#he is actually my dream man like i need him
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friction // gojo satoru
tw ⇢ teacher-student relationship, pet names cx i refuse to use y/n any more than necessary, mutual pining, implied age gap, gojo being a fucking tease, mentioned violence and injuries, sexual tension, unprotected sex, fingering, praise kink, dirty talking
wc ⇢ 10.4k
a/n: meh
If looks could kill, Gojo would be dead and buried 6 feet under right now. You glared at him from across the training hall, your eyes narrowed and your jaw clenched tight. The audacity of this man never ceased to amaze you. Just moments ago, he had casually commented on how your technique needed work, followed by a wink and a smirk that made your blood boil.
It wasn't that you didn't appreciate his guidance. Far from it, actually. Gojo was an incredible teacher, with a wealth of knowledge and experience that you could only dream of. His insights and advice had helped you grow tremendously as a jujutsu sorcerer. But sometimes, his teasing remarks and playful attitude made it hard for you to not wish he was dead.
Gojo, for his part, seemed utterly unfazed by your glare. He stood at the other end of the hall, hands tucked into the pockets of his baggy white pants, his signature smile playing on his lips. The fluorescent lights overhead cast a soft glow on his silver hair, making it look even more ethereal than usual.
"What's the matter, beautiful?" he called out, his voice echoing off the high ceilings. "Don't tell me you're giving up already?"
You gritted your teeth, your hands curling into fists at your sides. The nickname, as always, sent a flurry of butterflies through your stomach, but you refused to let it show. You couldn't give him the satisfaction of knowing the effect he had on you.
"Not a chance," you retorted, shifting into a fighting stance. Your feet were shoulder-width apart, your knees slightly bent, ready to spring into action at a moment's notice. "I'll show you just how much my technique has improved."
Gojo's grin widened, his pearly white teeth gleaming in the light. He beckoned you forward with a lazy wave of his hand, as if he couldn't be bothered to take you seriously. "Then by all means," he said, his tone dripping with amusement. "Come at me with everything you've got."
You didn't need to be told twice. With a burst of speed, you lunged forward, your cursed energy crackling around you like a storm. It was a sensation you had grown accustomed to over the years - the tingling in your fingertips, the rush of power surging through your veins. You channeled that energy into your fists as you threw punch after punch, kick after kick, each one infused with all the frustration and determination that had been building up inside you.
But Gojo was too fast, too skilled. He dodged and weaved around your attacks like they were nothing, his movements fluid and graceful. It was like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands. Every now and then, he would reach out and tap you on the shoulder or the hip, a light touch that sent shivers down your spine and made you lose your focus.
You gritted your teeth, pushing yourself harder. Sweat beaded on your forehead and trickled down the back of your neck, but you barely noticed. All you could focus on was the man in front of you, the infuriating smile on his face, the way he made everything look so effortless.
After what felt like an eternity, you finally stumbled back, your chest heaving and your face flushed with exertion. Your muscles burned with fatigue, and your lungs felt like they were on fire. Gojo, on the other hand, looked as calm and collected as ever, not a hair out of place.
"Not bad," he said, his tone teasing. He walked towards you, his footsteps echoing in the empty hall. "But you're still relying too much on brute force. You need to learn to control your cursed energy, to use it with precision and finesse."
You let out a frustrated huff, blowing a strand of hair out of your face. It was a criticism you had heard before, and one that never failed to get under your skin. "I know," you muttered, looking away. "I'm trying."
Gojo's expression softened, and he took another step towards you. He was close now, close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his body. "Hey," he said, his voice gentle. "I know you are. And you're making progress, even if it doesn't always feel like it."
He reached out and tucked the loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering on your cheek for just a moment too long. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest as his fingers moved a bit lower, gently tilting your head up towards him. His touch was electric, sending sparks of sensation across your skin.
"Keep practicing," Gojo murmured, his eyes locked on yours. Even through the blindfold, you could feel the intensity of his gaze. "And don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it. I'm always here for you, pretty."
You swallowed hard, your mouth suddenly dry. The nickname, combined with the low timbre of his voice and the way his fingers curled around your jaw, made your knees feel weak. It was a feeling you had grown all too familiar with over the months you had spent training with Gojo - a heady mix of attraction and frustration, desire and irritation.
With a final, lingering touch, Gojo pulled away, his hand dropping back to his side. He turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your mind reeling and your skin tingling from his touch. You watched him go, your lips parted and your heart racing.
It was moments like these that made you question everything you thought you knew about your relationship with Gojo. He was your teacher, your mentor, the person who pushed you to be better every single day. But he was also something more, something that made your pulse quicken and your palms sweat.
You shook your head, trying to clear your thoughts. You couldn't afford to get distracted, not now. There was too much at stake, too much you still had to learn. With a sigh, you turned back to the training dummy in the corner of the room, ready to start again.
Days turned into weeks, and you threw yourself into your training with a renewed sense of purpose. You spent long hours in the training hall, perfecting your techniques and honing your skills. When you weren't training, you were out on missions, putting your abilities to the test in the real world.
It was during one of these missions that things took a turn for the worse. You had been tasked with taking down a particularly nasty curse, one that had been terrorizing a small village on the outskirts of Tokyo. It should have been a routine mission, something you had done a hundred times before.
But you had underestimated the curse's strength, and it had caught you off guard. One moment you were on the offensive, your cursed energy pulsing through your veins. The next, you were on the ground, your body battered and bruised, your vision swimming with pain.
You don't remember much of what happened next. There were flashes of light, the sound of shouting, the feeling of strong arms lifting you up and carrying you away. When you finally came to, you were back at the school, lying in a bed in the infirmary.
Gojo was there, sitting by your bedside. He looked haggard, his hair disheveled and his clothes rumpled. When he saw that you were awake, he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees.
"You gave us quite a scare there, beautiful," he said, his voice hoarse. "What were you thinking, taking on that curse alone?"
You winced, both at the nickname and the accusation in his tone. "I didn't have a choice," you said, your voice weak. "It was going to hurt those people. I had to do something."
Gojo sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I know," he said, his voice softening. "But you can't keep putting yourself in danger like that. You're not invincible, you know."
You couldn't help but smile at that. "Look who's talking," you teased, your voice still weak but with a hint of your usual snark. "Mr. 'Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer' himself."
Gojo chuckled, shaking his head. "Fair enough," he said, leaning back in his chair. "But I mean it, you know. You need to be more careful out there."
You nodded, your gaze dropping to your hands. They were bandaged, the white gauze stark against your skin. "I know," you said softly. "I'm sorry for worrying you."
Gojo reached out, his hand covering yours. The warmth of his touch seeped into your skin, chasing away the chill that seemed to have settled into your bones. "Just promise me you'll be more careful from now on," he said, his voice low and intense. "I don't know what I would do if anything happened to you."
Your heart skipped a beat at his words, and you looked up, your eyes meeting his. There was something in his gaze, something that made your breath catch in your throat. It was a look you had seen before, in stolen moments and lingering glances. But this time, there was no mistaking the emotion behind it.
Before you could say anything, a knock at the door startled you both. Gojo pulled his hand away, and you felt the loss of his touch like a physical ache. He stood up, clearing his throat.
"I should let you get some rest," he said, his voice back to its usual nonchalant tone. "I'll check on you later, okay?"
You nodded, watching as he walked towards the door. Just before he left, he turned back, his gaze locking with yours one last time.
"Remember what I said, pretty," he said, his voice soft but firm. "Be careful out there. I need you to come back to me in one piece."
With that, he was gone, leaving you alone with your thoughts and the memory of his touch. You leaned back against the pillows, your eyes drifting shut. Despite the pain and the exhaustion, you couldn't help but smile.
Because even though things were complicated, even though there were a million reasons why you shouldn't feel the way you did, you knew one thing for certain. Gojo cared about you, more than just as a student or a colleague. And that knowledge, warm and bright and shining, was enough to chase away the darkness, at least for a little while.
It was a few days before you were cleared to leave the infirmary, your wounds healing slowly but steadily. Gojo had been a constant presence during your recovery, stopping by to check on you whenever he had a spare moment. He would bring you books and snacks, regaling you with stories of his own misadventures as a young sorcerer.
But as much as you enjoyed his company, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you. There was a new tension in the air, a crackling energy that made your skin prickle whenever he was near. You found yourself watching him more closely, taking in the way his muscles moved beneath his clothes, the way his lips curved when he smiled.
It was maddening, this newfound awareness of him. You tried to push it down, to focus on your recovery and your training. But it was always there, simmering just beneath the surface.
Which is why, when Gojo barged into your room one morning, you nearly jumped out of your skin. You had been in the middle of getting dressed, your sleep shirt halfway over your head when the door slammed open.
"Rise and shine, beautiful!" Gojo called out, his voice far too cheerful for the early hour. "Time to get back to training!"
You yelped, yanking your shirt down and whirling around to face him. "Gojo!" you shouted, your face flushed with embarrassment and anger. "What the hell? Can't you knock like a normal person?"
But Gojo just grinned, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. "Where's the fun in that?" he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Besides, it's not like I haven't seen it all before."
Your jaw dropped, and you sputtered indignantly. "What are you talking about? You haven't seen anything!"
Gojo just shrugged, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering into your room. "If you say so," he said, his voice dripping with amusement. "But I seem to recall a certain someone forgetting to wear a bra to training last week."
You felt your face heat up even more, and you crossed your arms over your chest self-consciously. "That was an accident!" you protested, your voice coming out higher than you intended. "I was in a hurry and I forgot!"
Gojo chuckled, shaking his head. "Sure, sure," he said, his tone making it clear that he didn't believe you for a second. "Whatever you say, pretty."
You glared at him, your eyes narrowed. "Don't call me that," you snapped, your voice tight with anger. "I have a name, you know."
Gojo's grin only widened, and he took a step closer to you. "I know," he said, his voice low and intimate. "But I like calling you pretty. It suits you."
You swallowed hard, your heart pounding in your chest. He was so close now, close enough that you could feel the heat of his body, the brush of his breath against your skin. Your gaze flicked down to his lips, and you felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to close the distance between you, to taste him and feel him and-
Suddenly, Gojo's hands were on your shoulders, and you were being spun around. You yelped in surprise as he pushed you towards the door, his grip firm but gentle.
"As much as I'd love to continue this conversation," he said, his voice strained and a little breathless, "we have work to do. Meet me in the library in ten minutes. And don't be late, or else there will be consequences."
With that, he was gone, leaving you standing in the middle of your room with your heart racing and your skin tingling. You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. It was going to be a long day, you could already tell.
Ten minutes later, you walked into the library, your footsteps echoing on the polished wood floor. Gojo was already there, seated at one of the long tables with a stack of books and papers in front of him. He looked up as you approached, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"There you are," he said, his voice warm and teasing. "I was starting to think you weren't coming."
You rolled your eyes, dropping into the seat across from him. "I'm not that late," you grumbled, pulling one of the books towards you. "What are we working on today?"
Gojo pushed a sheet of paper towards you, his fingers brushing against yours as he did so. "Your essay on cursed techniques," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone. "I've made some notes on areas that need improvement."
You nodded, your eyes scanning the page. Gojo's handwriting was neat and precise, his comments and suggestions written in the margins. You felt a swell of pride as you read through them, noting the things you had done well and the things you needed to work on.
For the next few hours, you worked in companionable silence, the only sound the scratching of pens on paper and the turning of pages. Every now and then, Gojo would lean over to point out something in one of the books, his shoulder brushing against yours as he did so. Each time, you felt a jolt of electricity run through you, a shiver of something that had nothing to do with the chill of the library.
As the hours ticked by, you felt your eyelids growing heavy, your head nodding forward. You had been up late the night before, studying for an upcoming exam, and the lack of sleep was catching up with you. You tried to focus on the words in front of you, but they seemed to swim and blur on the page.
Suddenly, you felt gentle fingers curl around the back of your neck, and you blinked your eyes open. Gojo was leaning over you, his face soft with concern. "Hey," he said, his voice low and soothing. "Why don't you take a break? You look exhausted."
You shook your head, sitting up straighter in your chair. "I'm fine," you said, your voice thick with sleep. "I need to finish this chapter."
But Gojo just shook his head, his hand still on your nape, his thumb absently rubbing your skin. "It can wait," he said firmly. "You need to rest. Here, why don't you put your head down for a bit? I'll wake you up in a little while."
You wanted to protest, to insist that you were fine. But the warmth of his hand on your skin, the gentle pressure of his fingers, was too much to resist. With a sigh, you nodded, lowering your head onto your folded arms.
As your eyes drifted shut, you felt Gojo's hand move from your neck to your hair, his fingers carding through the strands. It was a soothing motion, gentle and rhythmic, and you felt yourself sinking deeper into sleep with each passing moment.
As Gojo watched you sleep, he felt a profound sense of peace wash over him. It was a rare thing for him, to feel so content, so at ease. But something about your presence, the gentle rise and fall of your chest, the soft curve of your lips, made all the troubles of the world seem to fade away.
