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asdfghjklmals · 4 months

Text

SEALED & DELIVERED✩༶‧˚

GENRE + T/W: sfw, angst. hurt and NO comfort. WORD COUNT: 4.5k words. TAGS: satoru gojo x fem!oc. established couple. adoptedkiddo! megumi x fem guardian!oc.

SYNOPSIS: after satoru gets sealed in the prison realm, megumi realizes that he has to be the one to tell oc gojo girlfriend the bad news—includes child megumi flashback story. AUTHOR'S NOTE: the awkward moment where this doesn't end with fluff... this fic just focuses on satoru getting sealed and megumi's relationship with oc gojo girlfriend. sorry about the ending. i was starting to word vomit and run out of ideas. there will definitely be a continuation about the 19 days satoru was sealed away though. REMINDER: if you want to imagine yourself in oc gojo girlfriend's character descriptions, please do!

intro

"sweetheart, we need to talk."

you looked up from your pile of paperwork while satoru sat down in the chair in front of you. he planted his elbows on your glass desk and leaned over, a troubled look on his handsome face. you could tell from behind his black blindfold that something was really bothering him.

"what did i do, gojo-sensei? am i in trouble?" you teased.

the white haired sorcerer dramatically clutched at his chest, "you know i love it when you call me that. don't distract me."

"yes, i know babe." you giggled, "what's wrong? what's going on in that big, beautiful head of yours?"

satoru pouted at you, he was going to say 'my head isn't big!' like he always did, but he decided to save that bickering for later.

"with sukuna's vessel showing up... i just don't have a good feeling about all the things going on." satoru explained, "so... i want to create some contingency plans if anything were to happen to me."

you frowned at the statement 'if anything were to happen to me'. you didn't even want to think of a possibility of anything happening to the love of your life.

"—and why would anything to happen to my man?"

satoru leaned back into the leather chair and crossed his legs, ignoring your question. "you have to promise me that you'll tell megumi about his father. the zen'nin clan will make megumi the head if i'm deemed mentally incapacitated or if i die. some deal his dad had with naobito, i guess.”

you shut your eyes and slammed your silver pen on top of the stack of paperwork you were filling out, "fine... i promise, but none of that is going to happ—"

"i'm not finished, sweetheart." satoru interrupted, "i need you to get yuta back to japan as soon as possible."

yuta was currently training in africa with miguel. satoru always mentioned how strong yuta was becoming after each visit and how the next generation of jujutsu sorcerers could rival himself. you and satoru depended on yuta quite a bit nowadays. (read ‘the cursed child: yuta okkotsu’ here)

you glared at your blue eyed lover sitting across from you, "anything else, mr. gojo?"

"can you promise to wait for me to come home if anything happens?" satoru asked with earnesty. it almost sounded like he was begging you.

present time: oc gojo girlfriend’s office

“you’re going to be late if you want to meet everyone at shibuya station on time.” you patted satoru on the chest, pushing him away from you.

“—just one more kiss.” he begged.

satoru was so needy tonight. you thought to yourself, 'what was up with him?'

you kissed him again, but he refused to let go of your body. he held you tightly. you furrowed your eyebrows at him.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, “you have that look on your face.”

“i just have a bad feeling about tonight.” he mumbled to himself. you wished you could read what was going on in that crazy mind of his.

your heart dropped, frowning at his eery statement. “promise me you’ll be careful?”

“i’m always careful.” satoru stated confidently.

now that someone he loved was waiting for him to come home, he always took into consideration his safety so that he could make it back to you unscathed. he knew you would never forgive him if anything happened to him and if he left you alone. he promised to protect you. (read ‘the honored one’ here)

you held out your pinky as satoru intertwined his with yours. instead of kissing his thumb to seal the deal, he leaned over to kiss you again fervently, muffling whatever you were about to say.

you groaned once his lips left yours, whispering breathlessly, “do you really have to go?”

“i’m the strongest… so yeah.” he sighed, “remember, if anything happens to me, you have take care of my students.”

“can you not say stuff like that?” you hit his chest as he continued to hold you. “why are you talking like you aren’t going to be coming back home to me?”

“i’m just saying, babe.” satoru sighed again as he booped you on your nose, “you have to be strong for me.”

but what if you didn’t want to be strong? what if you selfishly didn’t want satoru to go to shibuya? what if something happens to him and he doesn’t come home to you? what if he leaves you all alone?

satoru finally let go of you as you stood in the middle of your office at jujutsu high. you shook your head to steer away your selfish thoughts.

“i love you, satoru,” you called out to him before he turned to leave your office, “remember your promise.”

he gave you his signature grin before sneaking back over to you to give you one last kiss. “i know. i’ll remember. i love you, (y/n). remember your promises too.”

"yuta is on his way home..." you reported, "and i'll tell megumi about his father."

satoru frowned at you, "you're forgetting something else."

"—and yes, i'll wait for you to come home." you stated confidently.

for better or for worse, right? it’s been 10 years that you and satoru have been together. you were pretty sure you were a patient person. you could wait for him forever if that’s what it took.

"that's my girl." satoru smirked at you before leaving your office, clasping his hands to teleport to shibuya.

***************************

october 31st. shibuya. 8:31pm. satoru gojo arrives.

“good night, satoru gojo. let us meet again in the new world.” kenjaku said smugly. he had just sealed the world’s strongest sorcerer, adamant that nothing would get in his way now.

satoru scoffed at the ridiculous sight in front of him, “yeah, maybe it’s good night for me, but you need to wake up, suguru. how are you gonna let yourself get used like that?”

kenjaku felt resistance in the body that he took over. hands that belonged to the body of suguru geto attempted to grab his throat.

he laughed in amusement, “well, this is the first time that has happened.”

he suppressed that very resistance with his cursed energy again.

satoru watched and reluctantly listened as kenjaku and mahito had a conversation discussing souls and techniques. he was getting impatient.

“can you just get this over with?” satoru grumbled, “you two aren’t the most pleasing things to look at. i definitely didn't want you two being the last thing i see before getting taken by my own will.”

kenjaku laughed at the sorcerer who was on his knees, arms shackled behind his back, unable to do anything to free himself from the hold of the prison realm. he looked so weak.

“i think i’m enjoying this view, but you’re right. i can’t risk anything happening, so goodnight.” he took one last look at satoru and smirked.

“close gate.”

“we can’t use the prison realm anymore right?” mahito asked curiously.

kenjaku nodded his head, “right. unless the person who's trapped takes their own life inside the prison realm, we can only use it on one occupant at a time.”

inside the prison realm, satoru kissed his the back of his teeth, annoyed but somewhat impressed by this cursed object. “looks like time doesn’t pass here.”

he sat on top of a pile of skeleton heads, repeatedly flicking his blindfold off of his forehead, “damn it. i really messed up this time… (y/n)’s gonna kill me after i promised her i’d be careful.” satoru muttered with a grim smile.

“it’ll be okay. i have faith in everyone...”

***************************

“satoru gojo has been sealed.” nanami announced grimly.

megumi looked at the 7:3 sorcerer in disbelief. “sealed? what do you mean sealed?”

“change of plans,” nanami said as he started walking towards shibuya station, “we need to meet up with itadori. if the sealing is true, it’s over for us. we don’t stand a chance without gojo.”

megumi felt as if his world was spiraling. how could his all-knowing, crazy strong sensei get sealed? did (y/n)-sensei know about gojo-sensei’s sealing? no, (y/n)-sensei couldn’t have known. (y/n)-sensei was probably with shoko at the relief area since you two could heal injured sorcerers.

megumi knew that the school didn’t like to use you offensively because of the damage you could inflict on the city with your cursed technique. no one wanted to fill out that damages report. instead, you were their trump card, their last resort. gojo-sensei was usually the go-to special grade sorcerer if the school ever needed something to be taken care of swiftly.

“i have to tell (y/n)-sensei.” megumi mumbled out loud.

nanami pursed his lips, “if you tell her, there’s no telling what she’ll do. if she finds out that gojo was sealed, she might flood all of shibuya.”

“but she deserves to know.”

megumi took out his cell phone. his fingers were trembling as he sifted through his contacts to find your name. his heart was racing at the thought of having to tell you bad news. he hated disappointing you and he definitely didn't want to worry you. but if it had anything to do with gojo-sensei, you had to know.

this moment reminded him of the time he called you from the principal’s office when he got in trouble for fighting at school.

flashback

'i am so grounded,' 7 year old megumi fushiguro thought to himself, '(y/n) is going to take away my new books for sure. maybe i should call gojo-sensei instead.'

you were the maternal figure in megumi’s life since you and gojo-sensei had taken him and tsumiki in. gojo-sensei let you make all the important decisions regarding the kids. you were the one that always had to have the disciplinary conversations with the two fushiguros. gojo-sensei didn’t like to play the bad guy, he was the type to sneak treats to him and tsumiki after you scolded them.

“well, megumi. are you going to call (y/n) or satoru?” the vice principal of the school, mrs. akita asked him.

megumi sighed, “i guess i’ll call (y/n)…”

he knew that if he called gojo-sensei, the blindfolded idiot would just tell you what happened anyways and he would still end up having to tell you what he did himself. so he might as well spare himself the hard conversation later.

he grabbed the phone from mrs. akita’s desk and took a deep breath before dialing your phone number. his heart was racing. he knew he was going to disappoint you, and he hated that feeling.

you picked up the phone, your bright laughter gave megumi the shivers, “hello?”

“uh—(y/n)?”

your tone immediately became serious, “megumi, are you okay?”

"uh, yeah. i'm okay. i got in trouble at school today." he admitted. he closed his eyes, waiting for you to start lecturing him.

he could hear that you were walking with someone. you were probably on a mission.

"what?! megumi... what happened?" you asked, concern in your tone.

"i, uh, got in a fight. mrs. akita said that i'm getting suspended for two days." he made eye contact with the vice principal in front of him as she sat with her arms folded. this was not megumi's first rodeo.

"megumi... we had this conversation about fighting at school..." you sighed.

yes, you were disappointed, but megumi was your baby. how could you stay mad at the cute little 7 year old boy with the same green eyes as you?

"i know, i'm sorry, (y/n)."

"i'm sorry, megumi. i can't come pick you up today because i'm on a mission. satoru will be there soon, okay?" you felt guilty. you knew the last person he wanted to see was satoru after getting suspended. satoru would never let him live it down.

"okay. i'll wait for gojo-sens—wait, can you send nanami to pick me up instead?"

you laughed at his question, "nanami is actually on a mission with me right now.. sorry kiddo. i'll see you at home later, okay?"

megumi grumbled, "okay..."

megumi hung up the phone and turned around to sit back in the office chair. mrs. akita was filling out the paperwork on his suspension.

***************************

once you hung up the phone, you sighed and turned to nanami. "sorry, nanami. megumi got in trouble at school today."

the 7:3 sorcerer stopped walking and turned to you, your troubled face concerned him, "do you need to call gojo?"

"yeah, he needs to pick up megumi from school. he got suspended for fighting." you groaned.

"being a mother must be hard." nanami teased as he patted your back in reassurance.

you laughed, "having a boy is hard. tsumiki is an angel. god forbid my future children have megumi's temperament."

"you better hope your future child isn't satoru's mini-me." nanami teased.

you grinned at him and joked lightly, "who says i'm having more kids with satoru? he already gave me two to take care of."

you and nanami knew that satoru would pout all day if he heard that joke. you giggled before dialing satoru's phone number as you both took a quick break on a park bench.

"hey babe, you okay? do i need to come help?" satoru asked as he picked up your phone call on the first ring. he never let you go to voicemail in your 2 years of dating.

"no, satoru. we're fine. but i need you to pick megumi up from school. he got suspended today."

"you don't say?" satoru laughed out loud in amusement, "alright, i'll go grab the kiddo."

"i'll be home later. and don't you dare reward him with something sweet on the way home."

satoru was appalled that you would even think he was going to pick up megumi and grab ice cream on the way back. however, you already knew he was thinking about it.

"so feisty." satoru chuckled, "we'll see you at home later then, sweetheart."

***************************

satoru teleported into the front office of the elementary school. mrs. akita opened the door to her office and brought the white haired sorcerer into the room while megumi waited outside. satoru sat down on the leather seat as mrs. akita sighed.

"satoru, megumi has been getting into a lot of fights lately. is everything okay at home?"

"(y/n) and i have been talking to him about not fighting at school..." satoru started, "but he always has a good reason for fighting, so we couldn't exactly reprimand him. what happened today anyways?"

"megumi got in a scuffle with a group of bullies. there are a couple troublemaker cliques in his grade and he beat up three of them." mrs. akita reported back to him, rubbing her temples. "they have extensive injuries, satoru."

satoru started laughing, impressed that megumi took on three school bullies by himself.

"—satoru, this is serious. their parents want him expelled."

"did megumi win?" satoru asked curiously, ignoring mrs. akita's last statement.

mrs. akita glared at him in annoyance, "clearly he won if the parents are wanting him expelled, satoru."

"then that's all that matters to me. that's my kid we're talking about here. end of discussion, akita." satoru said, standing up from his chair and waving off the conversation. “megumi will take the two-day suspension and we'll pay the fines. tell the other kids' parents we're sorry, yada yada yada.”

mrs. akita rolled her eyes, "you're lucky principal kinomoto and i love you and (y/n). no other school would put up with this behavior, satoru."

satoru winked at the vice principal and opened the door to look at megumi. he had a couple of scratches on his face, a bandaid on his cheek and left knee. megumi looked like he was going to burst into tears with the way he was frowning as pouting.

"alrighty, kiddo. let's head back to jujutsu high."

satoru gave megumi a piggy back ride while the child shoved his sniffling face into the back of satoru's uniform. satoru teleported back to jujutsu high as they walked through the school corridors together. he knew that he would have to have a conversation with megumi before you got back from your mission.

"you know you're going to have to tell (y/n) what happened, right?"

megumi glared at his guardian, "i don't want to." and in a matter of seconds, megumi started to burst into tears.

"you cryin', megumi? didn't you win the fight?" satoru asked.

megumi wiped his tears with his forearm, hiccuping, "y-yes."

"then why are you cryin'?"

"i'm scared to see (y/n)." he sheepishly admitted.

satoru started laughing. megumi could feel his laugh vibrating through his back as satoru carried him. he clutched his arms tighter around satoru's shoulders.

the sorcerer grinned, "you and me both, kiddo."

"...is she going to be mad at me? what if she doesn’t love me anymore?" megumi asked satoru full of worry. he knew that satoru knew you better than anyone else in this world.

satoru thought out loud, "hmmm, she'll probably be a little disappointed. but—she’ll always love you and she cares for you a ton. at the end of the day, you’re her baby."

megumi's eyes continued to water as his grip on satoru's uniform tightened. the closer they got to the dining hall, the more nervous the child got.

"looks like you're in luck, kiddo. (y/n) isn't back from her mission yet." satoru sighed in relief, "let's go see shoko and get you all healed up."

***************************

"oh my..." shoko gasped, "what happened to you, megumi?!"

megumi looked at satoru and then back at the ground. he was too embarrassed to tell shoko what had happened at school.

"he just got in a little tussle at school." satoru told his bestfriend, waving it off.

shoko started laughing, "sounds like you when you were younger, gojo."

"yeah, but i wouldn't have gotten beat up." satoru grinned at the doctor, "i was untouchable."

the brunette rolled her eyes at him, "you're so full of yourself."

satoru scoffed and put megumi down on the exam table. "can you just make sure he's okay before my girlfriend sees his scratches and yells at me?"

shoko nodded. she healed up megumi's minor cuts and bruises so that it looked like nothing ever happened.

***************************

you and nanami were walking through the school's courtyard after your mission today. the mission ended up running later than usual.

"sorry that mission took so long," nanami mumbled. “i know you were worried about megumi.”

"it's okay, nanami. satoru’s with him." you high-fived him, "good job tonight."

as you continued the walk through the courtyard, you saw satoru leaning against the entrance to the school building with his arms folded. he cleared his throat.

"your jealously is showing, satoru." you grinned at your boyfriend.

"me?" satoru called out to you, baffled, pointing at nanami, "jealous of him?"

satoru laughed as nanami rolled his eyes at him. "megumi has been waiting for you, babe."

"what?" you asked in disbelief, "it's past his bedtime. it's almost 10pm. satoru, you're supposed to make sure the kids go to bed on time."

"he wouldn't go back to the apartment, he won't go to sleep without talking to you." satoru grinned thinking about megumi’s tenacity.

satoru walked with you back to the dining hall, holding your bag in one hand and your hand in the other.

"i'll wait in the hallway. go talk to megumi." satoru said as he blew you kiss. you caught his air kiss and threw it on the floor, making him laugh out loud. your feisty personality was one of his favorite things about you.

you entered the dining hall. megumi looked up at you with sad eyes. you sat down in front of the child.

"hey, megumi." you greetled him softly, he was quiet and a little awkward. it looked like you were going to have to break the ice. you started the conversation with the 7 year old, "so, wanna tell me what happened at school today?"

"the kids i beat up were talking about you and gojo-sensei." megumi muttered. he folded his arms, angry at the thought of those bullies and what they had said about the two guardians he cared so much about.

"well... what were they saying about us that made you so upset you had to go and beat them up?"

megumi quietly told you what happened, "they kept saying that you and gojo-sensei weren't mine and tsumiki's real parents and that we don’t look like you two. it made tsumiki cry."

your heart shattered. kids were so mean nowadays. you admit that megumi and tsumiki's situation was unique, yes, but the fact that kids bullied each other about their parents was cruel. you never wanted the kids to feel bad about their situation.

you scoffed, "how can i be mad at the fact that you were defending mine and satoru’s honor?" you ruffled megumi's hair, "why were you so scared to tell me that?"

"because i keep getting in trouble for fighting." megumi frowned, disappointed in himself.

"megumi, i want you to be able to tell me anything. i don't want you to keep things bottled up."

"—but what if you don't love me anymore after i tell you the bad things?" megumi asked quietly.

you were shocked that a 7 year old could have such thoughts. how could he think that you wouldn’t love him anymore? megumi and tsumiki were the center of your world since satoru swiped them off the streets and brought them home to you. (read 'learn to love' here)

you asked megumi a question, "how many times a day do i tell you and tsumiki that i love you two?"

"you tell us every morning before we go to school and before we go to bed. and sometimes randomly throughout the day." megumi smiled at the mental reminder.

"—just because you get into fights at school doesn't mean that i'll love you any less. if anything, i worry about you getting hurt." you lectured him, "now, if you grow up to be a horrible curse user, we might have a problem."

"does that mean you're not mad at me?" megumi asked quietly.

"i am a little disappointed," you sighed, "—but i don't love you any less."

you reached out to him for a hug. the boy jumped into your arms. you squeezed him tightly, rocking him back and forth. "now tell me... did satoru buy you ice cream after school?"

megumi froze, his eyes widened. him and gojo-sensei were caught red-handed.

"uh huh... got it." you laughed. you were going to have a word with satoru later tonight.

end flashback

the dial tone was echoing through megumi's ears as he waited for you to pick up. he felt a lump in his throat, his heart was racing, just like back then when he was 7 years old, but this took the cake for the hardest conversation he's ever had to have with you. he would rather tell you that he broke the glass coffee table in the living room trying to summon max elephant a hundred times over again.

"megumi, are you okay?" you answered, "do you need me to—"

"i'm fine, (y/n). it's gojo-sensei."

your felt sick to your stomach. it was in that moment that you knew something had happened to satoru.

"what happened to him?"

"he was sealed." megumi said grimly.

you furrowed your eyebrows, not understanding what megumi was saying, "what do you mean sealed?"

"i—i don't know all the specifics." megumi stuttered through the receiver, "—but i'm going to find out. i'll save gojo-sensei, (y/n). i promise you. so don’t worry and… don’t be mad at him."

"megumi, wait..." you said, voice barely coming out as a whisper. you heard the younger sorcerer disconnect from the other line.

you felt a lump in your throat as you fought back tears. you had to be strong for the students... and for satoru. you felt this immense pain and anger in your chest. if satoru was sealed, that meant he was still alive. there was a sliver of hope that you would see him again. satoru had to be okay... right?

"(y/n)!" shoko yelled out your name, "you're going to flood all my medical supplies!"

you snapped out of your thoughts and looked around the area. water was starting to flood the ground, surrounding the both of your feet.

"what did megumi say to upset you that much?!" shoko asked, "i haven't seen you do that since high school!"

"satoru was sealed, shoko. and i don't know what that means!" you yelled in frustration, throwing your ice shards against the concrete wall.

the street lamps started to flicker as ice started to form around the streets, fire hydrants started to explode due to high water pressure, water started to fill the streets of shibuya. your cursed energy was starting to become uncontrollable.

you wondered how megumi was feeling at this moment and how horrible he must have felt telling you that satoru was sealed. it couldn't have been easy for him, nor could it be easy for the rest of the jujutsu sorcerers and satoru’s students knowing that the strongest was sealed away. the team morale was probably destroyed.

shoko distracted you out of your thoughts again, "you should go to shibuya. the students need you. you're second in command if anything happens to gojo."

you looked at shoko with determination in your eyes, she nodded at you as you made your way out the door to head straight for shibuya station.

the students needed you right now more than ever since satoru was gone. they needed the support from you, the support that you always gave to them no matter what the situation was. you were their go-to person for comfort. whether they got a bad grade on their mission, if they lost a spar, or when they needed an ear to listen to them, you were there.

you thought back to the conversation that you and satoru had. promise number one would have to wait. promise number two was on a flight back to japan and would be landing in a couple hours. promise number three...

'don't worry, satoru.' you thought to yourself, 'i'll wait for you to come home. i don't care how long it takes. we'll find a way to get you back.'

little did you know, the nineteen days that satoru gojo was sealed away was the most excruciating pain you've ever experienced in your life, not even an injury from a curse could compare.

it was as if something was missing from your life and you never wanted to experience the pain of losing someone so important to you ever again.

DIVIDERS PROVIDED BY @/ANLIAN-AISHANG

856 notes · View notes

cheollipop · 8 months

Note

So maybe I am just emotional but I am in the soft girl hours of the sleepover.

You know I love big, kinda dumb men that are in touch with their feelings, Song Mingi... Just imagine having a bad day, a rough week, or an okay month. It kind of seems like it's dragging on, and for the sake of holding on, you try to keep pushing forward. Today is not a push-forward day. Water overflowed in your bathroom; you have to turn the water off bc there's no off value to that pipe. You are a little behind on work, and the sites that you need are down, and the deadline is closer than you would like it to be. All you want is a warm shower and to curl into the covers until you forget what day it is. Mingi notices you slowly folding into yourself. It's difficult to be present with so much to worry about. So today he called just to check in. Through blurry eyes, you answer. Unable to hold the dam back any longer, you let out a soft sob, and he's throwing on his coat and snatching his keys off the counter to come get you.

Mingi stays on the phone with you until he climbs the stairs to your apartment. Opening the door to him, there are dried tear marks on your cheeks that you have failed to wipe completely away, but he just wraps you in the biggest hug. His hands pull you close and tight, squeezing a few more tears from your eyes.

"Let's go shower at my house. Then I'll feed you while we watch TV on my couch. That sound good?" He mumbles before pulling you back to look at you. Pinching your lips tightly together, the worried look on your boyfriend's face just makes you want to cry more, but maybe a nice shower and some private time is what you need to clock out of life for a bit.

