide to just go with it. Easier than explaining it to everyone.
She still doesn’t know. Nobody does.
John still loses his arm trying to save Creek(nasty ass).
One morbid silver lining John felt was that at least it wasn’t the hand he wore Luka’s glove on. Small miracles. Lol I’m sorry
Branch doesn’t remember Luka anymore, at least not really. He sorta remembers a burgundy haired troll that he thought was important but couldn’t remember anything else about them so he didn’t think too much about it.
John doesn’t really like talking about him and Branch hasn’t ever asked so he doesn’t bring it up.
He starts dating Hickory and he does tell him about Luka. He admits that while he definitely is falling for Hickory, a part of him will always belong to Luka and their relationship will always be really important to him.
Hickory is more than okay with that and even tells him that he would’ve loved to have met the man that made his sweetheart so happy and kept him safe before it was his turn. (John just about cried when he said that same buddy and agreed that they’d probably get along pretty well.)(He shows Hickory pictures of him and Luka one day and they laugh over the fact that John clearly has a type.)(And, based on Hickory’s own light blush, same.)(He immediately said Luka was ‘real cute’ and John still laughs at him for it.)
He also tells him about Bold and how Branch came to be. (Hickory spent solid hours comforting him afterwards and spent an equal amount of time thinking of ways he could get Dickory to help him torture the bastard if he ever saw him.)(He decides in that moment that he’d do anything to protect his boyfriend and his son. Anything.) (He’s also even more grateful to Luka when he hears about how he protected his love the day they met. He really wishes he could thank him…)
Branch makes jokes about not calling Hickory his stepdad till they get married, which makes John flush bright blue. (Hickory just laughs and winks, the traitor.)(Hickory secretly really wants Branch to call him ‘Pops’ and he’s so obvious about it.)(Branch finds it hilarious and doesn’t on purpose. He’d actually love to call him that, he’s just being an ass.)(You’d think he wouldn’t ever want to but no. For some reason, it’s only thinking of Hickory as ‘Papa’ specifically that makes him feel wrong. Like that’s not available to him. I wonder why.)
After saving Floyd, the boys all start spending more time together as a family. Floyd and Clay move into the bunker with John and Branch. Bruce still lives on Vacay Island but he tries to visit at least once a week, even bringing his wife and kids with him if he can.
They still love doing shows together and will do a big one every two weeks at least.
A few months later, they’re getting ready to hangout together after a performance in PopVillage. Hickory isn’t with them, he was actually watching with Tiny in the crowd, so he can’t see them.(Lil dude is really attached to his “Uncle Cowboy” and “Uncle Johnny” it’s adorable.)(And yes Guy is close by, Tiny is still very very grounded.)
Poppy wants to introduce them to a former stage manager that she’s worked with before that had come to see the show from TrollCity. Branch has met him once before and thought the guy was weird and a little creepy but nothing else made him feel suspicious so he kinda just ignored it. He figured if Poppy trusted him, it was fine. (Obviously he still kept an eye on the old bastard, cause your boy isn’t paranoid for nothing. And you never know.)
They all agree to meet and when they get backstage… it’s him.
Bold.
The bros old manager. The man who hurt their eldest unimaginably.
JD basically shuts down as his younger brothers immediately shield him from view.
They need to get out of here without causing a scene. Fast.
“Poppy, I think we need to go…” Floyd mumbles, his usually soft features twisting in both anger and slight fear as he stared the old troll down.
Poppy looks at them in confusion, “Wha- but you guys said you wanted to see everything we set up!!” She looks between the brothers and the older manager, Branch joining her as his eyebrows furrowed.
“Sorry, kids, I don’t think we can do that…” Bruce doesn’t take his eyes off of the old man as he steps back, closer to Clay and Floyd who were holding John Dory’s arms and hands to keep him steady in their safety bubble, their tails wrapped around his waist. “Not when he’s here.”
Poppy blinks in confusion. “What do you mean? Have you met Mr. Bold before?” She asks.
The old bastard chuckles. “Don’t worry, Miss Poppy.” Poppy huffs a bit at being called ‘miss’. (She’s Queen, dammit. Only Hickory calls her ‘miss’ and it’s always as a joke.) “I was the boys’ manager back in the day! It’s just been a while since we’ve seen each other.” He looks over each brother, clearly trying to get a look at John Dory and noticeably souring when he’s blocked. Then he smirks, taking a few steps closer, his wooden cane thunking against the floor. John flinches with each tap, tap, tap. “You’ve all grown up so much.”
Bruce holds his ground, crossing his arms and rolling his shoulders, his bigger body blocking most of JD from view. Clay was growling behind him, both him and Floyd curling closer to John and their ears pressed back in irritation. Bruce gives a humorless chuckle. “Heh. Yeah, we’ve grown up, Bold. We grew up and you’re fucking old now.”
Poppy gasps. “B-Bruce, that’s not nice!” She turns to Bold and smiles nervously. “I’m so sorry-“
The man waves her off. “Don’t fret. I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it. He’s right after all.” He looks at them again all smugly, leaning on his cane. “Like I said, it’s been a long time.”
Floyd scoffs. “Not long enough.” He growls, baring his teeth. His claws start coming out and he’s thankful he’s holding John’s prosthetic arm as he feels them scratch the metal.
“Woah, okay, what the hell is up with you guys?” Branch finally steps in. That was so unlike Floyd to say something like that. He’s never seen the older troll that angry before, he’s never seen any of his uncles that angry before.
Bruce huffs. “What’s up is that we’re leaving. Now.” He goes to turn around to start steering his brothers out of the room when he hears Bold chuckle, making them all freeze.
“You all really have changed so much,” He says, his tail swaying side-to-side behind him. John looks up and they manage to lock eyes, Bold smiling sickly as John stares in horror. “Especially you, Johnny Baby.”
John feels sick. He feels like he’s gonna pass out. He feels his legs start giving out as Clay and Floyd rush to hold him up. He feels his body going completely limp and his vision blurs and his chest hurts and he can’t breATHE-
Bruce tackles the old troll, immediately landing brutal hits to the bastards face. He screams between punches, “DON’T TALK TO MY BROTHER!” Bold tries to hit him back, only managing to smack Bruce in the side once with his cane before continuing to get pummeled.
Branch and Poppy jump in frantically to pull him off of the man and the three of them stumble back. Bruce shoves them off and glares at Bold again. He was lying on the ground, groaning and clutching his nose, there were scratches and bruises on his face and he was covered in his own glittery copper blood. “Stay. The FUCK. Away. From John.” Bruce pants and shakes out his hands, flexing his exposed claws. He spits on the ground. “Bastard.” He turns back to his brothers. “Cmon, let’s get out of here.” He lifts JD up bridal style and Clay and Floyd follow him as he starts rushing to the door.
“Wait, hold on!” Branch runs after them, leaving Poppy standing in confused horror at what just happened.
~•~
That’s what I’ll give for now lol
I have like wayyy more written out but I’m mean so 😈
Anyway
Thank you for coming to my ted talk
Lmk what y’all think ig
Check out the folks that created these AU’s plz @matmiraculous and Keebsification (idk their tumblr so plz don’t yell at me) both on AO3 where I found them
Later yall
#trolls band together#hickdory#eldest and youngest au#out the train wreck#trolls john dory#holy shit what has happened to me#hyperfixation ftw#trolls clay#trolls floyd#trolls branch#trolls bruce#my fav besides John Dory
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