Unable to help himself, he reached out, his fingertips ghosting over the delicate skin of your face. He traced the slope of your nose, marveling at the smoothness, the perfect symmetry. His touch was feather-light, a whisper of sensation, but even so, he felt a thrill run through him at the contact.
His fingers drifted lower, skimming over the soft swell of your cheeks, the strong line of your jaw. And then, almost of their own accord, they came to rest on your lips.
Gojo's breath caught in his throat as he felt the plush fullness of your mouth beneath his fingertips. Your lips were slightly parted, soft and inviting, and he felt a sudden, overwhelming urge to lean down and capture them with his own.
He imagined how it would feel, to press his lips against yours, to taste the sweetness of your breath. He wondered if you would sigh into the kiss, if you would reach up to tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him closer.
The thought sent a shiver down his spine, a heat pooling in his belly. He had kissed countless people before, had experienced pleasure in all its myriad forms. But somehow, he knew that kissing you would be different. It would be a revelation, a moment of perfect clarity in a world that so often seemed shrouded in shadow.
His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, a ghost of a touch, and he heard you sigh softly in your sleep. The sound was like a siren's call, tempting him, beckoning him closer.
But even as the desire surged through him, hot and insistent, Gojo knew he couldn't act on it. Not now, not like this. You were his student, entrusted to his care, and to take advantage of that trust would be a betrayal of the highest order.
And so, with a herculean effort, he pulled his hand away, clenching it into a fist at his side. He took a deep breath, then another, trying to calm the pounding of his heart, the rush of his blood in his veins.
Minutes ticked by, then hours, and still Gojo sat by your side, his hand resting gently on your back. He knew he should wake you, send you back to your room to rest properly, but he couldn't bring himself to disturb your slumber.
Finally, as the sun began to set outside the library windows, Gojo knew he couldn't let you sleep any longer. Carefully, he gathered you into his arms, cradling you against his chest as he stood.
You stirred slightly, your eyes fluttering open. "Sensei?" you murmured, your voice thick with sleep. "What's happening?"
"Shh," he soothed, his voice low and gentle. "It's alright. You fell asleep while we were studying. I'm just taking you back to your room so you can rest."
You hummed softly, your eyes drifting shut again as you nestled closer to his warmth. Gojo felt his heart skip a beat at the trust in that simple gesture, the way you curled into him as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
He carried you through the quiet halls of the school, his footsteps echoing softly on the polished floors. A few students passed by, their eyes widening at the sight of their teacher carrying a sleeping student, but Gojo paid them no mind. All that mattered was getting you to your room, making sure you were safe and comfortable.
When he reached your door, he shifted you slightly in his arms, freeing one hand to turn the knob. The room was dark and quiet, the only sound the soft whisper of your breath against his neck.
Gently, Gojo laid you down on your bed, pulling the covers up over your shoulders. You sighed softly, your face turning into the pillow, and he felt a rush of affection so strong it nearly took his breath away.
For a long moment, he simply stood there, watching you sleep. He knew he should leave, knew that staying any longer would be inappropriate. But he couldn't seem to tear himself away, couldn't stop himself from reaching out to brush one last strand of hair from your face.
"Sweet dreams, pretty," he whispered, his voice so low he wasn't sure you would hear it. "I'll see you in the morning."
With that, he turned and slipped out of your room, closing the door softly behind him. His heart was racing in his chest, his mind whirling with thoughts and feelings he couldn't quite name.
But one thing was clear, as clear as the memory of your warmth in his arms, the softness of your skin beneath his fingertips. He was falling for you, hard and fast and irrevocably. And though he knew it was wrong, knew that he shouldn't feel the way he did, he couldn't seem to stop himself.
All he could do was hope that somehow, someday, you might feel the same way too.
The next day, you found yourself back in the training hall with Gojo, your heart still fluttering madly at the memory of his gentle touch as he carried you to bed. You tried to push those dangerously tempting thoughts aside and focus on honing your cursed techniques - but Gojo, it seemed, had other ideas.
From the moment you stepped into the hall, he was on you, teasing and taunting, pushing your buttons in all the ways he knew so well. He corrected your stances with lingering touches, his breath hot against your ear as he leaned in close to adjust your posture.
"Come on, beautiful," he purred, voice low and intimate. "You can do better than that. Show me what you're really made of."
You gritted your teeth, frustration mounting with each passing moment. It was hard enough to concentrate with him invading your space, his presence an electric current setting your nerve-endings alight. But as he kept goading you, pushing and pushing until you felt like screaming, something inside you finally snapped.
With a growl of unadulterated rage, you lunged at him, hands outstretched to grab him by his shirt. Gojo's eyes widened in surprise but he didn't dodge, letting you tackle him to the mats, your body pinning his down.
For a charged moment, you could only stare at each other, chests heaving. You were suddenly hyperaware of every point of contact - the press of his strong thighs between yours, the firmness of his abdomen, the intoxicating heat radiating off him. His muscles flexed as he shifted slightly but made no move to throw you off.
He breathed your name like a prayer on his lips. "What are you doing...?"
Blinking, you came back to yourself, a hot flush creeping up your neck as you realized the position you were in. Straddling your teacher, hands fisted in his clothes, faces inches apart... Mortified, you tried to scramble off him, only for his hands to tighten around your hips, keeping you on top of him.
"I-I'm so sorry," you stammered, refusing to meet his eyes. "I don't know what came over me. I shouldn't have let my emotions get the best of me like that."
But Gojo just sat up slowly, gently letting you slide down his stomach and onto his lap as he waved off your apology. "It's alright. I pushed you too hard. I know how much your training means to you."
Glancing up, you found him watching you with a soft, almost vulnerable expression that made your heart clench painfully. He reached out, hand cupping your cheek and tilting your face up to his blindfolded one.
"You have nothing to be sorry for. You're doing your best and that's all anyone can ask. I'm proud of you."
Hearing those words in his deep baritone, you felt emotion welling up, threatening to spill over. Throat tight, you managed a weak smile, leaning into his touch briefly before sliding out of his lap.
"Thank you, Sensei. I think I'm done for today though. I need some time to clear my head and refocus."
His hand fell away reluctantly but he nodded in understanding, rising fluidly to his feet and offering you a hand up. You allowed him to pull you up, hyperaware of the way his long fingers wrapped around yours, the rough calluses from years of fighting scraping pleasantly along your skin.
"Of course. Take all the time you need. And remember, I'm here if you ever want to talk. Or not talk." He shot you a playful wink.
Rolling your eyes fondly, you thanked him again before beating a hasty retreat from the quickly shrinking training room. You felt his heavy gaze on your back the entire way out.
The next few days passed in a blur of intense focus. You threw yourself into your studies, determined to master new techniques and grow stronger. But no matter how hard you concentrated, Gojo lingered at the edges of your thoughts, a phantom touch ghosting along your cheek.
He remained an inescapable presence even outside of training - "accidentally" brushing against you in the halls, showing up at the library during your study sessions, barging into your room unannounced at all hours. His teasing and flirting ratcheted up to nearly unbearable levels now that he knew the depths of his effect on you.
And lord, but you wanted nothing more than to give in, to grab him by his stupid collar and kiss that infuriating smirk right off his face. However, you couldn't let your desires interfere with your duties. The world of jujutsu was dangerous and letting yourself get distracted could mean death for you or innocent civilians.
So you grit your teeth and endured his antics, ignoring the knowing gleam in his eyes and the heat pooling in your core whenever he shot you a particularly roguish grin. You had to be strong, to remember your place as his student.
Even if every fiber of your being ached to be so much more.
Matters finally came to a head one rainy afternoon during an advanced technique lesson. Soaked to the bone and exhausted from hours of practice, you found yourself pinned to the mats yet again, Gojo's knee pressing into your thigh as he loomed over you.
Blowing a damp lock of hair out of your face, you scowled up at him petulantly. "Okay, I get it. I over extended on that last kick. No need to rub it in."
But he made no move to release you, head cocked slightly as if deep in thought. There was an odd tension in his frame that hadn't been there a moment ago. "Gojo...?"
His gaze snapped back to you, unseen eyes boring into yours with startling intensity. Without warning, his free hand came up, thumb tracing along your lower lip in a slow drag that left you trembling.
Your mouth parted on a shocked gasp just as he leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear in a ghost of a touch. "You have no idea what you do to me. How badly I want to ruin you."
And then he was gone, leaving you splayed across the floor, body throbbing and mind reeling. By the time you gathered your wits enough to sit up, the training room door was already swinging shut behind his retreating back.
Staggering to your feet, you headed for the showers in a daze, thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. Did Gojo really feel the same way you did? Was he implying what you thought?
No. You shook your head, sending droplets flying. Indulging in this fantasy would only end in heartbreak. He couldn't possibly return your feelings. More likely this was another strategy to fluster and throw you off balance. Just a new twist in your increasingly dangerous game.
Still, you couldn't stop the tiny kernel of hope from taking root in your chest as you let the scalding spray beat down on you, imagining elegant fingers tangling in your hair instead.
Dangerous game indeed.
A few days later, you found yourself back in the training hall again, feeling more centered and focused than you had in a long time. You went through your usual warm-up routine, stretching your muscles and getting your blood flowing.
As you bent forward to touch your toes, you heard a low whistle of appreciation from behind you. Glancing over your shoulder, you saw Gojo leaning against the wall, arms crossed over his chest and a smirk playing on his lips. His gaze raked slowly up your body, taking in every curve and plane, and you felt a shiver run down your spine at the blatant desire in his eyes.
"Well, well, well," he drawled, voice rich with amusement. "Looks like someone's been hiding a secret talent. I had no idea you were so...flexible."
You straightened up, turning to face him fully. The air between you practically crackled with tension as you met his gaze head-on, refusing to back down from the challenge in his tone. "There's a lot you don't know about me, sensei," you said, voice low and teasing.
Gojo pushed off the wall, stalking towards you with a predatory gleam in his eye. "Is that so?" he murmured, stopping just shy of touching you. "Well then, maybe it's time for a private lesson. Just you and me, working on your flexibility."
Your heart stuttered at the implication, desire licking through your veins like wildfire. But you forced yourself to keep a coy smile in place, unwilling to let him fluster you so easily. "I don't know, sensei," you purred. "Do you think you can handle me?"
His answering grin was positively wicked as he leaned in close, breath fanning hotly over your ear. "Oh, beautiful," he purred back, "I think the real question is, can you handle me?"
Before you could formulate a response, Gojo was guiding you into a new stretch, hands firm on your hips as he positioned you. The heat of his touch seared through the thin material of your clothes and you bit your lip harshly, fighting back a whimper.
He led you through a series of increasingly challenging poses, hands roaming your body under the guise of deepening each stretch. You arched into his touch, skin burning everywhere he made contact, desire clouding your mind until all you could focus on was the low rasp of his voice in your ear and the delicious ache building between your thighs.
At one point, he had you bent nearly in half, chest pressed to the floor with your legs splayed out in a side split. Gojo knelt behind you, hands kneading your lower back as he urged you to sink deeper. "That's it," he murmured, "Just a little further. You're doing so good for me, pretty."
The praise ran through you like a live current, sparking along every nerve and setting you ablaze. You could feel the solid heat of him at your back and had to choke back a moan, fingers curling uselessly against the mats.
Just as you thought you might actually combust from the tension, Gojo eased you up, hands gentle on your waist as he helped you stand. "I think that's enough for today," he said softly, though the roughness of his voice belied his innocent expression. "You did great. I'm proud of you."
You managed a shaky nod, not trusting yourself to speak around the lump in your throat. He was so close, radiating warmth and barely leashed power, the clean scent of him filling your lungs until you felt dizzy with it.
For a suspended moment, you both stood frozen, lost in the gravity of everything left unsaid. Your eyes traced the strong line of his jaw, the tempting curve of his lips. When his tongue darted out to wet them, your self-control nearly snapped then and there.
But Gojo stepped back before you could do something foolish, putting much-needed distance between your bodies. "I'll see you tomorrow, [Y/N]," he said, casual and cheerful once more. "Get some rest, okay? You've earned it."
With that, he turned on his heel and sauntered off, hands tucked in his pockets. You watched him go, equal parts frustrated and relieved. These stolen moments were getting harder and harder to write off as simple teasing between teacher and student.
How much longer could you keep dancing around this inferno threatening to consume you both? Sooner or later, something would have to give. You only hoped you'd survive the fallout.
Sighing, you gathered your things and headed for the showers, resolutely ignoring the persistent ache low in your stomach. Tonight would be another long one with only your fantasies for company.
The joint mission a few weeks later was grueling, both physically and emotionally. Tracking down the malevolent curse spirit took every ounce of skill and power you possessed, pushing you to your limits and then some. But in the end, you emerged victorious - if a bit worse for wear.