Shut up, I'm going to cry my eyes out lolol

Nora I am too soft for life rn

2𝙠 𝙎𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩

oh, my nabi. the warmth and comfort this made me feel—reading your ask and writing it out—drove me to tears, on multiple occasions. i was initially saving this drabble for a bad day, and ended up starting it after a particularly taxing one, but I actually wrote most of this while feeling quite...happy. so putting myself in mingi's shoes instead of reader's was the way to go, i guess. I really hope I did this justice, and that it floods you with lots and lots of comfort <3

pairing: bf!song mingi x gender neutral!reader

w.c.: 0.8k

tags: hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, mentioned symptoms of anxiety & depression, non-sexual nudity (they shower together)

note: you are not alone

The drive to his apartment was silent, save for the wind blowing through the cracked-open windows to send short, blonde strands flying in different directions. The sun had departed from its locus, descending the changing sky to kiss the horizon, a gradient of orange and pink painted before your eyes. Your gaze moved off the breathtaking scenery to focus on Mingi—a hand resting over the leather wheel while the other locked with yours, glancing over at you every few minutes, squeezing your fingers to remind you of his presence.

As if you could forget, you thought, as he guided you down the hall to his door, twisting the keys while your hands remained intertwined, his thumb drawing soothing circles over your skin as he ushered you inside with a swing of his arm.

Steam engulfed the small bathroom, the warmth of the shower brushing against your skin as delicate fingers helped you out of the hoodie you should’ve washed last week. Mingi didn’t complain, though; he didn’t even comment, wordlessly adding it to the pile of clothes building up in the corner. Your insecurity must have bled into your expression, strong arms pulling you ito his chest and plush lips pressing against your forehead.

“I’ve got you,” was all he said, but it was though you were already immersed underneath the balmy stream, a comfortable heat searing through your skin as he held you against him.

With your back to him, Mingi noted the way your muscles slackened under the steaming water, the soapy droplets rushing down the curve of your spine while he worked his fingers through your hair, hoping his shampoo was strong enough to cleanse away some of the burden you’d carried on your shoulders, the dread he’d helplessly watched eat away at you for weeks. Twisting your body to face him, his thumb and pointer closed around your chin, tilting your head back to rinse the scented suds out of your hair, leaning forward to press his lips to your cheekbone while the water warmed your scalp.

Washing away weeks-worth of grime and self-loathing with delicate palms and a lathered washcloth, Mingi silently spoke of his infatuation, his care, his unconditional, overwhelming devotion to you. Even when you were broken, anxious, blind to any and every possibility of a future worth looking forward to. Mingi was there, calloused hands picking up the brush you’d broken and painting tomorrow, then the day after, one stroke at a time—open fields of daisies and sunflowers, the hopeful orb of light splaying golden rays over the land while the man with the grown-out roots stood amidst the flora, pearly teeth reflecting the daylight as he watched you approach him, his warmth seeping into your very soul as you buried yourself within his embrace.

You felt light, your breathing steady while you rested your head on Mingi’s chest, his thighs on either side of you as you curled up in his lap. You’d heard the doorbell while you were dressing, walking into the living room to find takeout containers spread out over the coffee table, and a shoujo anime paused on his TV.

“It’ll pass,” he spoke, tapping the spoon against your bottom lip and watching you take the steaming food into your mouth. Your eyes remained downcast, and he noticed hints of guilt tainting your features as you processed his words with inexorable disbelief.

“Mingi-“

“I know it’s difficult to see it now, so I’ll believe it for the both of us,” he held his lips to your forehead, your eyes fluttering shut and heartbeat erratic. Not because of anxiety, or dysphoria, but because of the overwhelming sense of tranquillity Mingi flooded into your chest so easily, the animation in your peripheral and the cheesy sound effects now masked under the faint movement of his lips over your face, planting kisses over the trail of tears rushing down the skin. “I’m here, (y/n). You don’t need to go through this alone.”

And you didn’t. Episode after episode played on the big screen, takeout containers and popcorn bowls resting empty on the coffee table while you remained encompassed within Mingi’s arms. The moonlight, aided by the warm hue of his standing lamp carved shadows over the drowsing man’s face, and you took in the slight part of his lips, pretty eyes shut as he explored the dreamland, limp arms somehow still firm around your figure, as though he couldn’t bear to leave you alone again, even while dormant.

The overbearing weight of your thoughts had long since mitigated, your chest rising and falling to the same rhythm as Mingi’s, and now that it was no longer overcrowded with taxing angst and negativity, hints of credibility laced themselves into his words. You ran your pointer over his knuckles—his fingers draped over your hip—a silent ‘thank you’ stuck in your throat as you mooned over the tomorrow he’d drawn out for you. A tomorrow you wanted. A tomorrow you didn’t dread. A tomorrow illuminated by a gentle sun, and a contagious, toothy smile.

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lilac-5ky · 6 months

Text

The Party (Satoru x Fem!Reader)

Plot: You decide to surprise your boyfriend on his birthday

Tags: Birthday fluff, Comedy, Hurt/Comfort, Slight Angst, Shibuya incident?What Shibuya incident? (year is 2018), Established Relationship, Gojo Senpai, Satoru being the adorable menace everyone loves, SO. MANY. CHARACTERS. MAKING. APPEARANCES, feels like an actual jjk ep at this point, (fic deteriorates a bit over the latter part as my mental health does, writing until 6 am is exhausting, i know im late but spare me)

Word Count: Slightly under 9k.

A/N: Happy late Birthday, my love 💙💙💙

Masterlist | Requests | AO3

“Are we there yet?”

“Almost there—watch your step!” You warn, only to lose your footing a second later as you smash head first into your boyfriend’s back.

There is no way Satoru doesn’t know where the two of you are headed. Even with his technique supposedly turned off and your shaky hands concealing his curious eyes, all the things that make Jujutsu Tech into the place that raised generations of sorcerers (yours, included) continue to exist, bearing witness to his intentionally dumb guesses.

“Is it the beach? Are you taking me to see the ocean?” Satoru excites. “Aw, baby! You should have told me so; I would have brought my swimming trunks with! Although, I hafta say swimming in December is probably a bad idea, my nipples will freeze and fall right off. You wouldn’t want that, right?”

A sigh evades your lips, expelled as a little white cloud of frustration. On second thought, his mouth was what needed to be covered. Preferably stitched.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but we aren’t going to the beach”—aw, shoot—“and your nipples get to live another day.” Your teeth chatter. Tiptoeing behind him with upstretched arms is already hard on its own. Doing so in the cold is purely exhausting.

You lose count of how many torii gates you cross, the joint click of your shoes switching to an uncoordinated thump as you go from traversing cobblestone paths to climbing an endless uphill of stairs, your stroll, again, feeling like part of a survival show. Curse Master Tengen. They might have only been responsible for the barriers, though in your scare, that doesn’t stop you from holding them accountable.

We are going to die.

Or more like you are going to die, considering Satoru’s already secured himself a life net in the form of your poor broken-to-be bones, and that’s the best case scenario you can hope for, the worst being having to repeat your ascension from the bottom step up.

“Then, are we visiting Himeji Castle?” Satoru continues, the frigid temperature not enough to crack his spirit. “Because I know the single best place for Tama Tsubaki. So fragrant, so elegant, so deliciously sweet! You haven’t been to Himeji before, have you? It’s also known for its excellent leather craftsmanship. Last time I went there, they had these insanely pretty wallets with—”

“N-no!” You yelp, voice as strained as if you’re walking on a tightrope. Shivering, “Wouldn’t you have noticed if I took you on a 4-hour road trip?”

“But time always moves so fast when I’m with you.” He coos in response, his tone serious when he asks, “Wanna take a break? Promise to keep my eyes closed till we reach the top. And after that too, if you want.”

Silky lashes map out the inside of your palms as they flutter against them, sweet little butterfly kisses that convince you to withdraw your hands. After all, you’d hate for his birthday to be stained with blood.

Not yours, at least.

“If you dare open them, I’ll kill you.”

“How scary!” Satoru captures your frozen hand and slips it in his coat’s pocket with far too great precision for someone with impaired vision. You don’t complain. Not even when he makes you bump into every single step on your way up, giggling to himself, until, as promised, you reach the summit and he lets go for you to assume your previous positions.

“I don’t”—pant—“miss”—pant—“walking this w-walk.” You muster in between labored breaths, palms on your knees as you crouch forward like an elderly lady with chronic back pain. “Wh-what are you smiling for?”

“Nooooooothing!” Satoru chirps, soft dimples carving hard into his milky complexion. “Just takes me back to the time when you still called me Gojo Senpai is all.”

Your youth comes playing in your head like an old cassette forced to rewind, bittersweet recollections sending you on a sudden trip down memory lane.

You met Satoru at the peak of spring and fell in love with him over the course of fall—a swirl of autumn leaves coloring the currently naked maple trees red. Muddy soles and uniforms soggy from the rain. Chasing after an umbrella you agreed to share and hopscotching across shallow puddles. Laughing louder than the pending storm.

But before that, bickering. So much bickering that continuously tested the patience of those around you, arguments over video games escorting you to morning assembly, and plans to catch new movie releases sealing your goodbyes.

The bitterness of Shoko’s cigarettes and the promise to never smoke again. Arcades and electronics in Akihabara. Karaoke and conveyor belt sushi in Shibuya. Getting a stranger to buy you your first beer and puking your guts outside a convenience store in Shinjuku. The promise to never drink again.

Moon-viewing festival. The unforgettable sight of him in a yukata, your heart multiplying itself into your eyes. Stolen glances and not-so-accidental nudges. Your first kiss tasting of melon soda, your second burning faster than the wick of his sparkler. Another kind of promise.

The giddiness of first love filters the film pink. Five-minute dates behind the old gym in flash forward. Late-night expeditions to each other’s dorms. Your loss of innocence overshadowed by the sudden loss of Haibara. Tears that threaten to spill out of the sequence. Suguru’s betrayal. The strength to move forward.

You’ve come a long way since the days you cheekily called him Gojo Senpai without a care in the world, and even though tragedy managed to forever sully them, standing here with him now makes it worth the pain. Given the chance, you’d do it all over again.

Rolling the cricks around your neck and shoulders, you walk up to Satoru, a tug at the lowest hanging tuft of hair signaling for him to meet your height. Knees bent. Eyes still closed. Lips still curled. Features so undeniably beautiful at 29 as they were at 17.

“Don’t move.” You mumble, smiling softly as you watch him pucker his lips in anticipation of a kiss. Instead, you fish out a pair of rectangular shades from inside your pocket and place them over the bridge of his nose.

“Let’s go before we get scolded for being late again.” Your hand steals his this time around, ushering him forward. A speckle of heat shooting from your fingers to your cheeks. “I trust you not to spoil your own surprise, Gojo Senpai.”

You are less than thirty steps away from your destination when, without a warning, the man behind you stops moving, forcing you to halt with him.

“What is it?” You ask, your body reeled closer to his from the bind of your fingers. “If you’re gonna ask whether I’m taking you to Laputa, I’m sorry to disappoint, but I’m still figuring out the coordinates.”

“That’s not it.” He huffs a chuckle against your knuckles, tenderly brushing them against his cheek. “But drop a pin when you do. Always wanted to take a nap in that fluffy flower bed. I’m sure it tastes fluffy too, just like whipped cream.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” You return, a yawn coaxed at the mention of napping. “So, what is it? Why did we stop?”

“I’m cold.”

“Well, so am I, but we really are close this time. If you just—”

“You should kiss me.” Satoru announces with solemnity better befitting a declaration of war. He realizes that himself, bringing his free hand to ruffle the hair on the back of his skull. Awkwardly. Ears tinged red. Cutely. “That would warm me up.”

“Is that your excuse?” You ask, chapped lips rubbing together. Your heartbeat felt in your throat. You shouldn’t be feeling like this. Not when you’ve known each other for the better part of your lives. It’s not normal. You don’t think you are.

“Nope.” He balances things out with a boyish smile that doesn’t make things any better for the lovesick teenage girl residing in your heart. She doesn’t know any better but to fawn over it. “My excuse is that we haven’t kissed here before. We’ve kissed there,” you follow his pointer, first to a bench made of stone and then to a blind spot behind some shrubs, “and there—many times there, heh, but not here. So we should kiss.” He reasons with a simplistic, nearly childish mindset. One you can’t quite argue against.

Until his spell breaks on you rather unceremoniously.

“I thought your eyes were closed!”

“Well, they were, but then I—hah, stop pullin’ like that—started missing your pretty face too much. Can’t deny me the simple joys in life, sweet cheeks.” He grins. “C’mon, just one kiss. Then we can meet with Yuji and the others. Promise I’ll act extra surprised!”

“Y-you knew?” Your eyes widen.

“I’ve known for about a week now? Heard you two talking on the phone, plus the kids asked to be put on cleaning duty when they usually leave everything to Megumi. Then a ton of chairs started to go missing, and—”

You barely bother listening to the rest, too caught up in your thoughts for Satoru’s detailed explanation of where it all went wrong to matter. Every year without exception—from your 16th birthday party-for-two in that tiny storage room you were accidentally locked in together to last year’s all-out murder mystery dinner party—he’s managed to sweep you off your feet, and yet you can’t throw him one party without it being spoiled.

You aren’t a planner. You know that. You know, but somehow you hoped this year would be different. That, twelve years after his insistence to spend his birthday in your company alone took root, (“Why would I want to spend this day with anyone other than you, angel? We have tons of fun together, don’t we? Just me and my special girl. Speaking of, any special requests for your birthday? I have some ideas myself, hehe~”) and one year after he stopped waiting for an apparition to show up and celebrate with him, he’d allow himself to bask in the appreciation of the living.

“Are you mad?”

The buzz of his voice quiets down, the paleness of a winter morning dawning beneath snowy lashes as he peers at you from above the rim of his sunglasses. Snowflakes of wonder stirring in his irises that contain them like two perfect snow globes, trapped in them, an ageless moment of the past.

“I’m relieved.” Satoru whispers, so faintly you almost miss it.

“Re…lieved?”

“You brought everyone here, right?” You nod. “Without blackmailing anyone?”

“Just Nanami.” You admit. “And Ijichi—Shoko promised to take him out for drinks if he came.”

“That’s good.” His lips pull into a smile warm enough to thaw your worries. “Honestly, I’m not the biggest fan of my own birthday.”

“I’ve noticed,” you interrupt. “You aren’t the only one perceptive here, Mister Six-Eyes.”

He gives you a funny look, creases forming over his brow as an imaginary zipper is drawn across the corners of his lips.

You unzip it. “Please continue, Great Gojo Senpai.”

His eyes light up. Satoru isn’t one for honorifics, yet hearing you address him as such makes the lovesick teenage boy in his heart shudder with excitement.

“You know what birthday I got the biggest haul for?” A shake of your head prompts him to continue. “Seventh.” Figures, you add. He nods. “Wanna know what they got me? A Hokusai painting. You know. One of those wavy ones.” Only he would ever refer to a Japanese classic that way. “But seven-year-old kids don’t care about dead people’s paintings or Shinto shrine visits. They want adventure, balloons, and luscious Gâteau au Chocolat. The new Street Fighter game, maybe.” His fingers snap together. “They want Laputa.”

You forget your hand is still in his until it’s given a light squeeze, Satoru nervously fiddling with your fingers while he mulls over what to say next.

“Bottom line is, birthdays with the clan suuuuuucked. And then, as I got older, I grew tall enough to outrun those stupid goons watching over me. So I’d run straight to Suguru’s house, drag him to the station, and from there, we’d go to that one pastry shop in Shinjuku and buy every cake on display. We’d eat till we both got sick—hah, you wouldn’t think his stomach was this sensitive with all those curses he gobbled up, right?—and then a few years later we met Shoko, and she’d put out her cigarette on my share.” He hisses like a distressed cat. “Then we met you”—another squeeze—“and those were the best birthdays of my life. Back when we were all together.”

“Satoru—”

“I didn’t think I could have that again.” He cuts you off. “But you said you got everyone together, and while some of us are no longer here, a lot are. This is good. You did well. I’m relieved, really. I’m happy.”

By the time Satoru finishes talking, you find yourself at a loss for words, blankly staring at his unaffected expression. It’s easy to forget how vulnerable he can be in those rare outbursts of sincerity; easy to forget that the one branded as the strongest is a person who cries and breaks too, and even easier to let yourself be deceived by that happy-go-lucky attitude. But as a smile begins to take shape upon your features, you can see where he’s coming from.

You are relieved.

“What are you smiling for?” Satoru asks in the same manner you did earlier.

“Nooooooothing!” You shamelessly steal his line. “Just thinking about the sorry look on your face when you realize there’s no chocolate cake.”

“You evil witch!” He proclaims, mouth hanging slack and forefinger pointing in accusation. “Next you’re gonna tell me you didn’t buy candles either!”

“Actually…”

You take hold of his finger before he can protest any further. Not that he wants to when both his hands are enveloped in the warmth of your smaller ones, childishly swinging by your sides. Back and forth. Up and down. Round and round. Arms overlapping as you both step closer, chuckling at a joke only your eyes seem to know.

“About that kiss.” You begin, laughing again at the small, exasperated mhm your boyfriend lets out, his Adam’s apple bobbing under the high neck of his sweater. “Are you still feeling cold?”

“So cold.” Satoru wiggles his shoulders as if he’s truly shivering. “Warm me up before the cold hand of death takes me away. Pleaseeeee.”

You aren’t one to deny him. Tiptoeing forward, you crane your neck so you can reach higher, while he bends his knees to shorten himself, meeting you halfway. Heavy breaths are shared as your noses brush together. The subtle notes of bergamot on his clothes blending with the wintry crisp in the atmosphere. Eagerness tugging at his bottom lip.

You might not be one to deny him, but you definitely are the type to tease him.

“Why don’t you do it? Why should I be the one to kiss you?”

“Wha—because I asked you!” Satoru quips.

“And?”

“And I have Senpai rights. Plus you didn’t pay boyfriend tax this morning, and come think of it, you didn’t wish me a Happy Birthday either!” He gasps like he only realized that just now. He builds his entire case around it. “Birthday Boy demands it. You have no choice but to give in or you’ll be cursed for your next seven birthdays!”

“But I thought you didn’t like your own birthday.”

“Baby!” Satoru finally breaks, his voice reduced to a high-pitched whine. “Even so, you can’t be mean to me on my own birthd—”

His lips are warmer than yours when you nullify the distance, conveying the softness and fruitiness of your stolen chapstick. A smirk is written on them, bitten away as you drag his hands closer to your body, foreheads bumping together and sunglasses nearly slipping from his nose. He giggles into your mouth, whispering how hot he finds it when you take the lead—moaning at the way your tongue presses against his, and disregarding the three sets of footsteps that enter the scene.

“Sensei!” A somewhat recognizable, albeit squeaky, voice calls out. “We’ve been waiting for you!”

“Way to ruin the surprise, Itadori!” Another, angrier, squeaky voice scolds.

“Idiot, you just said there was a surprise. And I told you both to go easy on the hellion.” The last of their group tries to deadpan, somehow sounding more ridiculous than his peers.

“Pft—F-Fushiguro!” Nobara and Yuji laugh in sync, too preoccupied with poking fun at their classmate to notice your form erasing itself from existence behind Satoru’s back as he turns around to face them.

“Yuji! Nobara! Megumiiiii!” His tone is colored with a falsetto when he addresses his favorite (target) student, prompting the duo to keep harassing him with countless pokes at his confetti-laced spikes.

Your plan to use poor Megumi’s torture as a decoy to flee the premises goes to waste as your hand is held out in the open, with Satoru showing you off to them like the big prize at the end of a wrestling match.

“Oh, future Mrs. Gojo Sensei!” Yuji is the first to acknowledge your presence; the effects of the gas are all but worn off as he timidly waves at you. “I didn’t know you were here! What brings you to school today?”

“That’s quite the title, Yuji. Told you to just—ugh!—call me by my first name.” You struggle to pull your wrist out of Satoru’s grasp. You lose. “Also, no need to keep playing charades. He knows.”

“You told him? Then what was all of this for?” Nobara comes forth, a pink balloon dramatically deflating in her hands.

“Actually, I figured it out myself! Aren’t you proud to have such a smart teach—”

“No!” Two out of three shout in unison. You almost do so yourself.

After their back and forth escalates into a full-blown debate on who’s more intelligent, Satoru or Megumi’s shikigami (the results to be announced on a future episode of Are You Smarter than a Toad?) and happy birthdays are wished, Yuji asks the one question you feared answering the most.

“Sensei? Miss Y/N? What were you doing out there in the cold?”

Their own curiosity beats Megumi and Nobara to the classroom as they stall their entrance, with Satoru being the first to hit the buzzer.

“You see, Yuji, when a man and a woman love each other very much, they—ahahouch! Love really does hurt! It hurts so badly!” He yelps as you stomp on his foot hard enough to cripple an average man.

“Don’t you dare use me as a test subject for the talk, Satoru!”

“What talk, darlin’?” He smiles coyly, not losing the chance to brag. “Oh, you mean the talk about how you fell victim to my charms and couldn’t wait till we were alone to kiss me? Guess I still got it, despite the extra candle on the cake.”

“Aww!”

“Eww!”

“Gross!”

The reactions vary.

“You’ll get another candle lit up in your memory if you keep spewing shit like this!” Your attempt to step on his shoe is countered by his technique.

“Hey, no cursing in front of my precious students!” Satoru chides. “We’re supposed to set an example for them, not taint their innocent souls!”

“Satoru!” With a tremendous roar, the door flies open, startling the three students to jump behind their teacher and you to follow suit.

Principle Yaga stands by the frame, his authoritative tone coursing through your body as it recalls every punishment he ever subjected you to. The soreness in your calves from running laps around school for being late. The dryness in your eyes after surviving one of his excruciating educational VHS tape sessions for being “cheeky” and the ache in your fingers from scrubbing the gym floors squeaky clean—courtesy of being caught sneaking back into the dorm with tousled hair in the dead of night.

You almost feel sorry for Satoru acting as the wavebreaker for the incoming tsunami, but then you remember how the majority of your crimes were incidentally committed in his name and wish him good luck. He deserves whatever earful he gets, possibly something along the lines of “Sixteen minutes late? Are you trying to break a world record?”

“You think Gojo Sensei will die?” Yuji whispers. “He’s at that age when a lot of celebrities die, right?”

“He’d better not! I didn’t bring any funeral wear with me.” Nobara answers back.

“Can’t you read the room?” Megumi rasps. “Plus, that’s the 27 Club you’re talking about. Gojo Sensei has outlived that.”

“Didn’t take you for a clubgoer, Fushiguro.” The two of them snicker, prompting Megumi to sigh as he again points out their idiocy.

“Principal Yaga!” Satoru bravely puts himself forward, your line of defense falling apart like a house of cards you’re made to support on your own. “Are you here to wish me a happy birthday? How thoughtful! Guess it’s true what they say: People mellow down with age.”

“Sixteen minutes late—”

The man’s mouth twitches furiously as an invisible countdown starts in all your heads, none of you expecting the situation to simmer down before it boils over.

“But I’ll let it slide this once. Happy birthday, Satoru. I’ve stopped hoping that the years bring you wisdom and fix your bad habits. It’s pointless; every year you turn more impudent than the year before,”—is that supposed to be a birthday wish or you getting kicks from throwing shade at me?—“but I wish they bring you happiness. I made this with you in mind. Hope it’s to your liking.”

You watch as Principal Yaga reveals a felt doll from behind his back, handing it to a repulsed Satoru, who makes no effort to conceal his personal feelings, let alone express gratitude.

“Huh? What’s that supposed to be?” He asks, shaking the doll so quickly you only catch a glimpse of its fluffy white tail and stitched black sunglasses—a cat?

“It’s you.” Its maker replies, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “And he has a name. Satoru, say hello to Catoru.”

Four of you share a look among yourselves, too stunned to say a thing until Satoru and his doll counterpart face you, the latter being held up by the scruff of his neck. Just like an actual cat.

“Do I look like this?” Satoru asks, and you all go quiet, with three hands simultaneously nudging you to represent them. Traitors!

