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jasontoddiefor · 7 months

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Yeah sure we’ve all binged a long fic, but have you ever read a WIP and followed someone’s life?

Tidbits of information - (“I graduated today!”) - and small joys (“It’s my birthday!”) and you get to be there to say “This chapter made me cry, happy birthday, thank you for gifting us this”.

I remember reading this fic of someone at the end of high school, older than me then. They seemed infinitely wise, spoke of their future career and getting into the college they wanted. I remember them posting on days they felt like nothing could bring them down - and on days the whole world did and it’s the aftermath of a hospital visit. Cancer, I think it was, their father. I got to the end of the story, I know their father was fine, but also they got to finish their WIP. I graduated three years later than them, still dutifully wrote thank you notes in every comment. I wonder if they remember me, or just the collective of people reading the story as it updates.

Four years ago I was into my first year of university, my first year of figuring out being out in public spaces. I made excuses as to why my name didn’t match my paperwork and read a fic on the train, the same five chapters over and over again for the next years as I thought the story abandoned. It updated this week after such a long hiatus, I left another thank you comment.

There’s an author I love, they update their stories like a clockwork. When they don’t, I check their blog, just to see if their doing alright, not because I feel like they owe me, just to ensure whether I better get out my laptop to write that really detailed university level essay chapter analysis to get them smiling when their day sucked.

And then, once, when I was 17, I read a fic that hadn’t updated in over a decade. I wasn’t even in primary school when it started posting. On the last chapter, I left a comment that, in retrospect, was horribly rambly and most likely full of grammar mistakes. The author replied and though I couldn’t see their face, I thought of them crying. They were married now, had children, and hadn’t thought about this fic in years. They went through their files again, found another half written chapter and an outline. I got two new chapters to read that year.

And then, recently, someone told me they got back into writing original fiction because of my comments. I get to read nearly weekly chapters.

I love binge reading a finished fic, but nothing is ever going to top the feeling of anticipation of waiting for a chapter, the pure joy when someone tells you I was done with this, but you made me think of it again, so this is for you.

Anyway, I think we should romanticize reading WIPs more, growing up alongside the authors writing the stories we love.

#writing #fandom #fanfiction #ao3 #archive of our own

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schadenfreudich · 10 months

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Hans forgot that moving our head to the left is painful, did it very quickly and upon the pain's arrival went "Ohhh! Scheiße!"

#pretty sure that's the most pain he was ever in physically #-franz #about hans #not me tho. i remember being 12 and waking up not being able to move my neck and crying while i tried to stand up #our neck and shoulders are still very painful when you press even lightly on them over a decade later #i had to go to the hospital and wait for hours to have it actually looked at by a doctor #went to physical therapy for it #something. something. we've been physically disabled for a while. i have long since stopped panicking because of that kind of stuff

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teatreeoilll · 4 months

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w/c: 750 Part I - A drabble - headcanon thingy of our favorite king of red flags curses, set in a Heian-era village. i dunno anymore. | Part 2 here

Childhood!FriendSukuna who first met you as he stood at the brink of death.

"Mom, hey, mom." You tugged at her sleeve, directing her gaze at a frail boy, about seven or eight, on the verge of collapse behind the village market stall, "Can I give him an apple?" It's a bad month, she thought, glancing at the contents of her basket; this kindness might cost an empty stomach later on.

"No dear, he'll be fine." But you already ran off with an apple, your tiny legs making their way to the sickly boy.

"Here," you held the apple in front of his face, to which he narrowed his eyes, extending a scrawny arm to smack it away.

"I don't need your trash." He barked, his voice harsh as he gathered saliva in his mouth, spitting at your feet, “Peasant.”

As soon as your mother dragged you away, he picked up the apple, eating it whole.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who didn’t mind the insults the villagers threw at him while he was knee-deep in mud, plowing the fields for a cup of stale rice in the evenings.

"That brat is cursed," the whispers would grow amidst the village's council meetings, "If we stop feeding him, he'll leave."

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna, whose malnourished limbs betrayed him as he fell face first on the rice terrace with the hot sun still ablaze on his back.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who woke up almost a day later under an unknown ceiling, fever gnawing at his head under a wet cloth.

"Mom! Mom!" You shrieked from the corner of the room, "He's awake!" and a woman came in with a warm cup of tea, the taste of which lingered on his tongue as he drifted back to sleep.

"Let me die, brat." His hoarse voice was still weak when he came back to his senses as you placed a fresh, dampened cloth over his forehead.

"My name's not 'brat,'" you informed with a scoff, "It's (Name); what's yours?"

Too ashamed to admit he didn’t know the answer, he turned away and closed his eyes.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna, whose mouth hung agape when you pressed a chaste kiss on his forehead one night while muttering, 'mother told me that a kiss can heal any sickness'.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna, who disappeared as soon as he found the strength to walk again, returning to the fields only to find that the farmer's wife would no longer spare him dried-out rice when he finished a day's work.

"They should have let him die," he heard the farmer's wife proclaim through the thin walls of the cabin, "That self-righteous linen maker and her irritating daughter. That brat probably cursed them, too."

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who killed the farmer and his wife, unleashing a torrent of power he never knew resided within him; some kind of strange magic, he thought, wondering if the whispers of curses were more than the village gossip. The air hung heavy with the metallic tang of blood, and for the first time, he could breathe.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who disappeared after the crime, only to emerge a decade later, leaving a trail of chaos in his wake as he razed and burned each village in his path - laughing as he watched the terror-stricken villagers bow at his feet, crying and begging and dubbing him devil.

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who spared you as the village you once called home turned to ashes around you.

"I owe no debt to you now." He announced.

Tears pooled in your eyes, and a scream escaped your lips as you broke down on your knees before him, "I should have listened," you wailed, fingers clawing at the dry dirt beneath you, "They said you were cursed," you hurled a mass of dirt at him, hitting his chest, "They said the devil came to the village the day you were born."

ChildhoodFriend!Sukuna who passed through the village again the next day, just to see you lying between the rubble, limbs sprawled on the dirt and ashes.

"I've extended you kindness." He said, covering the sun with his frame as he loomed over you, "Leave."

And you laughed, shaking and howling until the sides of your body started stinging, and the words came out as mere gasps; "And go where?"

"Wherever you wish."

"Home," You declared, locking eyes with his confused expression, "I want to go home."

You weren’t sure what sick thoughts ran through his mind when he leaned down to press a chaste kiss on your forehead, so you smiled, his face still a mere inch away from yours; "It's my fault." you confessed, "So, the next time we meet, I'll fix it, okay?" A deadpan expression took over as you added, "I'll kill you myself."

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allfearstofallto · 1 month

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Day of the Wedding

Yandere! Genshin Men x Fem! Reader

Ft: Diluc, Childe, Scaramouche

Forced Marriage AU

TW: Yandere Themes, Forced(?) Alcohol Consumption

AN: I checked today and I have 900 followers??? That's actually insane!!! This is what I've got to offer I guess!!

