#thinking too much about the block guys again
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Take My Heart
Summary: Working as a waitress in one of the most popular night clubs in the city seemed like a breeze. Then you’re asked to work the infamous dark rooms where you meet the owners, and you catch the eye of one of them, Joel Miller, whose one of the most feared men and rules the city
Pairings: Reader x Joel Miller
Warnings: cursing, mention of sex, mention of sex toys, drinking, and mention of drugs
A/N: If anyone wishes to create a banner for me for this series I would greatly appreciate it, and of course you will be given full credit for it! Message me if you are able to do so! Thank you so much everyone and enjoy! XOXO
Hall Of Hunks
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"Your late." The bartender Eric nagged as soon as you walked over to the register to clock in for the night. "Again."
"Yeah yeah I know." Waving him off as he laughed at you.
"How do you manage to be late all the time when you live just down the block?" Raising an eyebrow at you.
"You think this makes a lot of tips looking like one of the undead?" Motioning your pointer finger around your face.
"I don't think the guys are really looking at your face babe."
"Well this helps too." Pushing your boobs up for emphasis.
"How you are still single is baffling to me." His words holding more meaning than what you realized.
Dressing provocatively was a part of the job. Hiring pretty girls showing off their bodies to a bunch of drunk and horny men was how the club stayed so successful. Granted a lot of clubs were like that, but there was something about this club that was different. Something this club offered to their guests that kept them flocking in.
It was called the dark rooms. Watching as different girls were pulled into one of the rooms men leaving with satisfied looks on their faces. All you were told was that their VIP's hung out there, but you had a very good idea as to what happened behind those black curtains.
Throwing your purse behind the bar where you usually kept it knowing it would be well looked after. Not that you had much money or anything for anyone to steal. None the less it still was money to you.
The club was incredibly packed tonight, and you knew the tips were going to be amazing. It wasn't just exactly an ideal job, but being a bottle service girl was about as good as you were going to get. You didn't have any family or friends so you didn't have anyone to turn to.
"You don't think she'll be pissed do you?" Now actually starting to worry this time she wouldn't be nice.
"Nah I think you'll be fine."
"God I hope so my rent is due this week so I need the money."
Even though you didn't have the best apartment it was better than nothing, and unfortunately it was also an expensive one. It was better than nothing at this point.
"You're lucky she likes you."
"Ya know when you're perfect." Sending a cocky wink over to him as he shook the mixer over his shoulder.
"Oh yeah what would we do without you." He sarcastically spoke.
"Oh shut the fuck up Eric you wish you were like me." Flipping your hair back over your shoulder with a grin.
"Get to work before you actually get in trouble this time." Throwing a dirty rag at you causing you to burst into laughter.
Walking by the crowded tables as you headed into your bosses office to let her know you were finally here. Hoping that this time she wouldn't be actually mad at you since you really needed the money.
"Beth." Knocking lightly on the cracked door to see her sitting there typing away on the computer. "Hiya."
"Don't even try it." Looking up from the computer with a straight face.
Bowing your head as you awkwardly stood there with your hands behind your back. It was like your parent had just caught you doing something you shouldn't have, and you didn't know what was about to happen.
"I'm sorry."
"Of all nights you had to be late again." Standing up from her chair walking over to you.
"I'm sorry I took longer than what I thought." Apologizing again more sincere this time.
"You know how important tonight is for me."
"What's happening tonight?" Scrunching your brows.
"The owners are coming here." Answering bewildered that you didn't know. "So everything has to be perfect."
That explains her behavior the past couple of weeks, and why she had been frantically running around the club stressing over small things that she never did before.
"The owners?"
"Yes the owners. The ones who own this fucking club." Running a hand through her hair frantically. "The Miller Brothers. Tommy and Joel Miller."
"Never heard of em."
"They're powerful men in this city. Nobody fucks with them." It sounded more like a warning to you.
"They don't sound that scary to me." Crossing your arms across your chest.
"God you're so lucky you're pretty." She scoffed as she walked back over to her desk.
As she sat back down you took that as he way of dismissing you. Turning back to the door about to head out when her words stopped you in your tracks.
"Oh you'll be working the dark rooms tonight. One of the girls called in sick so I need you to cover for her."
"What?" Eyes wide open now. "But I've never worked the dark rooms before. I don't know what to do."