“I mean, there are times when you do act like a cat—kinda?” Your voice is pinched up, hands moving frantically to dispute your words as your boyfriend’s face turns sourer than umeboshi. “But you look ten times—no, a hundred times more handsome! I promise! If anything, you resemble a—uh, Turkish Angora? Those are super beautiful!”

“You’d better get along.” Yaga warns. “I designed Catoru with a sweet tooth like you.”

“I don’t want a little mochi thief in my house!”

Yaga marches back into class without waiting to hear Satoru’s concerns about the impending depletion of his secret mochi stash. The kids tail after him, leaving you to comfort Satoru with a gentle pat on his back. “Let’s go inside, mm?”

The atmosphere inside the classroom is significantly more promising than what Yuji showed you on FaceTime this morning. All desks are pulled to the side in a rough T formation, with the spread of food you spent two nights making carefully put in order, from platters full of golden-crusted corn dogs and crispy chicken fingers to dainty cupcakes decorated with Konpeito candy and colorful mochi of every filling you could think of. Inumaki serves bar, and you’re pleased to see people returning for seconds, with Yuji waving his hands while praising your popping candy cake poppers to his taciturn upperclassman.

Balloons hang near the ceiling—a flag garland dangling from one end of the blackboard to the other. A gigantic birthday message spans across the surface, with smaller wishes sprinkled in abundance, some consisting of mere congratulations and others expressed with heartfelt emotion. You can easily guess who wrote what based on handwriting alone; Megumi’s by far the tidiest.

You knew leaving the decorations to Nobara was a smart choice. She knows it too. She doesn’t waste the chance to boast to Maki about it, the older girl twirling a bouquet made of lollipops between her fingers while gazing at the drifting clouds outside the window.

Satoru was right. This is good. You have every reason to be proud, too.

In the far back of the room, the adults have struck up a conversation with Panda, who snaps a picture of your entrance. The two party poopers—Ijichi and Nanami—look up from their quiet exchange.

“Satoru! You came!” Principal Yaga’s pride and joy steps forward with open arms, a party hat pulled taut between his round ears. “Congratulations on your birthday,” says Panda, planting two identical party hats on your heads. “Let me take a picture of the two of you. Couldn’t get an angle from back there.”

Your shoulders get squeezed as Satoru smooshes your faces together, the pointy tip of his hat nearly taking your eye out when he tries to steal a kiss from your cheek. You squint—and snap!

“Hey, can you take another? I think I wasn’t looking straight.”

“No do-overs!” Satoru interferes before Panda can even open his mouth. “Don’t worry! Getting a bad picture of you is impossible when you look perfect at any given time. Right, Panda?”

His former student glances down at the camera, letting out the exact same sound your computer makes when a Windows program crashes, and then rushing to mask it with a hearty chortle.

“Of course, Satoru! You got very lucky; Y/N is as beautiful as she is kind-hearted.” He shows you a grin that’s mostly teeth. “You know, she worked really hard for this party. We barely did anything ourselves.”

Not true; you all did your part…

Your eye is endangered once more, with his lips finding their target this time around. “That’s my vanilla caramel drizzle cupcake muffin baumkuchen pie to ya!”

That’s half your macchiato and half your bakery order, you argue silently.

“Shame Yuta couldn’t make it.” Panda continues. “Heard he’s down with a cold, though he did send you his gift via Maki.” A fuzzy thumb points at the closet-turned-gift-depository, where various bags and packages are stacked into a pyramid. “Anyway. I’ll let the two of you mingle. Come over if ya want more pictures of you taken. Got lots of props too.”

Your eyes follow as he returns to his post, spotting Shoko experimenting with a pair of groucho glasses. Nanami shakes his head disapprovingly, leaning back into his chair while Ijichi’s stutter is visible from where you and Satoru stand.

You glance up at him, a default smile plastered on his lips. Unreadable to others, but painfully obvious to you. The face he’s searching for is not among those present.

“Everyone seems to be having fun.” Satoru points out.

“Y-yeah.” You croak.

“Can’t believe you got everything down. Class looks like it did back then. Even the wobbly pom-pom on the party hats.” He squeezes the one on your head. “That caught me off guard.”

“Well, it would’ve been a greater surprise if you didn’t eavesdrop on my private phone calls.”

“That ain’t on me, sweets.” He whisks your hand into his and drags you onward. “Not my fault I was born with heightened senses. Better get used to it; our kids will probably take after me in that aspect.”

You shrug his comment off, watching as Satoru stows the cat away in the closet and dramatically dusts his hands off. “Another great addition to the world’s creepiest collection.” He grumbles.

“But Catoru is the cutest so far!” You object.

He is about to answer when a sound akin to that of someone choking has you both turning toward the makeshift buffet where Ijichi is downing water straight from the jug, his sunken cheeks a scarlet shade of red.

“Shit! He must’ve discovered the jalapeno poppers.” You bite your lips into a straight line, feeling somewhat responsible.

“Nice job!”

“It wasn’t my intention!”

Your plea of innocence doesn’t resonate with Satoru, who gives you a thumbs up before forming a cone around his mouth and shouting at Ijichi—chuckling at the hurried way the man searches for an escape between chairs and people.

“Ijichi! Oi, Ijichi! I-ji-chi! Over here! Come wish me a happy birthday!” He waves his arms around like Tom Hanks in Cast Away, declaring—unlike Tom Hanks—that he’s coming to him instead.

“Don’t go around terrorizing people, ‘Toru.” Your voice has him stopping his march to peck your lips.

“Promise I’ll be a good boy. You’re free to punish me if I’m not.” He smirks, finger-gunning you all the while stepping backwards in slow motion.

“You never are!”

“Hmm, that’s only because I’m the best. And you’d better prepare a handsome reward for when we get home, ‘cause the best always wins.” A flirtatious wink makes you question how many people listened in on your exchange, praying that the answer is none.

You take advantage of Satoru’s absence to pay a visit to your old friends, mentally counting the days since the last time you all gathered up. It’s been way too long—the beer you’d promised to catch up over turned into a distant fantasy.

“Gonna get yourself nauseous if you keep staring at that whirlpool, Shoko Senpai.” You plop down on the closest vacant chair, the bored brunette humming without lifting her eyes from the lemonade swirling inside her cup.

“If you gaze long into the abyss, the abyss will also gaze into you.” She states, managing to sound both mesmerized and disinterested at the same time.

“And? Seen anything yet?” You lean closer.

She retires with a sigh, dark circles looming below her hazelnut eyes. “Nothing yet.”

“How about now?”

Pulling your trump card—aka one of those miniature vodka bottles you specifically brought with her in mind—from your pocket, you pour a generous amount into her drink, reminiscing about the time she accidentally spiked Satoru’s soda and had him swimming on the floor.

It takes one sip for Shoko to liven up, a sudden jolt of energy coursing through her veins as she reaches out for the bottle.

“You’re a lifesaver, you know that?”

You chuckle. “Big praise coming from someone who actually saves lives.”

“Big words coming from people who openly drink in front of underage students.” The man to your left observes, absentmindedly picking at the tentacles of the octopus sausage on his plate.

“Kento! You made it!” You tip from one side of your chair to the other, arms dangling empty as he dodges your hug. “Having fun?”

“Please stop acting like him. I know the years in his company have caused your twisted personalities to merge, but the world is already wretched enough with one Gojo Satoru around.” He munches on the “good part” of the dissected octopus, discarding the tentacles inside a carefully folded napkin.

“But to answer your question, whether I’d rather spend my Friday afternoon explaining to everyone I know that the man in the picture dancing inappropriately with half-naked models in Ibiza isn’t me but a look-alike or sitting here, chaperoning a bunch of kids and making sure no one kills themselves, then yes. It’s not as horrible as I expected. And you’re as good of a cook as I remembered.” He wipes his mouth. “But I’m still clocking out at 7 sharp.”

“Come on! I did what I had to do to get you here!” You giggle, experiencing a little of the same rush Satoru feels when he’s poking fun at Ijichi. Oh no. “I am glad you’re enjoying the food, at least!”

A sound viler than any curse’s wail pierces through your ears as a TV cart is dragged into the room. You recognize it as Yaga’s old torture device—those five-hour black and white tapes gleaming menacingly on the lower shelves, with an unknown machine piled atop the cassette player. You aren’t sure what its purpose is until Yuji connects a microphone to it.

“Everyone—ah, ah, ah! Can you hear me?” The boy dabs a palm against the microphone, sounding loud and clear across the room. “Fushiguro, can you hear me? Fushiguro—ah, ah, ah!” The last of his ah’s interrupted by Megumi’s calling him out in front of their live audience.

“Everyone, thank you for coming to Gojo Sensei’s birthday party! I’m Itadori Yuji, and I’m happy to have co-hosted this event with Miss Y/N.”

A couple of heads turn in your direction, Satoru’s among them. It’s easy to make out his silhouette when he dwarfs everyone around him—Principle Yaga on his side and an antsy Ijichi lurking behind them.

“I enrolled in this school a little over a semester ago by accident.” Yuji continues undeterred. “Back then, I didn’t know any more about curses than the next person. Not that I do now.” He scratches through his hair. “Honestly, it was a lot to stomach, especially the part where I get to share my body with another. I was told I’d be better off dead, and I did die once. I was supposed to be dead, but then Gojo sensei gave me a choice, and I’m here because of that choice. More than a helping hand, he’s been a guiding light to me, and on behalf of all of us, thank you, and Happy Birthday!”He bows. “I hope you have a good one!”

Yuji holds out the microphone for Satoru, the two of them sharing a high five with an affectionate pat seeing the boy off.

“Thank you, Yuji, for this wonderful speech!” Satoru grins, evidently moved by his student’s words. “Everyoooooooooooone! Give it up for the man of the hour, the one and only, the most incredibly handsome and magnificently strong sorcerer known as Gooooooooooojo Saaaaatoruuuu!” His body twists in a pirouette, peace signs and heart signs flying everywhere as he lands with a finger pointing at where the imaginary camera would be.

Unsurprisingly, no one is impressed. Cricket sounds almost audible.

“Wow, okay. Tough crowd, I guess.” His lips comically jerk to one side of his face, his tone turning nasal before switching back. “I won’t bore you with individual thanks and other useless formality crap.”

He smirks at the way your mouth rounds a silent gasp. Nanami notices too, posing a question you shrug off.

“To cut it short: first-years! You’ve all proved yourselves as worthy sorcerers and worthier humans. As a reward, I’m proud to announce your reward in the form of a—c’mon guys, drum your desks a little!—luxurious, one of a kind, ten outta ten, uniquely planned field trip by moi!”

“Is it Paris? Are you taking us to Paris?” Nobara dreams out loud.

“Sensei! How about Universal Studio? I saw them post their newest churrito flavor on their webpage.”

“Can I sit this one out?” A gloomy murmur begs.

“Great thinking, Yuji! Unfortunately, Nobara, we won’t be going overseas this time, but, Megumi, you’ll definitely want to reconsider once you hear our destination, which iiiiiis—excitement is free, everyone!—Parque Espana!” Satoru claps for his suggestion.

Three dejected faces say pass in unison, with only Megumi daring to complain about Satoru taking him and Tsumiki to the theme park every second Sunday when the two were younger. You remember that. Some times you’d tag along, and you’d all grab ice cream while staring at that humongous roller coaster the kids were too short to ride.

Undefeated, Satoru directs his attention to the second-year students, the three of them loitering by the chip bowl. His tone turning grave, “Second years, I’m honestly very disappointed in all of you. In our two years of knowing each other, you never thought to throw your favorite teacher a party for his birthday. You’re lucky I don’t have the authority to drop you a grade, but still. You fail!”

“Fish Flakes!” Inumaki expresses his supposed disagreement.

“Huh? You never even told us when your birthday was because you didn’t want us knowing your real age, you blindfolded idiot!”

“Maki, not now!” Panda anxiously gets in her way. “Cool it!”

“You should have figured it out yourselves.” Satoru toots. “Moving forward! I’d like to give my special thanks to the moon of my life, my sun, and my stars.”—you knew watching Game of Thrones with him was a very bad idea—“Y/N! Come here, sweetie. Don’t be shy; everyone knows how much we love each other.

It almost feels like you have the limelight shining on you, with every person eagerly awaiting your response. You gulp hard, whispering so that only Nanami can hear. “You were right. Please save me.”

“What is it, Buttercup? You already have my heart, but if there’s anything you’d like for me to do, then now is the moment to say it.” Satoru smiles sweetly, his voice dripping with honey.

“Actually, there is. Can you put me down?” You kick your legs around while he hoists you up in bridal style, your unjust abduction having occurred in the blink of an eye.

“Anything and everything for you!” He kisses the top of your head, holding you close to him even after letting your feet touch the ground. “Alright, that’d be all! I hope everyone gets to have the time of their lives. Now, let’s get this party started!” He throws the microphone up in the air.

Nothing happens.

“I said, let’s get this party star—whatever.” Satoru gives up half-way through raising his arm again. “Yuji, play something fun!”

“On it!” Yuji salutes him, and the two of you walk away from the blackboard.

A faint sigh echoes behind you, its relief cut short as Satoru grabs the microphone once more. “Ah, right. Ijichi, I’ll see you in my office on Monday. I’d wear a headband if I were you.”

“I’ve c-committed a mortal sin, G-Gojo!” Ijichi struggles to say, uncertain of the crime he’s being accused of, yet hopeful for Satoru’s forgiveness.

“You are such a menace!” You throw a playful punch to his chest once he sits you on his lap, away from the eyes of people gathering around the karaoke machine, and close to Nanami, who departs with a disgusted scoff.

“You love me for it.” Satoru’s lips press softly against yours, incapable of hiding his smile when you pull his face in for another kiss, the tight squish of his arms making sure you’re going nowhere.

“I do.” You affirm, rubbing your nose on his. “I love you.”

“How much?” His eyes crinkle fondly.

“Hmm, like, a lot?” You giggle, your fingers absently brushing through the trimmed hair on the back of his skull. “Enough to spend half a lifetime by your side and still find you the most incredible person in all of creation.”

“Wanna spend the other half too?” His breath on your cheek colors your skin red, your eyes momentarily lost between shades of blue.

“Come back with a ring, Shit-toru.”

“That’s not the way you talk to your future husband!”

“He’s here? With us? Right now?” You gasp, frantically looking around, until Satoru forces you to face him with a thumb on your chin, his other hand squeezing an innocent touch around your thigh.

“Satoru!”

“Scared your future husband will see us?” He throws his head back, laughing at your panicked state. “Don’t worry. I’ll fight him for you. And win. After all, I am the strongest.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, he did it! He said the line with only—”you glance at your phone—“six hours left before the day ends, what an amazing record!”

A shrill screech fired from the other side of the room interrupts your banter, the microphone turning into a lethal weapon in Panda’s massive palms. The students appear to have divided themselves into couples, fighting over who gets to go first until Inumaki takes the initiative with a rap song—or, more accurately, sings over a rap song, as the only words in his roster revolve around onigiri ingredients that are mentioned nowhere in the lyrics.

“Stop hogging the mic!” Maki attempts to steal it, backing away as the boy teases to unzip his collar. She knows better than to push her limits while unarmed.

Panda still gets in the middle. For precaution, you assume.

“Reminds you of something?” Satoru comments on your riveted attention. “They’re just like us. How we once were. Young and full of dreams.”

“Nah. You were always a horny bastard.” You slap the inappropriately placed hand away before you get up and sit where Nanami was previously stationed. Poking your tongue at his devastated expression.

Conversation between the two of you is kept to a minimum after a different tune begins blasting from the speakers—Yuji and Megumi take over the stage with Takada-Chan’s most recent success, one of them performing the vocals to perfection while the other merely mumbles yeah’s whenever the song calls for it. Next are Nobara and Maki, the two girls belting out to an anthem of empowerment that has the boys in the room gulping uncomfortably among themselves.

The mood shifts completely when Yaga pours his soul into an 80’s power ballad, his raspy voice transforming into the smoothest velvet, complemented by Panda’s harmonies. Even Satoru praises his old teacher, cheering him on from the bleachers with a makeshift napkin-banner.

You don’t realize your boyfriend’s gone until you see him with the microphone in hand, bending the cable as he makes quick gestures for the floor to empty, performing what is possibly the cheesiest, most romantic love song ever written, and ushering you to join him once he drops to his knees—quite literally at your feet.

You ruffle his hair and shove his goofy expression away. No matter how charming his singing voice may be, he’ll never get you to sing in public. Similar to how he’ll never catch you admitting how loudly your heart beats in your chest, despite the fact that it’s written all over your face.

God, you hate this man. So much that part of you wishes you’d spent his birthday like you did every other year—tangled in his sheets and kissing till you cannot breathe.

As soon as the karaoke session ends, Megumi and Yuji exit the room to bring in the cake, with Satoru jumping them for a thorough inspection. The dessert is inspired by one of his favorite confections. Handmade mochi bites are spread evenly between three layers of fluffy strawberry cake, the entire enterprise covered in fine red bean paste and topped with vanilla buttercream, strawberry cutouts, and, of course, more mochi in a light pink shade to recreate the world’s largest daifuku.

You lost count of how many failed attempts it took to create your own recipe from scratch, but the look on Satoru’s face is better than any payment you could possibly ask. He struggles to find a word that describes his feelings—phenomenal being the one he ends up using. Definitely better than chocolate cake. Perhaps even on par with the legendary Laputa.

Everyone gathers anew for the birthday boy to blow out his candles, awkwardness sweeping through the crowd as, one by one, you come to the conclusion that there is no available lighter.

you search through your pockets for a lighter, finding none. Shoko’s unhealthy (and supposedly cut) habit comes in clutch, with the brunette handing Yuji the keys to her office. The boy sprints outside at full speed, idle chatter put on pause as the TV starts playing on its own, the song selection window traded for a relic of the past.

“Is this even working?” A young Shoko taps the camera, tilting her body at a curious angle. Short skirt rolling up.

“Probably not. That shit’s ancient, but feel free to test it! Maybe try showing it something funnier, like your pant—”

Horny bastard. Right on the money.

“Cut it off, Satoru.” A voice makes both you and present-day Satoru shudder, its owner taking the camera from their friend’s hand to shoot footage around the gym. “Yaga Sensei told us to use this to document the Goodwill Event, not film amateur gravure.” The frame shakes once more. “Looks good to me.”

“Pft, what’s the point?” Satoru flicks a pebble at the camera. “So he can make a quick buck out of me destroying those brats? The outcome’s already decided. Now turn this thing off. I wanna lay under the sun without some junk in my face.”

The camera zooms in on him splaying his limbs on the grass, possibly near the track field, based on the slight hint of red inside the green.

“The only junk in your face is your face itself.” Shoko deadpans, making him chase after her while Suguru continues filming them until they turn into a pair of flickering dots.

“These two.”

The world is turned upside down as a close-up of his bang takes over the screen. Realizing that himself, he pulls the camera further away, cat-like irises shining like pure amber under the sunny sky. You’ve missed their warmth.

“Preparation for the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event, Day 1.” He declares, and the screen goes black in an instant, white noise reigning over the space.

Your hand seeks Satoru’s on its own, the faint sound of his name dangling from your parted lips, both your breaths catching in your throats. He’s left gawking at the screen, reciprocating your touch with shaky fingers that try to anchor him to you. It’s safe to say this was not part of your plan.

“Weird. Thought it’d be one of those old workout tapes.” Nobara reveals herself as the culprit behind the incident, ejecting the tape back into its box and later standing with her hands pinned to her waist. “Gojo Sensei, I recognize you and Ieri, but who was that third person in the video? Bangs Guy.”

Out of everyone in the room, she’s the only one to have absolutely no information on Suguru. Aside from the adults, the second-years were all present during last year’s attack, and Megumi knows whatever has slipped from Satoru during his stay at the Gojo clan’s compound.

Nobody rushes to respond; all of you tuned in on Satoru even though only Shoko, Yaga, and you are directly gazing at him, his face contorted with a pained grimace he tries hard to disguise.

“Geto Suguru was—”

“My best friend.” Satoru grins at Principal Yaga’s attempt to help him, grasping your hand more confidently as he confronts the girl. “Geto Suguru is my best friend.”

“Huh. Guess there’s hope for everyone.” No one’s left with any courage to laugh at Nobara’s poor attempt at a joke. “Where is he now—”

“Senseiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!” A voice gains volume as the door bursts open, Yuji pouring into the classroom with the lighter held over his head like it’s the Olympic flame. “I g-got th-the—” He tries to breathe, ending up only saying, “Fire. Wish. What. Miss?”

“Yuji!” Satoru makes you follow him to the door. “You’re right on time! And no, you didn’t miss anything. Just stories of the past.”

“Stories?” Yuji wipes the sweat off his forehead. Still very much exasperated. “But I…like stories.”

“I know you do.” Satoru’s eyes settle on yours, the clamor in his eyes hushing for the first time in years. “But birthday wishes are meant for a future that’s yet to be written.”

“Thank you!”

Appreciation falls from your lips as a long-drawn yawn, every second you spend huddled under the kotatsu’s warmth begging to lull you to sleep. Today was a long day. So long, it feels as if it spanned an entire lifetime.

Satoru plops down beside you, the neckline of his sweatshirt diving low over his collarbones as he chugs his share of hot cocoa. Yours remains untouched while you switch between the same two movie options, incapable of picking one over the other.

“What do you have for me?” He asks, running his fingers over the ceramic rim. A melodic string instrument-like sound is induced.

“Okay so. Got the cult classic Sixteen Candles, which we’ve probably watched more times than Molly Ringwald had to practice her lines for the role, and I also have La Boum, in case you’re feeling more adventurous, and I don’t know. Frenchy, maybe.”

“Hmm, I mean. When you phrase it like that…”He acts as if he’s seriously contemplating his choice, only to snatch the remote from your hand and choose La Boum. He smiles slyly, curling near your chest. “It’s what you obviously wanted to watch. And I always choose, so.”

“Forfeiting your birthday boy rights?” You hum, tenderly combing through his freshly washed white strands. He smells just like his cake, you think. “Be careful. There are still nine minutes left before your birthday’s over, and you’re robbed of your rights for an entire year. Think you can make it?”

“Will you be with me during those horrid days?” His voice turns muffled.

“Always. Now, before the movie starts and you ruin the fun with your excessive blabbing, how about you reach under the kotatsu for your gift?” You suggest, chuckling as his head lifts up, cerulean eyes shining with unfeigned surprise.

“Angel! You shouldn’t have!” Satoru beams whole as he drags the heavy box out, shaking it in an attempt to feel out its contents.

“You know that doesn’t work with me. C’mon. I’ll pause for you.”

He wastes no time to untie the light silver bow that ties the box together, taking, however, his sweet time to review each and every object placed within. Carefully, he lays everything out on the table, small gasps evading him at a constant and maturing into a full-on shriek as he spots that one rare Digimon trading card you bust your gut trying to purchase via private online auctions.

“I—um. I know it doesn’t sound too good ‘cause I’m your girlfriend and I’m supposed to know everything about you and what you want, but I really had no idea what to get for your birthday. So I decided to get you a bit of everything from your favorite things. You can blame me for weaponizing nostalgia later.”

You clear your throat with a quick sip of cocoa. Licking your lips, “Anyway. It’s really no biggie as you can see. I just bought off some trading cards, ported a few of your old favorite games to a current generation console—yes, Street Fighter included—and made you this silly beaded charm with our initials for your phone, since they are back in fashion.

“I know it’s not much, and you could buy those things at any given time, but—time is something you cannot buy, right? Your childhood, your youth. The so-called best years of your life. I wanted you to have that back, even if just for a day.”

