#cause I feel like he just stands there silently | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fumikoshi · 2 days

Text

that lap looks empty 🤤

✧ — CONTENT; 18+ ONLY // MDNI — fem! student reader, use of pet names slightly size kink teacher x student

part 2 of this

''Sensei, you called for me, what's the problem?''

You couldn't help worrying, would he punish you for unintentionally violating his personal space? You won't forget those images. you blushed as you remembered them. His big hands around his thick cock, his head thrown back, his mouth slightly open...

it was a very seductive view for you, but also shameful.

part of you couldn't help but feel sad, who was he thinking about? Who did he like? You knew it couldn't be you, of course. But it still upsets you, still breaks your heart to think that he was masturbating thinking about another woman...

You loved him so much. You don't care that he is your sensei.

But he didn't know that. Even if he did, he wouldn't have acknowledged your feelings.

because even though you were of legal age, you were still his student. and he wouldn't be in a relationship with his student.

At least that's what you thought.

''Gojo-sensei, i-if you called me because of that day- I am so sorry! I should have knocked on the door before entering. A-and I didn't see anything at all, I swear! I immediately covered my face with my hands, like this.''

you tried to explain yourself, stammering in a panic, and covered your blushed face with your hands.

...

He was silent, you were afraid of his reaction; was he angry with you? Or did he call you here to punish you? everything came to your mind. but these thoughts were interrupted when you heard him giggling with amusement. slowly you removed your hands from his face and looked at him. He had a cocky grin on his face

''Fufu, now now~ Y/n-chan, why are you embrassed~? there is no need to be shy, you know.''

Gojo chuckled, his eyes twinkling with amusement. "You're absolutely adorable when you're like this, don't cover your face, Y/N-chan."

He leaned back in his chair, watching you with interest. "I'm glad you came here, I wanted to discuss something vitally important'' *he pats his lap*

''come, sit''

your small face blushed, thinking about sitting on his lap- you were going to die from a heart stroke cause of exiting right now.

''but is it okay-''

"Now now, come here, I just want us to be on the same level when we talk, you know, you're too short, haha~" he laughed under his breath

Gojo's power and confidence were overwhelming, making it hard to resist his orders. Slowly, you walked around the desk and sat on his lap timidly, your small body snug against his. Despite the awkwardness, you couldn't help but feel safe in his arms, his warmth enveloping you.

He slowly wrapped his hands around your waist

''Last night I was walking around the dormitory, just as I passed by your room and I heard some voices coming from your room~ and if I'm not mistaken you were moaning my name~''

you froze in your lap, your eyes widened in shock. he knew what you were doing. He was implying that.

''He smirked, his eyes glinting with amusement. And you were so loud that I couldn't help but imagine what was happening in that little room. What were you doing, Y/N-chan~?''

When you saw your teacher masturbating, you couldn't stand it, you touched yourself that night by imagining him. You were imagining that instead of your own fingers, he had his fingers in your pussy...

God, you wanted to go to the ground. You were so embarrassed right now. Your eyes are starting to fill up, he would be very angry with you for thinking such immoral things.

But contrary to your thinking, gojo liked it very much and is having a lot of fun right now

''S-Sensei, I-I'm so sorry- I can explain-''

"fufu~ don't be so shy, Y/N-chan~ I'm not mad at all. After all, who wouldn't masturbate thinking about someone as handsome and strong as me~?

His hands roamed upwards, cupping your breasts through your clothes, giving them a gentle squeeze. "So, what was it like, imagining me touching you? Did you imagine me burying my face between these soft, luscious tits~?"

His breath ghosted over your ear, sending shivers down your spine. Despite your mortification, you couldn't deny the heat pooling between your legs, the memory of your night's activities stirring a restless ache.

"Go on, tell me, Y/N-chan. what do you want~?''

He continued with that teasing smirk, his hand squeezing your breasts, making you give a soft moan. You couldn't believe he was touching you like this, but also, you didn't want it to stop. You were ashamed of your desires, but his touch was intoxicating.

"Y-you... you're taking advantage of me, Sensei," you stammered, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment. The words sounded so weak, even to you.

His hand moved from your breast, slipping under your skirt, gently grazing your thigh, making you squirm in his lap. "No, I'm just satisfying my curiosity," he said, his voice deep and seductive.

Your heart raced, your body reacting to his touch despite your mind telling you to resist. "I-I imagined you touching me, filling me up, Sensei," you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper.

Gojo's hand stopped just above your panties, his fingers teasing the edge of the fabric—a clear invitation to go further. "That's it, Y/N-chan, tell me more. What did you fantasize about me doing to you?"

You hesitated, your cheeks burning with a deeper shade of red. "I... I imagined you taking off my panties and licking me... ma... making me... wet" you whispered, your voice shaking. The admission was akin to stripping naked in front of him, leaving you vulnerable, yet it felt exhilarating.

A wicked smile tugged at the corners of his lips as his hand slipped under your underwear, his fingers gliding through your folds, slick with your arousal. "You're already so wet for me, Y/N-chan," he whispered, his voice thick with lust.

His fingers teased your clit, making you gasp and your body arch against him. "I want to taste you, feel you convulse as I make you cum, hear you scream my name."

He pulled your face towards his, his lips crashing against yours in a passionate, demanding kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, claiming it as he did your body. His hand between your legs worked relentlessly, your moans muffled by his mouth.

"Do you want that, Y/N-chan?" he asked, his voice husky. "Do you want me to pleasure you until you can't think straight, until you're begging for more?"

With his other hand, he unzipped his pants, freeing his throbbing erection. The length of it pressed against your stomach, heat radiating from it. "Tell me, little one," he urged, his eyes dark

with desire, the light in them practically burning.

You could feel the heat radiating from his cock, a stark contrast to the chill that ran down your spine. Every inch of your body was on fire, the intimate touch of his hand driving you to the brink of madness.

Your breathing hitched, your words coming out in a ragged whisper, "Yes, Sensei... I want that."

Boldness overcame your fear, and you reached down, hesitantly wrapping your small hand around his erection. The heat and thickness of it sent a jolt of excitement through you.

Gojo's hand quickened its pace, and your body trembled in response. "Good, Y/N-chan, let's not keep each other waiting," he growled, lifting you off his lap and setting you on your feet.

He guided you to the edge of the desk, pushing you down gently so that you were bent over it. Your heart raced as he positioned himself behind you, his hands gripping your hips.

"Are you ready for me, little one?" he asked, his voice an intoxicating mix of dominance and lust.

You bit your lip, nodding, your body already aching for the fulfillment of his promise. The tip of his cock rubbed against your entrance, the pressure making you squirm in anticipation.

With a groan, Gojo thrusts into you, filling you completely. You cried out, a mixture of pleasure and pain, your body adjusting to his girth. His hands gripped your hips, pulling you back onto him, setting a demanding pace.

''kyaa~AH~!'' you moan loudly and cutely

"Mm, you sound so sweet like that, Y/N-chan," Gojo purred, his voice rough with desire. The sight of your small, tight pussy gripping his cock as he fucked you was a vision he'd never grow tired of.

The rhythm of his thrusts grew in intensity, the sound of flesh meeting flesh filling the room. Your moans grew louder, mingling with the wet slaps, a symphony of carnal pleasure.

"Do you like that, Y/N-chan? Do you like having me inside you?" Gojo asked, his voice deep and demanding. His hand snaked around your waist, rubbing your clit, his fingers expertly manipulating your most sensitive spot.

You cried out, your body quivering as the pleasure coiled inside you, threatening to unravel. "Yes, Sensei, I love it! Please don't stop~!"

"That's it, Y/N-chan, tell me how much you love it," Gojo growled, his thrusts becoming more urgent, his hand working more rapidly on your clit.

Your body trembled, your moans growing louder, the pleasure building to an unbearable crescendo. "Sensei- Sensei, I'm going to cum, I'm going to cum!" you cried out, your body arching, your inner muscles gripping his cock.

Your climax washed over you, a tidal wave of pleasure that left you breathless, your petite body shaking. Gojo continued to thrust into you, driving himself closer to his release.

"Cum for me, Y/N-chan," he commanded, his voice raw and demanding. "Let go, and let me feel your sweet nectar around my cock."

The waves of pleasure crashed over you, your body spasming as you climaxed, your cries of ecstasy filling the room. Gojo followed close behind, you felt his cock twitch inside you, and he groaned, his hips jerking as he filled you with his seed, filling you completely.

He pulled out, his cock glistening with your nectar. He reached down, lifting you up, and you collapsed against him, panting, your chest heaving.

"Such a good little girl~" Gojo cooed, his voice soft and comforting.

"Sensei..." you gasped, burying your face in his chest, your limbs weak from the intensity of your orgasm. You felt utterly sated, yet a small, eager part of you craved more.

His praise brought a small, secret smile to your lips. You liked being called his girl—it made you feel safe and desired, protected by this dominant, all-powerful sorcerer.

You wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head on his shoulder, feeling his heartbeat under your cheek. "I... I love you, Sensei," you admitted, your voice still breathless.

''Do... do you love me too?'' you asked timidly

Gojo smirked, his hand stroking your hair. "Of course, I love you, Y/N-chan. I love you more than anything in this world. You're my precious, my doll, my love, my everything."

He nuzzled your hair, inhaling your scent deeply. "You're mine now, and I won't let anyone else touch you. I'll take care of you, protect you, satisfy you."

His words were a promise, a vow of devotion, and possessiveness. He would love you, spoil you rotten, and indulge every whim and desire. To him, you were more than just a student; you were his.

"And you'll always be mine, Y/N-chan, won't you?" Gojo asked, his eyes gleaming with love and protectiveness. He would never let you go, not when he'd finally found someone who could make him feel this way.

He'd make you his, body and soul, and show you a love that would take your breath away. In his world, you were his, and he would never give you up to anyone.

TAG: @almsato

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #satoru gojo #jjk gojo #jjk satoru #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu satoru #gojo smut #jjk x reader #jjk smut #teacher x student #gojo fanfic #gojo x you #gojo imagine

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cameronspecial · 1 day

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Rafe and reader - enemies to lovers

Protective!rafe with innocent!reader

She asks her best friends brother for help when she’s in trouble!

Safe In The Arms Of The Enemy

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Fear of Being Followed and Walking Home Drunk Alone

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.2K

Masterlist

Y/N and Sarah have been best friends for as long as she can remember. Even though Y/N is three years older, they met when she was nine and Sarah was six. The two of them just clicked and they have been thick as thieves ever since. This led to their families growing close together. The Camerons were always so nice to Y/N; everyone except for Rafe. For some reason, he has always been bothered by Y/N and she reciprocates that feeling because his hate provokes her.

The music in Sarah’s room blares through the speakers while Y/N stands in front of the mirror, singing along to “Stressed Out” by Twenty One Pilots. She is sleeping over at the Camerons' house to keep Sarah company. Ward, Rose and Wheezie are on the mainland for Wheezie’s spelling bee and Rafe is who knows where. The girls had grown peckish, so Sarah offered to get some pizza, leaving behind her best friend at Tannyhill by herself. “Wish we could turn back time. To the good old days. When our mama sang us to sleep, But now we're stressed out.” Her right hand forms an o as she uses it as a microphone. Her focus is on her own reflection, so she doesn’t notice Rafe’s appearance behind her. He leans against the door frame with his arm above his head. “Wow, you would think with how rich your parents are that they would pay for singing lessons for you after hearing you screech like a banshee,” he teases.

Her eyes roll in their socket and she turns to face him. She fires back, “Like I care about your opinion. I’ve seen your tastes and I’m glad that I’m not up to your standards.” “Whatever,” he grumbles. “Obviously you are blind because I have amazing tastes.”

“Nah, I’m not the problem. You are,” she pushes to infuriate him. She steps forward and they are face to face. He crouches down so their eyes meet, “I wish I was the one with the problem because then I wouldn’t have to deal with you. I swear every time I see you at my house, which is all the time, I wonder when you are going to get the fuck out of my life because I hate that you are in it.”

His words don’t meet his eyes, but she doesn’t notice. Instead, her mind takes the words to heart. A poke attacks her heart and it causes a tsunami of blood to come out. She can’t explain why she takes the word to heart; she returns the sentiment. Nevertheless, maybe she doesn’t feel as strongly as he does because as much as she loathes him, she couldn’t imagine her life without their quipful exchanges. He sees her tight lips and her silent demeanour; guilt flashes through him.