Diluc

Who wouldn't cry tears of joy when marrying the most desired bachelor of Mondstadt? That's what people thought when they saw you dressed from head to toe in pure white, the only thing throwing your princess attire off being your smeared makeup. Your eyes, so red and puffy, had mascara running down your cheeks. Black tears staining your face.

Despite the way you looked, you still forced a smile. It was a small wedding, containing only those close to the both of you, but your family couldn't help, but wonder why you chose to stay close under your newly wed husband, almost seeming afraid to talk to them.

When the vows were spoken, you could barely get the words out. Your voice shaking through sobs as your tears fell upon the page of written notes, eventually making the ink leak and becoming ineligible. You still spoke your I Do’s, followed by him lifting your veil and kissing you right upon your lips. His hand snaked around your waist and the other held your head in place. But you, you stood there stiffly, like kissing him had made you turn into stone.

Diluc pulled away with a smile, his mouth stained with a slight tint of your lipstick. He walked you back down the aisle, with the crowd throwing rice and cheering. On the happiest day of your life where you were supposed to be looking forward ahead of you, you just kept looking back, hoping that your family could see the distress in your eyes, though they never did.

Childe

So many of Childe's siblings and cousins and aunts and uncles came to the wedding, but not a single one of your family members joined you.

“She's not close to her family,” he'd say, holding on to your waist with a threatening hand. That was a lie. You loved your family. You saw them often, at least, you did before the day you abruptly decided to move to Snezhnaya without a word to them. You hadn't seen them since and they didn't know where to send letters, you were essentially a ghost of their past. Your memory haunted them daily as they missed you dearly and you missed them too.

The wedding lasted days and days. A surprise to even you, but apparently that's tradition. Games and singing. There was dancing happening for what felt like hours. And drinking. So so so much drinking. With a feast that spanned almost an entire table, there was an abundance of alcohol to match.

You could hardly keep up with the festivities. In an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people being wed to a man you thought you knew. Childe wouldn't let you show your discomfort on your face, meeting your lips with a glass of whatever he was drinking, you'd gulp down even more and fall into that drunken dizziness. When the wedding ended, you don't exactly remember. It all became a blur near the end. But you remember waking up to Childe laying you down in bed, placing a kiss on your forehead and whispering words of praise to you that would've been comforting, had it not been for who he was.

Scaramouche

He always adored the way you looked in kimono. Today was no different. The pure white silk draped over your body was by far the nicest one he'd gifted you. Dolled up in traditional make-up, you felt so stiff with your now decadent appearance.

You'd feel less scared if he wasn't still wearing that same glare. That same look of anger and disappointment. Even though it was just the two of you in the room, you him and the officiant who would wed the two of you, he still glared at the man like one mistake would kill him. And it probably would.

Your hand shook as you picked up what looked to be the tea pot, something he made you practice time and time again to prepare just for today. Getting it wrong today would mean facing his wrath later, yet you still shook while pouring it into the small bowl. You watched with a pounding heart as you managed to spill some, dripping onto the floor and sinking between the wood.

Meeting his gaze and preparing for a scolding, you instead saw him lightly chuckle. Seldom did he smile and even more rare than that, did he actually laugh. The sight was even scarier than his usual glares, somehow his joy made him seem even more menacing.

“I expected this much from you,” he whispered into the silence. His nimble fingers gripped the rim of the bowl and he brought it to your lips, making you take a sip of the warm alcohol. It was bitter and disgusting, just as you'd remembered. When you swallowed your sip, he took one right after you, finishing off what was left in the dish, then sitting it to the side again.

Your names were signed onto a piece of parchment, a wedding document written in traditional Inazuma script. You couldn't read a word of it, but there was no worse contract than the one that said you'd be his lawfully wedded wife.

Scaramouche held your hand as the two of you walked out of the shrine, his fingers cold and his grip tight. It was such a beautiful day out. That was all you could think about as you were walked back to his carriage which would take you to his home. Your last day as a truly free woman, you were glad it was beautiful.

#genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact #yandere genshin #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere imagines #yandere childe x reader #yandere childe #yandere diluc x reader #yandere diluc #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere Scaramouche

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hairmetal666 · 1 year

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What if, after Vecna is defeated, Eddie lives and is recovering in the hospital and one day he's just gone. Like, Steve and the kids come to visit and his hospital room doesn't even exist anymore. It's just a blank stretch of wall. The nurses, nurses they know worked with Eddie, say they've never heard of Eddie Munson and there's never been a room where the kids insist there was the day before. Anyone else they ask says they've never heard the name, even though it was only weeks ago that the entire town formed a mob to hunt him down. Hopper and Murray look into it and there's no record of an Edward Munson in any database anywhere. His previous arrests are gone, his fingerprints, record of Wayne becoming his legal guardian, his social security number, his birth certificate. Even his Uncle Wayne, gone without a trace. Like neither man ever existed.

They search for years, always hoping for word, or a return, or anything. But Eddie was there one day and gone the next. Apparently forever.

They mourn, all of them. He was part of the group, part of the family, and then he was gone with no fanfare or goodbye. Then he was gone and every force in the world pretended like he'd never been there in the first place.

Steve, quietly, takes it hard. He spends weeks crying himself to sleep, clutching the ruined battle vest to his chest. It's just unfair, is all, Steve thinks. '86 was supposed to be Eddie's year.

Time passes and they all grow up, all move away from Hawkins. Steve and Robin move to Indy; she starts college and Steve gets a job at a little bakery because he's a regular already and they're hiring.

He loves baking, finds it calming in a way very few things are for him anymore. After a few good years, the store becomes his, and he didn't know he could be this happy or satisfied with his life, after everything.

He never stops thinking of Eddie.

Close to Steve's 30th birthday, a little bookstore opens up in the vacant building across the way. Steve sees the owner sometimes, dark hair pulled into a sloppy bun, pale skin, the occasional hint of black ink under his dark clothes. Beautiful. They wave at each other almost every morning and Steve ignores the reminders of Eddie. They're commonplace now. Any man with long dark hair, tattoos, and black clothing stirs a spark of recognition in Steve's gut, and the disappointment still hurts even after a decade.

Weeks pass and Steve notices a new display in the window of the bookstore; those dnd guides all the boys have, the dice with too many sides, the little plastic figures and pots of paints and delicate brushes. He vows, the next time the kids are in town, they'll go over and he'll finally introduce himself to that probably nice man whose only sin was a slight resemblance to a boy from Steve's past.

The kids come for a visit only a few weeks later, and are just as enthusiastic about going to the bookstore as he is to take them. He has them help bake his secret-recipe sugar cookies, decorate them in a dnd theme (Erica and Max say they're dorky, and he agrees, despite being pleased with the results).

Steve heads to the bookstore first, to warn the guy about the veritable horde of feral young adults about to descend on his quiet store.

He walks in to the sound of a gently ringing bell and Metallica playing at low volume on the store's speakers. Steve has to ignore it or he'll walk out.

"Be right with you," a muffled voice calls out.

"Take your time," he responds. He browses with the container of cookies in his arms, taking in all the dnd stuff, the signs about dnd club meetings, the stacks of new release books and a couple cds.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," a soft, husky voice says back at the front of the store. It breaks Steve out in goosebumps.