"You don't have to do anything you don't want to do." She reassured you as you took a sigh of relief. "Just know that men pay very good money to have a pretty thing to wrap their arm around."
You knew exactly what kinds of sinful acts took place in the dark rooms, and the thought of some sleazy businessman paying you for sexual favors made your skin crawl. That wasn't the kind of thing you did or would put yourself through.
"What if they force me?"
"That's why we have security and cameras to make sure the girls stay safe."
"Why can't you ask one of the other girls?" Asking her in hopes she might ask someone else.
"Because they aren't as attractive as you."
"What if I don't want to work the dark rooms?"
"Then you better start looking for another job." Her tone serious and her eyes scowling at you that she wasn't playing around.
The two of you staring at each other as you contemplated whether this job was worth it or not. You could use some extra cash, but the thought of one of those men touching you against your will made your stomach churn. She did tell you that you didn't have to do anything you didn't want to, but then you'd be missing out on a lot of money.
It was like being stuck between a rock and a hard place. Having an angel on one shoulder, and the devil on the other. This would just be a one time thing though. So maybe it wouldn't be as horrible as you thought.
"Okay I'll do it." She smiled upon hearing that.
"Good. Go find Kara and she'll give you the rundown of everything."
Not saying anything else you simply nodded and took your leave. Your heart was racing and your palm was sweating already feeling nervous about what could happen tonight. Things could go smoothly or they could be a nightmare. Either way you just wanted this night to be over.
Looking around the club for Kara. Trying to spot her wild curly red hair through the sea of people. Finally spotting her talking to a group of men at a table. Flashing her pretty smile and placing a hand on their arms clearly trying to get a bigger tip.
Kara had been here longer than anyone else, and knew how to work her charm on the customers. She had also worked the dark room more than anyone else either. So you knew that she was making good money.
You'd exchanged conversation with her from time to time, but never really got close with her. She was friendly enough, but you knew she wasn't in this job to make friends, but make a shit load of money.
"Hey Kara." Shouting her name as she turned around to see who called her name. "I'm working the dark rooms tonight and Beth said you'd help me."
"Perfect follow me." Showing off her whitened teeth as she headed up the stairs you following right behind her.
"So you're working the dark rooms tonight huh?" She sounded almost amused when she asked.
"Yeah I guess so."
"Do you even know what happens in the dark rooms?" Stopping at the top to face you.
"I have a pretty good idea what happens." Your response making her grin.
She could tell just by looking at you that you were like a scared little bunny. Just the thought of going into one of these rooms petrified you. Let alone a man requesting you to stay in the rooms.
"There are different kind of rooms." Stating as you now stood in the hallway noticing some had curtains for doors. "Some rooms have dance poles. Some rooms just have large couches for relaxing, and some rooms have toys in them."
"Toys?"
"Yeah ya know sex toys and all that." Jesus Christ this place was much darker than what you thought.
"Then there's the VIP room." Standing in front of a deep and dark red double door. "Only the owners can access this room. They have it locked at all times, and they each have a key."
"What kind of men are these guys?" Asking her but not really asking her.
"The kind of men women want to be with and the type that men are scared of."
"Have you ever met them?"
"Yeah I did once." Reminiscing about the time they came in and you could practically see the drool coming out of her mouth. "Joel doesn't ever request any of the girls."
"Why not?"
"It's not really his thing." The two of you heading back down to the stairs. "Besides that man never has had to pay for sex."
"Right."
"So what exactly all do I need to do?" Asking her as you started to walk back down the hall.
"All you gotta do is smile and look pretty." That didn't sound too hard to do. "Bigger tips if you sit on their lap and let them touch you by the way."
Never mind.
You didn't know whether to take her words as a warning or not. The way she said it made it sound like that man always gets what he wants no matter what. The thought of meeting this man had your stomach churning.
Staring at yourself in the mirror trying to compose yourself as time was getting closer. Taking a shot of tequila to calm your nerves just a little bit. For all you know these could be incredible dangerous men, and your about to walk right into the lions den.
Maybe they wouldn't take a second look at you and leave you all alone. That was wishful thinking though considering these men were powerful and some of them were owners. It would be in your best interest to not say no to these men.
"Y/N let's go, there here."
Your stomach was doing somersaults now. Palms were starting to sweat, and your heart was beating so fast you could hear it in your ears. There wasn't any chance you'd be able to slip out of there. You were just gonna have to suck it up, and get the night over with.