Before he can try to resolve the situation, Sarah passes behind him with a steaming pizza in her hand. “Ugh. Rafe, leave her alone. I would like to eat in peace,” she complains, setting the flat box on her desk. His hand runs over his lips as he thinks. “Fine, I don’t care. Later losers.”

———

The ending of summer means Rafe and Y/N have to return back to UNC. When she found out he was going to the same university as her (she should’ve seen it coming because Ward is an alumnus), she hesitated to accept her position; however, she figured uni was a big place and the chances of running into him were slim. It has been true for the most part. They’ve only run into each other five times in the two years they have been at university.

She stumbles through the dark street with her head pounding. It wasn’t the best idea to be walking home alone while drunk, except she didn’t want to make her friends go home early. She lied to them and told them another friend was picking her up. Her feet catch on the pavement and a rock skips across the ground. A car passing beside her causes her to jump away from the road. Her inebriated state makes her more paranoid. She lets out a breath when the taillights fade into the distance. Laughter coming from behind her causes her to spin around. She spots men walking in her direction and even though they don’t appear to be looking at her, panic sets through her. She begins to walk faster as her breathing starts to get faster and she decides to run into an alley to hide. Her first thought is to call to help, so she pulls out her phone and dials the first number that comes to mind. “What do you want?” he grunts through the phone. “Rafe, I’m scared. I don’t know what to d-” She hears footsteps coming closer to her and hangs up. A trash can seems like the perfect cover, so she drops behind it against the wall.

Rafe sits up straight from the couch and stares at the phone. The screen showing that the call has been ended makes him grow anxious. He begins to pace as he tries her phone again. His hand runs through his hair while he replays the fear in her mind. He is sent to voicemail and wants to through his phone against the wall. Another thought comes to mind and he decides against it.

———

She doesn’t know how long she has been behind the garbage with her head pressed against her legs. She is honestly too scared to move in case those men are still around. It didn’t look like they were following her, but it is better safe than sorry. The alcohol in her system starts to affect her state of consciousness and she struggles to keep her eyes open. A hand on her back causes her to scream and jump back. Her head hits against the brick wall. She grimaces as she brings her hand up to rub the back of her head. “It’s okay, Sweetheart. It’s me, Rafe.” The familiar voice makes her look up to verify his identity.

She sees his mop of dirty blonde hair and his stunning blue eyes stare back at her. She has never been so happy to see him. Her arms wrap around him to pull him against her, “I was so scared. Are they still out there?” She surveys the street once they separate. His hand cups her cheek to check her for injuries; he isn’t concerned about their surroundings. “Sweetheart, there is no one around. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did someone do something to you?” He frowns at the last part, following her search with a hard expression to find the person he has to defend her against. She doesn’t find anyone and her shoulder drops in his hold. Her head rests against his chest. Tears begin staining his shirt. His hand laces between the hair at the nape of her neck and he gently scratches her scalp. He knows it soothes her. He kisses her forehead, “I’ve got you. You are safe.” For the first time tonight, Y/N feels safe and she is in the arms of her enemy.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura @rubixgsworld

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader

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finniestoncrane · 2 days

Note

please please consider: knifeplay with Hancock

Hancock x GN!Reader, word count: 800 anon you have tapped into my desire for violence and reminded me of that moment i first fell in love with this rotten little bean ☢️ request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: threats, knives, knife play, cnc elements, he talks a big game but this softie would never hurt you

"Quit it!"

You knocked the inhaler out of Hancock's hands, turning from him as he watched it tumble to the floor in dismay.

"Hey! Watch it, princess."

"You watch it, Mr Mayor. That's mine, not yours."

He furrowed his brow, deep, black eyes narrowing with it.

"You're awfully bold around me."

"Yeah... why wouldn't I be?"

Hancock was suddenly hit by the realisation that he'd spent so long around you, opening up to you, loving you that you no longer saw him as the threat he felt he was. Did anyone, anymore? He'd set aside his mayoral duties, and he'd been so busy helping you in this settlement that neither of you had done anything particularly bloodthirsty as of late. Maybe he was going soft. But he was damned if he was going to let you walk all over him.

"Because... I'm a very dangerous guy."

The sincerity in his voice made you snort, a short, mean spirited laugh that you immediately regretted as you turned to him and saw the disappointment in his face.

"Sorry, Hancock... but it's hard to see that now. It's not a bad thing! You're sweet, and kind, and you've got a strong moral compass. But you're undeniably quite a gentle guy."

"Are you nuts? You didn't see me in my heyday, but I ran Good Neighbour with an iron fist. No one stepped out of line, and no one stepped out of line."

Standing in front of him, you reached for the sleeve of his red coat, tugging at it playfully, flirtatiously, as you offered up your counterpoint.

"Yeah... but you were also benevolent, welcomed anyone, and made it a safe place for people who didn't have one. And I imagine a lot of those people respected you, fell for your charms like I did. That's probably why they cause any upset. They just didn't want to disappoint you."

You had turned from him again, hoping to end the silly argument by returning to the shelves you were stocking with supplies. Hancock's mouth was open in shock, and he wetted his lips before he calmed himself, speaking his rebuttal slowly, softly.

"I think you're forgetting how we met."

The memory flitted across your mind. That man, his name forgotten completely, stopped from killing you by Hancock. Quick with his decisions, quicker with a knife. In all fairness, he had you there. It was quite a display he had put on.

Turning to him, you were caught by surprise by his presence right there in front of you, having silently crept up behind you while you were deep in thought. In his hand he held his knife, the same knife you had just been fondly remembering, and had you moved an inch or two closer to him, the point would have been imbedded into your body.

"Hancock, I-"

"Step back to the wall, I think we need to go over a few things."

You did as you were told, immediately recognising the playful glint in his eyes. But there was something deeper, something that pushed aside your knowledge of his softer demeanour and tried to warn you to stay on your toes. The excitement of it made you squirm.

"Now... I might be soft with you, but don't ever let that lull you into a false sense of security..."

Hancock's fingers twitched around the handle of the blade as he brought it to your shoulders, scratching the skin, digging in enough for you to feel it, but not enough to mark you or to draw blood. No, this was just a threat. A generous first strike.

"I could bury this knife up to the hilt, 'cause I know that's how you like it."

A tight coil formed in your stomach, body tingling in anticipation, a twisted desire for him to plunge the blade in, to penetrate your body with it.

"I'll take what I want from you, princess. Chems, caps, your body. I'll fuck every hole you have, wear them out, until I have to make new ones. Understand?"

You nodded, biting your inner cheek, suppressing a moan as your clit throbbed.

"Good! Glad to know you understand."

His grin was still pressed onto his scarred lips as he plunged the knife into the wall beside your head, a quick, sharp, loud gesture that made you jump.

"Oh, you're not off the hook yet, angel."

He was smiling, back to his usual self, that softness returning slowly to his face before a sharp glimmer of cruelty passed over him once more, stopping you from moving away from the wall.

"It's just that I need both hands for what I'm going to do next."

#hancock #john hancock #hancock fallout #fallout 4 #fallout four #hancock fo4 #john hancock fallout 4 #john hancock fallout #x reader #finnie writes #hancock x reader #john hancock x reader #fallout fanfiction #fallout x reader

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replaytech · 2 days

Text

just let me help you | tech x reader

warnings: small injury

(shoutout to my sister for this fic idea☝🏻)

“Kriff”, was not the first irritated word to leave techs mouth.

He had been working on fixing a part of the marauders control panel for the last 20 minutes.

All of his efforts, however, are to no avail.

A pair of footsteps walks up behind him and sighs, “Tech, I’m calling in someone from the hangar”, hunter says.

Tech just adjusts his goggles and continues tinkering with the controls, “That is unnecessary, I can fix it.”

Hunter knows full well that tech is capable of fixing just about anything, but they were on a serious time crunch to get off of this planet.

You’re making some minor adjustments to one of your astromecs when a tall, dark haired man with a face tattoo walks up to you.

“Are you a mechanic?”

The hand that’s holding a wrench stills as you look down at your dusty coveralls and back at him with a “What does it look like?” look.

He laughs lightly, “Were kind of in a hurry and could use some help, we can’t pay much, but it would be really appreciated.”

You stand up, dust off your legs and push your glasses farther up your nose, “Payment isn’t needed, lead the way.”

You walk into the cockpit of their ship and see a man looking very frustratedly at some loose wires, “I am getting there, hunter.”

“I’ve never seen an omicron class attack shuttle with these modifications before.”

He stops what he’s doing immediately and turns around, “Pardon me, I thought you were my brother.”

The way he’s looking at you makes your face turn slightly pink, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to barge in or anything.”

He adjusts his goggles, “Who are you, exactly?”

You fiddle with your eyewear as well and tell him your name, “I’m a mechanic here at the hangar, your brother sent me.”

He looks at you silently for a second before swallowing and facing away from you, “I am Tech. However, I can manage this, you may go back to your duties around the hangar.”

You cross your arms and tilt your head, “Your brother said that you’ve been working on it for a while, can I just take a look?”

He glances at you sideways and moves over slightly, “I suppose a second opinion wouldn’t be a negative thing.”

You smile softly and make your way over to the control panel, looking at every single detail and focusing on each piece.

Tech, of course, notices how entranced you seem to be by the technology of the ship and can’t help but stare at you.

The way your glasses fall down your nose slightly, the way your eyebrows slightly furrow, the way you bite your bottom lip, he takes note of it all. Your focus might be on the controls, but techs focus is all on you.

Tech blindly reaches for some random wires, seeing how his gaze can’t be torn away from your face, and you notice, “Wait, don’t put those toget-“, your voice cuts off.

You warn him a little too late, and he brings a wire down onto another and shocks his fingers.

He lets out a startled sound and backs away, “Are you alright?”

He looks at you and the way that you’re worriedly checking his hand, “I, I think I will manage.”

You look up at him with a quirked brow, “It would kill you to ask for help, wouldn’t it?”

You swear he’s slightly blushing, “I suppose it wouldn’t cause extensive damage to my health.”

A grin breaks out onto your face as you both sit in chairs opposite from each other. You pull out a small med kit from your satchel.

You hold his hand and slowly peel off his glove. You start to feel almost nervous. All you’re doing is taking off his glove but it feels so… close.

You gently inspect his fingers, “It’s not too bad, you just got a first degree burn on your pointer finger and thumb.”

You look up to see him looking at you silently with his lips parted, but after a second or two, he clears his throat, “That’s the conclusion I came to as well.”

As you wrap his fingers in bacta patches and dry wraps, you speak up, “So, are you and your brothers soldiers?”, you gesture to his armor.

“My brothers and I are enhanced clones from kamino. I suppose we are technically still soldiers, just for a different cause.”

You furrow your eyebrows, “Enhanced? I’ve heard of clones because of the war, but I never knew there were enhanced ones.”

Tech adjusts his goggles, “Yes, each of my brothers has an enhanced trait. Hunter can track and sense any electromagnetic frequency on the planet, crosshairs marksmanship is unlike any you will ever see, wrecker has the strength of approximately 100 regular clones and I have what would be referred to as a brilliant mind.”

You finish bandaging his fingers but his hand stays loosely on top of yours, “I find that men with the highest intelligence quotients tend to be the most engaging and endearing.”

He looks a little flushed and maybe even taken aback, but recovers quickly, “That is one way to characterize those with a mind similar to mine.”

You look at him for a few seconds before awkwardly clearing your throat, “Well, we should probably get back to fixing up your ship. Try not to connect two opposing wires this time around.”

You once again feel nervous around the brilliant clone. The way he looks at you, it is almost as if he is seeing the beautiful blue lakes of Naboo for the first time.

He stands next to you as you resume inspecting the controls, “Technically, it was not my fault.”

You snort, “Is that so?”

“Yes. I am not used to being in the company of someone who has a mind like mine, it is very distracting. The amount of beauty you have in your face alone does not help my situation. Neither does the fact that every other part of you is equally radiant and stunning.”

You nearly choke. Tech thought you were beautiful?

Somehow, your face becomes more blushed, “I don’t know about my beauty being as much as you say”, you awkwardly laugh.

Tech glances over at you, “Those who do not acknowledge your beauty simply do not have the brain capacity to realize how exquisite you really are.”

You bite your lip to hide your smile, “You’re one to talk. I blush everytime you look me in the eye.”

He’s about to say something else but he catches the look of confusion on your face, “Is everything alright?”

You point to a switch below the controls, “Your power switch is turned off. Tech, there’s nothing wrong with your controls”, you can’t help but laugh.

You turn the switch on and the panel comes to life, “I did not realize that somebody turned off the switch.”