Stumbling into the hotel lobby, you barely registered Gojo handling the check-in process, too focused on remaining vertical. Every muscle screamed in protest and your clothes were caked in dirt, blood, and things you'd rather not think about.
It wasn't until you were standing outside the room that his words finally sank in. "I'm sorry," you said, blinking hard. "Did you say there's only one bed?"
Gojo shrugged, looking entirely too unconcerned. "Yep. Apparently they messed up the reservation. But hey, I'm sure we can make do. We're both adults, right?"
He shot you a pointed look over his shoulder as he unlocked the door, lips quirking up slightly at your gaping expression. Before you could formulate a response, he was ushering you inside the lavish suite.
You froze just over the threshold, eyes widening at the sight before you. Plush carpet, elegant furnishings, a bed big enough to fit five people - it was easily the nicest room you'd ever stepped foot in. But all you could focus on was that single, massive bed dominating the space.
Gojo, however, wasted no time making himself at home. In a few long strides, he crossed the room and flopped backward onto the sinfully soft-looking comforter, spreading his arms out with a contented sigh.
"Ah, this is more like it! Way better than those stiff dorm cots, don't you think?"
Forcing your gaze away from the distracting stretch of his body, you gave a noncommittal hum, edging further into the room. The door swung shut with an ominous click, sealing you in with the one person you simultaneously most and least wanted to be alone with.
Dragging your eyes back to Gojo, you fought down a shiver at the blatant invitation in his posture, the teasing curl of his lips. With his rumpled hair and half-lidded eyes, he looked like pure sin sprawled out on the bed, begging to be debauched.
"Well? Aren't you going to join me?" He patted the space beside him. "There's plenty of room for two."
Your heart threatened to beat out of your chest at the implication, mouth going bone dry. This was dangerous territory - you were exhausted and aching, defenses worn down to nothing. If you lay beside him now...
Scrambling for some semblance of composure, you cleared your throat and looked away, deliberately casual. "Actually, I was thinking we should probably get some sleep. Separate sleep. It's been a long day."
The pout Gojo leveled at you was downright deadly, plush bottom lip enticing you to catch it between your teeth. "Aw, c'mon beautiful! The night's still young. And we've got this big, empty room all to ourselves..." He trailed off meaningfully.
Flushing, you turned your back on him completely, rummaging through your bag for something to sleep in. "I don't know, sensei. What exactly did you have in mind?"
In a blink, strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind, pulling you back into his firm chest. You gasped, nearly choking on air when his lips brushed teasingly over your ear. "Come here and I'll show you," he purred, hands settling low on your hips.
You settled down beside Gojo on the plush hotel bed, your heart fluttering nervously in your chest. The mattress dipped slightly under your combined weight as you perched on the edge, trying to maintain a respectable distance. For a long moment, you simply sat there in charged silence, acutely aware of his presence mere inches away. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, hear the soft rustling of fabric as he shifted almost imperceptibly closer.
Gojo's face was unreadable behind his ever-present blindfold, but you swore you could feel the intensity of his gaze raking over you, taking in every detail. The air practically crackled with unspoken tension, the space between you ripe with possibility. Your own eyes drifted unbidden to his lips, tracing the curve of that infamous smirk. What would it feel like, you wondered, to lean in and finally taste it for yourself? Your breath quickened at the thought.
Just as you gathered the courage to break the stalemate, Gojo's hands shot out lightning-quick, long fingers finding the sensitive spots along your ribs. An undignified yelp escaped your throat as you squirmed away, body instinctively curling in on itself even as surprised laughter bubbled up.
"Gojo!" you gasped between breathless giggles and half-hearted swats, "What are you doing?"
His grin only widened, eyes glinting with mischief behind dark lashes.
"Just trying to liven things up a bit," he replied, voice dropping to a low, playful register that sent shivers down your spine. "You looked like you could use a little fun."
Two could play at that game. Narrowing your eyes in mock outrage, a wicked idea suddenly struck. "Oh, is that so?" you purred, saccharine sweet. "Well then, sensei, prepare yourself."
Quick as a flash, your hand darted out to snatch a downy pillow and, with a mighty swing, you brought it crashing over his silver head in a magnificent explosion of feathers. His shocked bark of laughter was muffled by the impromptu weapon as you pressed your advantage, raining down fluffy blows.
Thus began the most epic pillow fight to ever grace the luxury suite. You traded volleys back and forth, a whirlwind of flying bedding and unrestrained glee. Propriety utterly abandoned, you rolled about in a graceless tangle of limbs, each trying to gain the upper hand. Your cheeks hurt from grinning, lungs burning with giddy exertion.
In that stolen moment, you weren't teacher and student, sorcerer and subordinate. You were just two young, bright souls, reveling in a reprieve from the darkness constantly nipping at your heels. Here, now, nothing existed beyond this room and the carefree laughter ringing between you.
An eternity later, chest heaving, you finally collapsed side by side in the carnage, utterly spent. Glancing over, you took in Gojo's flushed, boyish face, usually perfectly coifed hair in complete disarray, a smattering of errant feathers clinging stubbornly to the wild silver tufts. Something warm and fluttering took roost behind your breastbone at the sight.
Basking in the afterglow, it took you a moment to register your compromising position - sprawled on your back, body pressed along the solid line of his, faces scant inches apart. His arm draped loosely across your middle felt unnaturally heavy, intimate.
For a single, suspended second, you forgot how to breathe, drowning instead in this strange new awareness buzzing just beneath your skin. Gojo seemed similarly affected, features slipping into something contemplative and tender as elegant fingers traitorously began tracing delicate patterns over the exposed sliver of hip where your shirt had ridden up. You shivered at the whisper-soft touch.
"Gojo," you breathed, barely audible over the roaring in your ears.
"Shh," he hushed you gently, hand coming to rest soothingly at your waist. "It's okay, pretty. Just relax."
And then, rather than pressing the burgeoning tension simmering between you, he tugged you closer into the shelter of his arms, tucking your head beneath his chin. The embrace was chaste, devoid of ulterior motive, and yet all the more earth-shattering for it. Closing your eyes, you let yourself sink into his steadying warmth, lulled by the rhythmic drumming of his heartbeat against your cheek.
A huge yawn suddenly overtook you, eyelids growing heavy. The adrenaline of the day was quickly seeping away, leaving pleasant exhaustion in its wake. "Get some sleep," Gojo murmured into your hair, voice rumbling through his chest. "I'll be right here if you need me."
And though your racing thoughts screamed that you shouldn't, that this was toeing a dangerous line, you couldn't find it in yourself to care. Surrounded by comfort and safety, bonelessly relaxed in a way you so rarely allowed yourself, you drifted off into a dreamless slumber, content in the knowledge that he would guard you through the night.
The next morning, however, you awoke alone, the space beside you long since grown cold. Disappointment and uncertainty churned in your gut, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. Had you simply imagined the intimacy of the previous evening? Mistaken a meaningless moment of pity for something more? With a groan, you buried your burning face into the pillow.
It was only when you rolled over that you spotted it - a folded square of hotel stationery perched neatly on the nightstand. With trembling fingers, you retrieved the note, heart pounding as you unfolded it to reveal Gojo's elegant scrawl.
"Had to run out for a bit," it read. "See you back at the school. Sweet dreams, beautiful."
A broad, silly grin split your cheeks as you traced reverent fingertips over the words, lingering on the private endearment. Clutched to your chest like a talisman, you fell back onto the bed with a giddy sigh, staring up at the ceiling with stars in your eyes. Your smile never wavered the entire trip home.
A few weeks later, you found yourself standing morosely in Gojo's apartment kitchen, every available surface covered with an explosion of baking supplies. It was a dizzying array of flour, sugar, chocolate, fruit - everything you'd need to whip up an impressive assortment of mouth-watering desserts.
Unfortunately, this wasn't some cozy bonding activity - it was a punishment. After your abject failure on a recent mission, Gojo had been understandably livid. His normally unflappable composure had fractured, revealing the sheer depth of his terror and concern.
The cursed object you'd gone after solo was more dangerous than anticipated and you'd been severely injured in the ensuing scuffle. "How could you be so reckless?" he'd demanded, voice ragged with some unnameable emotion. "You could have been killed. Do you have any idea how that would have made me feel?"
Shame had burned through you like acid, head bowed under the weight of his agonized stare. "I'm sorry, sensei," you'd mumbled, fighting back the sting of tears. "I didn't mean to let you down."
Running a hand through his wild silver locks, Gojo had deflated slightly. "I know you didn't," he'd sighed, "but you need to be more careful. I can't lose you, pretty."
Your heart had stuttered at the raw admission, eyes wide and disbelieving as you'd finally met his gaze. But he'd looked away before you could respond, expression closing off into something unreadable once more.
That's how you'd ended up here, consigned to a grueling weekend of non-stop baking. "And I expect nothing short of perfection," he'd declared with that familiar smirk. "Since you're so determined to waste your talents, we're going to put them to the test."
Countless hours in and you were ready to well and truly throttle him. He hadn't been content to simply observe your cake-fueled toil, oh no - he'd posted up in the kitchen alongside you, providing a ceaseless stream of 'helpful suggestions' in that low, melodic drawl.
Whisk clattering into the mixing bowl, you slapped an indignant hand over your mouth to muffle a traitorous whimper as Gojo materialized at your back. His chest pressed flush to your spine, breath curling sinfully around the shell of your ear as he bent to examine your handiwork. "Make sure you cream the butter and sugar together really well," he purred, palm skimming down to rest at the small of your back. "Nice and slow, just like that."
Squeezing your eyes shut, you prayed to any merciful god that he'd attribute your full-body shiver to the chill of the refrigerator still wafting over your overheated skin. And lord have mercy, his hands - those long, dexterous fingers you'd spent far too many lonely nights imagining on your body were definitely, unequivocally sliding down to grip your hips, thumbs tracing maddening circles over the jut of bone through your thin leggings.
A sharp inhale had you glancing over, catching him in the act of slipping a digit into the mixing bowl for an illicit taste. He made a low sound of approval as he brought it to his lips, tongue peeking out to swipe broad strokes over the creamy coating. "Mmm, delicious," he sighed, hooded eyes ensnaring yours. "But I bet it would taste even better off of you."
You sucked in a sharp breath, the very air seeming to thicken with tension as Gojo's darkening gaze bored into yours. Before you could so much as form a coherent thought, his hand whipped out to capture your wrist in an unforgiving grip. Calloused fingertips skated over your knuckles before tugging your hand towards his mouth with agonizing slowness.
Heart pounding wildly, you could only look on in rapt fascination as he purposefully dragged the pad of your sugar-dusted index finger between the plush seam of his lips. The soft, lived warmth of his mouth engulfed the very tip as his eyelids fluttered in apparent rapture. An embarrassingly needy whimper punched its way past your constricted throat at the erotic display.
Gojo's stare remained locked on yours as his tongue slowly unfurled, swiping in languid, maddening stripes to lave up the sticky-sweet trail. You watched, transfixed, as his cheeks hollowed minutely on each indulgent suckle. The bolt of molten, aching want that lanced straight to your core was dizzying in its intensity, leaving you flushed and swaying dazedly into his solid frame.
When at last he released your fingertip with one final, lingering lap of his rough tongue, the tortured sound he dragged from your parted lips bordered on the obscene.
Suddenly, the once-spacious kitchen felt stiflingly small, air too hot and heavy to pull into your lungs. Unbidden, your gaze darted down to trace his mouth, lingering on the sheen of saliva clinging to his plush lower lip. What would it be like, you wondered wildly, to surge up on your toes and lick it off? To finally give into the temptation that had plagued you since that night in the hotel room and discover if he tasted as sinful as he looked?
It was only when his smirk widened into a full-blown Cheshire grin that you realized you'd been caught staring like a dog with its tongue lolling out. Heat rapidly flooded your cheeks as you whipped back around, praying to spontaneously combust on the spot. A ghost of a touch through your hair had you swallowing harshly, fingers white-knuckled against the edge of the countertop. You could practically feel the path of his gaze as it dragged up the rigid line of your spine but you refused to turn, terrified of what he might see written across your face were you to meet his eyes right now.
The press of lips just behind your ear had you jerking, an embarrassing squeak punching out of your throat. "Good girl," he rumbled, and the blatant satisfaction in his voice made you want to drown yourself in the bowl of egg whites you'd just finished whisking within an inch of its life. "I knew you had it in you."
Gritting your teeth, you forced yourself to focus on the task at hand, losing yourself in the soothing monotony of measuring, mixing and portioning out heaping trays of dough into uniform spheres. Soon enough, you found yourself pleasantly adrift in the familiar haze of concentration that came with long hours in the kitchen. The sweet scent of vanilla and cinnamon filled your senses as you bustled about from oven to oven, carefully monitoring pans of cookies and intricate latticed pies.
Lulled into complacency by the peaceful atmosphere, you never even heard Gojo sneak up until large palms were wrapping securely around your waist, tugging your back into the solid heat of his chest. Blinking sluggishly, you glanced down at the thick pot of bubbling caramel you'd been methodically stirring moments before.