Maybe it would be a piece of cake, and the night would be over before you know it.
"Here bring them this bottle." Eric handing you a tray that had shot glasses and a bottle of very expensive tequila as you walked past the bar.
"I didn't even know we had this here." Examining the chic looking bottle like you were holding diamonds.
"Nobody else can order that except them." Pouring liquor into a martini glass. "You better get moving they don't like to be kept waiting."
"Which room are they in?"
"First room on your left." Nodding as he gave you an encouraging smile.
Trying your best to not trip or drop the glass as you cautiously walked up the stairs to the rooms. Not knowing exactly how many men were going to be in this room.
As you approached the room you could already hear deep voices talking. Sounding like there were multiple men in there. Noticing there was four shot glasses which suggested to you that there was four men. Which wasn't too bad you've dealt with almost triple the amount of men before.
"There she is." A voice boomed as soon as you stood in the doorway.
"Where's the other girl?" Not knowing who said that as your eyes were focused on the ground.
"She called in today so Beth has me working." Answering quickly your voice quivering.
"Remind me to thank Beth." The same unknown person said making your cheeks heat up at the compliment.
Finally looking up to look at them as the red and blue lights illuminating their bodies as they sat around a table. All of them were wearing very nice suits, and their hair was styled back. They were all very good looking men, but there was one who immediately caught your eye.
He was incredibly handsome in almost a he didn't seem real. Like he was hand crafted by the gods himself, and he wasn't actually a human being. He was too perfect for words. Trying not to drool being in the same room as him.
His honey brown eyes had been staring at you since you walked in the room. Following you as you placed the glasses in front of them, and pouring them each a shot. Trying your best not to shake under his intense gaze.
The other three continued to talk as if they couldn't care less about you being in here. Which oddly made you feel relieved that they weren't trying to harass you or anything like that.
"Cheers to a good night boys." One of them toasted as they downed the first shot.
"Hell of a day." A man with tattoos on his neck continued.
"I can still see the look on their faces as we fooled them." The one that toasted said. "We totally had them by the balls they were so scared."
"Fucking idiots." The attractive one chuckled.
"Did they really just think we were going to just take the money, and not keep the g-." His voice cut off by an elbow being jabbed into his side.
"Shut the fuck up Don."
Okay that was a little weird. Obviously didn't want you to hear whatever he was about to say. Not that you would have really remembered anyway, since your mind was just focusing on getting the night over with.
Now you were feeling awkward not knowing if you had to stay in here. It wasn't clarified if you could come and go as you pleased. Not wanting to upset anyone by leaving, and they needed something. Two of these men were the owners you just didn't know who.
"Now for even more fun." Watching as the one who had tattoos on his neck pull out a bag with white stuff in it.
"Jesus fuck Andrew." The super attractive one groaned angrily.
"What?" Shrugging his shoulders as he continued to dump some on the table, pulling out a razor blade messing with the powder.
"What did I say about doing that here?" His voice stern in a warning tone.
"I mean you've said it but that doesn't mean I'm gonna listen." Cutting up some lines ignoring Joel's warning.
"I said not here." Raising his voice slightly.
"This is your club Joel." Ah so he was one of the owners. "Are you telling me I can't do this here? Or do you just not want the lady to see?"
Suddenly all four pair of eyes turned to your figure hiding in the corner. It felt as if now you were under some type of spot light. This was exactly what you were hoping to avoid, and now you were the topic.
"Andy knock it off." The fourth man spoke up. Noticing he had curly hair, and looked like he could be related to Joel. Maybe he was the brother.
"She doesn't need to see that shit." It was surprising that he was almost trying to shield you from the drugs.
"Like you don't snort this every other day Joel." He argued sarcastically back, and you could see Joel seething. "Or you either Tommy."
"I said not here." He didn't back down a vein popping out of his neck. "That's my final warning."
You could tell there was so much tension between the two of them. It was clear Joel was the man in charge, and this Andy guy was a trouble maker. The other two guys looked like they wanted to stay out of it.
Maybe Joel didn't want you seeing this cause you are new. Or maybe in a sense he was trying to impress you. It was probably because he didn't want you telling the cops on them or anything like that.
"What's your name sweetheart?" Andy smirking over at you ignoring Joel now.
Looking between the two men wondering if you should answer or just stay silent. Joel nodding his head signaling it was okay. Not sure why you were looking to him for approval anyway.