“You’re welcome.”

The two of you turn around to see a tall man with a tattoo over his eye and a toothpick in his mouth, one of his brothers, probably.

He points his toothpick at tech, “I had to get her here somehow. You’re welcome”, he walks away.

You grin and cross your arms, “So your ship was fine this whole time?”

“That is correct, but I was not aware of that.”

“And why would your brothers bring me here?”

“Perhaps they noticed my gaze linger on you for longer than usual when we first arrived.”

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imshii-kin · 2 days

Text

Good Luck

Chapter # 4 As Sweet as Sugar Cookies

Platonic Yandere Dc x reincarnated Reader

Wattpad

Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4 (You are here), Chapter 5

Just a spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down. - Mary Poppins

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

"No," Tim says crossing his arms. "I have homework to catch up on, I can't play Minecraft with you right now."

Y/n frowns, "But Tim," she whines "Everyone else is busy, and I'm booored!" She complained while tugging at his shirt.

The boy rolls his eye at the young girl's antics, "Fine if I play with you, will you leave me alone?" Y/n nodded furiously.

With a tired sigh, Tim leaves his desk, picking up the game chip. "Thirty minutes, max, you got it?"

Y/n laughs happily, running out of his room and down to the lounging room. Tim smiles, a familiar warmth filling his chest.

Tim opens his eyes slowly, the early morning sky peeking through the curtains to greet him. A dream, a memory, a mix of both. Tim groans, what a mess this whole situation was.

Slowly, he lifted himself out of bed, checking his phone to see what time it was.

5:34 am

He let out another tired groan, it was too early to be awake. Sadly, he knew falling back asleep would be impossible. Slipping on some sweatpants, Tim makes his way to the kitchen to brew some coffee.

He makes it to the kitchen, tiredly grabbing the coffee grounds from the cabinet, and making his way to the coffee machine.

Tim watches the coffee slide into his mug, the smell of coffee filling the kitchen, before walking back to the cabinet to get some sugar. While he would usually drink his coffee black, he was in the mood for something sweet.

"Can I borrow the sugar when you're done?" A groggy voice asked him.

Tim jumps, swiftly turning around to see who spooked him. Y/n stands behind him with a bowl of Cheerios.

"..."

Tim sighed, dragging a hand down his face. "Why are you up this early?" Y/n shrugged, "Couldn't sleep." She answered.

Frowning, Tim walks back over to the coffee machine, which has stopped brewing. Y/n watches, frowning at his lack of answering, before following.

He puts two spoons of sugar into his coffee, stirring it thoroughly, then passes Y/n the sugar. She mumbles a quiet thank you, putting a little bit of sugar in her cheerios.

Tim and Y/n sit with each other, quietly enjoying the silent Manor.

──●◎●──

It was early afternoon, and Y/n was sneaking some of the cookies Alfred had made. They were heavenly, light, and sweet, the chocolate rich and smooth.

Jason enters the kitchen, clearing his voice, and catching Y/n's attention. "Looks like I've caught a little thief," Jason smirked, Y/n giving him a wide-eyed look, knowing she was caught red-handed.

"...You can have Dick's portion if you don't tell."

Jason laughs, before nodding, "OK, deal." He walks over to Y/n, taking a cookie and biting into it. "Mmm~ They are as good as I remember." Jason chuckles, "Plus, Dick has enough sweets, I'm sure he won't mind me taking some of his."

"Oh? Really now?"

Y/n and Jason look at each other before turning around slowly facing the eldest Wayne. He had a smile on his face that didn't reach his eyes.

"You think I've had enough sweets? Can't help but feel like you're implying something, Jaybird."

Y/n makes a break for it, leaving Jason behind. "Wha- You Traitor!!" Jason yells as Y/n makes her getaway.

While running Y/n bumps into Damien, causing both of them to stumble. "What the- why are you running around the mansion? You're supposed to be with Alfred." Damion glares at Y/n, annoyed. She bashfully rubs the back of her head, "I was running from Dick," she admits, "speaking of which, do you know any hiding spots? I think I can hear him coming, he must have finished off Jason." Rest in peace Jason... again.

Damion deadpanned, "Seriously?" He blandly questioned. He grumbled when Y/n nodded, a pleading look in her eyes. Dick has been annoying him recently. So, Damien supposes helping Y/n would be a good way to get back at him. Nodding, he helps Y/n up. "I've got some places for you to hide. Follow me."

──●◎●──

Y/n and Damion hid in a small crawl space behind one of the larger paintings for around twenty minutes.

Sadly, Dick is very set on finding Y/n, so twenty minutes was not enough hiding time.

"I got you Y/n!" Dick picked Y/n up, a squeal escaping her as he spins her around. "I'm going to get you back for eating my cookies," he said playfully while carrying Y/n to the living room. Throwing her onto the couch, then trapping her in a hug.

"Let me go." She whined, trying to get out of his grip. Dick smiles, laughing at Y/n's misery, "No, you ate my cookies. Now you must pay the ultimate price." He cackled evilly.

Y/n frowned, "And here I thought you were a hero who believed in mercy." She said, giving him a betrayed and disappointed look, and making him laugh.

Bruce enters the room with a serious look on his face, instantly killing the mood. He looks at Y/n and Dick, before talking.

"Y/n, Clark is here to visit you."

@rosecentury

#batfam #platonic yandere #yandere batman #yandere bruce wayne #yandere clark kent #yandere damian wayne #yandere dc #yandere dick grayson #yandere jason todd #yandere justice league #yandere robin #yandere red robin #yandere red hood #yandere nightwing #yandere superman #yandere superfam

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malarkgirlypop · 1 day

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What the Easy men are ticketed for when driving

Richard Winters:

He has all of his paperwork at the ready the police officer doesn’t even have to ask. He’s very apologetic, but he didn’t do anything wrong. Dick politely chats with the officer, he’s not intimidated by the man but he’s being cautious. When the officer says he made a mistake and lets him go, Dick is very understanding. They even exchange information, talk about meeting up. You feel like a third wheel for a hot sec. He has never had a ticket.

Lewis Nixon:

IM NOT DRUNK!!!! I CAN DANCE, I’LL PROVE IT!!! 'Darling stay in the car', proceeds to fall out of the car while trying to exit. The cop and you exchange a glance. You follow the cop car to the station, you can see Nixon’s little head in the back window. He was indeed drunk. Yeah you should've seen it coming he had to blow into a breathalyser before starting the car, turns out that's why you were there.

Harry Welsh:

Nervous around the cop, tries to make small talk but the guy isn’t having it. You sit there in awkward silence as the cops leaves to fill out the paperwork. Harry got pulled over cause he was trying to show you a trick, but the trick was swerving back and forward across the lanes and wasn’t very impressive. Sheepishly takes the fine, with a mumbled apology.

Ronald Speirs:

Asserts dominance over the cop, uses his killer stare. The cop is jumpy under his cold glare. He’s not smug about it, stating facts about the law making the cop look dumb. The officer can tell he’s fighting a losing battle so tries to rescind the fine. Ron is very happy about this reaching out if the window to give the cop a pat on his arm. "It’s ok, people make mistakes". Leaves the police man in the dust before the interaction is truly over. He was speeding, but it was fine, he had somewhere important to be.

Carwood Lipton:

I feel like he would be the same as Winters. Very calm and collected, hearing out the officer. Obviously it's our baby boy and he hasn't done anything wrong. Even if the cop was a total dick, Lip would be so polite and understanding. I think it would piss off the cop that he wasn't talking back, giving a "Have a good night officer", as the cop marches away muttering under his breath. I'm sure he would turn to you saying, "shall we?" before pulling away from the curb. He did nothing wrong, Lip getting fined. Ha! You wish.

George Luz:

Thinks he is a stand up comedian and can get out of the ticket by telling jokes. Unfortunately for Luz he gets the most grumpy, stoic officer of all time. George crashes and burns with each quip and pun, you sink lower in your seat hoping the ground will swallow you whole, (we all know second hand embarrassment is the silent killer). Finally he receives the ticket and you sit in silence while he re-thinks his entire life. Before making the most ridiculous remark sending everyone into hysterics. He is very proud of himself, "I knew I still got it. He was just a bad crowd." Very pleased with himself he doesn't even care he got a ticket. What was the ticket you ask. Trying to stand and drive. Yeah this isn't his first time either, yikes George.

Joe Toye:

Yeah no this man never gets pulled over. Even if he does, he will evade the police. His brag is that he has never been ticketed. Well, they have never been able to catch him to give it to him. He will never tell you what he does to be chased by the police, the mystery of it all. Bill says its cause he's a shit driver.

Bill Guarnere:

Knows everyone, so when he is pulled over all you get is, "Wild Bill you mad dog, I haven't seen you in years!" Buddies with the whole police force, gets let off the hook way too often. Has broken all the laws, but hey when you know everyone, what really are laws?

Joe Liebgott:

You all might think he's a bad boy rebel with the most tickets out of the lot. But you forget, hes a tried and true cabby. Like Bill he knows everyone, all you have to do is utter his name and you can get a million stories about the man. His brag is that he has never been ticketed, sure he's broken the law, but he never gets caught. Unlike some people *cough cough* Toye. But hey Toye hasn't actually been caught, just been in multiple car chases.

David Webster:

He's offended you think he drives. Clearly passenger seat princess, put some respect on his name. Has been fined for not wearing a seatbelt and standing up through the sun roof singing Unwritten, but that's just a vibe and he has the ticket framed on his wall.

Buck Compton:

The self proclaimed 'best driver of the group'. He's daddy and drives around his baby boy's. He's like the dad that picks you up from Saturday sport, 'who wants to stop at McDonalds?' His car is the vibe, everyone always fights over who rides with him on road trips. Has the best songs and snacks for the road trips, he laughs in the face of tickets, this man is untouchable and has a squeaky clean record. May have tried to do a donut, but he'll never tell.

Eugene Roe:

Pfft, this man getting pulled over. You're dreaming. The most calm driver. He's like my nana, anyone heard of the story the tortoise and the hare, yeah well he's the tortoise. No one wants to drive with him if they need to be somewhere in a hurry, he's too nice and gives way to everyone. This man panics when the police pass him, even when he's doing nothing wrong.

Babe Heffron:

If Gene is the tortoise, then Babe is definitely the hare. Hold on for dear life if you ride with this man. The most chaotic driving of all time. Over taking, under taking, side by side taking? Yeah he does it all. You see orange light, he sees pedal to the metal. Speed limits are just suggestions to this man. The amount of fines and tickets this man gets in a year he could buy a whole other car.

Donald Malarkey:

He's a good driver, but boy oh boy he's easily distracted. If you're sitting in the back showing photos to the rest of the boys, he's turning around fully in the seat to see what's going on. The most common phrase in his car is, "Don watch the road!" He's a fun driver having the best songs and also has karaoke mics in the car that he hands back, but please encourage him to keep both hands on the wheel and both eyes on the road. The ads the are on the side of the road are catered just for him, he can't help himself when he sees something flashy. Has rear ended a car or two, maybe one of them was a police officer, but no one was there to see it.

Skip and Penk:

They don't drive. Skip is clearly a passenger princess and Alex is a backseat babe! Just tell them to please keep all limbs inside the car. Should not be allowed in Malarks car as they are the reason for his distraction but the love it, you will have to pry them out of the car they aren't splitting up!!

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starsreminisce · 1 day

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Lucien considered my question. “Vassa and Jurian are two sides of the same coin. Mercifully, their vision for the future of the human territories is mostly aligned. But the methods on how to attain that …” A frown to Elain, then a wince at me. “This isn’t very Solstice-like talk.” Definitely not, but I didn’t mind. And as for Elain … My sister rose to her feet. “I should get refreshments.” Lucien rose as well. “No need to trouble yourself. I’m—” But she was already out of the room. When her footsteps had faded from earshot, Lucien slumped into his armchair and blew out a long breath. “How is she?”

I was wondering: why would Lucien stop midway from answering Feyre’s question, frown at Elain, wince at her, and then say that it wasn’t solstice talk, prompting Elain to stand up and walk out?

I know that there are theories where Lucien felt her pain, realizing that he was being insensitive. I actually had the longest time thinking that Elain really doesn't like or is apprehensive about Vassa, perhaps feeling jealous that Vassa got to spend time with her father and now her mate (sue me, I like the I-thought-you-were-a-bitch-at-first friendship).