"Don't worry about it. I'm from the bakery across the street, wanted to finally introduce myself. I brought goodies," he adds, sort of blushing.

He steps back up to the cash register, eyes finally settling on the owner he's only seen from afar and all the breath leaves his body. It leaves him lightheaded, dizzy.

Eddie Munson. Eddie. Munson. Stands behind the counter, hair in a bun with messy tendrils around his face. He looks the exact same. Maybe a few more lines around his mouth and eyes. But the same.

"Ed--Eddie?" Steve's voice croaks out. He barely manages to drop the cookies onto the counter and not the floor.

Eddie's deep brown eyes flood with tears, a hand--every finger with a ring--covers his mouth. "Steve," the other man sobs.

There's no hesitation as Steve flings himself into Eddie's arms, the other man catching him and holding him tight.

Eddie squeezes him, crying against Steve's shoulder. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," he repeats.

"I can't believe you're real," Steve murmurs between soft sobs, pressing his face against Eddie's neck.

"I'm real. I'm here," Eddie agrees. "I'm right here, sweetheart."

Steve pulls out of the embrace a little, just to look at Eddie's face. To see after all these years. He presses trembling fingers against the line of Eddie's jaw, and the other man leans into the touch, lets Steve trace the contours of his cheeks, his mouth.

"You're here," Steve agrees.

Their eyes lock, drink each other in, ten years of longing dancing at the knobs of Steve's spine.

"They took me away," Eddie says, deep brown of his eyes serious and pleading. "The government. They snuck me out in the middle of the night and forced me and Wayne to adopt new identities, sent us to New Mexico. Monitored us so I couldn't contact any of you. It killed me, Stevie. To be away from you. From Robin. The kids."

That snaps Steve out of his daze. "Oh, shit. The kids."

It's too late, though. The bell at the door jingles, the usual cacophony that accompanies the seven of them filling the little store in an instant.

Dustin's voice rings out, above the others, "this store is so fucking cool."

"Language," Eddie scolds on auto-pilot. When he realizes what he said and why, his eyes wash with new tears.

The kids turn, as one, to the man they never thought they'd see again.

Steve's fingers dance down Eddie's arm, finding his hand, twining their fingers together. Eddie tightens his grip. Steve's never letting go of this man ever again, and he knows with some deep, element certainty that Eddie feels the same.

"Eddie?" Dustin exclaims.

"Hiya, kid." Eddie smiles a little, ducks his head.

"What the fuck," Max says.

"Anyone have time for a story?" Eddie asks. He dashes away the few tears that track down his cheeks.

"We have all the time in the world," Steve agrees. Doesn't think before he lifts Eddie's hand and presses a kiss just below his knuckles.

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 3 months

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the brainrot has worsened, i'm thinking about crowley's wedding dress.

Don't look at your Mascot, good omens fandom. Don't look at me. I'm coping so fucking well it's insane. But I discovered today that Neil chose the song Book of Love for Crowley and Aziraphale's Angelic Playlist. So I listened to it for the first time today. And I'm being very normal about it.

The song ends with But I... I love it when you when you give me things. And you... you should give me wedding rings.

Which may or may not have got me thinking about Crowley and all the costumes that he's worn so far, and then thinking about what my dream wedding dress for her would be, and then wondering whether it would be a dress or a suit, then realising that it would be both. Both as in, both combined into one dress.

Now, please bear in mind: I am a visual and graphics designer. I am not under any circumstances a fashion designer. What I am, however, is still crying over Crowley and extremely fucking insane.

I then grabbed a paper and brush pens and did a (terrible) drawing before the image could escape me, and brain-dumped ideas. I have six tabs open ranging from the gown necklines of each decade of the 1800s to the superior support of back-lacing corsets. And a whiteboard open on Canva. I'm so normal I swear.

Here you go everyone have my braindump of ideas for a wedding dress for Crowley.

[Would they get married the human way? Probably not. Would he wear a dress like this for his wedding? Probably not. Am I going to achieve the end result I want? Probably not. Will I spend hours over this anyway for her? Fucking yes.]

And yes, that is Crowley carrying a bouquet of leaves from her plants. Fight me to the death on this. I bet he yelled at them beforehand too. IF I SEE A SINGLE YELLOW SPOT ON OUR WEDDING DAY, YOU'RE ALL DEAD TO ME, THIS HAS TO BE PERFECT FOR AZIRAPHALE. Poor Aziraphale probably had to sneak up to them later and comfort them.

So. Wedding dress. Terrible idea? Absolutely, maggots. I'm going to think about this endlessly anyway. New hyperfixation unlocked.

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7ken3 · 29 days

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tw. MINORS DNI, fem/afab! reader, quite the buildup n plot, reader found out she has a thing for choking, bit of voyeurism, breast play, possibly ooc gallagher, oral (fem receiving), scratching, implied impact play, smut grows into fluff but with tiny bit of angst, protected sex, no proofreading cuz all done in one sitting teehee

notes. the things i want gallagher to do to me after that trailblazer quest... like the new update just made me go full on feral thoughts for him

—;;

Gallagher reminds me of that neighbour that has been living beside you for years, that neighbour who he, kinda unfortunate for you, has seen everything, from your past lover storming out of your house, to your coos echoing in your house directed to your pet, to you walking out to pick up your order, and yada yada, you get it.

He has seen it all, heard it all.

And what he has heard from you ranges on a lot of contexts... let's say your laughter, your complaints, your cries, and also your cries — of pleasure.

What shocked you the most after living beside him, acknowledging each other's presence for more than half a decade, was the thought of him popping up in your mind while you were going at it. At first, you thought:

"Hey... this is... wrong! I shouldn't be thinking about my neighbour like that..."

But once he appears, then disappears, and when you thought that'd be final, there's the image again, but with him pressing you up against the wall, a hand carrying your leg while the other hand presses gently around your throat- Woah! Around... my throat?

It was all too good, all too... exciting, yet it's still bad.

Maybe just this once... it wouldn't hurt, right?

And just when Gallagher thought that this be the last time he'll hear your moans and begs through the wall separating your houses, your rooms, he finds himself in the same position again like the other night, his back leaning against the wall with a hand cupping his length as he strokes himself. He doesn't know why and not precisely when did he begin becoming aroused to the thought of you engulfed around his cock. Becoming so... accustomed to whatever this is.

He doesn't know when had he begin to start imagining your body bouncing on his member, or have you whine and cry as he pounds himself into you while having you spread open with your hands gripping the sheets above your head, telling him to don't stop.

He blames you that's for sure, and he blames himself too, mostly, for being attracted to you in the first place. At some point in time he wasn't sure if all this was just lust on your part, since this new stage where he finds your frequent moans and cries arousing was just a bonus point on his perspective.

Heck, it has come to a point where he has to double check in the morning when all strings of control broke loose from your offer one evening.

"You wanna try my dessert? It's my special and just... thought of sharing them with you!" You chimed, hands both clasping on the fence. It only takes for him to lean further in like he always does, for you to hitch a breath, for him to stare into those beautiful, glossy orbs of yours, and for two sentences to be exchanged:

"Why not, y/n? Bring them over later so we can enjoy them while we chat."