It’s been minutes, and Satoru remains quizzically silent, to the point where the array of kisses aimed at your neck comes as a true ambush. You’re knocked to the floor, giggling and flailing while he shows you his affection in every way possible, kissing you, praising you, hugging you—loving you.

“H-Happy Birthday, Toru.” You repel his face enough to say. “Y-you know, a thank you would be nice to hear!”

“As if you don’t know what I’m about to say.” Satoru grins, holding your palms to his mouth. Kissing them one by one, repeatedly, and slowly. Multiple times each. “You are my childhood. And my youth. And the best years of my life—they are all you. Everything we’ve been through, and everything we’ll live together.”

“How’s that for a thank you?” He chuckles, quickly breaking the tension with a final kiss on your nose. Perhaps the only part of you that’s not tinged red. “That being said…”

“You want to go for a quickie?” You sniffle against your will.

“See? You do know everything about me.” He reaches for the deck of cards with the swirly brown backside. “It’s time to duel!”

A/N: sorry for hastily written ending. had no time, oopsie!

#gojo x reader #gojo birthday #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo satoru #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #jujustu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #satoru <3 #jjk gojo #jjk fanfic #satoru x reader

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kopivie · 7 months

Text

trick-or-treat.

# — pairing: spidey!kazuha x gn!reader

# — characters: gender neutral reader, spider-man!kazuha

# — warnings: a little suggestive.

# — tags: fluff, kisses (bc who am i if not a madman for kisses), mild hurt/comfort, BANTER YIPPEE!!, this is zuzu's way of making up for the fact that he all but forgot kazuha's birthday, apology fic

# — notes: (PLEASE READ!!) this is... not at all what i intended to do. it's 1:30 am and i just came down from a much needed high. as my head cleared, i noticed that this fic was like, riddled with flaws, but i feel too good about this to second guess it and feel bad. anyways, this is heavily inspired by this fic that 🎻 anon sent in my asks, as well as a follow-up to this fic i wrote on @awlumii last year on kazuha's birthday. i hope you enjoy and please do let me know what you think! i could really use some feedback.

✦ — 🎃 — ✦

There's a knock on your door. You stare at the entry to your apartment and think: "How mean would it be if I ignored them right now?"

In your defense, you've been giving out candy all day. All. Day. You figured that there would at least have been a lull in the early afternoon since children had school to attend, but no — you've been giving out candy to all ages from as early as 10:30 this morning. It's a good thing you stocked up on candy late last month, otherwise you would've had to ruin the days of some very enthusiastic trick-or-treaters. So after setting aside a bucket full of your favorites and giving out the leftovers until about 10 at night, you finally thought yourself ready to curl up on your bed with your softest blanket. You were halfway to dreamland when some monster started pounding on your door.

(So maybe you're exaggerating a little. But who could blame you? You're tired and you want to sleep.)

And so, here you sit, your legs half-tangled in your weighted fleece blanket as you glare at your door and hope that your unwanted visitor is telepathic and gets the message that you want them to leave. Scram! you think. You raise your voice in your head. Get out of here. Shoo! Begone!

…They knock again. (Kind of a dick move if they can read minds.)

The groan you let out is obnoxiously loud and is most definitely heard by whoever is on the other side of the door. You hoist yourself to your feet and trudge to the door, but you don't open it quite yet. Judging by the fact that this person has yet to say anything, you figure that they're old enough to know when their presence is not welcome and left.

Wrong. You're too optimistic. They knock again.

You sigh and once again, hope that the sound carries through the door. "Who is it?" You try to make yourself sound as unfriendly as possible. Considering how cranky you are, you don't have to try very hard.

"Trick-or-treat..?" The voice on the other side is muffled by the door, but also by something else. Fabric, probably. All you know is that their voice is deep enough to be an adult's.

You click your tongue. "Trick." You almost snicker. It's a little refreshing not doling out treats for once. "Go home."

"Can I at least give you a treat?" The person asks.

You blink. They didn't leave? "Pretty sure that's not how it works," you reply. "I give you treats and you… I dunno, TP my house or something."

"Yeah, well," the person at the door chuckles, "I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to say 'trick', either. Since you're breaking the rules, it's only fair that it's my turn, right?"

Well… Shit. They have a point.

Impressed by the stranger's reasoning, you hum. "Fine. Let me find my costume." You turn to gather your costume and notice that you can't find the full thing. You were so eager to get to bed that you didn't hesitate to drop the thing in the wash. Not wanting to make the stranger wait too long, you improvise. You blindly grab the mask and the blue throw blanket you have folded up on your couch and tie it around your shoulder like a cape. It's a shitty excuse for a costume, but you reason that your exhaustion is a good excuse. You swing open the door and cross your arms over your chest. "Alright, what do you got for-- Oh."

Standing on the other side of your door is none other than Spider-Man himself. The two of you stand in silence as you take in each other's appearances. Then, after what feels like forever, he speaks. "So… a cape, huh?"

You don't hesitate — you grab your door and swing the thing shut as fast as you can, but Spider-Man is faster, catching the door in his gloved hand. You turn your back to him. The mask is obscuring his face, but you already know what expression he has underneath. "Don't say a word." You warn him.

Spider-Man pays you no mind. You can feel him lifting your 'cape' as he inspects it. "Hmm… capes are kinda aerodynamic, but considering how dirty my enemies fight, I don't think that's a very good design choice." You can hear the shit-eating grin in his voice. "I'll give it a five out of ten."

"I said shut it!" You snatch your blanket out of his hands and march further into your apartment with Spider-Man's laughter following at your back. He walks inside and the door shuts behind the two of you. "Get the fuck out, webhead," you seethe. Your voice trembles with shame. "I didn't invite you in."

Spider-Man just walks around you to look you in the eye. "Come now, lovebug," he tilts your chin up with a finger, "you look cute wearing my mask."

You grumble and push his hand away as you struggle for words. You want to say something like, "this isn't what it looks like!" to try and save face, but there's no point in trying. This is exactly what it looks like.

Because the mask you'd been wearing for Halloween -- and the mask you haphazardly thrown on moments ago -- was none other than Spider-Man's mask.

To be fair, these things were a dime a dozen. The people of this city adore the vigilante. It was only natural that kids and adults alike would want to pretend to be him for a day, even if they had no powers like him. You're not exactly one of those people — you've seen firsthand just how brutal Spider-Man's job can be. You wouldn't trade your life for his even if you were offered money. But as you stared at the costume while shopping, you couldn't help yourself. There were obviously cooler, much more interesting costumes to choose from but this one just… called to you.

Hindsight is 20/20, after all. You should've ignored that calling.

Spider-Man takes your chin in his fingers and shakes your head side to side. "I never knew you liked me so much, lovebug. I'm touched."

You scoff. "Don't be."

"Y'know, if you wanted to wear my mask so badly, you could've just asked." Spider-Man leans in and presses a clothed kiss to your cheek. You consider yourself lucky; he can't possibly feel the burn of your cheeks through all that fabric.

You stammer. "Ha-ha. Very funny."

"What? I'm sure I have a back up somewhere." He eyes you for a moment. "You'd look good in it."

Against your will, you wonder if he's saying that he wants you to wear his clothes. Would he ever actually loan you clothes that he's worn? The thought makes your face burn hotter. "Why are you here?" You ask. Anything to change the topic.

Spider-Man chuckles, but plays along. "I haven't swung by in a few days," he says, "so I figured I'd try and surprise you as a trick-or-treater." He shrugs. "I wanted to do some reverse psychology thing where I could trick you into thinking I was just some guy in a costume so you would give me candy."

You process his words for a second. "Okay, first of all, you already are a guy in a costume."

He visibly deflates and places a hand over his chest. "Ouch, lovebug. What if you hurt my feelings?"

"Second of all," you continue, "do you have any idea how many Spider-Men I've seen today?"

"...Is that a serious question?"

"Don't be a smart ass."

"I'm gonna go out on a limb and guess twelve."

You pause. You actually aren't even sure if that's the right number or not. You lost count after three hours of giving out candy to cute kids.

"Am I right?" He asks.

"Who knows?"

Spider-Man huffs. "If there's that many of us around, then what am I even here for?" You giggle at his petulant behavior, and he makes another breathy sound, reminiscent of a stifled laugh. "Did you treat them the same way you treat me?"

"What?" His question takes you off-guard for a moment. You chortle. "Oh, definitely."

"You gave them band-aids and kicked them out, too?"

"Mhm." You cross your arms. "Just slapped a few on some pretend wounds and told them to get the fuck off my property."

The two of you laugh together for a moment. Once the laughter dies down, Spider-Man tugs at your cheek for a brief second. You let him get away with it for now. "You're so cute." He sighs and you can hear something somber enter his tone. "I was worried about you. It's been a week since I've seen you."

It has been a week, hasn't it? You may have been swamped with work at the hospital, but there was never a night that you didn't find yourself waiting on your balcony like an idiot in this chilly weather. You had faith that he was okay — the Daily Bugle printed something new about the "masked menace" every day this past week — but that didn't stop you from longing for his presence. Stories can't compare to the real thing, after all. You're far more taken with the masked vigilante than you'd care to admit to yourself.

You hum. "About time someone else did the worrying for once," you mumble jokingly. "It gets tiring worrying all by myself."

Spider-Man stays quiet. "I've been okay. A little worse for the wear for the past two days, but okay otherwise."

You reach for him instinctively. "Lingering pain isn't like you," you say, already in doctor-mode, "did something happen?"

"No, not like that. I've just been… sad. I guess." His confession is soft as he takes your outstretched hands in his own. He's been more vulnerable around you lately and you're not sure if that's good or bad. "It's been a rough couple of days, that's all."

You rack your brain. What could possibly be paining him that you don't know of? He's already told you that he tells you everything (within reason), so maybe it's something that you already know of? You furrow your brows as you dive deeper into your memory. Deeper, deeper… until you happen across a memory from just about a year ago.

The kiss you shared on your balcony close to midnight.

"Oh my God." You voice your incredulity aloud. "Oh my God! I missed your birthday!"

Spider-Man straightens his posture as he inhales sharply.

How could you have forgotten? He confessed to you on his birthday last year that you were the only person he had left in his life since he hated his birthday so much. October 29th was such a painful day for him — to think that you didn't stop for a second to wonder if he was okay that day. It's not like you would've been able to contact him of course, but what if he swung by after you'd fallen asleep? You should've at least left him a note or something.

"Don't beat yourself up over it, lovebug." The confidence is starting to bleed out of him, you notice. Spider-Man walks over to your couch and sits on the floor in front of it. "I'll be okay. It's not like I was going to celebrate or anything."

You move to the couch and adjust yourself so that the vigilante is between your legs. You two often assume this position when you're finished patching him up and too tired to goof around until he leaves. You would place your hands on his head and press your fingers into the fabric of his mask. Spider-Man told you once that the action was soothing, but you have yet to admit to him that it's your way of trying to conjure up an image of what his hair must look like underneath.

Like always, he gets himself into position, draping his arms across your legs. This time, however, he's looking up at you. You're not sure what expression he might be wearing.

"I wasn't saying that we should've celebrated," you say softly. "I'm just upset that you had to be alone. Are you sure you're okay?" You ask as you massage your fingers across the crown of his head.

He hums. "I am now. I promise."

"If you're ever feeling down, you know you can come and see me." Your words surprise the both of you, but you don't regret them at all. He always seems to be around when you need his company the most, so why shouldn't you do the same for him? Who else would? your mind unhelpfully supplies. "I may not be the best company in the world, but at least you won't be alone, right?"

Spider-Man moves so that he's on his knees facing you. He's so close to your face like this; you inch backwards to preserve your sanity. "You're the only company I need." He says it with so much conviction that you shiver. "But does this mean I'm getting special treatment?"

"What--? You mean from the other Spider-Men?" When he nods, you snort. "Yeah, I guess you do get V.I.P privileges. You get extra treats unlike everyone else."

"Extra?" He tilts his head. "But you haven't given me any candy at all."

You raise a brow. "All that's left is the candy I'm hoarding for myself. And before you ask, no, I'm not sharing any. Why don't you try actually trick-or-treating? People would probably give the city hero the best of the best."

He sinks a little lower, seeming defeated. "...Would you believe me if I said I tried that already?"

"Did it work?"

He's silent.

"...It didn't work, did it?"

"...No. They thought I was just some superfan."

Peals of laughter burst out of you at his admission. "So this is how they repay you, huh?" You say between giggles. "No faith and no candy? That's rough, buddy." You get the distinct impression that he's glaring at you, but that only makes you laugh harder.

Fed up with your insistence on laughing at his misfortune, Spider-Man taps your leg. "Since I get special treatment from you, can I ask for a few wishes?"

You wipe a stray tear from your eye. "I'm dressed as a superhero, not a magic genie."

"Please?"

"Fine, fine." You finally catch your breath. "You get two wishes.

"Not three?"

"I'm not a genie. Don't push it."

Spider-Man puts his hands up in defense. "Alright, two it is. The first is… let me stay with you for the rest of the night."

You shrug. Wouldn't be the first time. He's usually gone by the time you wake up, anyhow. "Granted. Next one's your last — make it count, bug boy."

Spider-Man doesn't react to your nickname. Instead, he just stares at you. A familiar sensation tickles up your spine. He's watching you; you know that stare all too well. "I think you know what I'm going to ask for next." His voice is deeper, smoother than it was mere moments ago.

You nod and he eases himself closer to you. You feel your heart pick up an unsteady rhythm and rather than kiss him normally, you lean in close and press your masked lips to his. He makes a surprised noise before he laughs and melts into the "kiss" all the same. When you pull away, he's still laughing. A very welcome change from the bitter smile you're sure he was wearing when talking about his birthday. "Consider that a freebie," you mutter.

"You're too kind," he chuckles.

Soon, your fingers come to the base of his mask to raise it just above his lips when he suddenly stops you. He reaches for your face and you feel something tug at the base of your neck. Somehow, you completely forgot you were wearing that stupid mask. "It's kinda funny," he half-laughs, "having to unmask you for once."

"You... You can't tell anyone about my identity, okay?" You tease.

Spider-Man rolls your mask up just enough to expose your lips and you do the same to him. Neither of you are sure who leaned in first, but you meet in the middle in a kiss that has fireworks bursting behind your lids. The two of you are greedy, pouring a week's worth of longing into the kiss. The mutual yearning is palpable, so much so that you can hear his breath hitch when you sigh. He rises to the couch slowly and without breaking the kiss, doing his best not to part from you for even a second.

You missed him. Oh, how you missed him — you missed how he would wrap a strong arm around your waist and pull you closer like it was nothing; how he would whisper his adoration for you between breaths; how he would chase after your lips whenever you would tease him with barely-there kisses. You missed the exhilaration, the thrill of knowing that you were the only one Spider-Man would ever treat this way. That you were his and he was yours.

He moves from your lips to your jaw, trailing kisses up to your ear and down to your neck. His pace is unhurried, though he seems eager to pull a reaction out of you. You give him what he wants whether you intend to or not. You press yourself closer to him in a silent request for more and he indulges you; his kisses become little nips, and the nips turn to bites as he starts to leave marks on your neck. He eases you back so that you're laying on your couch and he's hovering over you. The two of you stare at each other for a moment.

"Can I use my next wish?" His voice is rough. When you nod, he leans in once more. His uncovered lips brush against your ear as he whispers. "Let me give you a treat."

Something foreign yet familiar makes you shudder as you nod.

Spider-Man attacks your neck once again. Clearly he was holding himself back earlier, because every mark he leaves stings. He makes them dark and obvious, completely disregarding any warnings you may have given him on other days. You normally would tell him to ease up, to hide the marks that he so desperately wanted to leave on you. But now you let him do as he pleases. You gave him an inch and as expected, he took the mile. He soothes each one with a kiss and muffles your whimpers with his lips.

It takes a while before he's satisfied with his handiwork. Kazuha raises himself up with a shaky breath. Your wrists are in his hands and pinned against the couch. Looking down at you now, all flushed absolutely covered in his marks, he feels something uncontrollable stir within him. He has half a mind to tell you to close your eyes so he can take his mask off, but he refrains.

That's all he ever does when it comes to you. You, the greatest test of his endurance that he will ever encounter in his lifetime. No supervillain with any amount of underground connections or otherworldly technology will ever test his patience and restraint quite like you. For years, Kazuha has weighed the pros and cons of telling you who he is. He always wonders if you would still allow this, if you would still treat him like a lover if you knew who he was — if you knew that he's been lying to you. Though your reaction may not be guaranteed, it's a risk he's more than willing to take.

But he doesn't. Not tonight. Maybe another day when the time is right.

For now, Kazuha releases your wrists and sits himself up. He fixes his mask while you take yours off. You sit up and he watches as you ghost your fingers over each of your fresh hickies. You wince a little when you brush the one on the left side of your collarbone, above your heart. The silence that hangs in the air is evident, but not uncomfortable.

Then, you mutter. "I was supposed to give you a treat."

Kazuha reaches out and touches a hickey left on your pulse point. A sensitive spot for you – you shudder in response. He admires the lingering haze in your eyss. "You did. Thank you, lovebug."

✧ my goodness. @perpetualcynicism look at what you've done. you've reawakened a monster in me.

✧ edit: btw, the dividers belong to @cafekitsune!! thanks so much for making such beautiful dividers!

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #kaedehara kazuha #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha x reader #spidey!kazuha #spidey!kazuha x reader #WHEW.#tagging is a fucking nightmare i cant believe i did this all the time #but uh.. ta-da...#i feel so much better though #i had a horrible day at work so i got super high and then i read thing in my asks and then i cried and wanted to write about kazuha #i literally checked off every box #get high? ✅️ cry? ✅️ write about kazuha? ✅️✅️✅️#I FEEL SO FREE

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sonicblueartist · 6 months

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Rayman x Reader

A/N: He is the Rayman from the games, there is no other choice for this story, sorry~ But you can think either romantic or platonic for this :)

I'll try to make this as fluffy as I can. My angst loving soul don't know how to write fluff lmao

Writing Rayman from the games is something else for me. In really good ways

Nothing written in this story has anything to do with games plot. I wrote it all myself ;)

Summery: We both try to escape from some weird creatures

Warnings: Intense cursing

Words: 2.6k

Masterlist

Taglist: @blorbostation @eateableworm @livelaughluvvfaithyy @darkchanx @astoraa @shiroisotto64

Btw does anyone want to be in the tag list?

Dear anons; I would really appreciate it if you could choose an emoji while sending your asks and requests (and stick with it) so I can tell you apart. Thank you~

Couldn't choose between all these moments for the gif so I added every one of them (probably gonna regret that later lol Because I no longer have any good gifs for him any more but whatever.)

Seeing Rayman angry is just a cherry on top.

I am going to post this but I feel bad for not writing fluff/comfort/pure lovely moments like I planned to, so I might write down something cute for him soon~

I really wanted to write something cartoon-ish too because, you know, Rayman is very much 'cartoon-ish', he is made for that. I guess at least I made that come true instead of a full fluff.

Also, I may have relieved my exam stress on him 👀💦

On The Run

What's happening? You don't have a clue. You only knew that Rayman ran past you in the forest ten minutes ago without even stopping to say hi, he looked really panicked too you have to say. And quickly after Rayman's hand came back, finding your own and quickly sweep away your taken aback body before the spears met with you. And, well, you were suddenly included in a chase you don't have a clue about.

You two run for your dear little lives, in the meantime dodging a few spears thrown to pierce through your guts and quickly jump behind a few bushes out of breath. Hearing angry yells and screams increasing you both held your breath in. A few seconds later all of them ran past you. You heaved a relieved sigh.

What with this all about? Well, obviously you don't have all the details but you knew someone who did. You can finally question him about all this. With a scowl you turn to face him, finding him invading your personal space, not that you minded (it was funny, really), sticking to your side desperately, maybe that's not the right word to use but he was definitely, on purpose or not, sticking to you like a little kid would do to their mother, still eyeing for any intruders. If you weren’t so angry you would find that cute. Honestly at that moment, you didn't give a fuckthought. Your blood boils in anger. You weren't mad at him. You were tired and worried. Okay, maybe your tired body turning your worry into anger a bit. But you are angry at his reckless side. How wouldn't you be? You know he did something again that bothered these people. (It could also be the fact that because all people on this planet are either crazy or whatever) But it's not like he is doing that on purpose. But he still needs to be more mindful of his surroundings.

You whisper shouted, nudging his chest with your finger, causing him to look at you, "What the fuck did you do this time Rayman?!" You panthed out with a glare. Asking nicely? What is that?

He stared at you surprised (maybe a bit hurt) and huffed out, "What do you mean this time? I didn't do anything!" He scoffed, a hand over his heart with an offended tone.

You rolled your eyes at that and glanced outside, you quickly duck seeing more of them walking past the bush. You cursed under your breath. Thankfully they were dumber than they look.

You glanced at him, "Why do they want you?" You whispered with a hiss.

He smirked, "Who knows! I mean I can't blame them. Everyone wants me!" Here he goes again, you were being dead serious and he starts joking.

You stared at him with the most dumbfounded and sour expression you ever weared, "They fucking want your guts out, you idiot! Don't start with me with those cheesy lines!”

He mushed his lips and stared at you. You stared back with a raised brow. He couldn't hold his stare much longer with how you're glaring at him and finally grumbled out defeated, hiding away from your intense stare, "Okay, okay fine! It might be... a little bit my fault."

You scoffed, "A little bit?”

"I admitted didn't I?”

"What did you do?"

He avoided you with a comedic sweat, "Ahhh…”

"Rayman. What Did You Do?”

"You're going to be so mad." He chuckled nervously.

You can't be more mad then you already are. But again, your expression softened with how actually nervous he looked about all this. You knew he felt guilty. You know him after all. You let out a long silent sigh and reached out to hold his hands, pressing your thumbs over the back of them, kind of stroking to ease him up, "Rayman, I promise I will not yell at you anymore then I already did. Just tell me. I need to know." You sounded more like reassuring yourself then him. Did you forgive him? No? You don't know what you are even forgiving him about! But you did actually soften up on him.

He didn't believe that but confessed anyway, "I uh... might... accidentally woke up a whole civilization??" He sounded unsure of himself.

You stared at him, and he stared back.

"What... the fuck?" What does that suppose to mean?

He laughed, "I said the same thing until you find me and drag me away, my divine savior~" Wasn't that the opposite?

You sighed and grabbed the bridge of your nose, "I feel like I am gonna regret asking this but... how?"

He tapped his chin, "Well, I also have no idea! I was walking around the forest a few hours ago then I found myself in the underground. I guess the ground may have shifted or the place I was standing in collapsed. Either way I find myself exploring the cave to find a way out and, well, that's how I find the burrow. And here we are!" He continued despite seeing your progressive disturbed expression, "They were really aggressive and grumpy, I think they want some kind of revenge for disturbing their sleeping ritual or something—”

You reach your hand and shut him up with a tired face, "Okay, I think that's enough information. We are gonna think of something now. We need to avoid them and find a way back to send them whatever place they come crawling from. Okay..." You muttered to yourself.

Rayman grabbed your hand off of his mouth and muttered your name.

"Not now, I am thinking.”

"But-”

You sushed him, "No, nope, sush, no talking! I don't wanna listen! Just lemme think!”

He stared at you unamused but his expression quickly changed to something nervous. He called out your name again this time a bit louder.

You groaned, rubbing your face, "Ray, What part of "be quiet" don't you understand? What do you want?! You want them to find us?!”

He choked out, "Ahh, about that…”

"Look I only wanted a peaceful day today, getting chased by a crazy herd, not what I had in mind- annnd.... They find us, didn't they?" You sighed.

He nodded, "Pretty much." Soon enough all kinds of sharp-tipped spares were extended towards from all sides. You both quickly raised your hands in the air, surrounded by them. You cursed under your breath not amused at all.