But what if it really is just… Lucien unwittingly picking up on Elain thinking or feeling that it isn't very Solstice-talk and repeating it? Elain gets up and leaves because the creepy bond is being creepy and not letting her hide anything. Lucien slumps back down into the armchair like, "Welp, I fucked up. Again."

Mainly because of how after the conversation, we had this little exchange:

A pulse down the bond, as if in answer. Everything all right? I let Rhys see and hear all that had been said, the conversation conveyed in the blink of an eye. I’m sorry to have caused him trouble, Rhys said. Do you need me to come home? I’ll handle it. Let me know if you need anything, Rhys said, and the bond went silent. “Checking in?” Lucien asked quietly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, my face the portrait of boredom. He gave me a knowing look, continuing to the door and grabbing his heavy overcoat and scarf from the hooks mounted on the wood paneling beside it. “The bigger box is for you. The smaller one is for her.”

Now, how did Lucien know that Rhys was checking in on Feyre? He spends most of his time split between the three different areas, and he hasn't been living at the townhouse since after he returned. As much as I would love to give credit to Lucien for being just that good at picking up on body language and subtleties, there is that issue of him being made unaware of how bad things got between Tamlin and Feyre.

So, perhaps he gives Feyre a knowing look because he and Elain do check in with each other quite often.

After all, Mor did give Feyre this advice:

Mor drank deeply from her glass. “Stay out of it. She’s not ready, and neither is he, no matter how many presents he brings.”

#elucien #pro elucien #elain x lucien #elucien theory #elucien headcanon

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666writingcafe · 2 days

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MC's Boogeyman

Solomon

As MC leaves the stand and walks over to the chest, I look over at Diavolo and Belphegor. They look as worried as I feel. You see, the test that Craxon has assigned to MC hasn't been used in many centuries, because the boogeyman has a tendency to drive people mad from fear. Some have even died. The last time the boogeyman was utilized was as a means of torture, and that was shortly after I got kicked out of the Society.

Craxon clearly wants to know what MC's biggest fear is--his prolonged silence earlier indicates that much--but I have no idea why he'd need that information. Then again, he often keeps his cards close to his chest, so it's usually hard to tell what's going through his mind at the best of times.

MC takes a deep breath and indicates that they're ready. The chest is open, and the boogeyman flies out of it in a flash of bright purple light. The room becomes pitch black for a few seconds before revealing that the boogeyman has transformed into...

MC?

At least, I think it's MC. Between the glowing eyes and sinister grin, their features are nearly unrecognizable.

I watch my apprentice shake as the boogeyman circles them.

"You poor thing," it coos mockingly. "You just can't control yourself, can you?"

"Stop it," MC whispers, causing the boogeyman to snicker.

"What's wrong? Too scared to confront the truth?" It stops behind MC and leans close to their ear. "You're a monster, darling. How is anyone supposed to feel safe around you?"

MC clenches their jaw as a few tears escape their eyes, and I have to stop myself from launching myself at the boogeyman. Judging by the looks on Belphegor and Diavolo's faces, they're having a similar struggle.

"One day, everyone will come to their senses and realize that trying to keep you alive and sane is an unnecessary burden," the boogeyman continues. "Your death would benefit the greater good."

"Enough," MC murmurs. The boogeyman tuts in disapproval.

"Pathetic."

"I'm not pathetic."

"Sure you are. Why do you think the most powerful people in the three realms are interested in you? You're like a wounded animal that they can't help but feel sorry for. They don't actually care about you. They'll turn you out the moment you become too dangerous. After all, they can't have you slaughtering their own kind just because someone hurt your precious little feelings."

"Enough!" MC glares at the boogeyman. "I may be a freak of nature, but that doesn't mean that I'm unworthy of love."

"Is that so?" MC nods.

"I have thought about ending my life on many occasions, but each time these guys give me a reason to stay. If they didn't love me, they wouldn't even try." The boogeyman bursts out laughing, but instead of cowering, MC stands their ground.

"Oh, you're actually serious," the boogeyman states once it composes itself.

"Of course I am," MC replies. "My life is not a joking matter." The boogeyman rolls its eyes, but I can tell that it's losing its power. For one, it appears a bit smaller than it did a few moments ago.

"Furthermore, a literal reaper went out of her way to ensure my survival, even though I only knew of her existence a few days prior," they add. "If that isn't a sign that I'm meant to be alive, then I don't know what is." Silence. The boogeyman continues to shrink.

"And even if I feel helpless and weak, I know for a fact that these guys will support me every step of the way. I almost feel sorry for you, because you'll never know what it's liked to be loved by even one person, let alone several. You'll just be seen as a mere object, a tool at best." MC directly calling out the boogeyman causes it to screech loudly as it quickly disappear back into its chest. Once the lid closes, MC collapses onto the ground and begins sobbing.

I look up at Craxon, and he silently nods, granting me permission to comfort MC. Diavolo and Belphegor are close behind.

In my opinion, MC has earned their star of humility.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr

#obey me shall we date #obey me mc #obey me solomon #obey me original characters #obey me diavolo #obey me lord diavolo #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor

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cowboy-like-moony · 11 months

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Genuine question what did he actually answer? In the destiel meme, what was the original answer to "I love you" ?

#I only know the guy confession his love gets swallowed up by some sort of super hell (right?)#*confessing #was there even an aswer or have we all been living a lie with this meme?#cause I feel like he just stands there silently #please tell me he didn't just stand there silently #that would be so rude #destiel #destiel meme #supernatural

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sttoru · 6 months

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‘satoru hates arguments. even more so when your conflicts cause your baby daughter to be upset as well.’

☀︎｜tags. (girl) dad!gojo satoru x female reader. fluff, angst, comfort. mention of arguments between parents. comfort & happy ending, though!

satoru hates having arguments with you. he hates it whenever an argument turns into the silent treatment. he apologises and apologises — yet nothing helps to change your mood sometimes.

ever since you got married and had your daughter, you were a bit more sensitive to the smallest of things than usual. it wasn’t like satoru despised you for it; in fact, he understands that motherhood was and is stressful. that man was nothing but supportive to you.

though, your little arguments were indirectly having an impact on the mental state of your baby. you didn’t even know an one year old could sense the tension between her parents.

“mama, mama!” your daughter appears out of nowhere, waddling over to you standing in the kitchen. she had barely just learnt how to walk. her tiny hand reaches for yours and she points at the doorway with her other, “go, mama, go.”

you curiously let your little girl lead you towards where she was pointing at, only to arrive at the living room. satoru was sitting on the couch, idly staring at the ceiling, other hand fiddling with one of your daughter’s toys. he seemed deep in thought. even exhausted and clearly not his playful self.

“mama, go! mama go papa.”

satoru’s head turns to the side at the cute sound of his favourite little girl. he smiles brightly at her return to the living room, only for his smile to fade just for a second at the sight of you next to her. he isn’t mad at you—more like sad that you still seemed upset with him.

your daughter tugs at your index finger. she apparently wants you to go to her dad—wants you to interact or talk with him. her big eyes were staring up at you with a pleading look in them.

you were in a dilemma. of course, you wanted to put your daughter’s mind at ease. you could just fake interact with satoru—or actually just make it up—but there was still a small part of you that needed time alone. you weren’t yet mentally ready for another confrontation. you needed time to think it out.

however, part of you also knows that your earlier argument was kind of silly. you don’t even fully remember what it was about, that’s how irrelevant it was to your brain.

“c’mon, pumpkin. ‘tis not nice for you to bother mama while she’s cooking.” satoru’s soft voice startles you back to reality. he had already gotten up and crouched down to pick your daughter up in his arms, kissing her chubby cheeks to distract her; “mama’s busy, ‘kay? let’s go play with papa.”

even satoru knew that your argument had caused your little girl to feel some kind of stress. she didn’t fully comprehend the situation, though she was clearly uncomfortable by the fact that her parents were not acting nice and lovey dovey like they usually would.

“no, papa. mama!” the baby whines and points at you and then at satoru, her little legs kicking. it absolutely broke satoru’s heart — shattered it into pieces. oh, how he wishes to never fight with you again. the sight of his little bundle of joy trying to mend things between you two with all she could was simply too much.

satoru looks down at you and notices the way you look at your one year old as well. the same way he did; with guilt and sadness. he sighs softly and without further thought, wraps his free arm around your shoulders and brings you close to his body.

“c’mere,” satoru murmurs as he holds both your daughter and you to his chest, “let me hold my two girls, yeah? may i, sweetheart? please.”

your husband asks for your consent. if you were okay with this—even when he needs it desperately, to hold you again in his arms and to make it right to you—your comfort comes first. if you weren’t ready yet to make up, he’d let you go. even if it’d hurt him immensely.

you don’t answer with your words and instead let your actions do the talking. you wrap one arm around satoru’s torso, the other cradling your daughter closer to both you and him.

it was like nothing mattered anymore in that moment, except for your little family. your worries, stress and anxiety about everything and anything had vanished into thin air as you felt the embrace of the two people you held dear.

your daughter finally giggles—a sound satoru and you had greatly missed. you close your eyes and just rest against your husband’s body.

“mama papa, wuv!” the little girl squeals in happiness as she excitedly babbles on, causing both satoru and you to laugh as well. the white-haired sorcerer leaves a big peck on the baby’s forehead before doing the same to you.

“mhm, papa loves mama veeery much.” satoru hums and kisses your forehead again, solely because he missed being affectionate to you, “papa loves his sweet little angel too.”

you can’t help but chuckle along with your one year old—who seemed to be extremely content in her parents’ loving embrace again. this is how it always should be.

“mama also loves papa very much.” you reply, causing your husband to regain his usual big grin. he finally got what he longed for; to have you look and talk to him with love. your silence may have lasted only a few hours, but it felt like it had been a couple cruel months to the sorcerer.

your eyes meet his again and all was well. you smile at him and he smiles back before leaning in to kiss you gently on the lips. satoru’s arm that was draped over your shoulder moves down to curl around your lower back, pulling you as close to him as your bodies would allow.

he pulls back after a few seconds and just lovingly stares at your face again—eyes holding an affection only you had ever been able to witness. your eyes told the same story; nothing could separate you two. ever.

“waaaaah! mama papa, me, me!”

the romantic air between you two suddenly gets interrupted by your daughter’s excited demands. she was demanding kisses as well, puffing her cheeks up as she got ready for it.

“ohh? seems like our angel wants some kisses too.” satoru laughs and nods his head at the baby in his other arm whilst looking at you, “shall we?”

you giggle and nod back—not able to refuse your little girl any longer.

it was not long before the living room fills with the sounds of your child’s laughter, which was caused by the continuous kisses and tickles she was receiving from both satoru and you.

#sttoru writes.#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru x you #gojo x y/n #jjk x female reader #jjk fanfic

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saetoru · 10 months

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。i know you still think about the times we had

synopsis. satoru will always comes when you call him, he just never thought you’d stop calling

— word count. 5.2k (where did i go wrong)

— contents. college au, rich boy! gojo, break ups and make ups <3, it’s the cliche trope where the rich guy’s parent forces you to leave him aka gojo’s father is the villain, angst with a happy ending—i don’t want my cause of death to be angry rb! gojo stans, emo gojo ft. marvin’s room (iykyk), cliche rain scene—this fic is so cliche i’m sorry, reader is gn! but gojo is mentioned to like pics of girls on instagram (he was being petty)

— notes. well, it finally happened. the long awaited break up. this one’s for you niku 🤞🏽 AND DABITEE ANON

you open the door when satoru knocks—just barely, though. it’s just enough to hand him the bag with the remaining things he’s left at your apartment. it feels familiar, being here, but it feels so different too. it’s always been happy knocking on your door—he never thought he’d dread letting his knuckles meet the cool wood. it’s like taking the last bite of something sweet when you’re too full. when the sugar is too decadent on your tongue and your head spins and your stomach twists and it’s too much even though it used to be so good.

it’s too much being here. it’s too much trying to meet your gaze and get nothing in return. it’s too much being handed back that sweater he basically let you keep. and yet, it’s good to see you. he wants nothing more than to be here with you, wherever you are, even if you don’t want him to stay.

“that should be everything,” you murmur, still looking down. “let me know if there’s anything missing.”

satoru would never tell you if there’s something missing. he’d never come back and demand back something he gave you, he doesn’t think he could ever take back something he gave you—being handed back his heart after pressing it to your palms is hard enough. but then again, maybe he should look for small things you probably missed. just so he can come back. just so he can see you—how else will he see you now?