"Careful, pretty," he chided gently, maneuvering the spoon to the far edges where a few darker swirls were beginning to creep in. "Don't let it burn."
Only when he was certain you wouldn't scald yourself or ruin the batch did he release you, though not without a teasing little squeeze that had your cheeks coloring all over again.
By the time the last tray finally emerged from the oven, golden and steaming, you were dangerously close to faceplanting right into your latest culinary creation. Gojo eased the spoon from your cramping hand, brows furrowed as he scrutinized your slumped posture.
"Hey," he prompted gently, "You okay, beautiful?"
Too exhausted to bother fudging the truth, you shook your head, fighting to keep your drooping lids from sliding shut altogether. "Just tired," you yawned, "Guess it really has been a long day."
Something soft flashed across Gojo's face then, gone too quickly to properly parse. Large hands settled on your hips as he turned you to face him fully, head cocked assessingly. After apparently coming to some silent conclusion, he bent at the knees and, without warning, hoisted you up onto the countertop in one fluid movement, fingers pressing against your hips.
"Rest," he commanded, cutting off your half-hearted protest with a stern look. Long fingers carded adoringly through your hair, brushing stray strands back from your clammy forehead. You nearly purred at the soothing contact, lashes fluttering wildly against your cheeks.
When he shifted to pull back, one of your hands shot out of its own accord, fisting in the front of his shirt to tug him stumbling into the bracket of your thighs. Wide eyes locked on his, so close you swore you could see a ring of silver around those striking pools of blue. For a charged moment, the only sound was your shared breathing and the faint bubble of cooling caramel on the stovetop.
A muscle ticked in Gojo's jaw and then he was leaning in, the warm brush of lips at your temple practically scorching in its tenderness. "I'll finish up here," he promised in a rough whisper before disentangling himself to shoo you off towards the nearby couch. Already half-asleep, you were powerless to resist as your legs moved on autopilot.
Burrowing into the plush cushions, you watched through heavy lids as Gojo puttered around the kitchen, putting away ingredients and packaging up an explosion of colorful delights. The low rumble of his absentminded humming buoyed you gently into slumber as your heartbeat slowed to match the steady cadence.
These quiet moments of care and support, you thought drowsily, were worth more than a thousand love songs blasting from the rooftops. Here, in the shelter of his presence, the world narrowed down to just the two of you, separate from the darkness and chaos outside.
Hand outstretched in hopeless yearning, you finally succumbed to sleep's inexorable pull, dreams full of silver hair and secret smiles. A single word ghosted past your lips like a prayer just before you went under.
"Satoru."
And then there was only blissful darkness.
Your eyes fluttered open at the feeling of gentle fingers carding through your hair. Gojo was seated beside you on the couch, gaze soft as he watched over your slumber.
"Hey there, sleepyhead," he murmured, voice a deep rumble that sent tingles down your spine. "Feel any better?"
You hummed an affirmative, stretching languidly before settling back against the plush cushions. "Much. Thank you for letting me recharge."
Gojo's smile broadened and he shifted closer, arm draping along the back of the couch behind you. "Of course. I know how hard you've been working." His tone sobered. "I don't want you running yourself ragged like that again though, okay pretty? Promise me you'll take it easier from now on."
Meeting his intense stare, you felt yourself getting lost in the molten blue of his eyes, deeper and more turbulent than any ocean. "I promise," you whispered, transfixed.
Something flickered across his expression then, tender and wanting. Slowly, giving you ample time to pull away, Gojo leaned in until his brow rested gently against yours, breaths mingling in the scant space between you. Your eyes slid shut of their own accord as his nose brushed tenderly along yours in an achingly intimate caress.
And then, softer than a sigh, his lips were on yours - a gossamer brush at first before settling in a warm, unhurried glide. Instinctively, you wound your arms around his neck, pulling him closer until the hard planes of his body bracketed you against the cushions. He went willingly, slotting one lean thigh between your parted legs as his tongue teased at the seam of your mouth in a silent request for deeper exploration.
A low keen escaped the back of your throat as you opened for him eagerly. He surged forward with renewed fervor, mouth moving over yours in a heated glide of searing, slick heat as he coaxed your tongues into a sensual dance. Utterly intoxicated, your fingers wound into the thick strands at his nape, holding him close as your senses drowned in the taste, smell and feel of him surrounding you.
Gojo cradled you reverently, one broad palm cupping your jaw while the other mapped the dip of your waist through the thin material of your shirt. You arched shamelessly into his touch, chasing that electrifying tingle that sparked across your nerves with every heated caress. An embarrassingly needy whine slipped free when he finally pulled back, putting barely an inch between your lips as you both struggled to breathe.
"Satoru," you rasped out, practically delirious with wanting. You could feel his smile against your mouth as he reclaimed it in another breathtaking kiss, slower but no less intense.
"I've got you, pretty girl," he purred between devastating sweeps of his talented tongue. "I'll always take such good care of you."
You believed him wholeheartedly in that moment, drowning in sensation as his touch grew bolder, both cherishing and claiming every inch of newly exposed skin. Rational thought fled in the wake of his ardent worship, the world shrinking down to just his body, his hands, his sinful mouth rendering you into an incoherent, needy mess.
Distantly, you recognized this as a line you could never uncross - a point of no return. But Gojo was so warm, so solid and reassuring around you that you couldn't find it in yourself to care about consequences. Not when he was pillaging your lips with such fervent devotion, hands mapping out every shudder and whimper he pulled from your rapidly unraveling form.
All you knew was that you never wanted this to end, this sublime sublime torture of hands and lips and roaming caresses that stoked your desire ever higher into an inextinguishable blaze. Fisting in his hair, you pulled him impossibly closer with a wounded sound.
"Please," you begged against his mouth, though you weren't quite sure what you were asking for. More, everything, a lifetime of this sublime rapture - you needed it all like you needed air to breathe.
Gojo simply hummed low in his throat, the vibration doing devastatingly sinful things to your already overheated skin. "Always so greedy for me," he purred, rolling his hips in one lazy, purposeful grind that punched the air from your lungs. "Don't worry, baby. I'm going to take such good care of you."
True to his word, he lost himself in lavishing every inch of exposed skin with hot, open-mouth kisses until you were trembling and writhing beneath him. Only then did he trail scorching paths lower, intent on learning exactly what sounds and caresses could reduce his normally unflappable student to a whimpering, pleading mess.
Your clothes quickly became a haphazard pile on the floor, joining the growing heap of his discarded layers. His dexterous fingers found purchase everywhere they touched, sending lightning bolts of pleasure zinging through your veins until all you could do was cling to him desperately.
Gojo was no less affected, his usually immaculate silver locks falling in a disheveled halo around his head, cheeks flushed and pupils blown wide with lust. The sight was almost enough to send you careening over the edge right then and there.
His smirk told you he knew precisely the effect he was having. "Look at you," he praised in a low, silken drawl, "so beautiful and needy for me. Are you gonna be a good girl and come for me?"
You nearly sobbed as his clever fingers curled perfectly inside you, coaxing you higher and higher, until you were practically vibrating with the strain.
"So perfect, my sweet girl. Such a good little slut, taking my fingers like that. C'mon, let go, beautiful. Come for me."
With a strangled cry, you shattered, back arching off the couch as his mouth latched onto one rosy peak, teeth catching on the hardened bud in a delicious bite of pain. He worked you through the waves, whispering sinful praises into the sweat-slick skin of your breasts as you shuddered and quaked around his hand.
The aftershocks still hadn't abated when he was flipping you onto your hands and knees, kneeling behind you with his cock in hand. You watched with lidded eyes, heart skittering in your chest as he pumped lazily, his other hand coming to grip your hip.
"Gonna make you feel so good, pretty," he promised, dragging the flushed head over your entrance teasingly. "Want to see you fall apart on my cock. You're gonna look so gorgeous when I fuck you full, mark you up so everyone knows who you belong to."
The words set your entire body alight, a fresh surge of arousal trickling down your trembling thighs. A breathless whimper was all you could manage, eyes rolling back at the delicious drag of his cock against your oversensitive flesh.
With a groan, Gojo sheathed himself fully in one slow thrust, burying his cock to the hilt. Your head fell forward with a breathless cry, spine curving instinctively to deepen the angle.
"God, look at you, baby," he gasped, sounding utterly wrecked. "Fuck, you're so perfect, so tight around me. Such a good girl, taking me so well."
And then, without further preamble, he was pulling out nearly to the tip before snapping his hips back home in a relentless tempo that had the couch squeaking and shaking beneath you.
The room was filled with the obscene sounds of your skin slapping together, punctuated by his rough grunts and your high-pitched keens. You couldn't even muster the strength to move, could only kneel there and take whatever he chose to give you, his grip on your hips the only thing keeping you upright.
He pounded into you hard and fast, the delicious stretch of him nearly overwhelming in its intensity. Every nerve was lit aflame, a wildfire racing through your veins. You were so close, you could feel the precipice rushing up to meet you.
"Touch yourself for me, pretty," he urged, hips slamming into yours. "Let me feel you come."
Your hand shot down to frantically circle your clit, fingers slipping over the sensitive nub with practiced ease. Within seconds, your body was locking up, vision whiting out as clear fluid gushed out of you, drenching the couch beneath you.
"That's it," Gojo groaned, hips stuttering. "Fucking squirt for me, beautiful."
With a muffled curse, he buried himself balls deep, fingers digging painfully into your waist as he pumped rope after rope of hot cum into you. You could feel every throb, the pulse of his cock as he filled you up.
Afterwards, you collapsed into an exhausted, sweaty heap, utterly boneless. You floated on a cloud of endorphins, drifting hazily through the haze of afterglow.
It was only once Gojo's breath had slowed and steadied that you finally dared to glance up, half-afraid you'd see regret or remorse etched into his features. Instead, he met your questioning gaze with a soft, tender smile, brushing the hair back from your flushed cheeks with surprising gentleness.
"I've got you, pretty," he murmured again, thumb grazing your flushed cheekbone. "Sleep. We'll figure out...this...in the morning."
Tilting your head back, you searched his lidded gaze, looking for any hint of hesitation or regret. But his striking blue eyes were clear, open and certain in a way that squeezed the breath from your lungs. Whatever came next, you realized with a strange sense of calm certainty, you wouldn't face it alone.
Offering him a small, private smile, you pressed one last lingering kiss to the corner of his mouth before tucking your head under his chin once more. He tightened his protective arms around you as your breathing gradually synced.
As the world shrank down to just the two of you cocooned together on the couch, you let your eyes drift shut.
You had both crossed a line tonight, whether you were ready or not. There was no going back to the way things were before. But as sleep began pulling you under, you felt a strange sense of peace settle over you. Whatever came next, you would take it on together, come what may.
Nestling closer, you let out a slow exhale and surrendered to the pull of slumber, secure in that singular certainty. The rest could be figured out later.
#jjk smut#jjk x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#jjk x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#gojo satoru x reader smut#gojo x reader smut#gojo satoru smut#gojo satoru x reader#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru#satoru smut
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While the Baby Sleeps (demon!Ezra x f!reader)
pairing: demon!Ezra x f!reader (mom!reader)
rating: E! 18+!
wc: 2.6k
summary: The only way to get your baby to sleep through the night is making a deal with an unholy creature. But, of course, there are consequences...
tags: dark fic, Dub/non con (making a deal with a demon), breastfeeding, nursing, lactation kink, mommy kink? (but not like that), stretch marks, oral sex, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, horns, Ezra is a sex demon, moth never uses y/n
an: Here is my submission to #MothandBirdMothersDayChallenge! Actually this fic is the reason why I wanted to do this challenge. Sometimes when I'm in the dark nursery in the middle of the night, I have fun intrusive thoughts like 'What if there was a shadowy figure in the doorway?' To combat how terrifying that thought is, I took it and made it horny. Thank you @ezrasbirdie for betaing this, helping me do this Mother's Day Challenge, and all around being a cool auntie to my fics and baby Moth.
...
He wakes you every night. It doesn’t matter what you try. Your son hasn't let you have more than three consecutive hours of sleep since he was born.
You’re at your wit’s end.
Every time you look in the mirror you see a hollowed out version of yourself with dark bags under your eyes. You make yourself coffee without putting grounds into the filter. You fly into a tearful rage when you spill a bottle of precious milk. You don’t know who you are anymore.
Tonight’s no different. You lift your crying baby from his crib. Rock him, shush him. You sit with him in the glider and try to nurse him back to sleep. It’s all done bleary-eyed, half asleep. Everything is these days.
You’d give anything for this baby to sleep.
Just as the thought crosses your mind, you look up to see a figure standing just outside the nursery. It’s shadowy against the dark of the hallway, shades of gray on black. From the height and broad shoulders, it could be a man. He stands abnormally still. Silent, watching. You think it’s just a trick of your sleep deprived mind until he moves just slightly and a patch of silver hair is caught in the moonlight.