"Sure!"

God none of you knew that the moment after he opens the gates for you, closes the door behind him, and after you've placed your dessert on the counter, that it would be this... quiet.

The two of you stared at each other, being a meter apart at the moment feels... daunting enough for the both of you. What if he steps closer? Would he scare you off and ruin the vibe? Or what if you stepped closer and close the distance, just to go along with your fantasies and fulfil your subconscious longing that has grown over time for him.

Then your bodies clashed, as if both minds were on the same wavelength about the same thing, your hands fumbled across your clothes, the two of you not sure where to begin. He was yearning and you were craving for each other's touch.

The room now fills with pants, your hands slid up to his chest and to his stubbled jaw, his hands squeezes your waist before venturing down to grope your ass. You swear that the further your bodies press against each other it might soon become one.

"Gallag-" your hand cradles his neck, "-gher", as your right leg lifts up, your lips molding together with his before he hoists you up to wrap your legs around him. It was all too fast, all too fast that you're both in his bedroom, clothes messily and not even completely torn off each other. He gazes dreamily at you, admiring your body under the warm evening light, how the sunset orange hue washed over your body, eccentuating the curves and dents of your perked mounds.

Was this even reality?

Now that you're beneath him and how he has his clothed member pressed against your clothed sex. A moan slips off your lips as his calloused hands graze past your belly and up to grab your tits. He squeezes and jiggles them, playing and toying your bud until you're a squirming mess beow. Too much, this feeling you've thought of countless times begins to feel too much!

You arched your back in response, and he toys them further, rolling his thumbs on your buds before coming down to kiss you. He never thought he'll hear your moans this clearly in his ears, especially when he goes further down to suckle on your nipple while the other hand ventures further down, tracing patterns on your stomach before going lower and lower, until he decides to flick his tongue at your swollen bud due to how wet you've become. At this point he couldn't care how messily you're gripping his hair, he lowers his head down to the wet spot between your legs.

"How long have you been waiting for this?" He asks, chuckling at the sight.

You waste no time in replying to his question, "So long. So, so long, Gallagher."

"Ya know, y/n... I... nevermind." He whispers towards the end, not wanting to dwell on a possibility that might never happen.

What was he to you anyway? He was merely a neighbour, a friend, nothing more.

Even though the chemistry is strong, what type of chemistry is this? Based on lust? Based on cravings?

It isn't love, right?

"What is it?" Carefully, as if he might pull away, you try to move your hands to cup his face, only for him to press his face firmly onto your sex, your hands now carefully pinned by your sides. You buck your hips when you felt his wet, warm tongue pressing against your entrance. "Please- just- just-"

He retracts and hums before poking at your entrance again. The slight sensation leaves you whining before he releases your hands to hold onto your hip, the other pushing the fabric aside for him to swallow you whole in his mouth. He licks, sucks, nibble the side of your thighs. You taste even better than he had imagined, and he becomes more eager at each beg and cry he gets to pull out of your panting wet lips. He pauses for a moment, perhaps fearing he might go mindless into eating your wet pussy out.

"Tell me if you need me to stop," he pauses, hoping that he wouldn't make you uncomfortable, "I don't wanna make you uncomfortable-"

"Gallagher." This time not caring to be gentle, you pull his face up, all he can do is to blink at you, wondering if he has ruined the mood, wondering the reason behind the firm tone of your voice. "I..."

Your pause only leaves him more nervous than he anticipated, he doesn't show it, yet his mind is running around the places right now. You? You what?

Watching as you grow hesitant, his voice now soft, asks out to you. "You...?"

"I want you."

His heart stops. I... want you?

"Y/n, really... Are you sure?"

"Yes, I want you. I need you."

Immediately he buries himself into the taste of your pussy, licking and sucking any liquid off your entrance. Your moans grow from begs and gasps to cries of gibberish, cries of how good he's making you feel.

The two of you went on and on, condom after condom, scratches after scratches. Hours went by, and rounds after rounds were done. By the time the two of you come for the umpteenth time, his bedsheets now become a mess as the both of you lay there, panting, heaving. The stings on your bodies now barely felt as a fog of satisfaction clouds your minds.

"I want you."

The words echo in his mind again, guess he might need to check again with you in the morning if you ever decide to stay over for the night tonight.

Though, he's now sure he doesn't have to when he realizes he has fallen all over again for you in the dark of his room tonight, turning his head at your call to find you gazing up at him, as if the stars were now a part of your irises. Your arms now loosely wrapped around his waist, your laid body snuggled much closer to his seated figure as a soft murmur slips out, now becoming a memento of tonight.

"Stay, Gallagher."

—;;

#gallagher x reader #gallagher honkai star rail #gallagher hsr #hsr smut #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #gallagher smut #written works;

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backtotheshitshow · 1 year

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Ghost Clothes Part 1: Girls Locker Room

(Wally Clark x reader)

Part2 Part3 Part4

Summary: Y/n has been stuck in the girls looker room ever since she died. If only someone could bring her some damn clothes.

Warning: short, nudity, mention of death…

Masterlist

Y/n sat on the floor of the showers crying, almost ten years she’s been stuck in this locker room and not a single other ghost has found her.

She had died when some idiot left their body wash open on the floor of the showers and she slipped on it, hitting her head on the hot water knob of the shower. Ever since she’s been stuck in the locker room, because while she’s never met any of them, Y/n was well aware of the other ghosts in the high school, so the living might not be able to see her naked, but the other ghosts definitely would.

…

Wally was exercising in the gym, he’d usually prefer the field, but the marching band said they needed a bigger practice space. Wally was doing his usual push-ups when he hearda strange noise. He stood up, listening carefully. It sounded like crying coming from the girls locker room. Curious he followed the noise into the locker room. He entered slowly, wanting be prepared for anything as the crying got louder.

“Hello? Is there anyon.. OH MY GOD!!” As soon as wally saw y/n, he turned to face the other direction, obverting his eyes away from the naked girl. “I am so sorry. I heard crying and just wanted to.. I don’t usually come I here..I swear I didn’t see anything…”

“No no it’s okay.. fuck finally. I need you’re help” y/n pleads with the boy.

Still facing the wall, Wally asks curiously “with what?”

“Please just get me some clothes, I’ve been stuck in here, like this for almost a decade.” Y/n explains.

“Okay” Wally agrees “I’ll be right back” he rushes of to grab the nearest article of clothing he could find.

Moments later wally comes back in, his hand over his eyes, while the other holds his varsity jacket out in front of him. “Here put this on, until we can get to lost property.”

Y/n took the jacket and slipped (poor choice of words) it on, doing up all the buttons to cover herself up. The jacket fell just under her butt cheek and was so very soft and warm. Y/n had almost forgot what clothes felt like.

“You can look now” y/n tells the boy.

Wally turns around to look at his new aquantence “Woah.”He breathes

“What? Is there something wrong?” Y/n panics, checking to make sure nothing was showing.

“No no. You’re just… really pretty.” Wally smiles.