“no, it’s alright,” he says quietly. he doesn’t miss the way you quickly let go as soon as his hands grab the bag, almost like you’re being careful enough not to let your fingers meet each other. “you can uh…you can just keep them. or…throw them out if you don’t want them,” he mumbles.

you nod, standing there silently. it’s quiet, and then it’s quiet some more. and finally, you look up at him for the first time since he got here, staring at him a little expectantly. oh, right. now would be the part where he leaves.

“can i…can i just know why?” he croaks. fuck. he’s not supposed to cry. you ripped his heart out and threw it at his feet, you didn’t even care to hand it to him even after you tore every artery apart. but he sniffles anyway, lips wobbling as he stares at you. “why are you leaving me?”

your fingers twitch, like you itch to reach over and wipe that tear that rolls down his cheek. in the end, you cross your arms instead. “i already told you, satoru—”

“that’s bullshit,” he clicks his teeth, shaking his head as he stares at you frustratedly, “you gave me some bullshit reason.”

satoru has worked so hard to be here—to be with you. hadn’t he done enough? hadn’t he told you about himself, things he didn’t want to? hadn’t he tried to become something, someone more than just a guy swimming in trust funds? hadn’t he worked for your attention, waited outside classes and walked opposite directions in the hall with you just to seem dedicated? fuck, he even burned his hand trying to learn how to make pancakes to impress you, let the maids laugh at him as he twisted the stove the wrong way to try and turn it on.

why wasn’t it enough? what more could he give you than everything? how can the guy who has everything not have enough to give? he doesn’t understand.

“satoru, we weren’t gonna work,” you pinch your nose—it’s like you’re the one who doesn’t understand why he’s being like this. “the sooner you accept that the more hurt you’re saving the both of us—”

“we were working just fine,” he says exasperatedly. it’s like you insist he’s crazy when he’s nothing but sane. like he’s trying to tell you the sky is blue, and you’re refusing to believe it’s anything other than green. it’s clear. it’s practically a fact. you were doing just fine—why don’t you see that? “we were happy,” he takes a step forward and cups your cheeks, pressing his forehead to yours, “was it someone? did they tell you something? just tell me who, baby—i’ll fix it. i’ll put them in their place, okay? no one can bother you if i get them to leave you alone—”

“then you leave me alone,” you whisper. he stills. you pull away from his hands. “sator—gojo. please just leave me alone. it’s better that way.”

you close the door, and he stands there. numb. maybe a little shocked. entirely ruined.

gojo. he laughs quietly after a moment at that—it’s a laugh meant for men who’ve lost the last thread to sanity. gojo. it’s like a slap in the face, being called the name he worked so hard to get you to drop. it took him weeks—months, even, to convince you to call him satoru. then he upgraded to toru. then it was baby. sometimes you teased him and called him pumpkin—he called you peaches in return. when you introduced him, you called him your boyfriend.

not anymore. now he’s back to gojo—that god-forsaken name with everything but what he really wants attached to it. his grandfather’s legacy. his future. business deals. fancy invites. more money than he knows what to do with. the name gojo comes with everything but you.

but he had you for a bit, didn’t he? when he was just satoru—but now he’s gojo again, and you’re gone. the only sign of you left is in the faint traces of your perfume in the sweaters you’ve returned.

and satoru still isn’t sure what brought the break up on. he thinks it’s the part that stings the most—when everything seems perfect one second, and then it’s not. had he not tried enough? maybe he was too much. maybe he didn’t understand you the way you needed him to. maybe he was too overbearing. maybe he asked for too much too fast.

he’s not sure. he tried asking when you broke it off—you only shook your head and said it wasn’t going to work out between the two of you, that it was a mistake to try at all. mistake? how could you call this a mistake? things were so perfect, weren’t they?

satoru doesn’t think there was even one second he wasn’t smiling when he was with you, and he used to think the same was true for you too. had you been faking it this long? or was it real at one point—had he really failed you so badly, seen past you so blindly that he didn’t notice when your smiles stopped reaching your eyes?

it’s too late, he figures. you and satoru are broken up.

you ask him to come over one morning, and he does—because he always comes when you call. he brings your coffee order from that cafe you like, the one you don’t go to often because the coffee is more overpriced than any other coffee shop you’ve ever seen. he’s grinning when you open the door, leans in to kiss your lips excitedly. you turn your head then, and his lips meet your cheeks instead—he supposes he should’ve known it at that moment. he should’ve seen that your lips weren’t smiling. your eyes were tired, a little red. you were hugging yourself in that way you do when you’re nervous. you didn’t let him kiss your lips, you made him kiss your cheek.

and then you sat him down on that worn-down couch of yours, took off that bracelet his mother gave him to gift you on your anniversary, and pressed it to his palm as you said we should break up. break up. you wanted to leave him—and satoru didn’t understand, still doesn’t understand.

he’s tried for so long, replayed the last month of your relationship in his head over and over and fucking over. you always smiled. you kissed him first. you held his hand, and even squeezed. you asked to see him. you laughed when he was around. you said i love you. you were happy. but then you weren’t—when did you stop being happy? and how could you have stopped feeling it with him?

—————

breaking up with satoru is the hardest thing you’ve ever done. how long can people live without the sun? you think not longer than a few minutes—that’s what it feels like without satoru’s warmth, anyway.

gojo satoru has always smiled as long as he’s been with you. he smiled smugly on your first meet, smiled bitterly after every rejection, smiled in pure glee when you finally said yes, and smiled like his fingertips could touch the sky every time he saw you after that.

satoru has never looked sad for long in your presence—you have that effect on him, you make his lips curl and his eyes brighten in that way that they deserve to shine. but for the first time ever, his eyes dim with you around, his lips curl into a frown at your words, and he cries for you. his eyes glisten with tears instead of wonder, and you think for a moment that you might be making a mistake.

but then you remember that this is for the best—that if you really love gojo satoru, you’ll let him go instead of clipping his wings.

“he’s picked up his things,” you speak quietly into the phone. you don’t sniffle even as you desperately need to—it’s the last bit of control you have left, and you intend to keep it. “i won’t be seeing him again.”

“good,” his father speaks, “that’s good to hear.”

satoru’s father is a cold man, you learn that on the first meet. he doesn’t look at his wife with a soft look that tells you there’s any love built between the decades of marriage, and he doesn’t look at his only son with any affection for the boy he raised. instead, he stares at satoru like any businessman would an opportunity—with a calculating gaze that tries to work out the best course of action for the most profit.

satoru is young, but he’s charming and conniving and knows how to get what he wants when he wants—he’s quick on his feet and rarely lets himself get cornered into a wall. in the last three generations of the family business, no heir has shown as much promise as gojo satoru. that’s what his father tells you, anyway. you believe him—satoru is smart and knows how to play his cards right, you won’t deny that. his future is set to be comfortable, and he’s never known anything outside of that, never built any other plans for himself.

you can’t rip that away from him—not for your own sake, not for your own happiness.

“you promised you wouldn’t freeze his trust funds once i ended things,” you remind him, “and that he’d keep his inheritance.” somehow, because the world grants you this one favor, your voice doesn’t shake—it’s steady and firm as it reminds the stone-cold man at the end of the line of your agreement—and he offers a slow chuckle that makes your jaw clench.

“yes, i do recall,” he hums, “i’m glad we could come to agree. you understand, don’t you? it is my job as his father to do what’s best for him.”

you know what he’s saying—what that means. you’re not what’s best for him. maybe he’s right—maybe satoru needs someone who’s equally as promising to build a successful company into even more success. maybe he needs someone who can take him out for a change to those fancy places he takes you every few weeks. maybe he needs someone who’s heard of half the brands he wears and doesn’t scold him to turn the lights off so the electricity bill isn’t high. maybe he needs someone who can keep up with everything that gojo satoru is—and that someone is not you, no matter how deeply you love him.

“—the offer still stands, should you change your mind. i’m willing to compensate you for the trouble this must all be.”

your lips curl into a scowl at his words. that’s the thing about rich people, you think—money is always enough to sugarcoat everything. why worry about the dead grass in your lawn when you can paint it green? but you don’t leave satoru for extra cash on your hands—nothing can be worth auctioning off the only man who’s ever made you feel anything. you leave satoru because he deserves to continue living comfortably, to make a name for himself that isn’t just a ghost of his father’s. if that means being cut from the corner of the picture, you’re willing to pick up the scissors yourself.

“no thanks,” you hiss, “i don’t need the money.”

“i would disagree,” his father sneers, “but suit yourself.”

the line ends, and for good this time, satoru is no longer yours. was he ever to begin with?

—————

you try to forget your ex-boyfriend—keyword, try. every hour of your life consists of you using your burner account to refresh his instagram page to see if he’s posted anything new. you unfollow satoru from every social media platform the same day he picks up his belongings—you know he’s noticed within the first thirty minutes because all of his pictures with you are gone, just like all your pictures with him.

in what you assume is an attempt to be petty, he likes every picture of every girl he sees, and he even blocks you on twitter—you know he picks twitter because twitter is the only social media that blatantly states you’re blocked. but then you’re unblocked in two days, and you know he must be missing you now that the initial anger is faded.

it makes you laugh a little, even through your tears. satoru is not satoru without petty fits of emotion, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad, not when it’s your fault he’s hurting like this. he’s extra sad today, you gather—if the way marvin’s room is posted to his instagram story on a blank screen is of any hint. it makes you scoff in amusement that in true gojo satoru fashion, he’s effectively told all eight-thousand-something of his followers he’s pathetically in his feelings.

you scroll through suguru’s story, too—he didn’t unfollow you even after satoru temporarily blocked you, but you figure suguru is the only person satoru really has. you shouldn’t keep yourself close to him, not when it could hurt satoru more, so you remove him too.

suguru is, as always, drinking at some fancy party with obnoxiously rich college students who have not a care in the world for midterms around the corner. who needs to pass when you’re swimming in money whether or not you have a degree? the first thing you learn about the rich is that most of them are only at college for the experience—they don’t see college as the stepping stone to better opportunities, there’s nothing education could offer that trust funds already don’t. but satoru attends college for himself—he enjoys business classes, you learn, and especially finance ones. for someone who spends money so carelessly, he understands it particularly well.

there’s no sign of satoru at whatever party it is suguru is at, there’s no trace of strikingly bright white strands anywhere in any corners—you do see naoya in a corner, though, and you crinkle your nose in distaste. if satoru were here, he’d say something bitterly under his breath about the asshole, and you would giggle. but satoru is not here, and even naoya the women-hating jackass makes you miss your obnoxiously whiny ex-boyfriend.

everything reminds you of satoru. that bear he won you at the fair (after maybe six tries) by your pillows, those polaroids at your desk that you can’t bring yourself to take down, that sticky note on your fridge he left promising to replace the creamer he finished (he’s replaced it more times than he’s needed to by now), that extra big blanket you keep on the couch because the old one barely covered his legs, that pair of silly matching mugs you both had for coffee in the mornings.

every corner of your apartment has something that reminds you that satoru was here, that he was yours, that for a short while, he was the best thing you ever had. it’s your fault, you think—that satoru and you are here in this mess in the first place. he’s always looked at life through a hopeful lens. having everything does that to you, makes you ignorant to the misfortunes of the world, makes you think everything is within the realm of your reach. you, on the other hand, knew this was bound to happen. the two of you together is like hot oil and cool water—what feels like sparks is just the oil shooting out to burn you. you should’ve known this would have never lasted.

in a way, you think you did. it’s why you hated him so fiercely at first—maybe deep down, you always knew you wanted him, that he would never be yours. maybe that’s why you were so adamant about rejecting him, that even when he was clearly trying, it would never be enough. satoru has always been enough, has always been what everyone has wanted—you’re not so sure you can say the same for yourself.

you love gojo satoru. he loves you too—he falls first, and you think maybe, he might have fallen harder too. no one loves like satoru. they say if you press coal hard enough, it turns to diamonds—you think if you gave satoru coal, he would hand you back the sun and all of her stars. it’s just the kind of guy he is, the one that turns everything dull into something bright and warm and worth it. you wish you didn’t have to break his heart, you wish you could’ve walked out of this the only one hurt. but maybe, at the very least, if you break him good enough that he hates you, he’ll move on quicker, maybe have something to look forward to while you continue to work your way up and cheer him on.

before you can refresh suguru’s page one more time to stalk his story, you’re pulled from your thoughts as someone knocks on your door—correction: pounds on your door. you jolt on your couch, standing up and making your way to the front door quickly and looking through the peephole.

satoru. of course.

he’s soaked to the bone—it’s raining outside, and of course, just as on brand as always, he must’ve rushed here without an umbrella.

you shouldn’t open it.

but you can’t just leave him in the rain, can you? but he’s not your problem anymore, you agreed to leave him, didn’t you? but how could he not be your problem when he’s all you think about? but this could cause him trouble if his father found out he was here, right? but can you really leave someone, ex-boyfriend or not, in the pouring rain? you can’t be that cruel can you?

before you can make up your mind, he speaks up, “i know you’re standing there. open the door,” he demands.