You must be dreaming because if there was a man in your baby’s room, you’d be terrified. And you’re not. You feel calm like you’re floating on steady waters.
“Who are you?” you ask. Your voice drifts like a lullaby.
He doesn’t respond, just leans in the doorway. All that you can make out is that blonde hair and two eyes that glint at you.
“I’ve come to help you, petal,” he finally says. His voice is warm and melodic.
You feel yourself nodding off for a moment. When you blink yourself awake, he’s by your side.
You can make out his features better now. Dark stubble covers a handsome face. The sharp angles of his nose and jaw are silhouetted in the dim. You smell woodsmoke and frankincense as he comes near. He kneels beside the chair and his brow furrows as he looks up at you.
“You need that child to rest,” he says.
You nod pathetically. You can feel familiar tears well in your eyes. Hopeless, helpless. Desperate.
“I can be of assistance,” he says.
“Don’t hurt him,” you say, holding your son a bit closer to your chest. Your baby might be torturing you in the night but you love him. You won’t let anything happen to him. Even though you’re sure you’re dreaming, you remember old fairy tales, creatures that try to trick and deceive. This man isn’t human, you know that somewhere deep inside you.
“Wouldn’t dream of it. I won’t even touch him. It’s not the babe that’s piqued my interest. It’s his mother,” he explains. His obsidian eyes are on your lips, pink tongue darts out to lick his own.
“Don’t hurt me either,” you say, though there’s no fight in your words.
“That’s not my intention at all. Quite the opposite. You’re so beautiful, petal,” he coos, brushing his knuckles across your jawline.
It must be a dream because you haven’t felt beautiful in a long time. Your body’s been stretched and broken, engorged and swollen. Your hair falls out by the handful. Your breasts reek of sweat and milk, a sickly funk.
“I want you. Carnally,” he says.
The growl in his voice makes warmth pool between your thighs. He looks at you like something divine, an awe over his features. His light touch moves down your neck and over your collarbone sending goosebumps over your skin. You’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel anything other than exhausted, touched in a way that isn’t a demand for food or comfort.
“Let me have that and that boy will slumber like an angel,” he promises. He watches your baby suckling himself back to sleep.
It sounds so good. Suddenly the only thing you want more than a a night’s sleep is for this stranger to pleasure you, to be inside of you. You haven’t felt desire in just about as long as you haven’t slept. You’ve barely been able to shower and feed yourself let alone take care of your own needs.
“Put the child in his cot and go to bed. Tomorrow I’ll come for you and you’ll see,” he says.
“Who are you?” you ask again.
“I’m Ezra,” he whispers.
You wake up in your bed the next morning and you’ve slept like the dead.
That strange dream haunts you but you think of it as nothing more than that. When you put your son down to sleep the next night, you don’t expect any miracles. He goes down easily enough, a nice little fluke, and you decide to turn in early yourself.
Its nearly midnight when you wake up but you realize it’s quiet. The baby isn’t crying for you. You glance at the monitor and see that he’s sleeping soundly, sucking away at this pacifier. Just as Ezra promised.
Relief floods your veins. You put your head back against the pillow and your eyes drift close. As you begin to return to sleep, there’s a shift in the bed and you catch that earthy scent again. You gasp when you see Ezra’s black eyes. He’s beside you, the pad of his thumb tracing the plump of your lower lip. His chest is a wide golden plane littered with white scars, dusted with dark hairs.
“Hush, petal,” he says. “I’ve kept my promise. And now I’ve come to ravish you.”
You want to tell him that you’re tired. You finally have the opportunity to go back to sleep and you shouldn’t let anything come between you and that sweet rest. But the same, strong want that you felt the night before is calling you. An ache runs between your legs up to where Ezra’s hand glides over the delicate skin on your pulse. You're powerless to stop your own desire from sabotaging the one thing you’ve wanted.
A languid sigh leaves you as you melt into his touch.
Ezra sucks at your neck. You’ll have a black and blue mark from his teeth but the sensation is so delicious, you can’t bring yourself to care.
He opens your legs and notches his hips between yours. The friction of his hard cock against your panties makes your back arch.
“I want to taste you,” he says.
He rucks up the ratty old t-shirt that you sleep in along with the nursing bra that’s constantly saturated with leaking milk. He takes a long moment to savor the sight of you so exposed, a smile twitching on his lips. A long, low growl leaves him as he slithers down your body, gathering your breasts in his big hands and bringing his face to nuzzle in your skin.
You hear him inhale deeply, taking in your scent. The stubble of his cheek scratches at your sensitive flesh. One thick finger circles your peaked nipple nice and slow. Your body responds— a bead of milk seeps out and rolls down to the valley between your breasts.
Your breath catches at the mix of sensations. Your cheeks heat and you can’t help the embarrassment that creeps up your spine. Much to your surprise, Ezra’s eyes widen with interest. He lowers himself and traces the wet trail with the flat of his tongue. You can only imagine what he tastes– the musk of your sweat beneath sweet milk. It seems that he likes it. He closes his lips around your nipple and lavishes it with his tongue, groaning into your flesh.
“Shit,” you gasp.
You feel the tingle of letdown behind your breasts, his ministrations summoning more milk. Soon Ezra is drinking from you, grunting and rutting his hips against you. The other, neglected nipple weeps milk and he pauses to lap it up greedily. You tangle your hand into his hair and that’s when you feel it. There’s a raised bump amidst his curls but it’s hard as bone. It sits just above his forehead and stands only an inch high. As your fingers rake through his hair, you find another. Horns.
The terror you expect never comes. He might be something ungodly and all you feel is a building excitement. Everything about this is wrong but the world feels upside down.
He comes away, his plush bottom lip glistening with pearlescent milk. It’s a sight that should repulse you but in the delirium of sleeplessness and lust, it just makes you hungry.
“You are an exquisite creature,” he purrs.
His flat palm skates down your belly where you’re middle still holds baby weight, a reminder that your body is no longer your own. He peels your panties down your thighs. You feel the fine edges of his teeth against your skin. He penetrates you with two exquisitely thick fingers. No warning but you hardly need it— you’re already slick.
You keen, back arching off of the mattress, and the sensation is doubled when he puts his lips to your clit and sucks with the same enthusiasm he had at your breast. His wide shoulders spread your knees to make room for his body. You drown in pleasure, a heady mixture of fire doused in the thick pool of sleepiness. Floating, sinking, cresting on a wave as he licks and spreads you open, presses in deep and coils you tight. It’s hard to believe your body can have such strong responses when you’re barely function in your waking life. Something primal drives you on and Ezra knows just how to unlock it.
“Such a delicacy. To sup on milk and cunt,” he says, barely taking his lips from you.
The swirls and undulations of his tongue and the sweet pressure inside works you into a frenzy. Your breath shortens and then stops altogether, your thighs tighten and you hold your eyes shut, listening to the whimpers and moans between your legs. It’s too much and not enough.
When you come undone, it’s a rush of ecstasy that you want to live in forever. Rolling and gushing and sighing. You choke and arch, your entire body convulsing. Your spine clenches up like you’ve been struck by lighting and the electricity runs out through your fingertips and toes.
“Such a glorious vision,” he muses as you come down, panting and shivering.
Ezra’s eyes are fixated on you, pupils blown so wide they’re nearly black. He looks like he wants to devour you.
You share his hunger. You want more already. You’ve just had a feast and yet you’re starving again.
You see Ezra’s cock now for the first time. Thick and upright, it’s tip, flushed and red. He takes it in his fist, glazing his shaft in your release. There’s something animalistic about it that floods you with another wave of arousal.
“More,” you manage to say.
“Not too tired?” he teases with a wicked smile.
You shake your head. How can you sleep when your body is on fire with lust?
“I’ll fill each needy hole,” he says.
You whine. He lines himself at your entrance.
“You’re a goddess. And I’m going to defile you.”
You're filled to the hilt. The noise that escapes him is animalistic and his eyes lose focus. You’re already fluttering around him, already so close to another climax. He fucks you, the stretch and rhythm making you dizzy.
“This is the closest I’ll get to heaven, I fear,” he revels. “But what could be more divine than this sweet cunt?”
Each word that falls from his lips seems to stroke at your core. His hips drive into you, hands greedily paw at every soft part of your body.
The only thing that quiets his debauched ramblings is suckling at your breast. Your senses are completely overwhelmed. Tears prick in your eyes as your insides tighten, another orgasm shattering through you. You bite down on his shoulder to keep yourself quiet.
“Let me hear,” he demands. “He won’t wake.”
And so you do, crying out as you clench around his thickness, losing all control of your body.
“That’s it, petal. That’s it,” he says.
He goes on thrusting and pins you down, torturing that exquisite spot deep inside of you over and over again. You’re not sure where one climax ends and another begins but you’re possessed.
“If only I could fill that womb, sire one after the other to keep you round,” he grunts.
Ezra swears. He hisses out words in a language you don’t recognize. It sounds like an incantation.
You hardly have time to make sense of it. He’s pulling out of you, grinding his wet length against your thigh and spilling hot ropes onto your mound.
You lay beneath him, boneless and dazed. The exhaustion flushes over your weak body. You sense Ezra at your breast again as your eyes drift closed.
The next thing you know, your baby is crying and it’s morning.
It must be a dream. There’s no other way to explain it— a horned creature slipping in and out of your bedroom in the middle of the night, fucking you senseless when you have no energy left. But you wake up with come drying where he marked you.
That night, he’s back again.
And again after that.
“Ezra, I’m exhausted," you breathe. "Please.”
“Isn’t this what you wanted, petal?”
Now your son sleeps soundly through the night while you are awake, debauched for hours without end.
He’s insatiable and somehow you are, too.
He fucks you until you’re raw. Your legs quiver and burn from being parted so wide. Your pussy feels battered and bruised. You beg him to fuck your ass just to give your cunt some rest.
And although your body feels like it can’t take another second of pleasure, though it begs for a moment’s peace, every time he comes to you, you’re flooded with arousal.
When you try to steal an afternoon nap, he’s there, cock already standing in his fist.
Spittle dribbles from the corners of your lips as he fucks your mouth. It runs down your chest, your knees already bruised from the hours you’ve spent on them. You try to chase your own relief, grinding your hips against the floor. He pulls you by the ears to sink deeper down your throat.
He grunts and moans and howls as he comes between your lips.
He doesn’t always take.
The next time he makes you come four times.
“Again, again,” he chants into your ear. His words are hot breath as his fingers press inside of you overwhelming that ridge that sends you reeling. Your bodies are pressed together, sticky with perspiration and release and drool and milk.
“I can’t,” you sob, your body sore and stretched to its limit.
You’re so spent, so overstimulated, each orgasm takes more and more effort. But Ezra refuses to quit, punishing you until you reach a fearsome crescendo.
“Oh, my petal, but I know you are more than capable.”
He’s right. You can feel the weak muscles in your core begin to twist. You hold your breath and focus on the brutal sensations Ezra gives you.
“Besides, your ability is immaterial,” he goes on. “These were the terms of our deal. This cunt. Is. Mine.”
Despite the fact that you’re so exhausted you can barely remember your own name, hardly able to stand on your own two feel, the climax that hits you is just as monumental as the very first.
“Have you endured enough tonight, petal?” he asks, sucking the gush of slick off of his fingers.
“Please,” you whimper. “Please.”
You’re not sure if you’re begging him to stop or to keep going.
“Tomorrow, petal,” he promises. “Now get some rest.”
He wakes you. Every night.
...
Comments and reblogs are appreciated! My asks are always open and I don't bite (unless you're into that).
#mothandbirdmothersdaychallenge#ezra prospect#ezra x f!reader#demon!ezra#demon!ezra x f!reader#dark fic
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brainrot inspired by the one video of daniel in the static bike
!
the morning light streams in through the windows, drilling into the throbbing pain in max’s temples as it pulls him away from sleep. he’s way too hot and face down on the pillows and oh god, he might throw up if he attempts to get up.
he opens one eye and only sees a side table, hos own phone plugged in and a clock showing 10:30. if he tries hard enough he can hear the faint sound of music and someone else’s steady breathing.
his eyebrows furrow as he tries to turn around without puking his brains out. once he’s flat on his back he opens an eye slowly and then the other. it takes less than a second to notice someone, a man, on a static bike in front of the bed.
“the fuck?” he says, his throat fucked up and sticky. “where am i?” he coughs and closes his eyes again, head falling back into the pillows.
the man doesn't answer, max hears the static bike turn on, digging into his temples. he squeezes his eyes shut and begs for it to stop, groaning when it only speeds up.