"Y/N." Sheepishly responding back to him.
"That's such a sexy name." Andrew smiled but his words just made you cringe.
"Thank you." Responding not wanting to make him angry.
That's when Andrew leaned forward more towards you giving Joel an evil look before turning his attention back to you. You could feel like things were just going to get worse.
"How would you feel about giving me a lap dance?"
Soon as the question left his lips Joel didn't hesitate to stand up, and stomp over to him ready to fight. The other two men standing up as well ready to hold him back from killing the man. Backing yourself up against the wall scared of what was about to happen.
Joel standing face to face with the man who just stood there smirking like he was winning. He acted like he wasn't terrified, but on the inside he was shitting his pants.
"What the fuck did you just say to her?"
#pedro pascal#Joel miller#Pedro pascal fic#Joel miller fic#Pedro pascal smut#Joel miller smut#Pedro pascal fanfiction#Joel miller fanfiction#pedro pascal series#Joel miller series#Pedro pascal fanfic#Joel miller fanfic#the last of us#the last of us fanfiction
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🎙️🌸┊ ༉‧₊˚✧ 𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐒 𝐒𝐎 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄, 𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐃 ‘𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐌𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐑!
↳ hoo boys x popstar princess headcanons <3
characters in this thread : percy jackson, leo valdez, jason grace, frank zhang. ೃ࿔₊•
☀️ sunni’s notes : THIS IDEA HAS BEEN ENGRAVED IN MY MIND FOR FOREVA! and i finally get to write about it because my writer’s block is slowly goin’ away 🫶 (barely) i haven’t checked my notifs because i’m tryna do a semi-break right now!! but i wanted to post something for y’all >0< ANYWAYYY obvi it’s sabrina inspired because i love her i’m a true carpenter amen amen. GO STREAM ESPRESSO. happy reading bebis!! sunkisses, — sunni!
𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧 ♪ ˖ *
୨୧ your biggest supporter!!!
୨୧ has all your merch. the cap? yeah, he’s got it. the shirt. got it. the stickers? jacket? don’t even need to ask him, he’s got it.
୨୧ obviously adores your singing voice, he makes you sing every chance he gets.
୨୧ percy knows how to play the guitar, both electric and acoustic so he usually makes appearances during your shows.
୨୧ YOUR FANBASE LOVES HIM?? like sometimes it seems like they love him more than you do.
୨୧ so many edits, like CRAZY amount of ship edits.
୨୧ he likes to take a peek on what your outfits look like, but you tell him it has to be a surprise!!
୨୧ if you succeed in hiding your fits, his jaw is dropped at the first sight of you on stage.
୨୧ knows all of your songs, plays them in the car, even when you tell him not to.
୨୧ “WHAT’S THIS?? ESPRESSO?? BY WHAT?? WHO’S THIS SINGER?”
୨୧ “oh shut it.”
୨୧ his favorite color’s blue, so sometimes you wear blue accessories on stage.
୨୧ almost signifying that you’re bringing a part of him on stage.
୨୧ you wear blue bows, bracelets, maybe a few rings.
୨୧ percy absolutely melts when you do, because he knows exactly that you’re thinking of him.
୨୧ you even have a seperate blue mic just for him.
୨୧ during tours, he gets busy with college so he can’t really come to every show, but he tries to watch it live even during lessons.
୨୧ “mr. jackson, if you don’t tuck your phone away i’ll make it a point to fail you.”
୨୧ “just mad you don’t have a popstar as a girlfriend.”
୨୧ “what was that?” — “nothing!”
୨୧ and he picks you up from the airport whenever you come back, every. single. time.
୨୧ co-wrote some songs with you, but likes to have you take the credit since you’re the singer anyway.
୨୧ songs include : “miss america & the heartbreak prince.” — “snooze.” — “somebody to you.” — “the only exception.” — “style.”
𝐥𝐞𝐨 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐳 ♪ ˖ *
୨୧ calls you ‘princesa’ and ‘mi párajo cantor’ A LOTTT.
୨୧ and it still makes you flush everytime.
୨୧ leo valdez is the type to how do you say this??
୨୧ totally forget that you’re the ‘princess popstar’ sometimes.
୨୧ there was one time you two were on a date,
୨୧ leo watching you eat then he just goes,
୨୧ “.. YOU’RE A POPSTAR!!”
୨୧ and he shakes your shoulders like the world’s gonna end.