"Well, this could have gone much worse.”

You soon find yourselves in a cell, soon to be turned into a chewing toy. Surrounded by many of them readying the meal you will be in today.

"You have to jinx it, didn't you?" Before he can open his mouth again you threatened showing a rock, "If you open your mouth one more time I swear I’ll force this inside your mouth—”

He raised his hand, "Jeez, alright, alright. I am sorry! What got into you today?” He knew you wouldn't actually do that. You love him too much for that. (But, did you have it in you? Yes. Would you actually do that if he was someone else? Most definitely. Is he afraid of this fact? Absolutely. He definitely know to not underestimate you.) He couldn't help but admit that it sounded so absurd coming from you in that moment though. It also shouldn't amused him but it did.

You forced a short laugh, "What got into me? Oh, lemme think." You sarcastically mumbled, mocking him and tapped your chin as if you were thinking.

He frowned, not letting you start sorting it all out, "Okay, okay. I get it. I said sorry, didn't I? It was lame of me to even ask that. Sorry for trying to be nice.” He stuck his tongue out playfully.

"A sorry not gonna save us from becoming a MEAL OF THE DAY!!" You groaned.

He hummed and shrugged, "I wouldn't worry much. After all this isn't the first time I was imprisoned.”

You stared at him, "We saved your ass when you were imprisoned."

"Saved me?" He smirked, "If I remember correctly, which I know I am, you and Globox were also imprisoned for the sake of saving me, I am touched really. Though it was a weak plan, assuming being held captive was part of your idea~"

You grumbled grimacing, "It was Globox's idea. I didn't have anything better to do so I just followed along. BUT we did save your ass didn't we? That's what counts! Besides, I'm not seeing you having any bright ideas!!”

"Who said I didn't have any?" He grinned, noticing your pause.

You give him a face, "If you had a plan this whole time... WHY DIDN'T YOU JUST SAY SO?!" God, so that’s why he has been acting so relaxed! He has always been some kind of a laid back person, but this would be too much (Not counting the fact that he knows when to strike). In fact, he should have been happy that he had a reasonable explanation for this situation because you were about to slap him hard for how careless he had been so far and how careless he had been all day.

"Calm down! It was a work in progress and now I am not gonna jinx it again. So, are you in or not?”

You give him a side glare at him and turn away.

He sighed, "Look, I am sorry. Sincerely, coming from the deepest of my heart. I really didn't mean to cause all this. It's also my fault that you are involved in my mess too. So, at least let me help to fix it, okay? You can kick my ass after this." He kind of dragged you away, yes, but it was to save you and you were thankful that he did (how wouldn't you?) but that doesn't mean he is also the one to start all these.

You heaved a sigh, and shook your head with a soft smile, "Lead the way, eggplant." You grinned seeing his little eye roll. You definitely gonna remember the last thing he said.

“I will save us. That’s a promise.” He sounded even more genuine.

“Yeah, yeah. You better be. I don’t wanna end up as a snack before bedtime. So, care to tell me the plan?”

He grinned mischievously, a determined glint in his eyes, "You will find out soon enough. You know me. It's not that complicated to figure out. Even better when you know they are not too smart to figure out."

You raised a brow not fond of him still depriving you of an explanation. But you guessed it was better to leave like that seeing those creatures still roaming all around.

Soon after your 'nice' conversations you both find yourselves tied up together in a cauldron full of water with a fire burning underneath. The creatures throwing chopped vegetables on you.

Your unamused expression hardened, "How much longer are we going to wait?" You grumbled. "They are slowly cooking us alive!"

"Yeah, I won't be a good dinner for them. You have more areas where they can chew off." You swear he was laughing behind you. You growled and hit him in the head with your own, you had no other option. Your arms were tied. "Don't start again! I'm serious! I'm starting to get worried. My feet are burning!”

He hissed in pain, "Sorry, force of habit... or maybe coping... either way..." he took a sharp breath, "My plan gonna work."

"You are not even doing anything! What kind of plan is that? Just admit already that you have no idea how we can get out of this station!”

"No, because I do. I'm just waiting for the right moment.”

You rolled your eyes, "Yeah, yeah. And I believe that. I am sure you do-- Wait a fucking moment." You hissed. You can't belive you forget about his ability, "You fucking have control all over your body! Whatever the floaty, gravity bending thing you do! You can easily get out of this rope!! They only tied our bodies, not hands or feet! Fuck! Why didn't you do something about this earlier Rayman?! Are you trying to piss me off on purpose! I swear---" Your words are stuffed inside your mouth, literally. One of the creatures got annoyed (or tired) of your talking and harshly pushed an apple in your mouth. Your eye twitched in annoyance. Rayman glanced back with a stuffed laugh. Okay, maybe you did deserve this but you are not gonna admit that. You gave him a death glare and he quickly looked away. But you still heard his stuffed snickers and feel his shaking body.

He nudges your side with his hand and your eyes quickly widen, "For your concern, ya think I would forget about something my own body capable of since forever? I already handled that. And for your nice question, like I said, I am one step ahead of you, darling~" he quickly hid the key before one of the creatures could see and cautiously examined the surroundings carefully.

He whispered, "When I came back here there was no way out of this place but the hole I fell down from. Thankfully, I was able to crawl back out but there is no sight of that hole anymore so I am gonna assume they blocked it. So there is only one option left for us to choose. What we're gonna do is, use the real door. The one I couldn't pass before. And for that we needed the key. Though one of us is gonna need to distract them while the other opens the door. Then we both escape and lock them in here, like it should have been." You're gonna kick his ass for not telling you about this sooner and made you believe that he actually didn't have any clue. Though you didn't know which one is good, his acting for the sake of the creatures (you have no idea what they are) not notice? Or him playing with you just for fun. Actually... you were happy that he did have a plan. Because it would be the worst tragicomic death in the hero's history.

His eyes widened when he felt your weight on his back... more than normally. You two were back to back forcefully pressed together yeah but... you were leaning on him? In relief? Comfort? He didn't know. But he couldn't help his lips turn into a soft smile.

"Well, I might ruin our moment here..." he trailed off. "I love hot baths as much as the next person but we should get moving. I don't think I like vegetable soup especially if we are in it.”

He felt the vibration of your laugh on his back causing his smile to widen. He glanced back at you with a smirk, his hand helping you to remove the red apple as he whinked.

"You ready to kick some little ass?" Those green creatures were nearly half of your height. You still can't believe how you two get caught that easily. You two were unprepared. But this time will be different.

You smirked, "It's always so nice to fight alongside you.”

"That's good to hear because I really needed that." He hummed as he slowly unwrapped the tight rope from around both of you, "You know, thinking our situation it's both humiliating and funny as hell. It could be our little secret. How's that sound?”

"Like heaven, and also the thought of what I can do after I get back home. Sleep all day long. Sounds good, huh?" You snickered knowing that's exactly what he will do too.

"After kicking my ass?”

You held back a laugh, "You want to be beaten up that much?” You pressed your back on his on purpose this time with a smirk.

He glanced back at you, "I think all the fighting we are gonna do here will be enough.”

"Agreed." You both jumped out of the cauldron within a fighting stance, raising up your fists.

You bawled, "Who wanna have some of these?" You showed your fists.

The creatures stood staring. Soon all screamed a war cry running towards you. You two smirked and launched.

#rayman x reader #rayman #cl rayman #allenwrites #reader #x reader #captain laserhawk rayman #phantom show rayman

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 8 months

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Your Scars Are Mine

Ch. 2

LA! Mihawk X AFAB!Reader

Tags: Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Graphic Mentions of Violence, I guess that's it, I'm bad at this

��️ MASSIVE ASS TRIGGER WARNINGS⚠️ : Self-harm, Blood, Implied PTSD

Summary: In the few months that he has known you, Mihawk has noticed the scars on your arm. You've refused to talk about them and skirted around the subject successfully, but a trip to Shells Town throws everything out into the open in a way that neither of you were prepared for.

Ch. 1

Your words hung heavy in the air for a moment, before you opened your eyes, and gave a small smirk.

"But if that was a punishment I'm going to have to misbehave more often."

Mihawk shoved at your hip a little as your smirked widened. "We happen to be on a bit of time crunch, my dear," he reminded you. "I still have an appointment to make."

"Excuses," you said airily, rolling onto your back. You tipped his hat down over your eyes, stretching your arms back out behind your head. "What the hell is a vice admiral doing in Shell's Town anyway?"

"Apart from being a thorn in my side?" Mihawk shifted onto one elbow, his eyes passing over you as you lowered one arm to rest your hand over your bare stomach. His gaze landed on your arm, his mouth turning down in a frown as he took in the scars across it once more, like horizontal stripes across your soft skin, spanning from your delicate wrist to an inch above your elbow. "I imagine still handling the backlash of the sacking of Axe-Hand Morgan."

"He was fired?" you asked, amused. "What, because ofnthe Strawhats?" He gave a small hum in affirmation as you laughed. "That's hilarious." You shifted on the sheets, stretching your back with a slow sigh. "I may just stay right here while you handle your appointment. I don't think I can stomach so many Marines in one place."

"I would request that you venture out long enough to resupply." Another sigh left you, this one in clear protest. You had made quite clear your particular distaste for the company of Marines over the past few months, though not your reasons, a subject you tended to avoid as aptly as your scars. "It would lessen our time here." He rest a hand tentatively over your wrist, and didn't fail to notice how you recoiled slightly when his thumb brushed across a few of the mark. "Put us leaving as soon as I've finish dealing with Garp."

"Fine," you said shortly. Your arm slipped away from his hand, a subtle movement but one with a clear message, and pulled his hat from your head to drop it onto his, sitting up on the bed. You reached behind you and unhooked your torn bra. "The sooner the better. I am the errand girl, after all."

"Are you going to skirt around the subject forever?"

You paused for a moment—a brief, almost imperceptible moment—in picking up your shorts from the floor of the cabins. "No idea what you're referring to," you said casually, tossing his pants onto the bed.

"The scars," he said plainly, shifting to the edge of the bed to pull his pants back on, watching you disappear behind the door of the wardrobe at the other end of the cabin.

"There's no subject," you said, just as calmly, but he was sure he would have seen your shoulders grow tense had you not been hidden behind the door. "I've been on the seas for nearly ten years, anyone would have a few scars after that long."

"Ten," he repeated, his brow furrowed. "You're twenty-four."

"Nearly ten years," you repeated again. "It's not as if I've been pirating the entire time. That's only been...around six years."

"And what precisely were you doing prior to that?"

"It's a long story. And not a very interesting one." You shut the wardrobe, still buttoning a flowy white shirt—long sleeve, as usual, covering your arms. "And we're on a time crunch."

"We'll have all the time in the world after we're done here." As always—it was one step forward and two steps back with you. Mihawk stood and caught you by the waist before you could stroll out of the cabin, turning you to face him. Your shoulders were tensed, your jaw clenched as you met his eyes. "I hate to use our arrangement as pull, but if I must, I will." You averted your gaze as he lifted a hand and brushed a few strands of your hair behind your ear. "I prefer to know those working under me."

"Fine," you said through your teeth, pushing his hand away. "I go play errand-girl, you go play Garp's lap-dog, then we have a nice relaxing interrogation to round it all off, hmm?"

Mihawk lifted his eyebrows, a bit taken aback at how you swatted his hand away—but your scathing tone didn't surprise him too much. He wasn't exactly known for his openness, and it wasn't too big of a stretch that your own largely solitary career had kept you from being particularly open with anyone. That you would be defensive and stubborn to the point of hostility if anyone pushed the present subject.

But he could be plenty stubborn himself.

He lifted his hand again, wrapping it around your chin this time, resting his forehead against yours so you had nowhere else to look except for his eyes. He couldn't expect vulnerability from you without offering the same. Even if it was only a little to start, it was only fair.

He pressed a brief, deep kiss against your lips, and you met his eyes fully when he parted from it. "I love you. I'm fairly certain you are no more accustomed to hearing that than I am to saying it." You glanced away for the barest of moments, the tension in your shoulders easing a bit. "But it's the truth, and...I suppose it means there are certain matters we will need to meet halfway on. This is one of them."

"I already said I'd talk." The outright hostility had gone from your voice, but there was still a little annoyance buried in your quiet tone. "It's just...not an easy subject." There was something else there, sone other emotion, but before he could pinpoint what it was, you sighed and laid your forehead heavily against his broad chest. "Sorry I called you a lap-dog."

"Garp's lap-dog, at that." You hung your head lower with a small whine. "I've severed heads for less."

"Weird." You lifted your head, laying your temple against his shoulder and blinking up at him. "It's almost like you like me or something."

Mihawk could only stare at you in disbelief for a long moment as you grinned cheekily. After a moment he shook his head, rolled his eyes, and wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you against him.

"Or something," he said, and tilted his head down to pull you into a firm, lingering kiss.

You looped an arm around his neck, sighing softly and melting against him. Priorities briefly forgotten as your fingernails raked lightly down his back, he tugged you closer by your hips and pressed you back against the cabin wall, pushing his tongue into your mouth, hands under the hen of your shirt—

Until a grating CRASH sounded outside, and the small ship lurched violently, immediately breaking your lips apart. He tightened his grip on your waist until the ship grew steady, registering what had happened as the pair of you heard the sounds of shouting and commotion outside. He gritted his teeth, lying his head back with a heavy sigh.

"I believe we've arrived."

"Oh—" Your eyes widened as his meaning truly sunk in. "Oh, sh—"

You shoved away from him, hurrying to push open the door to the deck as Mihawk placed a hand against the wall, pinching at the bridge of his nose. This day was not at all panning out how he had hoped it would—a potential kidnapping, arguing, and now crashing a brand new ship into a town full of Marines. He glanced over when you heaved a sigh of relief and leaned in the doorframe.

"Looks like we just hit the dock," you said, running a hand back through your hair.

"Is that all?" he replied dryly as you headed out onto the deck. He heard the sails lowering as he collected his wits and crossed the room to grab his coat.

"Doesn't look like there are any major damages," you called back.

"No damages?!" Mihawk paused in pulling on his coat, glancing toward the doorframe to see you peering over the railing at the bow of the sloop, as a particularly surly Marine cadet with cropped yellow-blond hair stood overhead on the dock shouting. "You've taken out two of the supports! Are you completely daft?"

You looked up at the cadet. "Not completely," you replied to him pleasantly. "And I assure you I'm more than happy to provide compensation."

"Oh, yes, because a teenage girl in a rowboat can afford the Berry required for structural repairs on an entire dock."

"I'm twenty-four." The pleasantries were quickly leaving your tone. Mihawk quickly strapped Yoru to his back, hellbent on keeping this from turning into any more if a scene than it already was. "And it's hardly my fault that my rowboat is more structurally sound than your dock, sir. Who's in charge here? I would prefer to speak with them directly rather than stand here and be insulted."

"As a senior cadet serving directly under Vice Admiral Garp, I am in charge here, miss."

"Sounds like he wanted you as far away as possible. Can't say I blame him—"

"I will have you know that I—"

"(Y/N)." You jerked your head over your shoulder as Mihawk stepped onto the deck, glancing at the cadet. Up close he recognized the boy as the son of the ex-Captain Axe Hand Morgan, though his name didn't come to mind. Clearly the self-righteous twig recognized him however, as his jaw fell open mid-sentence. You gave a small snort of laughter that you attempted, unsuccessfully, to pass off as clearing your throat. "Finish getting your things, I'll handle this."

"He called my ship a rowboat."

"I'm aware," he said wearily. He place his hand on top of your head and pushed you back a couple steps. You pursed your lips, tossed one last glare at the surly cadet, and stalked off toward the cabins. Mihawk turned his gaze back to the cadet, who stood at attention immediately on the damaged dock. "I'm afraid my associate and I were discussing business and lost track of how close we were to land. Fetch your shipright and have him write up an estimate. I will provide compensation to the vice admiral directly."

"O—of course, sir. My apologies—"

"And send word ahead to Garp that I have arrived. I would prefer not to linger here any longer than necessary."

"S—Sir."

The cadet gave a quick salute and hurried off as quickly as his feet would carry him. Mihawk rolled his eyes and turned, leaning against the back of the bow and crossing his arms while he waited. At least the ship itself had suffered no damages—as he had expected, given the strength of the hull's armor—nor had it hit any other vessels. It was a small blessing, if nothing else.

You emerged from the cabins with your daggers at either side of your belt, the head of a lion carved into each of their ornate ivory hilts that resting at your waist, your belt satchel strapped around your thigh and your throwing knife sheaths around your oposite calf. You were still pulling up one of your brown leather boots as you crossed the deck.

"What a mess," you commented, leaning against the bow next to him and cringing at the sight of the lop-sided dock. He watched you drop your hat onto your head from the corner of his vision, an old and tattered leather tricorne that you refused to replace as much as you refused to discuss its point of origin. "I'll pay for the damages. Being that it's my ship and all."

"If you insist on it, we will split the cost," he said. You glanced at him, frowning. "We're both responsible for losing track of time."

"Fair," you admitted, chuckling a little. "Fifty-fifty it is, then. I'm going to get a head-start on resupplying."

As you put a leg-up on the railing, Mihawk wrapped a hand around your wrist to stop you. You glanced over, frowning curiously.

"You'll be careful," he instructed. "I am under contract with the World Government, but you are not. Keep your head down." You had made your distaste for Marines clear on more than one occasion, and your interaction with Morgan's son minutes earlier did nothing but prove it. "Cadet or otherwise, don't get yourself into any unnecessary altercation."

"I'll be fine," you said confidently. He lifted an eyebrow at you, making his skepticism known. "I will. I've managed to avoid ending up with a bounty for six years. I'm not going to ruin that by making a scene right outside a Marine base."

"Good." He let go of your wrist, turning to the side to watch you climb onto the railing and hop over to the ruined end of the dock. "Out of curiosity," he added slowly, and you looked down over your shoulder, "how have you managed to avoid accruing any bounty?"

"Ah, well, that's the beauty of working as a mercenary, isn't it?" You crouched down, crossing your arms over your knees and leaning forward slightly over the bow, smiling. "Keeping a low profile. I've never spent long enough with any single crew to gain notoriety."

"Then what a lucky little thing you've been." He leaned forward against the bow, glancing around to ensure that no one was nearby, and then curled a hand behind the nape of your neck to briefly press his lips to yours. "Just be careful."

"I promise not to cause you any unnecessary paperwork," you said lightly, smirking. You pressed your lips to his once more before pulling back, his hand slipping away from your neck. "Hopefully your master won't keep you too long."

His mouth turned down in a frown as you grinned. "Don't push it, dear."

"Woof woof."

It took every ounce of his self-control not to seize you by your wrist and pull you right back onto the sloop—but he refrained, shaking his head a little as you straightened out. Your present locale was a bit too public, but it would be a different story when he had you alone later.

You cheekily blew a kiss, and Mihawk lifted an eyebrow, waving one hand in a shooing motion.

"Oh, so cold," you sighed, poking your bottom lip out in a small pout.

"I'd prefer to wait for the real thing."

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly, and his eyes trailed after you as you strolled down the dock and toward town. Still infuriating and intriguing in euqal measure, but Mihawk knew you were capable of handling yourself. If you detested Marines as much as you claimed, there was no doubt you would handle your business in town and return to the docks as quickly as possible.

The shipwright arrived minutes later, an old amicable and heavily bearded man who quickly assessed the damages to the dock and quickly wrote up an invoice. After maneuvering the small ship to the neighboring undamaged dock Mihawk carried a small chest of berry over his shoulder to the Marine base at the center of the town, and turned down escort to the vice admiral's office; he knew his way around well enough.

A cadet opened the door when he knocked, and left after him. Mihawk dropped the chest onto the heavy desk at the center of the sprawling office before rempving Yoru from his back. He took a seat, reclining back in the chair across from the old vice admiral, staring levelly at him.

"For the damages at the docks," said Mihawk, gesturing toward the chest as Garp briefly lifted the lid and looked back across the desk. "The estimate was twelve thousand. You'll find at least fifteen. For the inconvenience."

"Good enough." He push the chest aside to one end of the desk, and leaned forward against it. "You know why I asked you to come by, Mihawk."

"I'm afraid you'll have to enlighten me." He crossed one of his ankles over his oposite knee, folding his hands together. "I presume it must be important. I have a perfectly good transponder that could be utilized for lesser matters."

Garp leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand into his eyes in clear frustration. "The past couple assignments you've been assigned," he said. "You've sent someone else to complete them."

"I have," he allowed, and lifted his eyebrows. "As I know your other Warlords have done plenty."

"The other six Warlords have crew that are known by the World Government. You don't." Garp leaned an elbow into the arm of his chair, his brow furrowing. "I've heard a few descriptions. I also know the girl's in town. I could send word right now for her to be brought in on sight." Mihawk's brow furrowed as well, his posture tensing the slightest bit, watching as Garp shifted forward again and picked up a pen from his desk. "If you're taking associates under your wing, it's as much your business as it is the Wirld Government's business." He tapped at the paper in front of him, glancing down at it. "Young woman. Late teens to early twenties. Between five-foot-two and five-foot-four inches tall, carries two daggers and a handful of throwing knives. Sound accurate so far?"

"Yes," Mihawk replied through his teeth as he watched Garp write, all at once wondering just how much he honestly valued his alliance with the World Government. One single wrong answer, one wrong move, and Garp could send word down to have you taken into custody. For years Mihawk hadn't had a thing to worry about where this alliance was concerned. Nothing that could be held against him.

He drew in a slow breath, fighting to keep his temper in check in the confines of the vast office.

"Is there anything else?" he asked lightly, lifting his eyebrows.

"Brown leather tricorne hat," Garp went on, his eyes level with Mihawk's. He set the pen down. "A square patch sewn onto the left side of the brim. Couple more on the back." He lifted his eyebrows as Mihawk's drew down in a sharp line. "Hates Marines with a burning passion, I'd guess."

He still kept his mouth shut, his eyes locked onto Garp's as the old vice admiral stared back.

"Your honesty on the subject is tantamount to this girl's continued freedom," he said.

"Yes," Mihawk said again, finally. "I can't seem to see the issue here. She doesn't have a bounty."

"And she won't." He watched Garp pick up his report and crumble it into a ball. He tossed it across the desk, and Mihawk caught it. "So long as the correct people remain in power and she doesn't do anything stupid."

Mihawk glanced at the ball of paper in his hand, and back across at Garp. "Why?"

"She hasn't said?" He gave a hearty laugh. "Ask her how the Marines ruined her life. I'd bet you'll get quite an earful." He shrugged a shoulder. "Or a dagger to the throat, if she takes after her grandmother."

You had mentioned being raised by your grandmother—and being trained by her. Garp bent down in his chair slightly, pulling a drawer out behind his desk, and shutting it. He straightened back out and slid a yellowed old sheet of paper across the desk, torn and crumbled and faded.

A wanted poster. Mihawk lifted it from the desk, scanning over it, over the picture and the name beneath, his brow lifting a bit at the bounty—two billion, six hundred thousand berries.

"Helena Lionne."

At the sketch of a woman that resembled you so remarkably, grinning widely, tilting back the tricorne hat atop her head with an equally familiar dagger. Mihawk glanced up to see the old vice admiral lighting a cigar.

"They called her 'The Siren,'" he said. "She was the big game in town before Roger. We lost count of how many Marines she either killed or seduced. Only reason her bounty didn't rival Roger's is because she never attacked us unless we went after her first. Came out of nowhere, took the Grand Line by storm for a few years, then vanished. As good as anybody can guess now, that was when she decided to start a family. Settled down in a little village on an uncharted island with half of her crew and spent decades off the radar.