“morning,” he hears.
his eyes snap open in a gasp. he looks forward and actually looks at the man, shirtless in a static bike and holding two tennis balls. his silhouette is artistic against the sunlight as max barely makes out a smile from his face.
max coughs before he speaks, “hello?” he angles his head up a bit to get a look at the guy's face.
much of last night is a bit of a blur, but the longer he’s conscious, the more he remembers. he didn't intend to take anyone home, just needed a party, loud music, a chance to feel free in a city that he doesn't belong to.
he briefly remembers running into a guy with an absolutely gorgeous face in the hallway to the bathroom, which immediately turned to making out with him, first in the hallway, then on the dance floor, then in the cab, and finally– the details are pretty fuzzy, but he doesn't remember anything being unpleasant, and he isn’t sore or in pain in any ways that matter, anyway.
he looks at the guy, he’s all smooth lines and colourful ink, big smiles and curly hair. he takes his headphones out and puts them in their case, licking his lips as he looks at max, and he wants to gloat and how good of a job he did.
fucking score, he thinks in congratulations. usually the people he brings home from the club look great through tequila daze in the saturated neon lights, but aren’t too good in the morning sun. if anything though, this guy might be even cuter in the daylight. amazing.
“you feel okay?” he says, playing with the tennis balls in his hand, making something stir in max’s belly.
“yeah,” max groans. he rubs his temples with his eyes closed. “i think i forgot your name.”
the guy laughs, gets off the bike and stretches, his whole body twisting in a delicious way max is way too hungover to even think about. “that hurts my feelings, man.” he says, pads over to his kitchen, which is only a few feet from the bed. “it’s daniel.”
oh, max remembers now. remembers being wrapped around him and moaning his name. “yeah, sorry.”
daniel smiles at him again. “coffee?” he’s set to work and getting the pot ready as max sits up, nearly losing the blanket as it slips from him.
daniel’s all toned, gorgeous tan skin, a face that’s like max’s wettest dreams. even a bit ragged from the hangover, he’s still floored and he feels himself blush. his only saving grace is that daniel is also turning eight shades of red as he looks at him.
“i– i don't really…” he scrunches his mouth and rubs his hands on his face as he struggles to think, “i don’t like coffee, do you have anything else?”
daniel doesn’t miss a beat. “i have tea, if you'd prefer. green or black. does your head hurt?” he presses down on the french press and sets on re-filling the kettle.
“black is fine if– if i can have ice with it?” max bites his bottom lip and watches daniel’s back as he rummages through a cupboard to find two mugs and a teabag for max.
max looks around to find his clothes, his eyes betraying him again and staring at daniel shirtless instead.
“i hope i’m not too much of a disappointment in the light of day.” daniel says, turning around to face max, his eyes fixated on max’s chest as he struggles to cover himself.
max knows damn well daniel doesn’t mean that. that man is like a dream come true, all smiles and big eyes, sex hair and shorts riding down his hips. his words land just as he intends though. max locks eyes with him and rakes them over his body again. he really wants to stand up and put daniel against the countertop but he holds himself back.
“you’re great, i just….” he makes a sound in the back of his throat, hand flying to his face. he peeks between his fingers at daniel. “it’s the first time i– with a guy…” daniel stands a bit straighter as his eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“oh wow,” daniel says, smiling, “you seemed to know what you were doing.”
max laughs, his face hot and he knows it’s spreading down his chest. it seems to pull daniel into it as well. his laugh is even better than what max had expected, so contagious and genuine. max wonders if it was the laugh that drew him in to begin with.
“really?” their eyes met for a moment, the silence spreading out between them with an almost magnetic energy. just then the kettle shakes in its pot, yanking max out of the dreamy instant.
daniel turns it off and pour the steaming water over the tea bag for max. his eyes follow as max stands up, revealing his entire naked body as he hurries to put his underwear on over his hips. max can’t stand the heat of daniel’s eyes so he looks away as he puts his jans on and when he looks back daniel is bent over the freezer looking for some ice cubes.
he wonders how he got that lucky as he watches daniel place two ice cubes in his tea and then stir it one last time. “hope this is okay.” he says, motioning max to a barstool. “come here.”
he pads to the kitchen, he’s nearly the same height as daniel, though he’s broader. daniel passes him the overfull mug, and they fill the space of the little kitchen comfortably. their fingertips brush as the cup is transferred and somehow, it feels more intimate than the sex they had last night. daniel’s smile is so bright, his cheeks dipping into cute dimples. max hates to say it, but he’s very charmed.
“it’s totally fine if you regret this. hell, it’s the first time i get on with a straight guy,” daniel says, max can’t tell if he’s serious or not. they stare at each other for a long second and max can feel himself blushing under daniel’s eyes again.
“oh, i–” he says, drinking from his cup. “i’m not straight… i just have never…” he gestures between the two of them and daniel snickers. “i only regret not remembering everything.” he takes a deep breath, “i remember the kissing, and– and the car…”
the car. memory floods into max’s mind, still hazy and watered down, but he now remembers being all over daniel in the backseat, more hands than seemed possible for just two people. he remembers pulling daniel free of his jeans and sinking his mouth over him...yeah, it had been a good car ride. the problem is all the shots they had before, and after. and in between.
“and then… i don't know.” max bites his bottom lip and avoids daniel’s eyes. he can hear daniel’s smile before he sees it.
“it was great. you have nothing to be ashamed of.” he says and max’s eyes dart up again when they focus on daniel’s chest for too long.
“thank god,” he takes a sip from his drink. watching daniel’s face as he looks like he’s thinking hard.
“listen, you don't have to stay. we both know how these things go. you’re welcome to, but if you want to escape, i accept any excuse. we had a great time. you owe me nothing.” he lets out at once and sits down his coffee mug and leans back against the counter.
max’s eyes take a second to focus back from daniel’s body. daniel’s kicking him out. and he knows it’s a one night stand and he shouldn't feel weird about it, barely knowing him. but it’s there.
“daniel,” his voice is tentative, his head low and shoulders down, “do you want me to go?” daniel’s eyes flicker up, and for the first time max notices that they are almost golden in the sunlight.
“no.” daniel says softly, and max doesn't think twice as he sets his own mug down and slides closer to daniel with newfound confidence. making his breath hitch.
“then, maybe I can stay? and maybe, if you feel like it..." his fingertips brush against daniel’s arm and almost without blinking, daniel places his hand on his neck, sliding it back and up through his hair. “we could fill in some of those gaps?”
as daniel’s chest presses against his, noses brushing against one another, max smiles, a fluttering in his chest making it all the way to his toes. daniel’s even gorgeous from up close.
“sounds like a plan,” daniel kisses him then, softly, as if he’s trying to savour his mouth, and his hand cups max’s cheek sweetly. it’s far better than any fiery, lustful kiss max remembers they shared during the night. it says more than max can even comprehend.
when max pulls back, he takes in daniel’s face for a moment, a smile pulling beautifully at his lips. max feels his blush climb again and he tries to looks away, but daniel is holding his head in place.
“looks like you’re mine for the day.” daniel says, leaning forward to smile against max’s mouth.
my ao3!
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KEEP PRETENDING TO SLEEP! KEEP PRETENDING TO SLEEP!!!
HEHEHEHEHEHE I WAS WAITING TO COOK THIS
Coffee insanely speaking! Thanks Dear, you gimme the perfect excuse to write a second part just in time although I expected the option of talking to him to come first. Not that I'm complaining lol
Post where this suggestion came from
↪︎ ☾ I love to see you ....................................... .......................................☆ I love to hear you↩︎
TW: yandere behavior, delusions, murder of self-preservation, stalking, obssesion, somewhat willing reader, kinda denying of bad decisions
Of course, the best option is to stay still, not because you are enjoying this no no, of course not...
Despite his soft voice that sounds rather familiar, you can't really recall who or where. So the safest option is just giving in at the moment, you didn't know how he could react so the safer the better, isn't it?
A smile starts creeping on your face against your will, seems like you are a rather bad actor when it's required, huh?
“Oh, I'm really glad, you seem like you're finally having a good dream… will it be too greedy if I want to be inside that little dream of yours? Well, if you find that greedy, you won't be able to handle me later”
Hearing a close mouthed giggle following the whisper makes your heart flutter softly, like this is some kind of really romantic scene in his mind. You were able to hear the faint sound of footsteps, he seems like he's doing a little room tour, making it a little hard to hear him.
“Oh Dear, you were researching that thing again?”
It seems like he found his way into your phone, what was he referring to?
“Why do you keep reading so much about romance? Are these words good enough to keep your focus?... Maybe I have to start practicing oral expression? It's been a while since I felt like that, last time was when you downloaded that stupid dating sim… This is truly irritating, the names they use, the way they ‘communicate’ to you; do no justice, I can express myself way better, my love, and how my eyes change when I see you walking by… just... please, I need only one chance, and I promise you won't have a room left for doubts”
Even though he made the effort to lower his voice in order to 'not wake you up', it's clear how his tone is changing with every word depending on the topic; First, a low hint of infatuation, then, what sounds closer to a plead and, finally,...was that...hopelessness?
Honestly, in a normal situation, you would be annoyed by someone searching through your phone but only an idiot would think this man would judge you even if you had pictures of dead people there, more like he's genuinely looking for more of you, despite the fact that it's really not the ‘proper’ way, you can't say it didn't work.
“My beloved Cherry, what can i do for you to talk to me? Those characters seem to steal your attention quickly… I would be lying if I sad I'm not a little hopeful because of them though, you seem to have quite the specific taste, Cherry, and I believe I fit perfectly on them... if only I could find the right moment to get into your routine, to be part of your life…”
Weird that he worries about getting to talk to you with an ideal scene but not worrying about stalking you, but maybe it's kind of understable? Since well, everyone likes to check on their crush on social media even if they take a while to actually talk, even if this guy took it a little too far, he sounds... harmless like his wish is just to win your affection…
wait a second…
Are you truly relaxed in this kind of situation? What is going on with you? Why? Why… well, can't say you didn't ask for this, even as a joke, you know this time is different because it's real, but… why does reality feel like a fantasy right now? Is it because of him?
“Huh, I come here as a routine by now, I still get the same queries, I’m dying to find the answers soon..”
Sensing that lightly sweet fragrance once more makes you know he’s approaching your ‘sleeping’ form once again, making it easy to hear him despite his constant whispering.
“Would you let me cuddle you? Would you let me kiss you? Would you mind if I were clingy? Would you mind if I get jealous? Would you mind if it seems like I already know more about you than I should? I want to hold you my dear, I can’t wait for the day I can just snuggle with you every time we want… I really can’t wait anymore, I need to be closer to you… I guess I have no option other than to talk to you out of the blue, I dislike to be so imprudent, but I promise I will make up for it once you accept me in your life, Love”
You feel a gentle hand slightly caress your cheek as a little peck is placed on your forehead, making you almost smile like a fool if it weren’t for the fact that pretending to sleep is your priority in this sweet moment, unexpected but called for moment.
“Sweet dreams Cherry, I have to prepare what I should say tomorrow, I will put all of my efforts to be my best self to make a good first impression, I hope I snatch enough of your interest to be on your mind even for a moment”
Oh, he is definitely gonna be stuck in your mind for a while, as you try your best to focus on the sounds, you catch his steps as he seems to walk away… but you keep up with your act just in case.
So, tomorrow, huh? Seems like once again you have important decisions in your hand, should you indulge in your fantasy and let him get near you? It also sounds fun to go to him first… But, maybe you should try to avoid him? It’s the safer choice, but do you really want that? He seems safe enough not to raise any of your flags, he seemed so caring for you…
sorry for any misspellings or weird sentence structure ❣
images from pinterest
#pineapple our oc#Coffee speaking#yandere#random#yandere male#yandere imagines#yandere drabble#yandere oc#oc#male yandere#yandere scenarios#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#yandere x you#obsessive love#yandere classmate#otome#yandere x willing reader#stalker#tw stalking#soft yandere#yandere writing#drabble#silly#silly writing#delulu#delusional#anon ask
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hello could you do headcanons smut of baldwin and his chubby wife
King Baldwin x reader - Nsfw headcanons
A/N: Wow these is the first explicit stuff I write for Baldwin!! Thank you so much for this prompt, thinking of a chubby medieval woman makes me think of all the portraits of beautiful women with the most harmonious curves I've ever seen😩😩
As always painting name is Romeo and Juliet by Frank Bernard Dicksee for my art enthusiasts :))
Warning: SMUT, reader is AFAB and uses she/her pronouns!
Unlike modern times, a fuller body has always been sign of beauty and fertility through western history
Although during medieval times anything related to attractiveness and sensuality was deemed as "bad", that still meant that a chubby woman would've been judged not for being against the beauty standard, but to be actually too tempting for the public!
So it comes without saying that young king Baldwin thought he might pass out the first time he saw you, knowing you were his betrothed
You'd awakened something in him, this burning desire to have you, to know how your soft curves would feel in his hands, how your silky skin would brush against his own
I see him having a long series of consecutive days where he woke up drenched in sweat, body slightly trembling as he'd come out of yet another wet dream about you, lying beneath him as he had his sweet way with you
He felt himself getting more and more impatient for the wedding night day to come, to finally be able to call you his
He'd also be quite insecure at first, and scared too. What if the sight of his body repulsed you? What if you wouldn't want to go near him to avoid the risk of getting the disease as well?