“Oh… thank you. “ the two stare at each other for awhile. Wally soaking in ever aspect of the sight in front of him. The most beautiful girl he’d ever seen in nothing but his jacket.

“Um” Y/n breaks the silence “I think I should head to lost property,”

Wally is ripped out of his daydreams. “Oh yeah sorry, I’ll take you.”

#wally clark #milo manheim #school spirits #wally clark x reader #wally clark x y/n #wally clark fanfiction

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cambion-companion · 1 year

Text

Domestic Drabbles

Where their small daughter mistakes certain sounds for cries of distress.

Aemond x wife!reader

word count: 675

Silken spun silver curled around your fingers as you dug them into your husband’s hair, pulling him in for another deep kiss as he moved against you. His weight pushed you further into the plush mattress, warmth enveloping your body as you sighed in pleasure.

The wooden bed frame creaked with each thrust, your whimpers of pleasure barely muffled as you bit into Aemond’s shoulder.

“Māzigon issa jorrāelagon.” His voice was liquid velvet as he coaxed you to come undone around him.

You cried your release to the vaulted ceiling, feeling Aemond’s hot seed spilling within your heat as your muscles clenched and fluttered. You pulled him deeper, his forehead coming to rest against yours as you breathed together, gently coming back to earth.

Aemond trailed his lips to the hollow of your throat, his hands caressing the curve of your breast as he tasted your flushed skin.

Amidst the post-coital bliss, wrapped together in a tangle of limbs, you heard the muffled crying of your young daughter.

Together you and Aemond sat up in bed, glancing at each other as he slid smoothly from the mattress, pulling on his clothing before striding with haste from your bedroom.

As you donned a satin robe, tying it securely about your waist, you heard Aemond’s soft voice several rooms away.

Minutes later he reentered the room, looking to you with a mixture of amusement and aggravation.

“Was it a nightmare?” You asked, tilting your head in question of his prolonged silence.

Aemond shook his head slowly, a small smirk pulling his curved lips. “She is worried for you my dear.”

“Whatever for?”

“She says she heard you screaming and is scared for your well-being.” You could see he was fighting to keep a stoic composure.

“Was I screaming?” You ran a distracted hand through your tousled hair.

Aemond hesitated, glancing away from you, his mouth twitching. “I…uh, yes.” His violet eye crinkled with mirth. “Perhaps you should go assure her you are unharmed.”

You nodded, brushing a kiss on his lips as you passed him into the darkened hallway.

“My darling, are you alright?” You cooed, finding your silver-haired daughter curled upon her bed, still sniffling with widened eyes.

She reached her arms out to you, evident relief upon her cherub face. “I thought you were hurt! Your door was closed and you wouldn’t answer me!”

You held you tight against your chest, rocking upon the small bed. “No, no. I’m alright. I had a bad dream and your father was helping me.”

“O-oh.” She hiccupped, still holding tight to your robe as you pulled back to look at her face.

“You don’t have to worry about me, my dove.” You wiped the tears off her cheeks, helping her back under the covers and tucking her in. “When I’m with kepa, I am safe from harm.”

“He helps with your nightmares.” She nodded, understanding.

You kissed her forehead tenderly. “Yes. All better?”

“All better.” Her eyelids were already beginning to close.

You waited for her breathing to deepen before exiting her room, closing the door softly behind you.

Aemond was waiting for you when you returned to your own chamber, he looked over at you with a quirked brow. “And?”

You sighed, shaking your head. “I thought she was asleep.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if half the castle were awake by now.” He caught your wrist as you tried to hit his shoulder, pulling you in for a kiss. “Not that I’m complaining.” He nuzzled your nose laughing as you scrunched it and giggled.

“In a little over a decade she is going to realize the truth and be traumatized.”

“She is going to know how deeply in love her parents are.” Aemond captured your mouth once more, smiling against your lips as you sighed with pleasure. “Besides, we have plenty of time to work on your volume control.”

You giggled madly as Aemond rolled you beneath him, undoing the ties of your robe and spreading it open. His eye glinted in the dim firelight as he straddled you, looking upon your form. “Now, my love, where were we?”

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daycourtofficial · 2 months

Text

It’s so quiet in the world tonight

Lucien x reader

Summary: you and Lucien having a quiet night at home, soaking in the peace, discussing how things will change when your baby arrives

Author’s note: kicking off my 1k celebration with my boy Lulu!!!

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

“I’m just excited to see a babe growing up around here,” Helion said, looking at your belly. Your father in law harbored a lot of regret about not being around for Lucien as a babe and not knowing that he was his until a few decades ago.

It took a long time, but they have a lovely bond and get along extremely well. Granted, neither of them had a hard time getting along with most.

Except Beron.

You smile at your father in law, excited to see him take on the role of grandfather.

“Except the name ‘grandfather’ will make me feel so ancient. Is there any other name I could use?”

He had been going back and forth ever since you told him the news. If anyone could make your pregnancy about themselves, it was Helion. You didn’t mind, though. It was much better than nursemaids and various citizens who insisted on asking how you were at all hours of the day.

It was kind of them, and you didn’t resent them that much, but sometimes you felt more like a traveling carnival attraction carrying the next heir of Day instead of a mother carrying her babe.

You couldn’t blame them - it was exciting. They didn’t get to cherish Lucien as he grew up, and so now they were taking the time to let you know how adored the two of you were amongst the citizens of Day.

Lucien was so loved in Day, and he had no issues making his interest in you known. In fact, one of his first acts as a member of Day’s royal court was courting you.

It made you incredibly glad you had declined Helion’s many previous offers to warm his bed.

A little over a decade into your marriage, the two of you decided to forego your fertility tonic, leaving things up to the Mother to decide. Six years later, you found yourself with a swollen belly, an excited husband, and two antsy high lords.

Eris’s frequent visits to his mother and brother made him the first person you had confided in about your pregnancy. It had been an accident, really. You had only figured it out a few hours earlier, and he happened to be the first person you saw.

It just came tumbling out of your mouth.

Eris had actually been extraordinarily kind following your outburst, after his initial taunt of “is this how you greet people now, sister?”

Lucien found you crying on Eris’s shoulder a few hours later, his brother’s well-tailored jacket tracked with your makeup. If Eris noticed, he didn’t let on.

“I didn’t know your first act as High Lord was to make my wife cry,” Lucien said, striding towards the two of you huddled on a couch.

Eris waves his hand in the air, “I managed to sign two treaties and lift an embargo before I came here to antagonize your wife. She wasn’t first on my list, brother.”

Lucien sits on the other side of you, placing his hand gently on your back, rubbing soothing circles.

“What’s wrong, sunshine? Was Eris’s company so troublesome it reduced you to tears?”

You crack a smile as Eris lifts your head off of his shoulder, delicately placing it on Lucien’s shoulder.

“How you wound me, Lu. I’ll be sending you the bill to have my jacket cleaned.”

Lucien’s surprise at Eris’s departure doesn’t last long, as he looks back to you, your tears having stalled for a moment.

“I- Lu, I- I’m pregnant.”