"The Admiral that finally found her ten years ago had a personal vendetta. She'd killed his father in front of him while she was still active and then personally delivered his head on a pike to the World Government Headquarters as a warning. They fought it out for a couple days. Destroyed the whole village before he got a hold of her granddaughter and used her as leverage. He never planned on taking her in alive. Slit her throat right in front of the girl and carried her head back to headquarters, along with a few members of her crew that managed to survive, and left the kid there to rot just to add insult to injury."

Mihawk's eyes only left Garp occasionally to glance back down at the old bounty poster. The woman who had raised you. Who you had witnessed murdered and decapitated by a psychotic Marine admiral driven by revenge ten years ago before being left to die simply for sharing her blood.

And now you were wandering a town full of Marines on your own.

God dammit.

"It didn't sit very well with his superiors," said Garp, as Mihawk folded the wanted posted and stuck it in his pocket, remaining silent as he waited for the man to finish. "None of it did. He and the entire crew he took along for the ride were stripped of their merit, discharged, arrested for murder. It took two weeks of interrogation for him to give up the location of the island. Took a few more days to get there from Marineford. Whole island was practically a rock. Not even damn tree left standing. Fourteen year old girl on her own for two and a half weeks, I figured she'd be dead, but her grandma apparently taught her a little more than anyone expected." He shook his head with a scoff, puffing on his cigar. "Little shit had made a spear to catch fish out of a throwing knife and a shovel handle she found in the wreckage. She was halfway finished building a goddamned raft. Kicked and fought the whole way back to the ship. We had to put her in the brig and take her knives because she was threatening to kill any and every Marine she could get her hands on. We still hadn't even figured out what to do with her when she managed to charm some poor fifteen year old cadet into stealing her weapons back and helping her escape on a dinghy. Just as bad as her damned grandmother. I figured she was dead meat then, but I guess she's done pretty well for herself."

"So it seems." Mihawk had no trouble keeping a straight face and a calm demeanor in almost any situation. His stoney expression didn't shift or twitch once while he listened, his posture remaining relaxed as he leaned back in the chair with his hands folded over his stomach. Yet the more Garp said, the more anxious he was growing to get back to you. "As much as I love our little chats, Garp, I do have prior engagements. I'm sure you didn't call me all the way here to just to provide me anecdotes about my, ah, assistant's personal history."

"Yeah, yeah," said Garp gruffly. "You've got a few assignments." Cigar clamped between his teeth, he shifted a few papers around on his desk and found a thick envelope. He tossed it across the desk at Mihawk, who lifted a single hand and caught it without any real effort. "They'll have you headed for the Grand Line. Off the record, I'd appreciate it if you kept an ear out for anything about Luffy. If he you hear he's come in contact with Fire Fist Ace, give me a call."

"Is that all?" Garp held his hands out and gave a short nod, leaning back in his chair and pulling his cigar from his mouth. "Good." Mihawk stood, lifting his sword from beside the chair. "I wish I could say it's been pleasant seeing you."

"Ah, yeah, same to ya." He sighed, making a shooing motion toward the door. "Cold bastard."

"Yes, well." He finished securing Yoru to his back, glancing at Garp. "One doesn't become known as one of the most powerful men in the world by behaving like a bleeding heart fool. That being said...."

He rest his elbow on the back of the chair for a moment, leaning to the side against it.

"Your old psychotic comrade." Garp puffed at his cigar, waiting. "I assume he's the one who gave her the scars?"

"Scars?" He took one last puff, putting out his cigar and furrowing his brow. Garp shook his head slowly. "Well, she had one when we found her. Here." He tapped the side of his neck, a couple inches away from a major artery. "He gave her that one. Planned on slitting her throat if Helena didn't cooperate. Apart from that...." He shook his head and shrugged. "Can't say I'm aware of any others."

Mihawk tapped at the back of the chair for a moment. As clearly perplexed as he was, there was no doubt that Garp was telling the truth. Answers that only led to more questions—this run-around was quickly getting old. He straightened back out.

"I shall contact you once I've finished my chores," Mihawk said finally, waving the envelope before tucking it into his coat. Garp just rolled his eyes, making another shooing motion.

"Feel free to let the door hit you in the ass on the way out."

"Of course."

As soon as he emerged into the empty hall outside the office and shut the door, Mihawk leaned against the wall and rubbed at the bridge of his nose with a quiet growl of frustration. His head was beginning to pound at the onslaught of information Garp had shoved down his throat in the duration of their brief meeting.

Your history, the beginning of your life outside the confines of the law was stained in blood and riddled with the horrors of man—and yet you hadn't mentioned a word of it before strolling off into a town infested with Marines. Nothing except the fact that you detested them and wished to conclude your business here as quickly as possible, indicating that those old wounds weren't entirely healed.

And still no answer to explain those damned scars—and he doubted you were going to open up to that discussion very easily.

(Ch. 3)

#opla #one piece fanfiction #dracule mihawk #fanfic #mihawk one piece #mihawk opla #one piece headcanons #fluff #mihawk x reader #smut

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totallynotlx · 8 months

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Benefactor

A/N: In honor of my precious, beloved boys. You both deserved the world but they did you so wrong. Also yes, I hurt myself writing this thankssssss

Tags: Dad!Gojo Agenda, a bit of fluff I guess?, Hurt / No Comfort coz I am hurting rn

Word Count: 745

Benefactor

It's the word that Megumi would always associate Gojo with. He wasn't particularly fond of the man, but he doesn't despise him either... not always anyway. He owes him that much, at least. The man had no business adopting two kids when he was just sixteen. But he did it. Sure, he wasn't the perfect role model, but he remembers how much he cared for them.

He made the effort to celebrate his and Tsumiki's birthdays the first year he took them in. Christmas was extravagant, too. That's where Megumi discovered his disgusting addiction to sweets. The table was full of it. Some of which he and Tsumiki haven't tried before. Tsumiki was ecstatic, with bits of icing on her cheek as she ate, while Megumi was more content with the peppermint candy canes. He also made sure they had presents.

When school came around, Gojo took care of everything. He was still too young to enter Jujutsu High, so he ensured they had a proper education. He made sure they had everything, from their needs to their wants.

"He's weird. But he's not a bad adult." He remembers Tsumiki's words all those years ago after Gojo took them in. Megumi would argue that she shouldn't be too trusting since it may still be a political ploy, but it never happened.

Gojo genuinely did care for them. He made Tsumiki laugh. When he found out they comforted him, he gave Megumi stuffed animals that resembled his curse techniques. He vaguely remembers him tucking them both to bed when they fell asleep on the couch. He made sure they had a roof over their heads. He ensured Megumi pursued his other interests that didn't revolve around jujutsu sorcery. And even though Megumi was mature for his age, he tried his best to give him a sense of a normal childhood. Even when he became such a rebellious teen, Gojo was there, always patient with the same stupid grin. He didn't reprimand him as Tsumiki did, but he tried to guide him in his own way. The training sessions would be longer, harder even, but he never shouted at him, was never mad at him, or was never frustrated with him.

"You have the potential to be on par with me, Megumi." Gojo's words echoed in his mind, crystal clear. "So you gotta keep a level head."

Thoughts began to swirl endlessly in his clouded mind as the memory faded. It was like almost seeing a ghost, always flitting through, never materializing. Images came and went like his own shallow breathing. It was getting harder to breathe. His chest felt like it was getting constricted by some unknown force, and he felt hot all over.

He recognizes the sensation. Pain.

Subconsciously, Megumi grits his teeth, his nails digging into the inside of his palm. The dull sensation becomes more and more apparent with each second. His head was throbbing, and his vision blurred for a moment.

Take a good look, brat.

The voice that invaded his mind was unwelcome and brash. Slowly, the darkness morphs into a blurry scenery, like his eyes are camera lenses trying to focus on a subject. And that subject is at his feet.

He can make out the gray concrete now, rough and cracked as someone laid down on it.

Why is someone lying on the concrete?

Megumi hears a sharp intake of breath, eyes trying their best to focus on the source of the sound. Red liquid pooled on the ground. Blood. That's when he notices a familiar white tousled hair. Albeit he doesn't see it often, he grew up seeing him casually wearing his hair down around both of them siblings. His senses were sharper now. His vision finally focuses on the figure on the ground.

Benefactor.

It's that one word that Megumi would always use to describe Gojo to everyone if asked about their relationship. But right now, he can barely remember the word.

"Gojo-sensei..?" His words were a mere whisper. Gojo only blinks away the tears in his eyes in response, eyes slowly losing their luminescent blue luster. Warm streaks drip down from Megumi's eyes. Tears.

"Dad?"

A faint smile appears on Gojo's lips, and with one final blink, he loses the life behind those signature blue eyes of his, and silence descends upon them both. It was a grief so great that Megumi could only stand there in silence, mourning the only father he ever knew.

Inspired by this tweet that shared this very hurtful tiktok :')

#gojo satoru #megumi fushiguro #fushiguro tsumiki #fushigojo family #fushigojo #dad!gojo #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #my prompts #﹒◌﹒benefactor﹒✧﹒#i cried while writing this #gege when i catch you gege #my beloved boys deserved so much more #jjk angst #jjk drabbles #jjk spoilers

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randomyuu · 7 months

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there's a lover in the story, but the story's still the same

Ahh, don’t you love it when fear motivates your drawing mood? (not really)

That’s what I felt reading the scene that is drawn below. It’s fear for Yuuji but also feeling excited picturing an emotionless teen!Gojou so here I am. Always down bad for Vox’s Goyuu fics, aren’t I? *sighs*

Welp, here we go.

Title: there’s a lover in the story, but the story’s still the same

Author: @voxofthevoid

Second fic of the series there’s a lover in the story, but the story’s still the same

Pairing YuuGo, NSFW, please read the tags carefully before giving it a read... the usual drill ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

!!! SPOILER FOR THE FIC !!!

Highly recommend you guys to read them first. Or not, it’s up to you honestly :v

Usually I would gush about the fic but I’ve already done that under the fic itself so I just want you to know this comic is solely carried by me wanting to draw the ticking time bomb called teen!Gojou-post-discussion-with-adult!Ieiri. You could probably guess what they’re talking about :”)

The fear for Yuuji’s well-being started this, but Satoru’s cold eyes kept me going. I can’t get rid of it from my mind lmao

You can say drawing these kind of expressions is my jam (￣▽￣)

I hope I did Satoru’s emotions justice haha

A bit of my thoughts and doodle below. Unhinged maybe, it’s midnight, I got more work to do after this, and my brain cells are barely hanging on. Haha I'm living the life-

I AM STILL REELING FROM THE FACT I MANAGED TO GET THIS DONE.

There are so many things I want to talk about in the process of making this. But after I typed it out, most of them sounded so unnecessary so I rewrote it a few times. I tried to make this as short as possible lmao

Typesetting and sketching are the roughest parts of this project. During these stages, I kept feeling everything I did wasn’t doing the scene enough justice, and it was frustrating. As I planned this project, I read a few doujins and noticed the font types scanlation teams use. There are so many of them, and each helped convey the tone of each image. Felt like crying when I realised I’m not knowledgeable enough to apply good typesetting, ngl. And then the interior design. Fuck, the frustration is so real. I am absolutely clueless about this kind of thing. Tracing lots of references because I have no perception of space makes me feel even worse. I knew first times rarely create a masterpiece, but I was not satisfied with my accomplishment and the feeling of failing to fulfil my own expectations hurt.

BUT.

Thank goodness most of the things I need to draw are Shouko, Yuuji and Satoru. Because dear g o d drawing them healed me. I found so much comfort in drawing Shouko’s long hair and Satoru’s eyes and drowning Yuuji in an oversized hoodie. The comfort zone of character drawing never feels so real lmaooo

Drawing them was so effective that I can look back at the backgrounds with acceptance. Hey, I did it! Not perfect just yet, but I did it!

Haha I feel like I’m losing my mind. I don’t know if it’s in a good way or a bad way. Guess I do have one or two screws loose.

Only for Yuuji lmao

(nah I just need sleep, or cooling down from the rush of having finished this)

It might come off as a surprise if you’ve only seen my art on Tumblr, but I’ve always preferred to draw feminine-leaning ladies. I’ve always loved drawing their curves, whether it’s the figure, the clothes, or the (long) hair. But I’ve grown to like drawing masculine gentlemen as well with their sharp edges and straight lines, and now my ladies start to look more androgynous lmao

Anyway, I was pretty stoked to be able to draw adult!Ieiri! I… I kind of miss drawing long hair so here have some more before you go on your day ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

#yuu's art #jjk-fic-fanart #jjk-ship #五悠 #goyuu #goyu #5u #gojou x yuuji #I'll see you sometime later #if real life lets me haha #:")

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steviewashere · 4 months

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City of Stars (Are You Shining Just For Me?)

Rating: Teen and Up CW: Use of Period Typical Homophobic Language (Steve referencing a slur that his dad used), Brief Mention of HIV (In reference to those tabloids in 1986 that were discussing Freddie Mercury's health), Steve Has Bad Parents Tags: Post Vecna, Post Canon, Dialogue Heavy, Referenced Coming Out, Love Confessions, Protective Steve Harrington, Steve Harrington is a Sweetheart, Eddie Munson is a Sweetheart, Steve Harrington is so Incredibly Smart, Steve Loves Shakespeare (More so in Passing, but I do reference Romeo and Juliet), Hurt/Comfort, Mild Angst, Fluff, Getting Together

For the @steddielovemonth prompt: "Love is What Makes You Brave"

💕—————💕

Steve and Eddie’s hang outs tend to land them on their asses at one another’s houses. But tonight, the sky is clear and the moon is out and everything seems to be painted by the soft glow of stars. Because Steve’s parents are home. And Wayne’s got the day off, so he’s asleep early in the living room at the Munson’s. Neither of that will stop them, though. Steve picks Eddie up thirty minutes before the sun has to set, a little Melvald’s bag in the backseat filled with food and a soft throw blanket.

They go out to a clearing a few minutes outside of Hawkins. Just off the side of the road. No other people. No other wildlife, really. And they sprawl out on that blanket, over the chilled late autumn grass, eating from the same bag of barbecue chips. Eddie sits back on his palms, looking up to the stars.

His hair is tied up in a loose bun. He’s sporting one of his quarter sleeve shirts, blank of the Hellfire Club logo. Classic ripped jeans and his Reeboks. But the way his hair isn’t blocking his face gives Steve one of his new favorite views. The stretched line of Eddie’s neck, his slight stubble painted jaw, his plump pink lips, the rounded tip to his nose, his fanned long eyelashes. A breeze cuts through Eddie’s bangs, one of his hands flies up to keep them steady. Steve mourns the skin he can’t see there, because he’s thought about it: There’s enough room for every forehead kiss he’d ever want.

And, oh yeah, he should probably acknowledge his massive harboring crush on Eddie. That he’s excited to be laying on his back, looking at his face instead of the stars. The small smile that graces his features. The marred edge of his facial scar bunching with his grin. It’s cute. He’s attractive. Steve wants to hold his face between the cupped palms of his hands.

But he looks away, back at the stars. The movement of his head makes his hair scrape the blanket. And he settles in, one arm tucked under his head, the other laid over the steady rise and fall of his belly. He clears his throat. And softly, “This is so much better than being with my insufferable parents.”

Eddie snorts beside him. He leans down onto his elbows. “Yeah? What were they doing this time?” Because, oh yeah, Eddie knows that Steve’s parents are shitty people. And, oh yeah, he likes to hear Steve bitch about them. It gives Steve butterflies.

“The usual, I guess.” He shrugs, even though he’s ninety percent sure that Eddie isn’t even looking at him. “Complain about the chores not being done. Even when they’ve been done. Complain about there not being enough groceries. Sorry, Mom, that you aren’t ever around to even fucking eat them. Complain about how disappointing I am or how disappointed they are or what my life should look like or how I’m barely their son,” he lists off. Then, shrugs again. “The Usual.”

“Jesus, Stevie,” he hears Eddie breathe. “Wish there was space at the trailer for you. I hope my company is enough for now.”

Steve sighs. “It’s enough,” he mutters. “It’s more than enough.” And finds himself meaning it.

That’s another thing he should probably get around to acknowledging. He’s getting dangerously close to tiptoeing over the edge of this precipice. From opening his mouth—soft tongue, barbecue chips and all—and just saying what he wants to say. Things like how Eddie is beautiful and caring and how he adores his company. Something like, “But, soft, what light through yonder window breaks? It is the east, and Edward is the sun.”

Yeah, something like that.

He shifts against the blanket again. “They found me out this morning,” he says. “I’ve been outta the house since. That’s why we’re out here.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm,” Steve hums. He knows it’ll ruin the mood, but he can’t help the need to explain. “Dad was reading something; must’ve picked up one of those tabloid magazines instead of his usual. I guess the word got around that Freddie Mercury’s been tested for HIV? I’m not entirely sure, it’s truly, none of my business. That’s between him and his doctor. But, y’know what people come to think.”

Eddie sighs next to him. “Yeah,” he’s muttering, “I do unfortunately know.”

“It’s just—“ Steve groans. “Dad was being shitty. Saying anything and everything you could probably think of. Every slur. Every slur.” He sits up, crossing his legs, hands drifting to tug at tufts of grass below him. “Was talking about one of my favorite singers like he was just—like fucking Freddie Mercury was some low life, some leech or something. I couldn’t—It made it hard to just breathe. And then he—“

“Steve,” Eddie’s murmuring beside him. Blearily, Steve accounts Eddie’s hand reaching out for him. But he’s restless with his rage.

“—Then he was saying shit about my friends! About you and Robin and the Byers. As if you guys weren’t people. As if he was faring any better!” He scoffs. “Can you fucking believe the gull on him? I wanted to grab him by his nuts and throw him to Timbuktu.” He turns to better face Eddie, coming to his look of barely contained anger, yet grimaced by that expression of, You know he’s not all that wrong.

“No!” Steve exclaims. “No, don’t fucking give me that look, Eds. Like he’s fucking right,” he spits. “He’s never right. He barely ever knows what he’s talking about. He just thinks because he knows the term ergonomic that he’s like—That he’s better for it! He’s dumb, Eddie! He doesn’t even know my favorite color!”

“Steve, that’s…That’s not what you think—“

“But he just kept talking like I wasn’t ‘one of those faggots’ that he was referencing,” he barrels on. “As if my life doesn’t matter. And…God, Eddie,” his voice squeaks, breaking in two, “Eddie, I don’t think it does to him. He’s never—He’s such a terrible person. I couldn’t stand it anymore. The way he was talking, it made me grow balls.

“So I just blurted it out: ‘I’m a queer!’ And then the room got scary quiet. I realized what I had said and so I left.” There’s grass between his fingers and a warm body on his right. Chip crumbs stuck between his teeth, a cold breeze on the bare skin of his arms. But…the stars, the stars are shining down on them. And he’s still brave. He’s brave and he’s better for it.

He shudders at Eddie’s gentle touch. The palm to his shoulder. The grip of his fingers.

“Steve,” Eddie is murmuring once more. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that you had to do it that way.”

And, it’s not funny, none of this is funny. But Steve laughs anyway. All sharp and jagged. Loud. Abrasive as he is prone to be. He’s got his crush apologizing to him, on behalf of Steve himself. Got his warm palm. His low timbered voice. His beautiful curls sitting messy like drooping chocolate ice cream atop his head. And he’s laughing.

In the face of his domestic world ending—not the literal world, not the world infected by monsters—he’s laughing for being courageous.

Eddie is there. He’s still here. Holding onto Steve so carefully, like Steve may just fall through the cracks of the dirt and melt into the magma below it. His eyes are big and soft. And his lips are stretched perturbed. His hand is squeezing at Steve’s shoulders as if he thinks Steve is on the verge of breaking.

Which in turn, makes Steve laugh harder, but also causes his stomach to flip all too easily. Easy enough that he’s collecting his wits and painting his face with courage and he’s leaning into the touch. And he’s cackling out, “I love you! Isn’t that the craziest part?! That I love you and I love you and I—I don’t know how to not!” He’s throwing his head back, sure, a little deranged. But at the same time, alighted with a warm flame, coaxed by the moonlight, bathed in the stars.

“What?” Eddie squeaks. “Dude, are you—What?” But he’s nervous. He’s lifting his free hand to his hair, trying to cover the small smirk on his face. He’s shifting his lap from side to side, rocking with the motion, getting giddily anxious. And he’s cute.

“When I told ‘em,” Steve wheezes. “When I told ‘em, all I thought about was you. All I thought about was you, standing on a cafeteria table, yelling. Isn’t that so—“ He chuckles, trying to come down from this dangerous ledge he’s gripping to. His stomach hurts with his joy. His chest is full. He’s warm. “I thought about the other night when you woke up in my house and we were eating breakfast and you were laughing so hard that you choked a little bit on the sausage. I was thinking about your stupid dick sucking joke. I was thinking about—I was thinking about that last look you gave me before Vecna.

“How brave you were. I was thinking about my name on your lips. And how I just couldn’t care anymore about what they thought.” He leans in a little closer, practically pressed into the fragile line of Eddie’s side. “I couldn’t care. I’ve nearly died like four times, Eddie. You almost died in our arms. I was thinking about being alive and how I couldn’t care. And, I was thinking—“ He takes a deep breath. Continues, his voice airy and gleeful, “I was thinkin’ how either of us could be gone tomorrow. And that in all my time worrying about what my stupid fucking dad is thinking about me, I didn’t tell you how I feel. It doesn’t matter that I’m queer, Eddie. It won’t matter if I don’t get to fall in love at least once.”

He relaxes, finally. Completely. Shining with passion. With contentment.

“You make me fall in love everyday, isn’t that something, Eds? I’m a queer, my parents are bullshit, and I’m in love with one of my favorite people. That’s something,” he breathes, “you’re something more than any of what my dad could ever say.”

Next to him, Eddie chuckles lightly. Like it’s clicking for him, too. The pieces finally matched up. The key turning the lock. “You’re something, too, you know that?” He murmurs. His hand moves from Steve’s shoulder, instead wrapping around both shoulders, tucking Steve close to his side. His fingers leave little circles on the exposed slip of skin from beneath the sleeve of Steve’s own t-shirt. He’s holding him in so tight, it’s like he’s merging their bodies. He continues on, whispering, “You’re beautiful and you’re so fucking smart and incredibly brave. And you’re right. None of this matters to me if I don’t get to fall in love. We almost died and seen true horror shit. None of this matters without you. You’re something, Steve Harrington.” He sighs, face pillowing into Steve’s hair. His breath is light, warm. “And I love you.”

The autumn breeze is chilling the air. The day is boiling down to this.

Stars and moon. Night sky, green grass. Barbecue chips and a soft throw blanket. Eddie’s warm side, his squeezing arm, his mess of curls. They love one another.

Steve is warm with contentment. Lit by the flames of ever passionate love.

And he’s brave. Incredibly, wondrously so.

His hand wrangles in Eddie’s free one. Intertwining their fingers, kissing their palms. He sighs. The sun is next to him. The moon above him. And some time in the morning, he will collect his bearings and face an unruly wrath, he’s sure of it. But for tonight, he can’t help but wonder, How could any of this be bad?

💕—————💕

#stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddielovemonth #day 7

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clockwayswrites · 1 year

Text

Specter of Starlight- Snippet

“How are you still alive?”

A sound tore from Danny. It was a horrible sound: rough and jagged and choking.

Danny was laughing.

He sunk back into the bed, seemingly exhausted just from the effort of making the half sound. A wry smile pulled at his lips, twisted the holes in his cheeks left by the muzzle in a way that made it look inhuman. “I died and died and died and died and…,” he signed. His hands trembled. “Death does not stay, I guess.”

“Is that why you were there?” Batman asked.

Danny nodded and finger spelled out ‘experiment’ and signed ‘rat’ after pointing to himself.

“They were experimenting on you.”

Danny nodded again.