He wouldn't blame you for it, it'd be the wiser decision for the both of you
But still, he prays and hopes and dreams that you'd return the attraction he felt from you from the very start. He longs for the feeling of your touch against his numb body
He's a bundle of nerves during the whole ceremony, but he's good at hiding it (well the veil covering his head is); he seems to all calm down only once you're both sitting next to each other at the banquet, and you tentatively lay your soft hand over his laying on the table, shy touches blessing his skin
That night your marriage is consumed in no time, he's basically as gentle as humanly possible while he holds you in his arms, as he's slowly penetrating you
There was no really developed knowledge of foreplay or female anatomy in the middle ages, but it just felt natural for Baldwin to keep his focus on your every reactions while the two of you are making love
He doesn't know what he's doing, and neither do you considering that at that time you probably haven't even seen a naked man other than Baldwin himself, but that doesn't stop the two of you from exploring each other, taking your time to get to know what you like, what makes your eyes roll back and your back arch
I'm not sure if he'd be down for oral, I kind of see him as being a bit self conscious of the level of decay his mouth and face has reached, and I'm not too sure his cum would actually taste good with leprosy and all
Nevertheless, his fingers and cock are more than enough to bring you more pleasure than you could ever imagine
Don't expect any public stuff, Baldwin is still an extremely religious man whose values are not to be messed with: these things are meant for the privacy of your quarters alone, there's no need for him to bring this sacred thing you two have out where all eyes could possibly see
He'd probably be more on the vanilla side, being mostly against anything related to giving pain (he'd be indifferent to receiving it since his body is mainly numb, but he wouldn't enjoy it either)
Although he would probably enjoy being the more dominant one in the bedroom, the power dynamic would still remain on a pretty balanced level: you're still his beloved wife, his only equal in his eyes. That's why I could confidently say that Baldwin is the perfect example of soft dom
His favorite position would probably be missionary, just so that he could be able to see your pretty face while he pounds into you
Also because he could get to hold your plush thighs and see the delightful rolls that form on your belly
Your body screams femininity and fertility to him, an alluring combination that gets him going for as much time as you two have
His numbness also grants him a reduced sensibility, so he can afford to go more rounds at a time without having too many problems from it
But as the years pass, his mobility becomes more restricted by his declining health, and along with his agility and stamina in battle his sickness gets the best of him even in the bedroom
And through it all, his burning desire for you was what got him going, what made him spare just a little more energies to later spend with you
The two of you would have to adapt, though, probably changing positions and frequency at which you guys have sex
You might start trying to be the one on top, and he'd guide your every movement while also trying not to lose his mind over just how perfect you look riding him, your every curve bouncing as you move up and down over his cock
He dreams of giving you a baby in those moments, filling you up to the brim, seeing your body get even fuller with your conjoint love. It really saddens him to think that it might never happen
But hope is the last one to die, and he gets his hopes up every time that he comes into your welcoming body, emptying his seed into you, hoping that one day this union will give life to a creature as beautiful as its mother
#kingdom of heaven#king baldwin x reader#f!reader#headcanons#the leper king#king baldwin iv#king baldwin x you#anon request#smut#ask me anything
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hi there!! i feel like work song is definitely a sanji song and i can imagine the yearning between him and the reader
Hi! Sorry for such a late response, I lost motivation again 😭 Work Song definitely feels like a Sanji song! I was so excited to write this prompt. Work Song is my favorite Hozier song ever! I hope you like this! A heads up for the live-action One Piece fans, this is based on the anime plotline. It is based around Skypiea (I just finished that arc actually!). You can find my Flower Asks here, Hozier Asks here, and my Taylor Swift Asks here (I have added TTPD to it now!). You can find my masterlist here and my rules here. And you can request here!
Work Song: You're the only thing that keeps him going.
Characters: Sanji, GN!Reader
Pairings: Sanji x GN!Reader
TW: None that I can think of!
Work Song
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If there was one thing that everyone knew about Sanji, it was his love for cooking. Cooking was his safe place. You would always find him holed up in the kitchen, slaving away at whatever dish he was trying to make next that would blow the socks off anyone who tried it. It was the thing that he was good at. It was his passion. He cared about it more than anything in the whole world. But that wasn’t the only thing he cared about. There was something he cared about just as much or even more than cooking. That something was you.
Once Sanji met you, he had no idea how he went through life without you. It was like you suddenly became everything his world was. You were the air he breathed, the light to his cigarette, the heat to his stove, the ingredients to his cooking. You came into his life and became everything he could ever need. He found himself needing nothing else if he had you. You were everything to him. You were his reason for getting through the day.
He found himself thinking about you constantly. Your bright smile, your soft skin, your personality, your little jokes, your laugh. You overtook every single thought in his mind. There was not a single thing about you he didn’t love. You could tell him everything you hated about yourself and he would tell you every reason why he loved that part of you and more. You took him as he was. Sanji had no doubt made many mistakes in his past and, despite that, you still chose to love him like he did none of that. It was like you were from a dream. This man loved you like it was his passion. A passion that overtook even his passion for cooking. You were his main priority.
That’s why when he found out you were on Eneru’s ship with the god himself, all he could think about was getting you off that ship and as far away from the enemy as possible. He ignored his wounds from Eneru’s lightning, forced Usopp to get up and help him, and made sure that he used whatever resource he had necessary to save you. You were the only thing that he thought about. The only thought on his mind. The only safety he cared about was yours.
When he stayed behind to face off against Eneru by himself, he saw the look on your face as you fell off the ship with Usopp and the waver. He knew that you didn’t want to leave him there. He could hear your shouts at Usopp to let go of the waver and to go back up to the ship. But that was the last thing Sanji wanted you to do. He knew Usopp would do what Sanji wanted and keep you away from the fight.
And so, when he stared Eneru in the face again, he said one thing to him, “I don’t believe in God, you know. I doubt that I’d be going to any kind of heaven. But I don’t care because I have my own heaven, my own divine being. And that’s all I need.” Eneru had no idea what he was talking about. The god struck the man down with his lightning and as Sanji laid on the ground, burning and aching with the feeling of the lightning wreaking havoc through his body, there was one thought that was in his mind.
He knew he was going to make it out of this alive. Nothing could keep him away from you. If they buried him in the deepest grave man could possibly make, he would still find a way to claw his way out and drag himself back to your feet. That’s where he was supposed to be, where he needed to be. You were exactly where he was supposed to be.
#one piece#opla x reader#one piece live action#one piece netflix#one piece x reader#opla#opla sanji x reader#one piece headcanons#sanji x reader#vinsmoke sanji#opla sanji#sanji#sanji vinsmoke x reader#hozier
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OKAY IT’S HAPPENING, EVERYBODY STAY CALM!! I’ve finally finished my opinion on “The who by numbers” This took me so long but it’s finally here so I hope you enjoy:
Before I start, I feel the need to say (once again) that I really love the design of the cover and the fact that John Entwistle actually drew the cover himself makes it even better. I love a talented King ❤️
Okay, now the opinion you’ve been waiting for:
1. Slip Kid: The cowbell at the beginning of the song?? I LOVED IT. Great intro. I think it captures the vibes of the album really well. Btw Is that Roger on backing vocals?? I love the song. I have no idea what it is about but I love it 🤣
2. However much I booze: Ummm excuse me??? This song is a fucking vibe. Now I understand why this song is your favourite😍 I don’t know what they put in this song but fuuuuck it’s so damn groovy and the melody it’s soooo catchy. Keith’s drumming and John’s bass in this one are superb
3. AAAAA SQUEEZE BOX MY BELOVED, MY BABY. I literally forced all of my friends to listen to this one. They looked at me weird when I played the song for them in the car but idc. Anyway, This one is my favourite and you already know the context behind why I love this one 😏🤣
4. Dreaming from the waist: All I can say about this song is that I absolutely love the dedication John Entwistle and Keith Moon put in this song. All I can hear is bass and drums 👀❤️
5. Imagine A Man: Okay confession. The first time I listened to this song I did not like very much but now that I’ve listened to it a few more times I think It’s starting to grow on me. Also, the line “Imagine a past where you wish you had lived” literally wrecked me, I felt it in my soul 💔
6. Sucess Story: I have the feeling that I’ve heard this song before…. It sounds like a mix between “All the way from Memphis” by Mott the Hoople and “It’s only Rock N Roll (But I like it) by the Rolling Stones. I might be wrong tho but all these songs have the same vibes 🤣
7. They Are All in love: This is probably my least favourite (don’t kill me) the song is good and I like how Keith and John sound together but idk. Maybe I need to listen to it more
8. Blue Red and Grey: IS THIS PETE ON VOCALS TOO?? Holy sweet mother of jesus his voice feels like a warm hug. Is that an ukelele?? YEP IT IS. I’ve read that Pete wanted to commit suicide and that’s why he wrote this song. If that’s true I feel so sorry for Pete :(
9. How many friends: HELLO?? THE DRUMS? THE GUITAR??? Holy fuck I like everything about this song. “How many friends have I really got? Well you can count ‘em on the one hand” THAT’S LITERALLY ME. I only have a few friends but feel so lucky to have them.
10. In a hand or a face: This song reminds me of Baba O’Riley for some reason🤣 Are we absolutely sure that this isn’t a leftover song from “Who’s Next?”
Oh, by the way, I still can’t tell the difference between Pete and Roger’s voices but I feel like Pete sings in almost every song of the album so I don’t really know what to say about Roger’s input in the album except for the backing vocals (he sings beautifully)
Overalls, this album is really fun to listen to, it’s very complete and catchy. From what I’ve read, this album took ages to be completed cause Pete had a writer’s block and depression but I’m so glad he recovered and finished the album. So far, this is probably my favourite The Who album. I still need to listen to Quadrophenia in its entirety tho.
Okay so first of all, to clear your doubts, Pete's voice is the warm one, "However Much I Booze" and "Blue Red and Grey" are sung by him, the rest is Roger. Roger has a distinct voice, if you know "Squeeze Box" by heart, you know Roger's voice <3
Normally Roger sings, occasionally Pete does, Pete and John are always the backing vocals, Keith only shines from time to time, not a single song of his on this one, BUT I'm so glad to hear that the rhythm section is catching your attention this much - you would have to see me grin when you said you can't hear nothing but bass and drums XD
About the stories you mentioned there, I didn't read much, so I believe in what you're saying. I somehow can't bring myself to really dig in the history of the band, I'm probably afraid of a thing or two, but like, I'm so glad Pete recovered from depression as well - he's a lovely guy really, deserving the best <3
I'm very happy that you love the album this much and I certainly can't fucking wait for you to dive into "Quadrophenia". You'll hear my screaming when you send me your opinion, plus... I'm still waiting for your opinion about "Tommy" and the revenge. Take care, my dear and have fun on the path to become a The Who fan <3
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theodore nott headcanons pt 2
(bc u guys are sl*ts and wouldn’t stop asking me [i had one person request LOL])
a/n these are more like… romantic maybe? maybe even emotional? i like them tho i like them and now they’re all canon because i said so and the harry potter community basically created him out of thin air so 😁💁🏼♀️
firstly i believe in curly haired theo
it’s common knowledge in my community that i believe theo is smart
i think he is articulated and he knows how to process his words
he could be a REALLY (hot) good english professor
my point; hozier type words
i think that he is a naturally deep lover
he is so emotionally raw and i think he writes it all down in this cute little note book that he keeps under his mattress
perhaps he even lets you read it or gives it to you, we will never know
i think that hes secretive with his love though
anyways um
i think he loves eye contact
it allows him to connect better with people
i think it would be his thing to talk with his eyes
his eyes can be very expressive i believe like super expressive
like you make eye contact with him and suddenly you know his every thought
i honestly love the whole selective mute thing
he values his voice and his pride and it’s almost like a sacred thing because he isn’t talkative at home with yk… the big ol man
oh this might be short okay speed round
a great baker
specifically pastries
loves a good fantasy novel
he would love game of thrones and the house of the dragon
secretly super passionate about muggle life me thinks
loves to sit alone with himself
i actually think he’s stable in his self image!!!!!
i know this is controversial but hear me out he has such an example of what he doesn’t want to be (his dad) and he also has good examples (his trusted teachers)
i think he has a very good idea of who he is and who he wants to be
as you read these again bc they’re so good, i know you will, listen to angel of small death and the codeine scene by hozier
bye!!!!