“satoru, go home,” you sigh, head pressing against the surface that separates you, “don’t make this anymore difficult than it has to be.”

“if it’s difficult, that means you don’t really want to do this,” he argues. he’s still as good as ever at sweet talk, still as persistent and charming as ever at getting what he wants. “please,” he croaks, “just let me in.”

you know it means more than one thing. you know it means more than just your home. but you shouldn’t, you can’t let him know why you did all this—how can you protect someone from something if they don’t let you? satoru would never let you if he knew, and that’s why you can’t let him know.

“satoru, if you don’t leave…i’ll…i’ll call the cops,” you warn.

“no you won’t,” he says instantly. “i’m not leaving until you open the door. and if i get sick, i’ll send you my bill for the emergency room visit.”

“you’re not going to the emergency room for a common cold, you idiot,” you scoff.

the rain doesn’t slow—in fact, you can hear thunder. satoru is still stubbornly outside, knocking away.

“i’ll start screaming,” he insists, “your neighbors will complain for noise again. do you want to be kicked out of this apartment? just let your cold, wet, heartbroken ex-boyfriend in if you have a heart.”

and because you are, and always will be, weak to the charms of gojo satoru, you open that damned door—even though you shouldn’t, even though you can’t, even though you said you would never again. but you do. because it’s satoru, and he always comes when you call, and you’ll always let him in when he’s here.

“you don’t come to your ex’s house less than one week after the break up,” you sigh once you open the door. he takes a step in, shutting the door behind him.

“why did you leave me?” he asks.

“satoru, you can’t keep bringing this up—”

“why? just tell me why.”

“i don’t have to—”

“tell me why and i’ll stop bothering you. i just need to know why,” he insists.

and then you break.

you’re only human. you’ve lost the man you’ve given everything to for over a year in the span of one week. you’ll never see his lovely mother again who spoiled you rotten, you’ll never hang out out with his funny best friend who treats you like family, and you’ll never be enough for gojo satoru, the rich, loud, sheltered, obnoxious, handsome jackass you met and had to do a project with and accidentally fucked over and over again until you fell in love.

so you shove his chest, once, then twice, then a third time, each time getting weaker and weaker than the last as tears slip down your cheeks as you simply break down. “just leave, satoru,” you sob, “why can’t you just leave? why do you keep coming back?”

you hate seeing him here. you want him gone. you never want to see him again. you hope he never leaves. you’re glad to see him. you hope this isn’t the last time. you hate that he seems to not be getting enough sleep. his eyes are hollow. he must not be eating properly. he probably hasn’t attended class. he has a quiz next week. he most likely forgot about that. his clothes are wrinkly. he definitely hasn’t showered in days.

“last month you said i was it for you,” he glares at you, his eyes red and swollen and every shade of heartbreak. you miss when they were blue—that beautiful, bright, perfect shade of blue. “last week you said we were a mistake. what the fuck do you mean, huh? what are you playing at?”

“you can realize a lot in a month—”

“not enough to erase over a year,” his voice booms. it makes you flinch and hug yourself tightly. tears slide down your cheeks, your vision is blurry. this might be the last time you see satoru, and even if he’s angry, you want to remember the curves of his features. so you wipe them away. they keep coming back. “so tell me,” he clenches his jaw, “did you string me along for a year or did something happen last week that you’re not telling me?”

“i realized you were bad for me,” you say quietly.

satoru stares at you. it’s a piercing gaze—his eyes are electrically blue and his lashes are unfairly long and every time he stares at you, you think he almost sees into your soul. they’re tired—there are purplish bags under them on that pale skin of his, and the whites of his eyes are concerningly bloodshot. he stares, and stares, and for a second, you think you’ll die like this. watching him stare at you as your heart bleeds out.

“i spent weeks,” his voice shakes, “i waited outside your class. i followed you to the next one. i memorized your fucking schedule.”

“satoru, you need to leave—”

“and then you fucked me and left every morning like i was nothing,” he glares, sniffling. you don’t know where the rain drops on his face start and where the teardrops end. “and then i begged you for a chance—begged. i burned my hand, got laughed at by the maids to learn how to make those stupid fucking pancakes for you.”

“i didn’t ask you to—”

“it took you two months to call me baby for the first time. did you know that? i waited two months to hear that. i thought it was the best two months i ever waited.”

“satoru,” you plead.

you’ve given up on trying to wipe away the tears—he’s given up on crying altogether. you’ve never seen him so hollow, so dead in the eyes and so, so tired.

satoru has never gotten tired—not when he’s fighting for you.

“and then you kept pushing me away, acting like i was some shallow guy who wanted to get in your pants and leave cause i had some money to my name. i took you everywhere, introduced you proudly, let everyone say what they wanted to say about me because i loved you, and…and i thought you loved me too,” he shakes his head.

his voice breaks, and god, so does your heart right along with it.

“i do love you,” you admit it before you realize what you’re saying.

“then why did you fucking leave me?” his voice is loud.

satoru never yells, not at you. his voice is always gentle, patient, like he worships the ground you walk on, like he’ll get on his knees if you ask him too. satoru never yells—but he does tonight.

“because i had to,” you sob, fingers digging into your temples as you shake. the words spill from your lips faster than the tears, like a swarm of angry bees, one following after the other. “or you’d lose everything. the trust funds, the inheritance, the company. i couldn’t let that happen to you—not for me,” you whisper.

it feels like defeat—in the end, you couldn’t keep satoru, and you couldn’t leave him either. you couldn’t love him like you wanted, and you couldn’t let him go like you should have. what else is there left to fuck up? what more can you ruin in less than a week? the bees feel like maggots in your mouth, swarming a dead carcass.

“so you left me because my old man threatened you with my trust funds?” he asks in disbelief. you think something in satoru dies at that—something in his shoulders falls and his eyes almost seem gray.

satoru gets his blue eyes from his mother—they’re bright and kind and deeper than the ocean. but unlike the ocean, they’re not scary to fall into, to lose yourself in no matter how far you are from shore. his father’s eyes are gray—cold and blank and not laced with a single hint of emotion.

you can’t help but think that blue suits satoru so much better than gray ever could.

“it wasn’t just that,” you shake your head, “that’s not fair, satoru. what was i supposed to do? know you were about to lose everything and stay?”

“you could have talked to me before you decided for me,” he hisses, “what do you want me to say? thank you? thank you for breaking my heart? thank you for making me feel like a worthless piece of shit who wasted a year for someone who didn’t seem to care? thank you for walking out on me?”

“you know i’d have stayed if i could,” you argue, voice breaking.

“then why didn’t you? why the fuck didn’t you?”

“because i couldn’t!”

“you could!” he screams—you realize, for the first time in your life, you hate when satoru screams. he never screams. “all my life, that old man has been making decisions for me. satoru, wear this. satoru, go here. satoru, don’t do that. satoru, put that away. satoru, stay away from them. satoru, come with me. that’s all he’s ever fucking done—make every choice for me. and now…now you’re just like him,” he breathes, lips wobbling as he stares at you with hurt.

it’s like that for a bit—you stare at him as he crumbles, and he stares at you like he doesn't know you anymore. you don’t know who leans in first, if it’s your hand or his face, but one second you’re feet apart, and the next second his face is cradled in your hands, thumbs swiping away at his tears. you catch them, one by one, waiting to wipe them away no matter how fast they come. because satoru always comes when you call, and you’ll always be there for him to find you.

“i don’t want to leave,” you mumble, “i never do. you are it for me, i meant that, you know. who else will melt extra chocolate in my hot chocolate?”

“then don’t leave,” he begs, voice cracking, “i don’t want you to. i’ll handle that old geezer—my grandfather will knock some sense into him. fuck, suguru and i can even hide his body, it’s fine. just don’t leave, okay?”

you let out a watery chuckle, pinching his cheek as you shake your head. “i don’t know if i’m worth homicide, satoru.”

“i think you’re wrong,” he huffs, “you’re wrong about a lot of things, you know. so wrong.”

“i never said i was perfect,” you pout.

he buries his head into your neck, clinging to you tightly—you cling back, because nothing is as safe as satoru’s arms. you’d melt into his skin if you could, live in that spot right where his heart is so you can make sure it’s always beating.

“you’re still perfect,” he mumbles, “but you’re always mean to me. this was the worst you’ve ever been.”

“i’m sorry,” you murmur, slipping your fingers into his hair—it’s still wet, you realize. he’s soaked, and he could catch a cold but you don’t care. satoru is back. he’s here in your run-down apartment with the mugs and the blanket and that toothbrush you forgot to return and that pair of socks you found in your drawer. satoru is finally home. “i’ll never leave you again.”

“promise?”

“yeah. as long as you don’t block me on twitter again.”

“you deserved that.”

“and for the love of god, toru, delete that marvin’s room story. that was so dumb.”

“are you stalking me?” he pulls away with a grin, making you glare with a huff. he chuckles, kisses your forehead as he murmurs, “missed me that bad, huh? yeah, i would too.”

“well, obviously not enough to post marvin’s room on my story.”

“you can’t be mean to me after you broke my heart!” he whines.

yeah, you think, satoru is home. he’s still that loud, obnoxious, pestering brat that he always was—and he’s still the only love you’ve ever known.

“i love you,” you press your forehead to his, kissing him slowly. you want to kiss him harder, you want to kiss him desperately like you’ll never kiss him again. like you lost him and miraculously got him back. like you’ll never see the sun again without him.

but there’s time for that—lots of it, in fact. because satoru is home.

“i love you too,” he whispers, “wanna shower with me? if you really love me, you would.”

read the makeup sex sequel ;) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

if this fic was a person i would want it dead.

#teepods.writings #fics.#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru angst

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getodrools · 2 months

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jjk men having wet dreams about you and waking up needy and pants soaked…….. thank you for listening to my ted talk 🌚🌚

໒꒰ྀ ྀིᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ yes and yes. omfggg the big men of jjk being so whiney and needy >> such a good combooo

★ ┆ NOCTURNAL EMISSIONS .ᐟ ── JJK VARIOUS ‧

FT ‧ gojo, getō, nanami, toji, sukuna, choso

⟣ WARNINGS ‧ MDNI | f! reader | pwp, dub con, somnophilia, dry humping, lots of messes ( winkwonk ) from vv needy men, dirty taaalk, warnings will be noted and will vary on each character. ᡣ 𐭩 | WC ‧ 1.4k + |

͙͘͡★ SATORU GOJO!

somno, dry humping, fingering, mind fuck ( ?? ) !

Gojo’s eyes are snapped wide. Simply, laying silent and annoyed – tight-lipped and motionless, yet his wet cock is the only thing moving… agonizingly too… Feeling himself twinge between stiff legs ‘till it itched; each panging throb forced his meaty log to rub right up against the mess oozing through thin fabric.

“Fuck…” Gojo was more than annoyed watching how you peacefully drift off beside him, unbothered and probably coveting in the sweetest of dreams… A silent ponder hoping some were of him, just how his every thought was of you. Well, Clearly. The sappy mess globbed up in his pants was an apparent sign even his dreams clutter of just you, to which, Gojo could no longer stay silent about…

“Dreamin' baby?… Bet you are…” Shimmying himself close, the gentle press he rolls with smeared the gluey muck across your bare skin, “Any about me?… I’d hope,” Voice so smooth you swear you could hear your boyfriend echoing in your cute little head, “Just had one of you… i was fucking that pretty pussy…” Like sand falling, he whispers gently at the shell of your ear, taking a nip before, “Mmh… just like this…” Gojo’s hand slips right between the sweet heat of your legs.

“Ah… mmpf–” You twitch. Your brows too, knitting together into a deep parabola. Was this a dream still? A sudden naughty turn from baking with friends sure was a jump! — Ah! But that pinch twisting at your pearled hood felt all too real…

Gojo worked quick. Cooing across naked flesh soothed you back – even soothing the tight bundle of nerves throbbing at his persistence worked well too, “You were wet just like this baby…” The pads of his fingers mush between your slit, gently scrissoring folds open to catch at those lewd webs, “Better be dreaming of me fucking you… so fuckin’ wet…” Gojo hooks a digit in.