“Not just experimenting, they were—” Tim had to pause to swallow back his anger. His eyes darted to the sloppily stitched Y shaped incision on Danny’s chest. “They dissected you.”

“I am fine,” Danny signed. His small, exhausted smile wasn’t very convincing. Not when it caused a new trail of blood to slide down his neck.

“Like fuck you are!”

“Red Robin,” Batman admonished.

Tim cut himself off, and dropped his gaze to the ground. The leather of his gloves creaked as he clenched his hands. He hated losing his temper, he was supposed to be the even tempered one. How could he though, looking at his friend abused and bleeding. Batman’s hand landed on his shoulder— a heavy, comforting weight.

“We’ll remove the rest of your bindings. Do I have your word you won’t hurt anyone here?” Batman asked. Tim hated that he had to, but he understood why. As much as he trusted Danny, the other was an unknown. A powerful unknown.

A moment later, Batman continued, obviously responding to something. “Yes, you are.”

The sound of metal on metal made Tim look up again. Danny was tapping his manacles against each other. He caught Tim’s eyes and very purposefully signed. “Am I safe?”

“Yes,” Tim answered without hesitation. “You’re safe, I promise. I’ll keep you safe.”

Danny nodded and signed, “I will not hurt anyone. Promise.”

-----

AN: Having a very, very bad pain day and struggling to focus on one project so have a little angst from one of my ideas as I keep jumping around wips. This supposedly a short fic- 2 chapters. This would be early the second. This will probably be a lie.

I’m sorry for being in the dp x dc tag like, every single day with either fic or art. Hopefully no one minds my clutter too much.

(If there are any glaring errors with writing the sign language let me know. I’ve done some research and looked into certain signs as I can, but my knowledge is still growing. My own period of being deaf didn’t last long enough to get into signing as a bitty kid.)

Itty bitty tag committee: @michealawithana

#dp x dc #brain dead #brain dead ship #danny fenton #tim drake #mute danny #at least partially #cw blood #cw torture #angst #specter of starlight #used to be specter of a ghost #we'll see what name sticks

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lucidlivi · 11 months

Text

Chosen For Pleasure (VI)

Series Masterlist/Warnings

Tag List: @ladysparkles78 @suckitands33 @little-x-wolf @stoneyggirl2 @creative-writing92 @jc-winchester @mrsjenniferwinchester @lessons-of-red @jamerlynn @deans-baby-momma @willow-sages @ritz-hell-hotel @perpetualabsurdity (If you would like added, please send me a message, it's easier to keep track of! Much love to everyone already on it!)

soft ass chapter for you all!

I walked back down the dirt path towards Jared's house, a few stray tears slipping from my eyes. I quickly wiped them away.

I wouldn't give Jensen the satisfaction of seeing me cry.

It's not like he would anyways.

He was already practically at the door, taking larger strides than me. I noticed him stop, his hand on the handle, his shoulders slumped over. I thought he was going to turn around and apologize but instead he sulked inside the house with a huff.

I sat down on Jared's porch steps, taking a minute to collect myself. It wasn't like I could just leave, we were almost three hours away from Laredo, and I came here with Jensen.

Fuck.

Why did he have to make this so difficult?

I was trying really hard to understand him, but I won't fight for something if he won't even meet me halfway.

I heard the door open slowly a body slipping out.

"can you please just give me a minute Jensen.." I started but was cut off.

"It's Jared."

Jared sat down beside me placing a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"sorry, I just uh needed a minute." I said playing with my hands.

Jared nodded his head as I took a shaky breath.

"he's kind of a asshole sometimes." Jared spoke making me smile.

I thought asshole was putting it mildly but I wouldn't say that.

"just a little." I spoke biting my lip.

"look it’s really not my place, but he's been through some really bad shit, and so for him it's just easier to push people away then deal with his feelings which is why he acts like an ass." Jared explained.

I was silent, fighting the tears that threatened to fall any minute.

"but I can honestly say, him bringing you here, him grabbing your hand in front of the guys, that's him trying, something he doesn't do very often." he added.

"why can't he tell me this himself?" I asked placing my head in my hands.

Jared didn't say anything as he rubbed a hand down my back in comfort.

"he makes it so incredibly hard to get close to him." I spoke finally picking my head back up.

“I’ve watched Jensen push away many good things in his life, but I don't want to sit by and watch him lose this too. I think you're good for him, whether he'll admit it or not. you...you push his buttons, and you don't allow him to get away with his bullshit. that's exactly what he needs. I guess what I'm trying to say is to give him some time, he'll come around, and when he's ready, he'll let you in."

I chewed on my bottom lip contemplating his words.

"Jared, what did Jensen whisper to you the day I first met you, when you came to his house?" I asked nervously, turning my body so it was fully facing Jared.

Jared beamed with a smile looking in my eyes.

"he said you were definitely not like the other girls who've been there."

I couldn't fight the smile that appeared on my face. I guess if I really wanted Jensen, I'd have to take him flaws and all. I was just hoping that Jared was right, if I just gave it time, he'd finally let me in.

"thanks Jared." I smiled giving him a hug.

"of course, now you have to come in and try Gen's dessert, it's to die for." Jared smiled helping me up.

As he opened the door for us to go in, Jensen stood on the other side, like he was coming out.

"I'll uh, give you guys a minute." Jared said smiling at me and stepping to the side so Jensen can come out.

I stood in silence, my arms folded across my chest.

"what did he uh say to you?" Jensen asked hesitantly.

"don't worry, he didn't spill any of your secrets... said you were an asshole though." I smirked satisfied with my jab.

"I am." Jensen said.

It hurt me to hear him talk badly about himself. Even though he totally deserved it.

"he also told me that you were trying, and that you push people away because it's easier for you." I said uncrossing my arms.

Jensen looked slightly relieved at my words.

"I am trying, god (y/n) I've never had to try this much with a woman before, I slept with you in my bed, I.. I threatened a douche bag at the bar for you, I even went looking for a stupid sd card…” he rambled but I cut him off.

“you went looking for my sd card?”

“yeah, I mean I needed some excuse to see you again, so I went looking for it.” He said rubbing his neck nervously.

I felt my heart rate increase, the butterflies in my stomach erupting.

He does care.

“I’m trying and it's driving me crazy, you're driving me crazy." He murmured, his large hand cupping my cheek.

"Jensen I'm not trying to drive you crazy" I said laughing.

"you're driving me crazy because you're changing me."

I felt the breath get caught in my throat. I bit my lip looking up at him. I could tell this wasn’t him acting, he was being real and raw right now.

"how about this I won't push you about your past as long as you promise me you'll at least try to meet me halfway?" I offered him with a smile.

"I promise I'll try." Jensen said bringing his lips down kissing my forehead while pulling me to his chest.

I wrapped my arms around him, squeezing him tightly. He removed his arms, but settled one around my waist as he led me back inside.

"oh there they are, thought you two were screwing somewhere on the property." Jeff laughed, a shot glass in his hand filled with what appeared to be whiskey.

"I think he's drunk." Jensen whispered in my ear.

"no we uh save the screwing for his house." I joked with Jeff sending Jensen a wink.

I could see his eyes go dark with lust.

I walked in to the kitchen, wanting to apologize to Genevieve for my leaving. Jared was on his way out with a bottle of rum. He quickly caught my elbow.

"everything okay with you guys?"

"thanks in part to you." I said offering him a smile.

"yeah well, like I said he needs someone to keep him in check." Jared laughed.

It was a rather uneventful rest of the night. All the guys sat around a small fire pit on Jared's deck swapping stories while sipping on some rum from Jensen's business.

Well with the exception of Jeff who was chugging it, and was clearly wasted.

I sat beside Jensen listening intently to them talk, laughing at their antics. Jensen's hand stayed at rest on my thigh, stroking his fingers gently making me flinch every time he did so. Everyone started to say their goodbyes. I gave Genevieve a big hug.

"please come around again, it's nice to have another female here." she said smiling.

I gave a hug to Misha and Jared, and a handshake to both Mark's and Richard, not having the time to connect with them as much as Misha and Jared. Jeff gave me a big hug that lasted a little too long, forcing Jensen to pry me away as I laughed.

"ah come on don't be such a party pooper Ackles." Jeff slurred with a smirk.

He wasn't serious, it was all just in good fun.

“get your own Jeff.” Jensen laughed.

Jensen led me back out to the ferrari opening the door for me. Once he was in he looked my way with a smile.

“I think they liked you, some of them a little too much.” He said.

“I liked them too… especially Jeff.” I shot back biting my bottom lip.

He was an asshole tonight, so I was going to push his buttons, I mean it was only fair after all.

“oh is that right?”

“uh huh, he’s my favorite character from the show.” I smirked.

I could see Jensen’s jaw tense as I continued to tease.

“In fact I always found him kind of sexy.” I pushed further.

“sexy huh?”

“sexiest on the show.”

Jensen growled. He kept one hand on the wheel while the other rested on my leg running up my thigh. He continued upwards until he was rubbing his fingers over my lace thong.

“how sexy is he now?” Jensen asked rubbing his thumb over my sensitive spot.

I bit my lip not wanting to moan at his touch.

He wasn’t winning this one that easily. I put my hand on his thigh starting to massage it. He groaned as I let my hand linger over his crotch. He was already hard.

He pulled my panties to the side, easily inserting his two fingers, and rubbing up and down my slit. I panted heavily, it was getting harder to choke back the moans that wished to escape.

okay then, two can play your game. I reached over undoing the button on his pants and palmed him through his boxers.

“you better stop that if you don’t want me to crash this car.” He groaned.

“stop what?” I asked innocently.

I slipped my hand into the waistband of his boxers, gently running my fingers over his length He removed his fingers gripping the wheel tightly with both hands.

“fuck.” He groaned throwing his head back.

I rubbed up and down his length with my hand, his hips instinctively bucking up to meet my palm.

“fuck, you gotta stop, can’t focus on driving.”Jensen panted.

I slowly pulled my hand out of his boxers making sure my fingers danced over him one last time.

“oops” I smirked.

Jensen looked over at me, his pupils dilated with pleasure.

“take your panties off.” Jensen ordered.

“hm what for?”

“cause as soon as we get out of this car I’m fucking you senseless… or I could always rip them off, up to you.” He growled.

I leaned over peppering light kisses to his neck.

“I think I’ll go with option two..” I whispered seductively in his ear.

“as you wish angel.” Jensen growled.

I felt the car speed up, making me clutch the door handle for stability. I laughed as Jensen ran a stop sign trying his quickest to get back to his house.

“okay easy there race car driver, we can’t fuck if we don’t make it back in one piece.” I said as Jensen increased his speed a little more.

I gasped as he did a burn out in to his driveway. Once the car was stopped he grabbed me pulling me over to straddle his lap. His lips went to my neck kissing up and down it feverishly. I could feel him throbbing through his jeans. I ground my hips down on to his causing a throaty moan to escape his lips.

His hand traveled to my panties. The sound of ripping fabric filled the car.

“Jensen please fuck me.” I whined.

I’m not sure how he did it, but he somehow got out of the car with me still straddling him. My lips sucked on his neck, kissing his bearded jaw. He fumbled with his keys, trying to unlock the door.

Fuck he was taking too long.

He finally got the door unlocked. He walked me over to his dining room table laying me down gently. He quickly disposed of his shirt, before pulling his pants and boxers down to his ankles. I yelped as he pulled me by my legs down the table until my butt was dangling off the edge. He wrapped my legs around him, lining himself up with my entrance.

I let out a breathy moan as he thrust in to me.

“fuck you feel so good.” Jensen groaned.

He worked at a quick pace thrusting in and out of me. Jensen worked my dress over my head leaving only just my bra.

“better take that off, or I’m gonna rip it too.” He groaned thrusting deeper.

I quickly unclasped my bra, sliding it off and throwing it to the floor. Jensen’s lips came down to my breast, his sweet lips wrapping around my hardened nipple.

“fuck Jensen.” I moaned as my hands came up to his hair tugging it.

“that’s right angel moan my name.” He growled, his thrusts becoming noticeably sloppy.

“Jensen.” I moaned again feeling my high approach.

Jensen snapped his hips harder and faster.

“I’m not making it much longer sweetheart.” He moaned.

“that’s fine me either.” I panted.

Another snap of his hips had Jensen spilling out, a string of curse words leaving his lips. Just that sight alone was enough to make me reach my high. His name leaving my lips as I orgasmed.

My body went limp as he pulled out.

Fuck.

I don’t think I’d ever get tired of that.

Jensen picked me up bridal style bringing me over to his sectional, laying us down so I was on top of him. My head lay on his chest as his hands rubbed up and down my back.

“do you really have to go to California this weekend?” He asked hands now playing with my hair.

“yeah I do… I have to meet Richard.”

“but you already met Richard?” Jensen said confusion in his voice.

“not that Richard you doofus.. my moms new boyfriend.” I laughed.

“Oh and how do you feel about that?” He asked in concern.

“I feel that she deserves to be happy, and if this guy really makes her happy then I’ll be fine… she was really hurt when daddy died, she told me she’d never find another love like that, and she did… so maybe that means there’s hope for the rest of us.” I said biting my lip.

I noticed Jensen was quiet again. Oh no, he wasn’t shutting down again was he?

“Jensen? I didn’t say something that upset you did I?” I hesitantly asked.

“maybe some of us are just hopeless.” He whispered.

I quickly picked my head up to look in his eyes but he was glancing at the floor.

“Jensen look at me.” I said placing a hand on his cheek and forcing him to look in my eyes.

“you are not hopeless.” I spoke sternly.

“how can you say that, I’ve been nothing but an asshole to you?” He said.

that wasn’t entirely true.

“yeah well I guess I have a soft spot for you Ackles, I mean you did go through all that trouble to find my sd card.” I said smiling.

“do you know how hard that little thing was to find in the dark?” He asked laughing.

“oh I’m sure it was.”

“I spent over an hour looking for that thing, had Cole and a couple other guys helping me.” He said laughing still.

I felt the heat rush to my cheeks. I leaned down pressing a soft kiss to his cheek.

“and who said you didn’t have a heart?”

“I guess I let it come out every now and then.” He murmured licking his lips.

“well I really like when it does.” I whisper brushing my fingers across his cheek.

He cuddled me closer to his body. I laid my head back on his chest wishing we could just live in this moment forever.

however that wasn’t reality….

and reality sucked.

Author Note:

Damn another cliffhanger, I be doing this to myself too don’t worry. Remember if you’re enjoying and want to see more, show some love! It’s all appreciated!

xoxoxo

Part (VII)

#jensen ackles #jensen ackles imagine #dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester x reader #jensen ackles x female!reader #jensen ackles preference #jensen ackles x you #jensen ackles x reader #jensen x reader #jensen ackles smut #jensen and jared #jared padalecki #jeffery dean morgan #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fic

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tartigglez · 1 year

Text

"allow me to comfort you?"

zhongli x gn!reader

genre: fluff/reverse comfort

word count: 1.1k

tags: zhongli is SO SAD. IM SORRY. uhhhhh cuddles, lots of em, kith kith, nightmares, zhongli is dragon boi

tw/cw: ig zhongli has some sort of what i guess could be called anxiety but that's kinda it

a/n: decided to double post this week because i have exams and this is my way to destress, enjoy :)

ps... this is not very well proofread

opening your eyes in the morning is normally quite a peaceful feeling, especially when your boyfriend is with you, as he would normally have his arms wrapped around you, lovingly awakening you from your slumber. however, today seemed different, or rather, tonight.

you were awakened to the feeling of movement, and a rather dragonic looking man stirring next to you in bed.

was he having a dream? a bad one? you could’ve sworn this was the first time this had happened, and you weren’t sure what to do.

after a moment, you sat up, and decided to awaken him, as you could see the golden patterns on his arms glowing every few seconds, which after knowing him for a while, you came to figure meant he was in some sort of distress.

you grabbed his arm and started to move your hand up and down gently, as to not startle the man too much. some people might think its a risk not worth taking, to awaken a literal sleeping dragon, and even you knew the man had the potential to hurt you, but he never would. you trusted him, more than anything.

after turning on the lamp at the bedside, you began making more effort to awaken the man.

“zhong. my love, wake up”

after about thirty seconds of attempting to awaken him, the man suddenly sprung upwards, breathing heavily, and catching hold of his surroundings. he scanned around him, before grabbing onto your hand and looking down, closing his eyes.

shortly after you began to hear gentle sobs from the man. surely this can't be right. rex lapis, crying…?

“hey, what happened? you okay?”

you quickly realised however, that these questions were pointless, and that he was not going to respond. instead, you opted for pulling him closer to you, wrapping one of your arms around his broad shoulders, and holding his hand with the other, gently stroking his thumb.

his gentle sobs continued for a few minutes, before you moved your hand from his and used it to pull his head to your chest, where you presumed he could perhaps find some solace as you ran your fingers through his hair.

when his sobs finally slowed down, it took him a moment to pipe up.

“surely this position is uncomfortable for you, aren’t my horns hurting you, or digging into you somewhere? i can make them g-”

“shh, i’m okay. promise.”

“v-very well”

after another moment of silence, he spoke again…

“i am... sorry for awakening you. i cannot remember the last time this happened, but it was truly long ago”

“my love, you have nothing to apologise for. do you want to talk about it?”

“i suppose it would be improper of me not to offer up an explanation after so crudely awakening you like this… i dreamt that… they left me”

“they left you…? who?”

“the liyuean people. i dreamt that they abandoned everything here, that their archon was no longer worthy and-”

was he crying? again?

“hey, you’re okay. it was only a dream”

“i’m sorry, i do not have these experiences often, which means that they only feel more real to me”

you wipe the tears from beneath his eyes, and lean up to place a gentle kiss to the top of his forehead.

it was still an odd sight to see zhongli crying.

"i know, darling, i know”

“may i talk to you about something? If you wouldn’t mind lending an ear?”

“that's exactly what i'm here for, ‘li”

“very well. truthfully i sometimes feel as though a lot of my person is a façade. of course i am required to believe that i am powerful, otherwise i would not hold my position amongst the seven, but honestly i sometimes feel that i am not enough for the people here in liyue. i have given them everything i have, but what if that is not enough? what if one day, liyue, rex lapis, morax and zhongli are all left in the dust. what if it is all forgotten? if my efforts are put to waste?”

“zhong. when was the last time you interacted with a liyuean? they all know that you care for them more than anything, do not let your own self doubt get in the way of that, or you will become blinded by your insecurities. you are doing a good job, take it slowly. after all, fate awaits us all, and there is very little that can be done about it. i promise you, the people of liyue love you. i love you”

“i love you as well, dear. sometimes i just worry.”

“i know. i cannot even begin to imagine the amount of pressure you are under.”

you used your hand to tilt his face towards yours, before easing his worries with a kiss.

“shall we lay down dear? i still feel apologetic for waking you up”

“sure, but just this once, allow me to comfort you?”

“very well”

you moved to lie flat on your back, as zhongli moved himself closer to you, resting his head upon your chest.

“is this okay?”

he asked, wondering if the position was comfortable for you. after all the man did have literal horns poking out of his head.

“mhm! can i play with your hair?”

“please, do. that sounds ever so pleasant at this moment in time.”

and so you moved your fingers to entangle in his hair, gently massaging his scalp as he let out a large yawn, wrapping himself tighter around you.

“i love you, y/n”

“love you too, ‘li”

after a few moments of pleasant silence, you piped up again, with intentions to ask the man if he had calmed down any.

“zhong?”

“zhong~?”

ah. he was sleeping.

“sleep well, prince”

and all of a sudden, began a low, rumbling, purring noise, from somewhere in the mans chest. an ability you were completely unaware he had, but for some reason the sound soothed you, and let you know he was calm, and happy in your presence.

you placed a gentle kiss to his head once again, before drifting off into your own slumber.

you awakened to the feeling of gentle kisses being placed upon your shoulder, by none other than zhongli himself, who was obviously very impatiently waiting for you to wake up.

“ah, you're awake. good morning, dear”

“mmm, morning zhong”

“did you rest well?”

“i did. you?”

“me too”

“why of course, i'm not sure why i asked”

“what is that supposed to mean…?”

“you started purring in your sleep last night”

“i did WHAT?!"

#ZHONGLI CHARACTER BREAKKKKK #genshin impact #zhongli #zhongli x you #zhongli x reader #zhongli fluff #zhongli fic

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kairiscorner · 9 months

Note

AUGHHH I LOVE UR FICS

Could you maybe possibly pretty please write a queerplatonic 1610 Miles fic? Like cuddles after a long day of Spider-manning (●´□`)♡

OH SURE THING ANON !! AND THANK YOU SO MUCHHHHH, that's such an honor <:))

(reblogs are greatly appreciated, it helps get my content out there! if you guys like what you see, please reblog it too <:D)

in your arms is where i wanna be. — miles morales x reader

he may be spider man—brooklyn's number 1 defender from all kinds of bad guys that wanna hurt people and rule the world or whatever else their dark overzealous hearts desire—but he's still a human being, a kid named miles morales who's expected to head back to his dorm at brooklyn visions academy, call home at least once every day, and get passing grades in all his subjects on top of being a crime fighter and baby powder endorser (which crashed and burned).

he was exhausted and couldn't wait to head to bed, but as it turns out, ganke accidentally locked the window to their dorm and went to bed, forgetting miles was taking some long hours doing his patrol as spider man. miles sighed, he tried calling ganke to wake him up, but ganke's phone is always on silent, that wasn't enough to wake him up. with a sigh, he tried to make his way to someone else's dorm and book it out of there as if he never even entered—but as he was enacting that plan, he spotted a familiar face looking at him with a curious smile.

"hey, peter pan." you teased him as miles smiled from underneath his mask. "ah, hey, what are you doing up right now?" he asked you as you opened your window up for him to come in and let him enter. "just finishing up some homework, yeah. you?" you asked him so casually, as if the spider suit didn't give it away. he took his mask off as you saw that his smile didn't look as bright, cheery, nor energetic as before—he appeared tired. "you good?" you asked him as he nodded, despite the fatigue. "just... a lil' worn out, i guess." he said as he sat down on your bed, with you sitting down next to him, too. "well, i have just the right remedy." you said as you extended your arms out to him and smiled widely. "don't be shy, c'mon now, if you wanna get teased by the cuddle monster to cheer you up, they're here now." you said in a playful voice as miles smiled and lightly chuckled.

he wrapped his arms around you and took in the wonderful feeling of your warmth and softness against him. it had been a long while since he's been held like this, and he certainly doesn't want this feeling to end. your touch is so comforting and lovely, he feels like all the happiness in the world had been condensed into your embrace for him, and he's not letting go of you any time soon. "you feel so cuddly... like a teddy bear..." he murmured as you chuckled and held him tighter. "you're more of the teddy bear than i am, ya softie." you teased him as he chuckled and murmured an 'i guess that's right' to you as he held you closer to his chest, savoring the feeling of being held by you and feeling all his stress, worries, and physical pains that have accumulated throughout his day just melt away as he holds you close and you hold him even closer.

tags !! @k4tsu3 @onginlove @luvstarrstruck @toneystank-3000 @ii01vq @maxoloqy @popeheywardssecretgf @lovefrominaya @solecitoszn @meowmoraless

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raccoon-eyed-rebel · 1 year

Text

Under Orders - Part 1

Masterlist

Part 1 🔹Part 2🔹Part 3🔹Part 4🔹Part 5

Pairing: softDom!August x reader (Described Marshall x reader)

Summary: August comes home after a business trip, only to find out his princess is under some highly inconvenient orders...