୨୧ “leo! leo! amor! quiet down!”
୨୧ always making sure he goes to ALL YOUR SHOWS.
୨୧ if your guitar / or any instrument ever breaks, he’s already there fixing it for you before you could tell him.
୨୧ likes to plan out your outfits, and almost all the time, THEY EAAAT!!
୨୧ “miss popstar princess!! who styled you today??”
୨୧ “oh! my boyfriend!”
୨୧ too, loves your singing voice. or your voice in general, he’s so whipped when he hears you say his name.
୨୧ WHEN HIS NAME IS IN YOUR SONGS??
୨୧ he’s gonna marry you.
୨୧ he has a t-shirt and in black bold letters it just says, “I LOVE MY POPSTAR GF.”
୨୧ the crowd loves seeing leo in the crowd hanging with your fans.
୨୧ he’s not much of a singer, but he’ll dance his heart out amongst your fans.
୨୧ flying kisses, so many flying kisses.
୨୧ he also likes doing your hair, and again, THEY EAAAT!!
୨୧ makes you think of how much of an amazing girl dad he would be.
୨୧ “guys do you see how cute my hair is?! leo did it!!”
୨୧ you give them a lil twirl, and the crowd goes wild.
୨୧ immedietly peppers you with kisses after a show backstage.
୨୧ he makes all your jewelry for you, since he’s good with metal anyhoo.
୨୧ you have a polaroid of you and him stuck to the back of your guitar.
୨୧ he has a polaroid of you on stage on his drum set.
୨୧ oh yeah, did i mention he’s drummer?
୨୧ some songs of yours don’t usually have drums in them, but when they do, you know who to call!!
୨୧ this man is defo sleep deprived.
୨୧ “mami? can you sing me to sleep?”
୨୧ he falls asleep to your voice in a snap, his arms wrapped around your waist like a glove.
୨୧ songs include : “that boy is mine.” — “this love.” — “espresso.” — “ready or not.” — “lover.” — “our song.”
𝐣𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐞 ♪ ˖ *
୨୧ jason loves the idea of you being a popstar!! but makes sure to let you know that even if you weren’t, he’d love you regardless.
୨୧ the man doesn’t dance, but he can sing pretty well.
୨୧ you’ll catch a glimpse of him humming and swaying to your songs in the crowd.
୨୧ OMG OMG. jason loves matching with you!!
୨୧ it’s sort of his way of saying ‘i love you and i’m here to support you all the way.’
୨୧ JSVAHGSBA
୨୧ sorry brain buffered there.
୨୧ his favorite outfits of you two were these blue and light purple coordinated oufits.
୨୧ the fans loved it. it was all over.
୨୧ you guys went trending a ton.
୨୧ #(name)andjason or your guys’ ship name on twitter went viral almost more than twenty times in the span of like— three months.
୨୧ jason doesn’t really care about the fame though.
୨୧ he still likes to go on those corny and normal fun dates with his girl.
୨୧ if the paparazzi comes to harass you, he genuinely but gently threatens them to leave you alone.
୨୧ can i just say,
୨୧ A GOD AT PHOTOGRAPHY.
୨୧ he knows all the good angles and poses.
୨୧ he’s your literal pocket camera.
୨୧ why hire a professional photographer when you had a boyfriend who can do it for you???
୨୧ “on your right baby— yeah, then turn there, that looks good.”
୨୧ “here jace? is my hair flat in the back?”
୨୧ “it’s never flat, you look great honey.”
୨୧ i just brain buffered again.
୨୧ OH OH!! jason plays the bass!! i think it would fit!
୨୧ he doesn’t like going on stage though, he’s super shy. and he has a hint of stage-fright on him.
୨୧ he’ll play some songs for you in private though! and you could hear some bass from him in a few of your songs.
୨୧ songs include : “daylight.” — “soulmate.” — “invisible string.” — “slut!” — “beautiful boy.” — “tattoed heart.”
𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐳𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 ♪ ˖ *
୨୧ HE’S SUCH A SWEETHEARTTT.
୨୧ he’s your breath of fresh air when the fame gets too overwhelming.
୨୧ “hard day sweetie?”
୨୧ he gives you the best hugs when you come back from a shooting, a show, whichever.
୨୧ makes sure to stocks up all your snacks backstage for you.
୨୧ he got you a locket for your anniversary, and you wear it on stage.