“… To… Toru…?” Bedhead sluggish with sleepy eyes drooped, all you could feel was Gojo pressing flush against your ass harder than usual — was there a wet spot too? Each roll he shoved against you worsened the damp spot; all seeping with warm cum and more pre to bleed through your clothes… And was there a damn finger popped in your pussy?!

“Hehe…” That mischievous and annoying giggle hucked right into your neck, “Look who's having a wet dream now, naughty girl…” Needy bastard.

͙͘͡★ SUGURU GETŌ!

somno, oral sex ( f –> m ), cum shot !

The rather poignant moans slipping out from between Getō's lips woke you up. And the obvious tent building in your boyfriend's briefs was standing proudly from strong hips; an obelisk of flesh that jutted out as far as a forearm was a clear indication he was hungry even in deep thoughts...

Bored and damper with a small smile, you listen to how this eruption was caused by you, "Y/n... baby... More..." Tenderly cuddling up to his side to watch his ache – to watch the little twinges in his features spark... Suguru was so cute when he'd have naughty fantasies... Watching how his length jerked around in confines; forcing tight cloth wrapping his capped tip to suffocate. To further damp in wet seed, 'till the dark spot bubbled out with more ropes of cum.

"Fuck–mmh–Please... Need you... fuck..."

Your measly hand dipping between bodies seemed to have drawn out those very feeble dreams he was crying out for to beyond... Especially the second you popped his cock out; he was drenched – sweat and cum were glistening along his length.

Suguru twisted around, unconsciously sucking in his lower lip at the tease, "Yes... mmh..." Clammy skin throbbed under your touch... The wrist-thick girth you twist at oozed, just begging for attention.

Heeding to his needs, you squeeze yourself between his splayed legs; settling to wrap pretty lips around Suguru's crown. And like a suction, you swallow him up; impaling yourself with his slab of cock meat 'till it punched at the fluttering length of your barriers. Blocking the entirety of your windpipe with ease, but too determined to fill his dreams with more fantasies, you gurgle him whole…

Perhaps the sloppy sounds coming from your mouth did little to dissuade him awake, but the tight lip you ring around his midsection forced his face to scrunch in, "Ohmyfuck... baby, yes..." He was close — again!

Salty in white thickness, the slobber you bubble out forced another geyser of hot cum to shoot.

Balls tightening and clenching up to empty across your tongue, Getō gasps, "Baby?! Fuck!" Hips jerking upwards, either surprised to see his pretty girl working his hard cock, or the overstimulation catching him by his throat.

Either or, he was damn grateful to have such an attentive girlfriend, "Holy shit... Babe--" Getō stutters, but the faint smile hanging by a thread was all he could muster up peering down at your muck-covered, pretty face...

͙͘͡★ KENTO NANAMI!

marriage, mentions of pregnancy, cock warming !

Sensitive skin chafing along his briefs, the sap pearling out was sticky. Damnnit. Again?

It's happened three times this week on your honeymoon already, and it's becoming agonizing… He always tried to ignore the way he'd moan and twist himself awake, but it was extra hard dismissing the wet patch soiling his third pair of briefs… It made him feel like a hormonal teen – embarrassing for a grown, now wedded man, but he couldn't help it! You're so beautiful and everything he yearns for – you're just cooped up in his every damn thought!

“Honey…” Nanami sighs.

The soft pads gliding across the curvature of your back form a parabola to arch in chills. You wind your hips, “Mhm?… Oh…” You recognize that sticky patch soiled low in his pants. Memorizing the way how he'd shimmy so close ‘till he could stuff his face into the nook of your neck before humming.

“Mrs. Nanami… My lovely wife…” Gentle voice feathering across the shell of your ear, Kento was gentle, besides the small pinch at your side to make you giggle, “Want to have a lazy morning?”

⊹ ࣪ ˖

“Then you found out you were pregnant.” As those words cooed out, his cock throbs deep inside gummy walls, and your heart does too, “Those are your wet dreams?” You giggle into the pillow, but the soft hump rolling against doughy globes robs that very breath.

“Mhm… Well, I think so? I fucked you full, so I assumed you'd be round and full with my kids…” The tender thrust bucking up into you signifies what he's been craving these past few nights – inner thoughts swirling with the idea of you being packed like a snow cone!

“Oh…” You gulp as Nanami pulls you closer by the hips, nudging in ‘till he was balls deep. It was like putting his dick to sleep in a pillow.

Sinking in every thick, turgid inch of cock meat into spongy walls that snap and suck him in, you could feel your husband worm right up to your womb. Thumping to invade soft barriers – he was stuffing you to the hilt purposely, as if he was trying to fuck the same thought into you…

Nanami hums, “What? Don't you want some one day? Or do you just like being stuffed?” Either or…

͙͘͡★ TOJI FUSHIGURO!

somno, cunnilingus, squirting, he's grouchy!

“Make me a mess…” Toji is irritated, this is a damn work night and he's woken up with drawls sticking to the fat of his thighs, again. Breaking those sweet sweet eight hours of sleep – if any, all of it was swept away with filthy thoughts of you…

Grumbling between the sweet heat of your legs, “I’ll make you a mess.” The assassin speared a wet muscle up and between your folds; flicking at your hood ‘till it puffed out… “Let’s see how you like it…” With a forceful shove, his lips mashed into those soft pillows.

Your head mashed into pillows yourself, unaware of the man feasting below your waist. Only aware— barely aware of those flitted blissful dreams…Which now, all warp into filthy scenes of sweating bodies humping and rolling together… His tongue was working as one of a spring bouncing into place; romping in and out so deep, he was fucking with your imagination...

His mouth suckled over the fine features of you lewdly, nestling the fat into the crook of his nose to ground his lips into lush flesh further. Smooshing folds down to nip at, Toji smirks, watching you swerve in sheets just how he was.

“Oh!— Fuck?!” Your eyes snap back wide, were you cumming? Peering down, “Toji?!” And gasping with wailing hands reaching for the shaggy strands sticking out beneath sheets, you were on the brink.

Still leaden, your were too late to pop off that suction forcing you to topple over... The unexpected clench twisting inside you made your eyes bug out. A sudden breathlessness rose to your throat – all the air in your body was forced out in one huge rush, just like the geyser spewing out from between your legs.

Pussy leaking, the man hiding under sheets peeked up, “Annoying huh?” Shaken and mottled with chills, no. Not… really? Though, the sheets and the entirety of his mouth were soaked, so were a couple of clothes, that was the only peeving thing about this… but it is laundry day anyway…

͙͘͡★ RYŌMEN SUKUNA!

cum eating, blow job-ish, he's also vv grouchy !

"Wake up." One of his strong arms sling over your shoulder, "Brat. Wake up." And it twists at the skin trying to nuzzle under the blankets.. Sukuna sighs, heavily, "You have a mess to clean up. Wake up right now." The rough nudge at your body was more than enough to wake you...

Humming, you whirl around only to get a crotch-level shot of your husband! Blinking, he clearly scooted his damn butt all the way up to the headboard, making sure you'd see the very mess he was complaining about soon as you roused. —And the still pounding cock that jutted in embarrassing need. That thick, meaty pole standing rock hard shaded into a deep red, the cum-soaked skin so flushed, he couldn't stop twitching... oh he was aching...

"Clean me." Sukuna waves a hand around. Subtly pointing at the gooey puddle pooling at his tummy, and it was a lot. Thick too, cooling ropes of midst cum stuck to his barred skin like a busted open bottle of glue.

"Sukuna... It looks like you made this mess—”

"No. You did. You keep sticking yourself in my head. It's annoying waking up like this." . . .

Sighing, "It's O.K to say you were dreamin' of me, again..." He hisses at that remark, but your cooling tongue flicking out simmered his temper...

Nectarous lotion and salt lathered over your lips as your hand dragged a long, languid tease across his shaft, "You're so moody when you're needy." Sukuna went to bite at those words, but feeling you vacuum up the globs of cum forced him to gnaw at his lip instead.

Sukuna's cum strung in your mouth as if you were flossing with it; running thickly down your throat, you slurp his tatted tummy clean. The thick blobs felt like gum rolling around in your mouth, trying to drink him up 'till the only slime trailing and glistening across skin was your messy spit.

"Good girl... Don't forget my cock now.." Milking the rest of his hot load with tight lips, you gurgle down his seed like a smoothie.

Suckling at the King's crown, Sukuna eventually deemed himself clean once you finally kitten-licked all the way down to his fist-sized baby makers... Sparkling new!

͙͘͡★ CHOSO KAMO!

he's a mess, dry humping, he whimpers ofc !

Twisting and turning, Choso was shamelessly humping at the sheets, again. It was almost the AM, but those sweaty limbs linking with yours kept forcing you awake...

"Choso..." You whine, but no louder than the one wafting straight into your back. Choso nestled beneath the covers and sunk himself further down the bed than usual; cramming himself against your spine to hump at the plush of your thighs 'till another bubble of cum oozed out his rubbery tip.

This was the third load he's cried out, so far! It's like a never-ending dream of fucking you raw when your around... He just couldn't stop thinking of you no matter how hard he tried! Even the agonizing nights when he slept on the couch, he'd fuck himself straight into the pillows – hearing whines of your name echoing from down the hall kept you up those times!

Choso's hips keep rutting like a damn dogs, feet kept kicking, and cock still throbbing knowing you were around, no matter what...

The longer he rolled his hips into yours, Choso's mess went tacky. It began to string out in fine lines through the sheer gaps in his confines; almost frothing like icing the longer he kept at it, unknowingly soaking your lower half too.

You couldn't stay sore with him, especially when his droopy eyes fluttered open. He looks so embarrassed out of his mind as he looks up at you like a bad puppy, realizing the mess he's created, he feels like an animal... Shame.

Whines turning into frantic rambles, "I'm sorry... l don't know what get a hold of me... Please..." And the soft whimpers following each syllable soften your gaze.

You peck at his swollen lips. Still too sensitive, Choso winces, and his hips jolt forward.

The wet center of his crotch nudges with yours; poking the hard blanketed tip right between the sweet heat of your legs. All you could feel was runny sap dampening your shorts, almost cooling as it soaked through to your panties, even feeling the moisture cling against your bundle of nerves.

"It's ok baby... I love you too." Nuzzling your nose into his, Choso was on the brink of groping cloud nine, again...

<– BACK: PINNED ⊹ ࣪ ˖ NEXT: JJK MASTERLIST –>

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usuallydyinginside · 6 days

Text

TLDR: Francesca Bridgerton is Autistic. Fight me.

Okay so I did not go into Season 3 of Bridgerton expecting to have any feelings about Francesca Bridgerton. We have seen her only in glimpses in the show and I have not read the books, so I knew basically nothing about her before binging the first four episodes.

But guys. GUYS. I will die for this autistic queen.

Okay, so starting with first impressions. We know that on her big day, Francesca went out of her way to avoid her nosy, loud family by having a very early, quiet breakfast by herself and then calming down via playing the piano (clearly a special interest of hers).

In her first balls, we see Francesca light up any time she talks about music (clearly her current or forever special interest) but as soon as men try to take it to a flirting place she IMMEDIATELY shuts down. It's clear that even as she states very matter-of-factly that she plans to marry this season, she also is baffled and uncomfortable any time someone tries to actually, ya know, court her.

At one of her first shindigs, she got attention and then went up to her brother and (while making almost no eye contact) told him (rather than asked him) that she needed a sec.

She then sat by herself in the side of the ballroom.

Later on, she left a ball in search of quiet and solitude to fix her sensory overload, so she went outside this time. (A thing that we know from pervious seasons is a HUGE no-no, particularly unchaperoned. But she was very respectfully near the door so maybe that's fine?) The point is that she cares very much about staying respectable so she can get this marriage thing over with and get people to stop perceiving her, yet she risks some scandal by going outside just so she can be somewhere quiet alone.

Enter: this absolute (also autistic) Prince Charming.

He says hello (so she knows he's not like trying to sneak up on her in the dark like a creep) and then just stands there. 10/10, no notes, best way to flirt I have ever seen in my life.

Seriously just look at this. I'm in love. Never before has there been a greater sign of love at first sight than in this "standing politely five feet apart in total silence in the middle of a ball and enjoying each other's company."

I need to go watch these first four episodes about a hundred more times, but I THINK this might be the first sincere smile we see from Francesca??!? I at least got the impression immediately that this is the first time she's felt genuinely comfortable and happy while not entirely alone this season.