His eyes light up, and you can tell he loses control for a moment because his skin glows a radiant glow, his red hair almost blinding. He grabs your hands, placing them in his, as he asks, “is that why you were crying?”

You nod your head, the action causing a pain throughout your head.

“Are you worried?” He asks, concern on his features.

You stare into his eyes, his mechanical one whirring taking in everything about you. The look on his face told you your concerns were ill-founded, but they still tumbled out of your mouth.

“How are we going to teach them how to read? I’ve never taught anyone how to read.”

His brows furrow, and his eyes light with amusement.

“I think we have a few minutes before teaching them how to read, I’m sure we can figure something out.”

He pauses, cutting you off before you can speak again, “and I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to figure out how to teach them how to count.”

You and Lucien had sat on that couch for hours, all of your worries melting away with your husband’s comforting words.

And the realization from Lu that you could, in fact, hire a tutor to teach the babe how to read.

The two of you had retired to your rooms after dinner with Helion, where he made zero progress with names for your babe to call him.

The name “Papa Hehe” was what led the two of you to excuse yourselves so you could laugh in private over how much thought he was putting into the names.

Lucien helped you out of your dress, pulling it over your head.

“You know,” he says, putting the dress away and picking up one of your nightgowns, “my taking your dress off is how we ended up here.”

You push his chest lightly, “Lu, I’m so swollen I can hardly walk down the corridors.”

His smirk turns feline, “I never said you had to move.”

“I’m due any day now,” you tell him.

“I heard that pleasure can help induce labor,” he whispers in your ear, tucking hair behind it.

You laugh into Lucien’s mouth as he kisses you, holding you as close as the bump would allow him to. You let him guide you to the bed, and he helps you lay down on your back, your hair adorning the pillow behind you in a halo.

Lucien’s hand caressed your swollen belly, receiving a light kick in response.

“And pray tell, what is my baby girl doing awake at this hour?”

You roll your eyes, giving up ages ago on correcting him. Neither of you had any inkling as to the sex, but Lucien was convinced it was a babygirl.

“She got confused and thought we lived in the Night Court.”

Lucien chuckles as he drags his hands up your thigh, delicately placing kisses up your calf and up your thigh, your moans spurring him on further.

And damn it all if Lucien wasn’t right about his baby girl, who arrived about twelve hours later.

#acotar fanfiction #lucien x reader #lucien vanserra x reader #lucien x y/n #lucien vanserra x y/n #lucien x you #lucien vanserra x you

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sleepy-writes-stuff · 1 year

Text

DP X DC WRITING PROMPT #15

(#) = Notes at the end of post

✦

A Lonely Star Shines in the Night

The Guys in White have gone too far. So far that the Danny's universe as they know it is collapsing into itself as a result of the agent's foolish attempt to rid the land of the dead, undying, and neverborn. They tried nuking the Infinite Realms and all it got them was their dimension erased with the Infinite Realms only suffering minor damage.

Either way, Danny's home is gone.

In the struggle to gather his family and spirit them away into the Ghost Zone, he was separated from them when the GIW blew the portal to smithereens with him on the other side and his family still in the living realm. Overtaken by grief, his core cracking from his failure to protect those precious to him, he scoured the Realms for a natural portal back, to no avail.

In his search, he is nearly driven mad by his desperation. Unable to see their King in such pain and slowly unraveling into a second coming of Pariah Dark, Clockwork, Frostbite, and Pandora gather their strength and force him into an entirely different universe to grieve and heal. A universe full of heroes. He won't know this for a while, however, because where he ended up was the old Gotham observatory.

With his obsession of protecting--his friends, his family, his town, his entire world--torn to shreds, his damaged core magnified his secondary obsession: the very cosmos itself. His core latched onto the remaining obsession and inadvertently temporarily tied Danny to the very foundation of the old observatory. That is where he lingers for years, unable to leave and unable to stop crying for his lost family and friends, repeating their names over and over in a neverending mantra.

It isn't until much later that people start to notice his presence, due to the observatory having been unused for decades. What use was an observatory if you couldn't even see the stars in the perpetual smog that blanketed the city? At some point, however, a couple of daring teenagers snuck into the observatory one night and had a first hand encounter with a strange being. Needless to say, they didn't stick around for much longer. The reports they made to the police and what they posted on social media the next day were nonetheless wildly interesting.

Each of them described relatively the same thing. Of first seeing a bright, sliver star shining in the dark(1) of the empty building but then quickly noticing it was set in the center of the chest of a being that might as well have been made from the black void of the night sky itself. They described a being with hair that faded into white, glowing mist that was circled by a crown of ice crystals and star dust. Most notable of all to them, however, were the low humming whispers coupled with the mercury tears leaking from aurora green eyes in a neverending stream that dripped and echoed hauntingly across the marble floors below.

Of course, no one really believed their wild tales at first. Then it became a game among high schoolers and college students to wander the old observatory just to see if they would catch sight of this mysterious being. If not, no harm done. That is until one student accidentally injured themselves trying to find this ghost they've been hearing rumors about. (2)

Regardless of whether or not the being inhabiting the observatory directly caused this student's injury, he's gained the Batclan's attention.

✦

Notes:

(1) The star in his chest is his core. The black/night parts of his ghost form are slightly translucent even when not intangible/invisible. You can literally see straight through him to his core, which basically looks like a condensed white dwarf star. Also, due to the damage his core has taken and his grief, it's cracking and looks like it's going to go supernova.

(2) Danny didn't directly cause the student to get injured. The student literally just turned the corner and nearly ran right into Danny as he was wandering in his grief-stricken stupor. This caused the student to freak out, run the opposite direction, and fall down a flight of stairs cause they weren't watching where they placed their feet. Danny is not violent or territorial here. His mind has literally checked out and left because trauma, grief, and a fractured sense of ghostly self are one hell of a combo on a halfa.

#dp x dc #dc x dp #danny is stuck/forced to haunt the old Gotham observatory after the GIW royally screw up #danny gets pushed into another dimension to heal/deal with his grief around people who can help him #the batclan get invested and extremely worried for danny almost immediately upon meeting him #danny has two obsessions #protection and space #danny is ghost king #ghost core #his core looks like a white dwarf star #it also looks like its on the brink of going supernova #if someone doesn't help him soon thats exactly what will happen and he'll basically cease to exist #dp crossover #danny phantom crossover #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc prompt #writing prompt #prompt #sleepy-writes-stuff

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meiieiri · 5 months

Text

WHEN SHE LOVED ME

❁—SYNOPSIS: suguru geto was never the same after that fateful day at the foothills of mt. mushiroyama. but he was not by any means damned. how could he be knowing that he was so loved and adored by the one he lovingly called his little flickering light?

a/n: help i have five drafts on this page. three of them are 18+ and are practically finished but i’m too scared to post them :<

it had been exactly two decades since suguru geto first learned that he was different. he was seven at the time, and his parents had snuck out of their humble rural abode at around four in the morning to tend to the fields while their young son serenely slept in the adjacent room, happily drooling away on his childhood pillow, his little head filled with anything but worry. no one could have ever anticipated the sinister things that would transpire that uneventful morning.