#vervainium#theodore nott#theo nott#vervains headcanons#theodore nott x reader#theo nott x reader#harry potter#slytherin#BAHAHA ITS TECHNICALLY STILL MONDAY#ITS 10:49#i love theodore nott#he is actually my dream man like i need him#ummm digital footprint#i just enjoy emotional intimacy 😁
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#rereading trc while simultaneously falling back into aftg stuff by virtue of reading tsc and thereby transporting myself back to when i#was sixteen but it's fine it's totally fine like it's whatever 😁👍#r.txt#anyway. me when – me when i – me when i'm trying to tell my best friend that i'm gay but i'm also trying to tell him i can take stuff from#my dreams and i took my now pet raven from my dreams like from my head i'm a dreamer but also that's kind of the same thing but also it's#really not but also it is bc it's an allegory but also that's not the only thing the dreaming is an allegory for and also i'm scared to tel#him like i'm terrified actually and i don't want to tell him but also i need to tell him but also he already knows but i don't know that he#knows and also i was goinggggg to tellllllll himmmmmm arghhhhhhh#this scene is soooooooooo like. like AOUGH. ARGH OUGH AGH AOUGHHHHHH#<- sounds of a guy taking minus xp damage with every word read of this stupid scene. he literally was going to tell gansey 😕.........#trc#ronsey#like i need 2 lay down. he came out there to tell him......the timbre of his voice being described as strange&initially unrecognizable....#i read this part like. 2 weeks ago idk. smth of the sort. and i'm STILL thinking abt it....you came out for something.....when you'd made u#ur mind to confess but ur mouth betrayed you in the end......associated with secrets and guilt......MAN.....
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Something something soulmate au in which you dream little moments of your future up until you meet your soulmate for the first. The catch? First, you dream only of your future with your soulmate. Little moments of you two together. If your soulmate isn't there, you ain't seeing it. Second, it is a dream. Not everyone is going to remember those. Third, it stops once you meet your soulmate.
Now this but JeanMarco. And I don't know about Marco, but Jean 100% remembers his dreams. It just sucks because more often than not there's more people around so, you know, finding out who's actually the soulmate takes some time on his part. Also he takes notice of the fact that he only sees moments of his time as a trainee. Aka something happens. Cue to Jean spending all his childhood trying to understand what his dreams are trying to say and eventually trying to keep them both alive during Trost.
#Is funny because Jean's on a mission man with little to no information#The idea is that once you meet your soulmate the destiny can change. So not all the things showing up in dreams actually happens. Depends#on individual to be fair. That's why you stop dreaming the future.#Unless you're Eren Yeager in which case um yeah man he also does influence a lot of shits so. There's that#Not much to say about this one honestly. I think Marco wouldn't remember his dreams most likely.#Oh yeah also the future moment thingy it doesn't need to necessarily be centered on the soulmate(s). As long as your soulmate is out there#somewhere in the background or in the close vicinity there's a big chance to see it. Is a mess#I don't know man I want more soulmate aus (in general but also more JeanMarco soulmate aus) we truly deserve them#Ok but Jean dreaming of Marco telling him he's a good leader and stuff and it isn't until then that he's like 'him. He's my soulmate' aww#Jean getting his development faster because of Marco via futuristic dreams#soulmate au#aot jean#aot marco#snk jean#snk marco#jean kirstein#jean kirschstein#marco bodt#marco bott#jeanmarco#Snk jeanmarco#Aot jeanmarco#aot#snk#etc etc#As always only Eldians have soulmates because I said so and because Ymir rules
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oh my god i got bg3 like 4 days ago and ive been playing non-stop. i haven’t even been listening to music, i haven’t felt the need to. it’s honestly kinda scary cus i can get too wrapped in games sometimes which results in me forgetting to eat and sleep and shower but idk tbh. i bought it for astarion but fell in love with gale instead, he is my slime.
#i like astarion as a character but his personality is kinda yuck#like obv hes super well written but he disapproves of literally everything i do#like wdym you want to lead the cult that we’re actively trying to destroy? man i cant keep defendinf you#anyways gale<333#omg he is actually my dream man#like…. kiss me? rn?#i’ve rejected 4 people who’ve wanted to sleep with me just to win him over#i dont think he understands my efforts cus hes so slow with it#anyways i’ll let him take his time. i have trust in hubby#i’m at the beginning of act 2 btw#i had like 2 characters before but i kinda need to restart a new game when ive gotten a bit into it just o i can understand it better#bg3#baldur's gate 3#gale of waterdeep#astarion
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I just want a dreamling fic of Hob getting Dream to do terribly human and mundane things. Sometimes Hob's just inviting Dream to do something he was already going to do. Sometimes Hob realizes Dream hasn't done something boring human thing and wants Dream to do it so bad. Sometimes Hob doesn't know whether Dream has done a boring human thing before but he just wants to see Dream doing it. It'd be so cute if whenever Hob doesn't have access to something, upon becoming better and better at navigating the dreaming, he just dreams up the situation there.
—OKAY WAIT THIS LITERALLY JUST FLEW INTO MY HEAD!!! Okay, you know how wives sometimes go with their husband's to golf courses and they literally just sit in the cart. CAN YOU IMAGINE— Dream's with Hob at Hob's place of work and Hob's coworkers/work friends invite Hob to play golf with them and Hob agrees for whatever reason and then Hob's work friends invite Dream along too and Hob didn't even think about it but now he NEEDS Dream to go and Dream reluctantly agrees. In true wifey fashion Dream shows up in full golf attire like he's going to play but just sits in the cart the entire time. I think it could be hilarious.
#I just want scenes of Dream being ///Hob's/// boyfriend/husband/lover#sometimes without him actually being Hob's yet#(for anyone wondering if the wifes do anything else while sitting in the cart. they watch their husbands play and slide into the driver's#seat when their husbands tell them to bring the cart over 👀)#I used to work on a golf course is why I know this. they honest to god looked like they were going to play but never leave the car. I would#need to figure out if they were playing bc I needed to know if they were going to hit or if I could continue working or not#In true Dream fashion he would know everything going on and how to do it but he wouldn't want to upstage Hob and I'm sure he wouldn't wanna#act as if he were bad at it either#I gotta write this fic man jeez. it twirls in my brain constantly.#dreamling#we've gone from conceivably cute and soft fic to dipping our toe into the crack fic waters but no fear all fics I write are crack#at least a little bit
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being super normal about White calling Billy "a dreamer"after the events of Maybe No Go
#truly alarming amount of tags on this post don't click read more fr#the venture bros#pete white#bily quizboy#billy whalen#idk man the way they balance each other is really interesting#the things they agree on and disagree on are almost arbitrary#'you can't put mouthwash in a cookie' 'trust me' vs 'we should spend 10 mil on a motorcycle instead of housing' 'that's such a cool idea'#billy trying to pep white up about the ball#'this was your dream too' like come on dude when have pete's dreams ever worked out#when have yours#'what are we gonna do now billy?' 'we'll cross that bridge when we come to it'#baby the bridge has never been more present#ALSO white calling billy the dreamer when HE'S the one who pushes so hard for things#billy has dreams that might not be realistic but they give him hope and he works around the way the world works to make things happen#like being a self-taught surgeon and believing in a magic ball#pete has dreams IN SPITE of what is realistic and he will mold reality to be what he wants in order to make it happen#like fixing the quizshow and pretty much everything that happened in invisible hand of fate#and they both have disabilities that affect them in vastly different ways and impact their relationship with realistic goals#like billy's hydrocephalus being presented to the audience as mostly a social issue for him and the hand and eye being marks of trauma#rather than like an actual block for him beyond needing to tune the hand up every now and then#vs white's albinism making him physically unable to be in direct sunlight and making him actively fearful of doing certain things and#being certain places#to be clear i know the actual effects of hydrocephalus as well as the hand and eye but this is based on how the show presents it#like billy took these things about himself into account and went ok these are part of my reality and i will work with them#and pete took his reality and went ok i will cover it up with fake tan and wigs or sunscreen and hats and make reality what i want it to be#and that's what makes them a good team!! that's why they science together well#it's also why they argue so much#accepting reality and playing within its constraints vs hating reality and changing it to suit you#these are the hallmarks of scientific progress
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💀
#i haven't played bg3 for like 5 days or so because i am super busy and my brain decided that's ain't going to work and it NEEDS bg3 content#even if it is of its own production - saw bg3 related dream last night help 😭😭😭#i don't remember much except that there was a cutscene (i am both in it AND out if it makes sense in weird dream logic)#and after the cutscene shadowheart?? i'm not even sure it was entirely her but it was a woman who without prompt kisses my character 👀#i would have said it was a win if gale wasn't standing right there and saw that and just as i (not my character 🤡) walked over to him to#explain it was a misunderstanding and that i (or we?? idk man dream logic 😹) actually love HIM#he started running away from me 😭😭😭 because he was so upset (this was SO out of character for him i'm bfmffj)#and binch was running fast as hell too i barely maanged to catch up and start explaining WHEN#the dream rewinded (which was essentially a save reload before the scene im 😭💀)#and the kiss scene played out again but this time it was as if we were just friends with gale and he just stand there like 👁👄👁#i still can't understand if it was shadowheart or like someone not even from bg3 😭#ANYWAYS good morning eveyone 💀👋#tbd
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okay thats interesting! in the SF try-outs during the song "legally blonde" she sings about how she cant be legally blonde, while in the official version AND THE DEMO she sings about letting her be legally blonde. which means that at some point they changed the lyrics around, and then changed them back! laurence o'keefe.... nell benjamin.... what occurs in your twisted minds
#covers mouth sorry so sorry guys#im a huge fan of beacon of positivity + good boy (elle puts a leash on emmett confirmed) + love and war (not in the demo but part of SF)#+ i liked some of the lyrics in the demo version of so much better (it called back to beacon of positivity!!! (i am insane)) such as:#I dream of your name next to my own but mine's looking fine up there alone#but i greatly prefer all the official songs we got. well. maybe good boy over ireland wouldve been fun (i think ireland is boring)#but itd play into the 'all men are dogs hurr hurr' joke that im glad they avoided. anyways. what was i saying.#right i havent listened to every version of everything yet (for example theres a SF version of chip on my shoulder i need to watch)#(and just the SF vers in general. shes hidden from me... why was emmett there before the remix... let me see their conversation)#but from what i have heard they made a lot of changes that were sorely needed. in take it like a man demo shes so much meaner??#it made me sad. it wasnt a duet + they wrung out the romantic tension (no subtext by calvin klein... sigh) + shes meaner!!!!#in the bway vers hes baffled but enjoys going along w it + she genuinely likes him even when hes wearing his regular clothes#but in the demo vers she keeps calling him stuff like ugly duckling and talking about how the geek is gone :( but she likes that geek..#the lines 'how much do you think i earn??' and 'kindly shut up :)' are funny but speak to a dynamic between the two that makes me sad...#follow me for more beautiful opinions on a fifteen year old musical#(heaves. do you know weird it is to see comments from 15yrs ago when this was actually showing. my brother is fifteen.)#god im so sorry i should be put down like a dog#lgb bootleggers are intense. i swear they got a bootleg every night or smth bc we got her shoe flying off + SF + kyle as understudy etc#go watch a so much better compilation sometime how did they take so many bootlegs?? how did you find them??#and its awesome cause these were filmed on 2007/2008 tech which means they have 15 pixels maximum#SORRRRYYYYYYYYYY
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I'm wondering now if I have a bond with James, too, like... I went and read through my journal entries from the time that we were together, and I was always talking about how easy it was to see him. How I dreamt about him all the time. I was crazy about him.
And in fact, the reason I stopped seeing him wasn't because I lost interest, but because I was afraid of the connection I had to him. I remember him being all I could think about. I remember how it felt like everything around me was changing, how I was changing. And I panicked and told him that we should take a break. And then I didn't feel his presence around me anymore. It was shocking how I had felt so strongly for him one day, and then when I asked to take a break, I just didn't feel him at all. I remember just. sitting there and being like, "Wow. He is really just. Not here anymore."
And then I didn't feel him again until I started seeing Charlie. And then came the dreams of him asking me to take him back. Telling me that we had something beautiful and we should be together again. He wasn't even asking me to leave Charlie, he just wanted to see me again. And I turned him down. Every time I told him that I was only seeing Charlie. And he just kept trying. He didn't give up.
I'm just... idk. I'm gonna have to do some soul searching I think.
#it's like. it's like he started showing up in my dreams bc he saw that i wasnt afraid of having a connection like that anymore#and he was like 'hey if you're ready for this then im here'#i mean. he did it in a way that was not very friendly ajkflds he did try to hurt Charlie once or twice#and maybe that means i shouldnt try to hook back up with him...#but in those dreams where he did hurt charlie it never felt like it was actually charlie; it felt like some weird dream version of him#idk man looking at this stuff this way is all new to me ajfklds im just trying to figure it out#but yeah. im just. im just wondering#ren speaks#lost in your eyes#connection stuff#also im thinking of having like. a side blog for being a little more open about this stuff?#just so that i can rly share my thoughts and know that the people there actually want to see it#i just need to come up with a good url#doesnt mean i wont post about it here anymore but#i'd feel more comfy sharing more personal aspects of it to a smaller audience i think#or i guess i could make a di.scord server or something... i dunno ajfklds#im having a lot of thoughts as you can see ajfklds
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