୨୧ he smiles to himself everytime he catches a glimpse of it around your neck.
୨୧ what’s inside the locket you may ask??
୨୧ literally just him.
୨୧ and amen to that!
୨୧ just like jason, he likes to reassure you that even without the popstar thing— he loves you. body and soul.
୨୧ spoils you!! 100%!!
୨୧ he knows exactly what you want, your eye is caught by something while shopping, he’s hopping his ass inside that store to get it for you.
୨୧ makes the calls for you when you really can’t take it to go do popstar duties.
୨୧ and he makes sure your day off is the best ever, with snuggles and cocoa kisses.
୨୧ but during shows, he’s actually super chill!!
୨୧ except the part where he sings his heart out to every song, because he defo knows ALL YOUR SONGS.
୨୧ the fans are shocked sometimes, but they love him.
୨୧ he’s so friendly to your fans too!! during meet and greets he makes appearances, and he gives them the biggest hug ever.
୨୧ he also thanks them for supporting you, and it makes your heart melt.
୨୧ when you’re on stage, he makes the half of those finger hearts for you to complete— and of course you complete it!!
୨୧ songs include : “pov.” — “you are in love.” — “urs.” — “bewitched.” — “every summertime.” — “like the movies.”
#— sunni hyperfixates on demi-gods ( ੭ ･ᴗ･ )੭#heroes of olympus x reader#heroes of olympus#pjoverse#percy jackson x reader#leo valdez x reader#jason grace x reader#frank zhang x reader#percy jackson headcanons#leo valdez headcanons#jason grace headcanons#frank zhang headcanons
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a waste of a beautiful dress - n. hischier
summary: an unhappy valentine's day date doesn't always end up with you watching lord of the rings alone with a glass of wine...at least, not when a certain captain can help it
warnings: talks of sex/bad date, mention of alcohol consumption, descriptions of the above facial injury, swearing, cutesy 2.1k thing
a/n: this is a short imagine-thing i wrote on valentine's day that i kind of forgot about (i was gonna write more but i just couldn't think of what to do, so if the ending's weird, that's why!) and i didn't want to not publish this for you guys, so...enjoy!
“Is everything okay?”
You blinked, the elevator coming back to focus around you, the walls distorting the reflection of someone that, rather against your will, you’d found growing increasingly familiar with each week. The bottle of wine in your grasp felt suddenly heavier under his careful scrutiny, and you felt your fist tighten around it, almost protectively.
You could only imagine what you looked like: nice clothes – maybe a little too nice for an evening stroll or a walk around the block, and a tarnished, almost numb expression on your face, even despite the conflicted tornado swirling inside your mind. There was no doubt he’d deciphered your distracted look and the dejection written so plainly on your face. Yet, though you knew what he saw, you refused to feel pity for yourself.
You inhaled, plastering a tight smile on your face as you looked towards him, his beloved beanie on his head and a backpack on his shoulders. His head was dipped a little, a slight furrow between his brows, ever telling of his caring tendencies, and you suddenly felt a little better, even despite the previous events.
“I’m fine.” You tried, slyly moving the bottle further out of his sight. It didn’t work: his eyes seemed to catch the slight motion before meeting yours, a look of disbelief on his face, “You?” You asked, desperate to turn his attention away from you.
Nico Hischier wasn’t someone you’d have found yourself chatting to casually mere months ago, at least not past the usual pleasantries. Though, it seemed the mutual friends and the many parties had oiled that creaking joint somewhere along the way, and – hesitantly – you were friends to some degree. So much so that every so often the two of you may find yourselves in the other’s apartment with a mug of coffee or a glass of wine in hand with something playing on the TV.
Of course, no one else knew about that.
He sighed, leaning back against the mirror opposite you. There was a cut under his eye you hadn’t seen immediately, but when he leant back the light seemed to catch the green skin and the scratch. He seemed to notice your concerned wince before you could point it out, his hand flying up to lightly press underneath it, “It’s fine, I just caught a puck yesterday.”
Before he could say anything else, and you knew he would because he started to frown again, you interrupted, a slight laugh of mirth passing your lips, “No big deal.”
He froze a little, but still a smile replaced the apprehension as he shook his head, "Better my cheek than my teeth.”
“That’s true.” You grinned in agreement, attention immediately turning to the opening doors as they dinged, your floor appearing before you.