Word count: 5.3k

Warnings: NSFW, SMUT, 18+, MINORS DNI, BDSM, D/s dynamic (technically D/s/D), praise kink, bondage, oral (m receiving), (first time) anal sex (toys, fingering, p-in-a) (f receiving) (unprotected), slight hurt/comfort, use of pet names/titles (Daddy, Sir, princess, kitten, sweetheart and darling), established relationship, extra light dacryphilia, extra extra light spanking. Also check-ins and aftercare... And as pointed out by a helpful Anon; degradation/name-calling (slut/whore (affectionate))

A/N: Inspired by this little treasure.

I was initially planning on keeping this a oneshot, but if anyone's up for a part 2 of this, be sure to let me know! (Am I publicly begging for reblogs and comments now? You bet your ass I am!) We're doing a little soft!August because anal is serious business and I'm a masochist as much as the next person, but... lube and patience, please.

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @keanureevesisbae @fvckinghenrycavill (I know you didn't ask to be tagged but I thought you might be interested 🙊 *nervous laughter*)

Anyway: loads of smut under the cut

You check your phone for the time as you wait in the hallway – on your knees, the way you know he expects to find you when he comes home. Sometimes, you pretend to forget, because you know it riles him up, but today you already have some bad news for him, so you’re not taking any chances. The door opens shortly after you put your phone down. Hands on knees, eyes down.

“Welcome home, Daddy,” you say softly. Daddy, he earned the name in the heat of the moment, when it just slipped out of you when he was… you don’t even remember what exactly he was doing, but you know it hurt, and that you probably deserved it. The title stuck – it goes nicely with the nicknames he uses for you and the way he takes care of you, protects you... August raises an eyebrow when he hears your greeting.

“What’s the matter, kitten?” His voice is restrained, as if he knows what’s going on. He probably has a very decent hunch: he always does. It’s what he gets paid to do at work.

“Sir has given me orders, Daddy, and he left a message for you on the kitchen table.” Your voice is even weaker now, and you’re squirming. It doesn’t escape August’s attention that you’re uncomfortable.

“Stay here, darling,” he orders. It sounds sweet, but it definitely isn’t up for negotiation. You won’t make that mistake again.

August makes his way to the kitchen, frustration seeping through in the way he walks. There’s a box on the table, which contains a butt plug – or rather: contained, seeing as the box is empty. It doesn’t take August three guesses to know where he left it. He swears under his breath as he paces back to the hallway and looks down on you.

“What were his orders, kitten?” he asks. “And look at me when I speak to you.”

“I…” You turn your eyes away from him again, but he grabs your chin and pulls it up.

“Speak up, sweetheart,” he says softly. He isn’t mad. Not yet, anyway.

“Sir said I’m not allowed to touch myself until the next time I see him,” you say. Your voice is more stern now that he’s ordered you to speak up, but that doesn’t mean it’s any easier to say it.

“Are you sure those were his words, kitten?” His voice is incredibly sweet, and he emphasizes his words in such a way that you immediately realize he wants to hear the exact words, so you shake your head in reply to his question. “Don’t lie to Daddy, sweetheart.” Shit, that’s definitely strike one. You can’t always accurately predict how many of those you get before you’re in serious trouble, but it’s usually three. He seems to be in a sour mood, so it’s probably more likely to be two.

“Sir said I’m not allowed to touch my pussy until I see him again,” you correct yourself, voice louder than you anticipated you’d manage.

“Did he, now?” You know that tone – so does the rest of your body. Unconsciously, your walls clench around nothing, reminding you of the past afternoon. It makes you squirm again, but you’re under orders, and therefore can’t do anything about it.

“Sir also gave me something special to wear for you,” you whisper, “that I had to show you…”

“Go to the bedroom and get ready for me, then, kitten,” August says. There is a hint of curiosity in his eyes, but another edge to his look that tells you he has a very good idea of what he can expect.

As you go upstairs, August goes into the kitchen and fixes himself a drink. He doesn’t usually regret his idea to share you with his old college roommate – in fact, he usually loves finding ways to play with you while sticking to the rules that you’ve been given and putting you under orders is definitely more fun when he knows his friend will have to get creative, too – but today is different. August quickly dials a number and holds his phone up to his ear.

“Walker,” the voice on the other side of the line says. August can picture the man grinning ear to ear, knowing why he’s calling. “I was expecting your call.”

“Yeah,” August says gruffly, “care to rethink your policy, Marshall?”

“No chance in hell, Walker, have fun.” And with those words, the bastard just hangs up on him. Walter Marshall knows all too well that August’s favorite pastime when coming home from a work trip, is to watch his pretty girl – their pretty girl – play with herself, and now that isn’t happening, thanks to him. August doesn’t doubt that Walter is very pleased with himself, and it makes him livid.

In the beginning of this agreement , the guys would allow it to turn into a bit of a pissing contest between them, trying desperately to frustrate the other as much as possible. You had put an end to that pretty quickly, saying you were more than happy to be their little toy, but you weren’t going to accept that at the expense of every last bit of your own pleasure. They’d both had to admit they had each been going out of their way to make each other’s lives miserable, when they had put the arrangement in place to both enjoy you – and you them. What’s happening now isn’t technically against the rules the three of you put in place, but it’s a frustratingly clever way around it. That being said, they’re still allowed to pester each other from time to time, even at your expense, but never in terms of what can’t be done to you. They’re in charge of you, not each other.

August finds you kneeling in front of the bed wearing nothing – unless you count the intricate collection of rope and knots that run over your body as ‘wearing something’. He takes a moment to admire Marshall’s handiwork before walking over to you.

“Hello my darling,” he says as he gently traces his fingers up your back, “you’re very pretty like this.” His words make your cheeks glow, and you unconsciously clench your thighs. It’s almost enough to make you forget the pain you feel in the few places where the rope scrapes your skin uncomfortably.

“Do you like it, sweetheart?” he asks, still caressing your back, slowly moving to your sides. You squirm as he touches you. There is a hint of concern to his voice. He isn’t here to spank you senseless or fuck you until you can’t walk – not that he won’t, but it isn’t his primary concern. He’s here to look after you, to take care of you when you need him to, and right now, he’s worried you look a little too uncomfortable.

“Yes, Daddy,” you say softly. You’re now moaning as you speak, not from pleasure or even pleasure through pain, but purely out of discomfort.

“Darling, are you hurt?” He already expected you to shake your head the way you do. He knows you well enough to realize you can be stubborn – too stubborn for your own good, mostly. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s had to intervene because you were putting your safety on the line, just because you didn’t want to admit something hurt.

“Sweetheart, what did Sir tell you about these?” August lightly traces the ropes on your body. “And don’t lie to me, now.”

“Sir said to take them off if they became uncomfortable,” you say barely audibly.

“And why did you not listen to him?”

“I wanted to show you, Daddy,” you reply, “and everything went fine, but then you said you were going to be home a bit later, and… I didn’t want to give up.” It’s the truth – he knows it is – but that doesn't make it any better. You should have known better than to put your safety – or at least your comfort – at risk like this, especially while you were home by yourself. Your bottom lip trembles.

“I’ll let him know you went against his orders,” August says. His voice is calm yet stern, and he begins to untie you, pausing for a moment when he sees the mess you’ve made of the rope that was tied between your legs. His words are a promise that he isn’t going to deal with your disobedience tonight – he’ll leave that to Marshall. After all, it was his order you disobeyed. You’re not quite sure if that’s the better option. The easing of the rope against your skin feels good, but it also makes you more aware of just how uncomfortable you have been the past half hour. It takes him a few minutes to take the entire thing apart.

When he’s done, he gently massages your sore muscles and skin, while looking for marks, bruises, abrasions, any kind of serious damage to your skin – he’s glad he doesn’t find any, just some superficial signs of chafing. You whine and groan as his hands move over your body – half of your cries being from the relief his touch brings, the other half in pain. August slowly works his way down your back until he arrives at your ass. You can hear the chuckle that escapes him when he sees you. His hunch from earlier was right; the plug that wasn’t in its box on the kitchen table is currently serving its intended purpose. It’s something he’s considered before, but he has never actually taken any steps to make it happen. Apparently, Marshall was less patient than him– not that August hadn’t always known that.

“And how does this feel, princess?” August gently taps the base of the plug to let you know what he means – not that you weren’t able to guess. You gasp when he does it – finally a sound that’s filled with nothing but genuine pleasure – and wiggle your ass in response, knowing very well that that won’t suffice. August’s hand lands on your behind lightly, but it’s enough to send shivers down your spine. Your core has been on fire ever since Walter tied you up, and feeling August’s hands on your skin isn’t making it any better.

“Use your words, kitten,” he says as he spanks the other side of your ass. The noise you make is almost a chuckle, which makes August smile.

“It feels good, Daddy,” you say shyly. You’d been a little nervous when Marshall mentioned trying anal play earlier this week. It was always a soft limit for you, and you trust him, so you’d agreed. Now, barely five days later, that plug is your new favorite toy, and you whine when August slowly pulls it out.

“Has Sir done anything else to your perfect little ass, sweetheart?” August asks as he runs his fingers through your soaked folds. The rules said nothing about him not being allowed to touch your pussy, and he’s planning on putting this natural lubricant to good use. You whine as he pushes two fingers into you without a problem, slicking them up with your arousal. Thanks to the preparation with the plug, he slips one finger into your ass with ease, and you moan as he starts moving it in and out of your tight hole. He doesn’t need an answer, per se, your reaction is more than enough to tell him that nothing has happened beyond what he’s doing to you now, but he demands one from you regardless.

“No, Daddy,” you say timidly, a tinge of excitement in your voice as you realize what that probably means for the rest of your night. August chuckles. Marshall may have taken his favorite show from him, but he left him a potentially very lovely night of firsts. It’s more than a fair trade, honestly. You moan when August withdraws his finger, looking over your shoulder questioningly. You’re almost pouting, but you remind yourself just in time that August doesn’t like it when you do that. Good girls don’t pout when they want something, they ask - nicely.

“What is it, kitten?” It’s both a question and a warning, and you exhale sharply in relief that you didn’t give him the desperate look you were initially planning to.

“Please don’t stop,” you say softly. Your voice trembles lightly, mostly with excitement, but partially with nerves. The bad mood he was in previously seems to have turned around nicely, but that doesn’t always mean he’ll heed your requests, although he did seem rather excited about the little anal experiment Marshall started earlier today.

“Get on the bed,” he orders as he takes his shirt off. You do as he tells you and wait patiently, not expecting him to join you, lying down, moving you so you’re on your knees next to him. One of his hands reaches for your chin and pulls you closer to him.

“Can I get a kiss, princess?” You know better than to refuse him – not that you would ever want to – so you lean forward until your lips touch his. You don’t expect him to pull you against him completely, but it’s a nice surprise. For a delicious moment, you snuggle into his side, relishing the feeling of his lips against yours, tongues sliding past one another and his teeth grazing at your lips. You moan each time he gently bites down on your bottom lip. He pulls you a bit further on top of him, your legs now on either side of one of his thighs, and gently strokes your skin along the path that was recently occupied by the ropes. The kiss is amazing, especially since you’ve had to miss him for a whole week and when you shift slightly and his thigh provides a bit of that exquisite friction against your clit, you can’t resist the temptation. Your hips grind against his leg longingly and for a moment, you forget everything except you and August – only to be reminded by two sharp smacks on your ass that, unfortunately, reality is a thing, and in this reality you’ve been told not to do what you started doing.

“You’re smart enough to know that counts as touching, kitten.” August laughs as he says it while his fingers dig into your hips, holding them firmly in place so you can’t move them anymore. You whisper an apology before you curl up against his chest. You’ve missed being in his arms, although it was nice to have Marshall around for five days. A part of you hopes the three of you will spend a night together again soon, but you haven’t had the courage to ask either one of them if they’d be up for that.

“I’ve missed you too,” August suddenly murmurs into your hair as he pulls you even closer. When you turn your face up to him, he kisses you again. It’s warm, soft, and wet and incredibly impatient, filled with love as well as lust. When he breaks away from you, you press a few sloppy kisses to his neck. It’s a very weak protest, you’re well aware of that, but you’re sad he stopped kissing you and you have to do something to prevent yourself from acting out in ways that will get you punished.

“Now be a good girl for me and suck my cock, darling.” In another world you might have wanted him to beg for it, but in this universe, his order is enough to turn you on even more than anything that’s happened before now, and you don’t hesitate to undo his belt and trousers. He stops you when you try to move towards the foot of the bed. “Stay here so Daddy can play with you.”

You writhe in anticipation when he says those words as you free his cock from its confinement, fingers wrapping his girth, barely closing around it completely. The rope, your naked body, the swift encounter with your dripping wet cunt, the kiss, and the thought of all the things he wants to do to your tight little ass have left him hard. A hum escapes from between August’s slightly parted lips when your tongue darts out to slowly circle the head of his cock. The sound turns into a loud moan when you waste very little time wrapping your lips around him.

Usually, you like to exploit the fact that this is the only way you get to tease him a bit with no – alright, barely any – repercussions, but it’s been too long since you’ve felt his cock in your mouth and you need him too much. You moan and throw your hips back when you feel one of his fingers push into your ass again. It doesn’t go in as easily as the last time, but it doesn’t hurt. Still, August feels the increased amount of friction and reaches into the nightstand for the lube he keeps there. It’s cold against your skin, but that feeling fades as he works it into you, slowly pumping his finger until it’s completely inside of you. He surprises you when he suddenly sinks his teeth into your flesh before kissing the skin he just hurt.

“Good girl,” he praises you, “you’re doing very well.” Your cheeks are burning, and the words send jolts of electricity straight to your already dripping core. Your heart swells with pride whenever he talks to you like that, and you love earning his praise. There is absolutely nothing you love more than being ‘Daddy’s dirty little slut’. You moan around his cock as you focus on taking him in as deep as possible. In this position, you can take him all the way down, but you’re afraid to as long as he’s playing with your ass like this. It doesn’t look like he’s going to stop; after a short amount of time, you feel the tip of a second finger press against your hole, slowly inching its way inside of you.

“You have to promise you’ll tell me if I hurt you, princess,” August says as he uses his free hand to softly stroke your back, “can you do that for me?” You regret that you have to answer him, but you know he’s not going to take some ‘hmm-hmm’-noise that sounds vaguely like agreement as an answer – which just so happens to be exactly what makes you trust him enough to stick his fingers up your ass, to put it bluntly.

“Yes, Daddy,” you reply after you finally manage to pull your mouth off his cock. Your answer is sincere; you know you are stubborn as a mule at times, but by now you’ve learned that August being this gentle means something will go seriously wrong if he’s rough. You trust that judgment – and you’re fairly sure Marshall will get his ass handed to him about leaving you alone to make that call about the shibari harness.

Normally, August’s moans are all you have to get off on when you suck him – and you do get off on them – but now that they’re paired with the feeling of him fingering your ass, you think you might just go completely insane. It’s very hard to keep a steady rhythm with your mouth while you frantically throw your hips back against the movements of August’s fingers, especially when you feel him add a third finger. This is where you expected it to start being painful, but it isn’t. That being said, there’s definitely more friction, and you decide it’s a better idea to stay ahead of any pain than to ring the alarm when you’re already hurting.

“Can you use some more lube?” The sharp pain of a firm smack on your ass startles you. You could have expected August to tell you off for speaking with a full mouth, and making you repeat your question, but you aren’t really in a position where thinking straight is a top priority. He seems more than happy to answer to your request. You’re guessing he’s more than excited you’re having so much fun with this new little experiment. You make a last-ditch effort to continue what you can safely call the sloppiest blowjob of your life, but you definitely can’t keep a level head anymore now that August is fucking your ass with three fingers. When a fourth gently seeks entrance you shriek, expecting pain, but it doesn’t come at all.

August can be a very patient man, he knows it, you know it – Marshall no doubt also knows it, which is probably why he recognized that August would be much better suited for this particular first time than he would be. That, and in the ‘natural equipment’ department, Marshall is just a little more intimidating circumference wise, which wouldn’t necessarily be ideal, either. You’re still throwing your hips back, fucking yourself stupid on August’s fingers, ignoring his soft chuckles while moaning louder and louder, but still too shy to ask for what you really want – unprompted, at least. Luckily, August isn’t in the mood for cruel games or teasing tonight.

“What do you want, darling?” He asks. The smile on his face is audible in his voice.

“I- I want you,” you say in between moans, “I want you to fuck my ass.” As much as your eagerness clearly turns him on more, he remains calm and takes his time, making sure you’re lying on your stomach comfortably, telling you over and over again that you absolutely have to tell him if anything is painful.

“Slow down,” you say, gritting your teeth as the sudden intrusion becomes a little too much, “please add some more lube.” He obliges to every request without question and without delay. The extra slickness makes things a lot easier, but it’s not quite enough just yet.

“More,” you grunt as soon as August adds a bit too much pressure. He halts his movements immediately and pulls back. It isn’t long before you feel even more of the cool liquid against your sensitive skin.

“Relax, darling,” August says as he carefully tries again. You take a deep breath and lean into his movements. This time, he pushes into you without any problems. You shriek at the sudden intrusion, though it doesn’t hurt at all – it’s just a very sudden, very intense feeling of insane fullness, and so different from what you normally feel, that it startles you. August doesn’t move, giving you some time to get used to his size and the feeling, which you’re incredibly grateful for. After a while he leans forward and softly strokes your hair.

“Can I move, darling?” he asks. His voice is as gentle as his touch. There is no doubt in your mind that you can trust him completely, and you nod. He wouldn’t be August if he didn’t need verbal confirmation.

“Yes, Daddy,” you moan. If your words aren’t a plea for him to start moving, your writhing hips have to be. Of course he notices – you are in no way subtle about it – and chuckles before speaking to you again: “Aren’t you an impatient little slut?” His words send shivers down your spine: you love it when he calls you that. A moan escapes you when he suddenly pulls out and slowly plunges all the way back into you, and the noises only get louder with every new thrust. August seems impressed as he picks up speed and you keep moaning only in pleasure without a single hint of pain to it.

“Such a good girl,” you hear him say between moans, “you’re taking me so well.” It’s like you’re floating on air: As he slides in and out of you, increasing his speed with every thrust of his hips, August keeps praising you, talking about how tight you are, how good you feel around his cock… Soon, you’re begging him to fuck you even harder, sinking further into that fantastic feeling than you ever thought possible. It takes everything you’ve got to keep your hands away from your pussy, when all you really want is to give your throbbing clit the attention it’s so desperately craving. Your pleasured moans become frustrated cries as your body keeps screaming for release, but none of the million sensations you’re feeling are enough to provide it. There is one solution, but you’re far too stubborn to open your mouth and ask. It’s a particularly short-lived sense of pride, as every thrust of August’s hips chips away at your determination to keep yourself from begging – and they’re coming in quick succession. If the feeling is as tight for him as it is for you, you’re going to have to be quick about it, too, because even August isn’t going to last forever.

“D-Daddy,” you whimper, “please tou-fuck! – touch me.” You can barely keep your eyes open at this point.

“Do you want to come, kitten?” August’s voice is sweet – the kind of sweet that usually signals a harsh rejection, but he’s in a good mood now, maybe you have a chance. You nod and whisper a barely audible ‘yes’ in between the cries that slip from your mouth every time he shoves his cock into you. “Is your little slut pussy begging for attention?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you manage to choke out. August’s grunts and growls are killing you, especially when he chuckles before he speaks to you again.

“Well, you’re being such a good little whore for Daddy,” he says, and for a moment you allow yourself to get excited, “go on, touch yourself.” You almost do it. Almost. And then you remember you aren’t allowed to. You want to scream, call him names, tell him he’s a sadistic bastard, but the chances of you sitting comfortably tomorrow are actually quite high. If you don’t rein in your attitude, those chances will dwindle below zero fast. Your thighs are trembling – not that the rest of you isn’t – and there are tears in your eyes now. Crying won’t scare him – if anything, it will turn him on more, and it sure as hell won’t help his ruthless tendencies, but you can’t take more of this.

“Please, Daddy, please,” you beg, “please make me come, please.” You say the word ‘please’ another ten or so times before he finally shushes you. It’s a sound you haven’t heard before, full of adoration – perhaps even a bit of admiration. You let out a loud shriek when he reaches around your hip and brings his fingers to your clit. It doesn’t take much – and by that you mean it takes him unbelievably little effort to take you right to the edge.

It’s his voice that ends up pushing you over, when he leans forward to whisper in your ear: “Come for me, you dirty little slut.”

You come so hard it almost scares you, screaming August’s name – which you’re hoping won’t land you in hot water, given the circumstances, but you can’t be sure of that – so loud you’re fairly sure the neighbors can hear all of it, and then you crash. Your cries turn into soft whimpers, and for a while, the only sounds to be heard are the ones from your mouth, his and the sound of his hips slamming into you. It doesn’t take very long before he seems unable to keep his rhythm steady. His breath quickens in that familiar way that tells you he’s close. You sigh in relief. It’s not that you want it to end, but you couldn’t possibly take any more of this.

“Darling, you’re so tight,” he hisses through clenched teeth, “you’re going to make me come.”

“Fuck, yes,” you moan, “please, Daddy, please come in my ass.” He’s more than happy to oblige, and with a loud grunt and an absolutely brutal final thrust, he empties himself inside you before collapsing on top of you.

He strokes your hair and kisses your shoulders and neck gently. Your instinctively dig your fingernails into his ass when you feel he’s trying to pull out, fearing the emptiness you’ll feel when he does.

“Shh, princess, it’s okay,” he whispers softly. You don’t seem to be in trouble for using his first name, but even that is the furthest thing from your mind right now. “You were absolutely amazing, darling. You took me so well.” He keeps talking to you until you finally melt into his arms. You’re exhausted, still trembling, but finally giving in to his touch, allowing him to take care of you. You whine when he finally lifts his warm body off your shivering one, and you only vaguely register that he grabs something off the nightstand.

“I think Sir would love to see a picture of you like this, princess,” he says as he softly brushes his fingers over the curve of your ass, “is it okay if I take one?” You nod eagerly. Something about you loves it when either one of them shows you off to the other, especially when they’re proud of you. You raise yourself up on your knees a little at August’s request. It’s difficult because you’re still shaking, but it doesn’t take long before you can collapse into the heap of pillows again. August’s hands find their way back to you shortly after, and he presses more soft kisses to your back, shoulders and neck.

“Do you want me to run you a bath, kitten?” he asks softly, and all you can do in reply is moan. After gathering your thoughts for a few short moments, you follow him into the bathroom.

“Can I get a moment?” you ask shyly, and August smiles and nods before he leaves you alone so you can clean up a bit. Despite the incredible intimacy of your relationship with August, there are some things you prefer to do in a slightly more private setting. Pushing your boyfriend’s cum out of your ass definitely falls into that category.

You’re shaking and sore, and when you’re done splashing some cold water in your face and you look up into the mirror, you see that you look very tired. August appears behind you after turning the water off, and he gently pulls you towards the bath.

“Join me?” Your words are barely a question, but your eyes are definitely begging him. Of course he agrees, he always does. It’s one of his favorite ways to unwind and reconnect after intense experiences. You’re grateful for that, because you love nothing more than to curl up against him while enjoying the soothing warmth of the water. He helps you get in and immediately pulls you onto his lap. You sigh as you melt into his embrace. His chest is a wonderful pillow, and his hands gently work your sore muscles.

“I’m proud of you.” The words are accompanied by a kiss to your temple. You laugh softly, telling August you’re actually pretty pleased with yourself, too. Your words make him laugh, too, before he tells you it’s well deserved.

“Did you like it?” It’s a redundant question – it would have been from either of you – and it makes you laugh.

“August, I fucking loved it,” you say as you snuggle even closer to him and tell him you’re definitely up for doing this again. Soon.

“I guess we’ll have to invite Marshall over sometime, then,” he says with a devious smile spreading slowly across his face. Your breath catches in your throat as he says it and your thoughts immediately run wild. Oh, yes, you think, you absolutely have to.

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