Like, these nerds did not even exchange names. They barely exchanged a word. Yet you can see them falling head over heels in love right there in that moment. I don't even LIKE love at first sight tropes and they have my whole heart. They are the only exception.

Then, of course, you have this second absolutely iconic Scene of Silence where the entire Bridgerton family stares in neurotypical confusion a these two amazing weirdos. The way these two do not know each other but they DO know each other. The way they are both so happy and so comfortable but also still playing the whole society game the way they were told they had to?? I just don't have words right now.

LOOK AT HER SMILE, GUYSSSSSSSS.

Look how happy this tiny, silent moment is making her. How she understands immediately what he's doing and is absolutely delighted to participate too even knowing her entire family is hardcore judging them from not that far away.

And then you get this smug little look from him and it's like you can see his autistic ass thinking, "Yes. I calculated correctly. This was the correct romance option. Gold star to me." (Okay, maybe that's just how my brain works but shhhhh)

Which, of course, brings us to this absolutely hilariously awkward ND attempt at flirting. We start off with some fairly normal "whoops, I'm flustered cause you make me nervous" sort of moments, but notice how little eye contact she makes. How she only looks in his eyes very briefly and it seems like she almost has to remind herself to do so when she's doing the "polite" answers (OR later when she's genuinely interested in a topic).

So as soon as Francesca is like "oh shit, I ruined it. I forgot how to neurotypical. It's over" then she loses patience with the practiced social niceties.

I spent like 30 minutes trying to find a GIF and I should already be asleep so I'm not going to go learn how to make one BUT I needed to look up exactly what happens next cause it's basically the most autistic thing I've ever seen.

WHICH IS that in response to the second awkward silence after Francesca shares all of this, John's response is, "That is helpful. If you'll excuse me."

Then dude bro just WALKS AWAY WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD.

Like it would be awkward anyway but now Francesca thinks she misread a social cue so she's feeling sad, and meanwhile this absolute king is over here on a romantic mission no one asked him to do because he is that set on showing her he's listening and cares.

The man shows up at the ball and as soon as he had a paper we were all screaming "he wrote her a song!!!"

Again, notice the eye contact (or lack thereof). I think with period dramas and women, it's easy to just go "oh she's just shy" or "she's just being demure like she's supposed to" but like NO. This girl does not want to meet anyone's eyes.

Until she does. Because in moments where she's talking about music or enjoying quiet, it's worth it to purposefully meet his eyes and see how he's feeling too. To make sure he can see she's happy.

ANYWAY, it was so much better than him writing a song for her.

SO. MUCH. BETTER.

Because he didn't just give her any ol' music. He sought out the music they'd specifically heard in the street, and he took her exact specifications on what was "wrong" with the music, and he FIXED IT. He then put the whole thing on sheet music and handed her a copy with no further explanation than this.

Our autistic lass was so excited she basically sprinted out of that ball so she could find a piano. (Which, the fact that she does this rather than try to stay and flirt/dance with the man who just gave her this incredible gift ALSO says a lot, just saying. Daphne could never.)

So our girl finds a piano and GUYS. LOOK AT HOW HAPPY SHE IS.

I'm pretty sure this woman would accept a proposal right this second. Maybe make one herself. She is so head over heels in love with this man that it's absurd. We have watched her mask in these first four episodes, but the last two where she's interacting with John are the first times she seems genuinely happy and like the real her is shining through.

Like, does she enjoy her family? Sure. But it's obvious (and she even tells us) that she finds them overwhelming and generally to be A Lot. But these scenes? This gesture?

You can just get how seen she feels. How weird and wild and amazing it is to her that this man can see who she actually is and wants to join her there instead of making her play some part of the perfect Bridgerton who likes to be the center of attention.

(And even here - the EYE CONTACT. She glances at people when she's talking to them, but the way she looks at the sheet music is so much more intense and intimate and personal than anytime she's looking at the average person in the show. She still even in places she's most comfortable, such as sitting at the piano, makes very little eye contact and only at very specific moments.)

Anyway I'm going to sleep now but I'm sure I'll add more thoughts as they come to me. Feel free to add your own case for why Francesca is autistic and/or otherwise neurodivergent. I want to hear allllllll the thoughts.

#francesca bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton s3 #john stirling #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton season three #Francesca is Autistic #Autism #Autistic

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hxzbinwrites · 4 months

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Hey!! Saw that u were taking request <3 I was thinking that an Alestor x wife!reader being a power (but absolutely terrifying) couple would be soooo cool, like maybe they already knew each other from when they were humans, and Alestor is just 10000% a simp for his wifey lol. Hope u like it!

Alastor x Wife! Overlord! Reader | Forgiveness |

Warnings ⚠️: Cussing, Death, Killing, Mentions of Alastor being a Cannibal, Reader makes STUPID DECISIONS

In the Pride Ring is where all of the sinners and Overlords alike mingle. The uppermost ring of Hell and the closest to Heaven. That’s where some of the most feared and powerful beings live. Two of those entities being Alastor, the Radio Demon, and (Y/n), the Jazz Demon.

Together, they rule their districts with an iron grip. While some Overlords team up, like the Vees, Alastor and (Y/n) were the first to do it. Well, it makes sense really, especially because they were close during their respective times alive on Earth.

——————

Three gunshots were heard that fateful night. One ending a mans life by his hand, one ending the witness’s life by his hand, and one ending his by justice’s hand. No more Bayou Killer, but he took two more lives before he went. Awful, sick man. Good thing he’s in Hell now…

Alastor hissed as his back hit the pavement. His squinted eyes took in his surroundings, he was in Hell. Hmm, no shocker there. What was a shock was seeing the body next to his.

“Ugghh” They groaned, sitting upright on the pavement next to him. They locked eyes. It was (Y/n). Before Alastor could even speak, she pounced on him, pushing him back into the pavement.

“You sick son of a BITCH!! YOU KILLED ME!! SHOT ME LIKE I WAS AN ANIMAL FOR YA NEXT MEAL!!” She yelled, shaking him back and forth by gripping his collar. His collar looked identical to hers, and he tuned out her yelling, he noticed her attire. She was now wearing a black suit with red and white accents, one that looked like a reverse image of his. Except a few details weren’t the same, hers looked more feminine, but also had less harsh edges to it. She looked more elegant while he looked more harsh.

He then looked up to her face, she had red eyes and long, silky black hair, with red underneath. He looked to the top of her head and noticed two fluffy, black ears. They were currently pressed to her scalp, a clear indicator of her unhappiness at the current moment.

“AND TO THINK, AFTER ALL OF THAT BEGGIN, YOU WAS JUST DYING TO GET ME ON YOUR RADIO SHOW!! WELL LOOK AT US NOW, MR. ALASTOR. LOOK. AT. US. NOW. WHAT EVEN ARE YOU, YOU SICK FREAK. EVERYONE KNEW THE BAYOU KILLER ATE FOLKS. IF YOU WERENT SHOT, WERE YOU GONNA EAT ME?? WAS I GONNA NOT EVEN BE ABLE TO HAVE A BURIAL NEXT TO MY PA, CAUSE YOU ATE ME!? OH LORD HELP ME!!”

Alastor rolled his eyes, feeling no remorse for the doe that whined above him. (Y/n) was a famous musician in Louisiana, particularly in Jazz. Alastor had begged her to come onto his radio show, play some tunes for his devoted fans. She agreed, but that night Alastor didn’t show to the studio. She heard shouting in the woods across the street from the building, stupidly she went to investigate. She saw the oh so famous radio host, and with a bang of a shotgun the other man was dead. Probably in Heaven now. Trying to stay silent, (Y/n) tried to back away before a branch snapped, like a doe her eyes widened before she darted away, only to be shot right in the heart and drop down to the ground. She heard another shot faintly in the distance before she felt the wind brush past her as she fell.

“My dear, I apologize.” Alastor said, gently grabbing (Y/n)‘s hand. “It was never my intention to make you my target. I knew that if word got out about my….hobbies….that my reputation would be ruined. No more radio show.”

“You can apologize for the rest of eternity” She scowled, smacking his hand away before standing up,” You’re a MONSTER. Leave me ALONE. Hopefully someone down here will be nice, but I’m not taking no help from you”. (Y/n) finally walked away, leaving a very annoyed Alastor sitting there.

———————

About 20 years later

Alastor was a feared Overlord now, rising the ranks out of seemingly nowhere. Even with this newfound power and respect, (Y/n) still wanted nothing to do with him. She was famous in her own way. Music was not very abundant in Hell, and she profited off of that. She had little to no competition in the music industry. Becoming an icon of Hell, her name was in everyone’s mouth, making Alastor yesterday’s news, which irked him to no end.

‘I need her.’ Alastor initially thought,’ with someone as influential as her now, having her on my side will make my power increase tenfold.’ But after many times of asking over the years, he just yearned for her admiration. Not only to be on his side, but by his side. He didn’t know where the newfound obsession came from, but Alastor knew he wouldn’t stop until he brought her to him.

Alastor made his way to her huge studio, basically a small turf at this point. Without ever fighting, she’d managed to become a little bit of an Overlord, just not to the extent she could be called one. He made his way up to her penthouse, knowing the way by heart since this is not the first time he’s made a visit for an alliance.

“What Alastor.” (Y/n) asked, not even looking up from her sheet music she was writing.

“Hello my dear!” Alastor said,”lovely to see you again! I just miss you so much darling!”

“Miss me from what?” She said, turning around to meet his eyes,” we were aquatinted when we were alive, and then you killed me. What exactly do you miss me from?”

“I just miss seeing you.” He said in a softer tone,”Please (Y/n), you must realize that your death was an accident. I was never planning to hurt you. I was never planning to do anything to you.”

(Y/n)’s head tipped down, her ears pressed to her scalp,”but you did, Alastor. You killed me.”

“My dear….” He said, getting closer slowly, like she’d dart off at any given moment, just for him to not see her ever again. “My dear, I cannot imagine the pain you’ve gone through. I know it’s been a few years now, but that’s a few years you could’ve still been alive. Found a husband, had a better music career, just lived. I took that from you, and I’m…..I’m sorry.”

“I know Alastor.” She said, hugging him. Even though he hated when people touched him, she did not know this, so he internally decided to let this one time be the exception. “You know I can never fully forgive you….but after all of these years, I think I can at least try to have you in my life….but if you screw up ANY, I’m gonna kill you. I don’t care if you’re an Overlord or whatever the hell you’re doing, I will kill you like you killed me.”

“Hmm, fair enough” He shrugged, breaking off the hug as he sat down in the chair across from hers.

———————

Present Day

“So hold up” Angel said, looking at the two powerful Overlords,”He literally killed you and you were like, ‘oh well, I forgive you’. What the hell (Y/n)?”

(Y/n) was a true Overlord know. Once she let Alastor back into her life, he taught her the ways of toppling Overlords. She didn’t posses near the amount of power that he had, so he did the gruesome part for her. Building her musical empire (and later on having to shoo of Vox who begged her to join his up and coming ‘Television’ idea after Alastor shot him down).

“Oh I’d hardly call it forgiving.” Alastor said,”I get constantly reminded about it every day, multiple times a day. You wonder why it took us 60 years to even get engaged.”

(Y/n) just rolled her eyes, crossing her arms over her chest. Alastor smirked, looking over at his wife.

“Well, what else was I supposed to do? The man kept coming by begging me every week for TWENTY YEARS!! Lovesick puppy if you ask me.”

Charlie squealed, hugging onto Vaggie. “Look Vaggie! That could be us one day!!”

“I hope not” Vaggie said,” A freaky cannibalistic overlord and his delusional companion. I’m fine with staying as us.”

“No Vaggie! I meant married! Wouldn’t that be fun!! Married for a long time!! Forever!!”

While Charlie was helping Vaggie stop short circuiting, (Y/n) and Alastor just looked at one another with a knowing glance. Alastor took her hand and kissed her knuckles, smiling up at her.

“Thank you again my dear, for letting me back into your life. I’m eternally sorry for what I did.”

“I know you are Alastor, plus I’d be dead already now regardless.” (Y/n) giggled,”I still don’t know what overcame me that day. I mean, who lets someone back into their life after doing that!! I am glad I did though. It’s like you said in that apology, I have a husband, I have a huge music career, but I’m not living, technically, but it feels like it!!”

Alastor chuckled,”that’s right, my precious doe. Now, I am off to go grab lunch for the both of us! If you excuse me, I shall make a trip down to the Cannibal District, and then over to the grocery store for your food!”

———————

Word Count: 1,560

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