it all happened so quickly. the senior mr. geto had just finished watering the last row of beets when a shrill cry pierced through the silent twilight and mrs. geto, the one that preceded you, sprinted towards the house like her life depended on it in a bid to reach her son and put him out of harm’s way. countless thoughts raced in her head: had a thief broken into their home, or perhaps some wild forest wolf?

none of those, apparently.

it came as a peculiarity to the couple to find their son bawling his eyes out, cowering under the protection of the futon’s blanket at an invisible phantom, a mere shadow on the wall of his bedroom. they dismissed it as a nightmare and consoled the then seven-year-old suguru. “it was just a nightmare, suguru,” his mother smoothed her hand down his back, soothing him. “it can’t hurt you.”

unbeknownst to them at the time, that was no nightmare, but an earthly curse born from ghastly human emotions. that was how suguru had been unwillingly dragged into this godforsaken trade. now, twenty years later, and with a family of his own, suguru no longer feared those phantoms on the wall — he loathed them, despised them with every fiber of his being though he was master to countless curses. but there was still one thing that struck fear into his heart like the foreboding doom that came from the heron-like sound of countless heavenly spears raining from the skies during the archaic battles of old he used to read about in jujutsu tech’s library.

nightmares.

he wakes up with a start and the comforter pools at his hips, his eyes darting around the room as if they were in search of something, his breath coming out in pants. it was just a nightmare, suguru, he thinks to himself, echoing his late mother’s words, as he tries in vain to banish the grotesque haunts of his youth from his head, it can’t hurt you.

he helplessly glances at your side of the bed — empty and cold, of course — you were out on a week long mission with your students and weren’t due to come home for another day or so. he pulls at the strands of his tousled hair, frustrated, and before he knows it, a few tears haphazardly slip from his bottom eyelids as he reminisces about his past failures. in his sadness, he does not hear the door to the bedroom open, creaking quietly as he is wracked by another round of painful sobs.

“papa?” startled, he looks up, instinctively wiping away the damp droplets from his face. his eyes soften at the sight. there she was, the petite jailer that held his heart ransom, standing behind the door, her trusty companion, the stuffed rabbit he helped you sew for her, tucked under her arm. she looks at him with sad eyes, hesitant to come in. “you okay?” she asks worriedly.

suguru lets out a tearful chuckle. this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. he should be the one calming her, banishing her nightmares away not the other way around.

“y-yes,” he tries to collect himself to make his way over to her but his daughter beats him to it. akari meets him halfway as he was about to stand up from the king-sized bed, throwing herself against his waist, her arms coming up to hug him as if by doing so she could rid her papa of all his troubles and worries. “oh, little love,” he sniffles at his little girl’s altruism, gathering her into his arms to sit her on his lap. “what’s wrong?”

she averts her gaze momentarily, her dark eyes warily scanning the room. at the tender age of five, she could already pick up residuals (much to suguru’s dismay). when she does not notice anything of note, she mutters out a single word: “nightmare.”

“you had a nightmare?” suguru asks, his hands finding hers, his fingers interlacing with her little ones.

akari shakes her head adamantly. “n-no,” she reiterates, insistent that her papa has misunderstood her. “papa…did you have a nightmare?” she waits for his reply with bated breath.

suguru contemplates on what to say for a long while, his hands absentmindedly playing with her smaller ones, his head bowed, almost in apology. at this age, in his young daughter’s eyes, he was her hero, one similar to those in her storybooks. he was supposed to be the archetypal knight that slayed dragons and laid waste to monster lairs, the prince that would sooner scale the highest towers, racing to the rescue of the princess who had fallen into a death-like sleep. if she was afraid or sad, it was his duty to make her less so. it was his responsibility as a father to take on an image of unrelenting courage. but he fears his own armor had gathered rust over the years, his claymore had dulled in countless battles that left so much ruin in its wake and his noble steed had long since been retired to the stables. he was no knight, nor was he a prince that his daughter could rely on. he was just plain old suguru.

but for akari, that was enough.

“…please don’t cry,” akari mumbles sadly, her tiny hands gently rest on his cold cheeks. she really is your daughter, suguru muses almost in awe at how much the two of you were alike in the way you both are able to keep him from falling apart completely. suguru leans into her touch, pressing their foreheads together, a special thing that only father and daughter could share together. “i’m here, papa.” even at your loneliest.

“…me too, little love.”

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lymtw · 6 months

Text

It Could Have Been Great

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x f!reader

Content: NSFW, Angst, Fluff

Content Warnings: 18+ themes, Reader almost crashes to save a dog, crying, talk about Satoru being husband material, mentions of having children, kissing, fingering, clitoral stimulation, major downfall, 18+ themes x2 for those that missed the first one ;)

Word Count: 2.1k

Description: The beautiful ups and the terrible downs that came with being Gojo’s favorite person.

You and Gojo were set to live happily ever after the moment you agreed to be his girlfriend. He was as good as a boyfriend could be—husband material by the end of your first month together. He took care of you, but didn’t underestimate your ability to take care of yourself, and vice-versa.

It was a lucky first shot because he was your first boyfriend. You met in high school, and though you weren’t his first girlfriend, he always said that his love life didn’t start until you showed up. You put a bar up where one didn’t exist, and he never looked back and compared what he had before, to what he had then.

Gojo had never been more ready to marry you than when you came home crying one day.

You were driving home, singing along to the song that blasted in your car when suddenly a dog ran into the road. You braked instantly, turning the car in the opposite direction of where the dog was running, almost hitting another car in the process. You got honked at, but it didn’t matter because the dog got away scot-free. You lost the ability to breathe for a few seconds and your brain felt like mush, and in all the fear you felt in that moment, you broke down. You were glad that you were only three minutes away from home when it happened.

The minute you walked in with puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks, Gojo was by your side.

“Hey, talk to me. Are you hurt?” He walked you to the couch, sitting down with you. He noticed the shakiness of your hands as he held them in his. “Baby, don’t make me dig. What happened?”

You took a shaky deep breath, exhaling to get your emotions in order.

“I almost ran over a dog on my way home.”

Gojo’s hand comes to a halt while he’s drying your tears. He looks at you, not knowing if you were being serious or not.

“It ran into the road while I was driving and I had to brake so fast, if I had kept driving a second later I would have hit it. I-I almost hit a car, and it honked at me. Fuck,” you lose your breath as you recount the story, your eyes getting watery again.

Gojo releases the breath he was holding since you walked through the door, his shoulders losing the tension that had built up in all the worry.

“God.” He immediately pulls you into his arms, a much needed, suffocating embrace enveloping you. He smothers your face with kisses, the saltiness of fresh tears on his palate. “You scared me to death there, honey. I thought somebody hurt you.”

“I can’t have a dog’s life on my conscience, ‘toru. I would need decades of therapy to even begin to forget about it.”

He cradles you in his arms, his eyes closed, and a smile on his face as he holds you like you’re all that matters in the world.

“I love you. I love that you worry so much over the life of an animal—one that is still living, at that. I love that you even did what you could to save it,” he murmurs. “But, please, be careful at all times. I don’t know what would become of me if I lost you.” He chuckles, lightheartedly.

Gojo was best at one thing and that was making you feel loved. He proposed two weeks after the incident, claiming that he wanted to break the seal on the love he had stored for when you promised to spend an eternity with him. If you felt loved as his girlfriend, you had no idea of the adoration that came with being his wife.

There were occasional talks of children, but you both decided that there was no room for them in your relationship. It would be selfish to bring a child into the world together, knowing that you would not love them as much as you love each other. You decided to wait for your hearts to make more room in order for children to be a possibility in the future.

Gojo was very good at tending to your needs. Your very occasional material needs—a new dress for date night, or maybe a new bottle of perfume because he had a habit of spraying it everywhere when you were away, claiming that your essence would suffice until you returned.

Your intimate needs were also met, frequently. Gojo was clingy, and he couldn’t sleep unless you laid next to him. Sometimes, sleep was the last thing he wanted as he laid next to you in bed.

“Baby,” he whispers, his index finger tracing your spine above your shirt.

“Hm?” You hum, still not turning towards him.

“Baby,” he repeats, this time as a mumble into your ear. He leeches himself onto your back, his chest warm against you.

“Yes, ‘toru?” You respond, verbally, this time.

“My pretty baby,” he continues. His hand makes its way beneath the front of your oversized shirt, stopping just below to play with the elastic band of your underwear. His lips make contact with the nape of your neck, and though he's desperate to see the effect of his ministrations against your body, he didn't want to dive in and give you what you wanted so easily.

His hand moved upward, riding up your warm stomach until he reaches your breasts. “You’re so warm.” He cups one of your them, gently rubbing your nipple with his thumb until it quickly hardens. You loved how big his hands were, easily squeezing what attracted them like you were insentient.

“You’re so perfect, baby. I could never get enough of you, even if I have every bit of you all to myself.” He sees the curl of your lips from the side. “I’m not sharing you. You’re mine.”

This made you giggle. He was getting possessive and all his actions pointed to one goal.

He pulled his hand out of your shirt, using it to pull down your shorts and underwear. You felt his breath against the nape of your neck when his hand made contact with your cunt. “Oh. Were you expecting this?” Your wetness coated his fingertips instantly. “Were you expecting me to touch you?” He rubbed your clit, the feeling making your stomach tremble.

“Maybe. U-Uh, yes,” you admitted when a finger dipped inside you.

“I’m not that predictable, am I?” He asked, kisses applied to what was accessible of your neck.

“Not at all, but you would never leave me hanging, would you?” You rolled your hips slowly against his fingers, your ass doing something for the hard-on Gojo was sporting in his sweats.

“You tell me how many orgasms you want, and I’ll get you there.” He went silent for a second to hear your heavy breathing. “Only the best for my love.”

You gasped, your hand gripping his forearm as your first orgasm washed over you. A little whimper escaped you, and you trembled against him, his fingers vacating you.

He flipped you onto your back, wanting to give you more.

“Wanna fuck?” He asked, a grin on his face.

“You make it sound so dirty.” You chuckle.

“We rarely make love, sweetie, but I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

“You’re too impatient.”

“Is it a crime to want you to scream my name?” He sat on his knees between your legs, a clear view of your pussy from under your long shirt in this position.

“Your name can sound sexy even if I don’t scream it.” You smile up at him as he leans towards you, his face inches away from you.

“Prove it.”

After that night, you and Gojo made love two out of the five times you were intimate in a week. He discovered something amazing, the softness of your voice when he built you up and let you melt down on him. It was melodic and intriguing. It made him wonder how thin the line between your angelic self and the sacrilegious version of you was. Sometimes he liked to push you, just to see if he could have both in one session.

In all of these wonderful experiences with Gojo, there were dreadful ones as well. At some point there was more bad than good going on between you and him. There were just so many times when you had to walk away from him just to make sure you and him would sleep in the same home that night. He did what he thought was best as well, meaning sometimes he would sleep on the couch because he couldn’t risk having to bite back words that weren’t intentionally meant to hurt you when you were being inconsiderate.

Dinner with Gojo progressively went quiet. If anything, you would talk about how work went, responding with hums of acknowledgement for lack of words. You would often zone out and think back to when you would feed each other off of your own plates, even if you were having the same thing. It occupies the silence that lingers between you two, which is more comfortable when you can’t even look at each other.

Gojo decided enough was enough and made sure to find a time for both of you to talk about what happened, and where things were going. The conversation was a difficult one. For gods sake, he was the love of your life for years, and suddenly things were burnt out.

“Maybe we spent our love too quickly.”

“How is that even possible, Satoru? We’re supposed to love each other with every ounce of our souls.”

It was so strange to hear you say his name in that tone. You haven’t called him baby in months.

Even if things didn’t look so good for you guys, it was hard for Gojo to see your nervous mannerisms while talking to him. You kept fidgeting with your hands and picking at your nails. At some point he had to stop you, holding your hands in his own.

“I don’t know, but i’m trying here. I don’t know what to do.” His eyes may be good, but they lack a clear view of the future.

“Is this us forfeiting?” You look at him, glossy eyes reflecting his image.

“Don’t make me decide. How would you feel if I had asked you that first?” His voice threatens to reveal the pit of sadness he’s feeling in his gut, but nonetheless he finds his composure in order to move forward in the conversation.

“We need to do what’s best for us, Satoru. If our love is dead, we can’t keep living amongst each other just barely acknowledging one another.” A tear rolls down your cheek. “If you can’t make the decision that puts an end to this… affiliation that we are, let me do it. I’ll be the bad guy.”

“Fine.” He pauses, staring at your ring-less ring finger. “Is this us forfeiting?”

“Yes.” Your voice breaks as you try to hold back sobs. Rivers of tears spill down your face. “I’ll have all my stuff packed, a-and i’ll be out by tonight. Your shoulders tremble, a much needed sob being suppressed by your need to stay strong enough to finish this talk. You pull your hands away and stand up from the bed.

“I should get started.”

Gojo did not move for a while. He couldn’t move. He sat on the bed with his back hunched over, his hands covering his face. He could hear you moving room to room, sniffling as you packed what you brought into the relationship, away.

Finally, you were done. You had your suitcases waiting at the front door, and all that was left to do was say goodbye. Goodbye to the first man to love every part of you, down to the bones weighing down your aching skeleton.

When it came down to it, you were both speechless, just standing there in silence, something you were both now used to. This time it was different. The suitcases weren’t for a vacation you were going on together, it was a single relocation due to seemingly irreparable issues.

“See you, Satoru.” You opened the door, and dragged your suitcases along the sidewalk, on your way to meet your driver. Gojo followed in the spur of the moment, but walked on the opposite side of the street, just to make sure you got to your car safely. The whole walk, you would not look away from each other for more than a second, if anything just to make sure you didn’t walk into objects.

You reached the car and put your suitcases away. You looked at Gojo once more and waved.

Those red taillights shattered the heart that was cracked inside him. He sighed, his face aimed up at the sky.

Though the end was like pouring rubbing alcohol over broken skin, it would be an honor to do it all over again.

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