“After you.” Nico gestured, following closely behind as you both wandered to the end of the hall, your eyes glued to the patterned tiles beneath your feet, before a thought suddenly struck you, and with some urgency.
“Do you have Arnica?” You turned to Nico, your hand hovering under your own eye when he blinked in confusion, shaking his head, “For your eye? It helps with pain and bruising.”
“Uh…”
“Unless you want to keep your battle scar?” You teased lightly, unzipping your bag to pull out your keys, only to notice his still-close presence by your shoulder, even despite being outside your door.
You looked up, only to be met with a sheepish smile, one that you knew meant you’d caught him, but he shrugged, “The Arnica seems sensible.”
“Sensible?” You pushed your key through the door, turning the lock.
“It’s not much of a battle scar when a rubber disc wins.” He rationalised, walking through your doorway when you held it open for him and immediately gravitating towards the cat bed towards the far end of your apartment.
By the time you’d locked the door, shed your coat and placed your bag and the wine on the counter, he’d returned, still in his coat, beanie and backpack with a fond look on his face, your cat snuggled in his arms with no complaints of the attention except a rumbling, contented purr.
His eyes seemed to drop to your dress, and widen a little, and you knew there was absolutely no dodging his questions, not when he seemed to grow a little wary and dart his gaze to the bottle of wine on the counter.
“Did you have any Valentine’s plans today?” he asked lightly, briefly turning his attention back to the cat in his arms, most likely to give you a moment to steel yourself.
You hesitated, adjusting the straps on your dress. Nico was lovely, you knew that; he’d never once said or done anything to make you feel uncomfortable, but there was something more serious and vulnerable as to what you were about to say – lying wasn’t really in the cards, mostly because you knew he knew whatever had happened already hadn’t particularly ended well.
He’d caught you on the verge of tears in an elevator by yourself, clutching a bottle of wine, for fuck’s sake. You didn’t do that on Valentine’s day unless something had gone wrong.
“I did.” You breathed, quickly wiping down the counter surface and avoiding looking at him, trying to fight the embarrassment clawing its way up your throat, threatening to spill colour onto your cheeks.
You had nothing to be embarrassed about whatsoever.
He said nothing, just watched you carefully, keeping his distance. If you didn’t want to talk about it, you knew he wouldn’t even press the subject.
“I had a date earlier–” out of the corner of your eye, you saw his gaze cut to the clock on the wall: half-past six. “It didn’t go well.”
He nodded, treading carefully with his words, “How come?”
“He made some comments that I couldn’t really ignore, and when I asked him about it, y’know, to just clarify some things, he kicked off, I corrected him, he sulked, and then left halfway through when I went to the toilet.” You said in one breath, feeling your skin prickle with the reminder of the entire ordeal, scrubbing at a spot on the counter – sometimes grease just didn't budge.
There was the dull thud of paws against your floor, and you looked up to see Nico standing at the opposite side of the counter, an unreadable expression on his face. His brows were pulled together, but there was no telltale crease; his mouth was parted, but in a way that suggested he was a bit more hesitant at finding out what you had to say than a mortified scowl.
“What did he say?” His tone of voice was unwavering, but the slight edge to it sent your heart pounding a little harder nonetheless.
He had a sister, he was probably thinking of all the worst possible scenarios.
You felt your voice get caught in your throat, and you found yourself wishing you’d never even been this honest with him in the first place, because you felt…embarrassed, almost, to admit it fully, “He made a ‘my place or yours after this’ comment and I told him I didn’t want to sleep with him, so he left the first chance he got.” You said quietly, still making yourself busy with tidying the kitchen.
You inhaled deeply, spinning on your heel and fiddling with some of the utensils before you could gain the courage to even look in his direction. You didn’t want to see him pity you.
Except, when you did look up, you saw none of the pity you’d been expecting. In fact, his mouth was pressed firmly shut, and when he caught you looking at him, he – very insistently – muttered, “Well, he’s a fucking dick.”
You felt the corners of your mouth twitch up in some hint of a smile, “Thanks.”
Then, almost like it did in the elevator, the light seemed to catch the shiner under his eye, reminding you of the very reason he’d walked through your threshold in the first place, and you began to wander through the hallway, “I’ll go get the Arnica.”
He nodded in response, shucking his coat and draping it across the back of one of the stools, before bending down to stroke the cat nuzzling at his shins. You rounded the corner into your bathroom, rifling through the cupboard for the tube of cream, before making your way back into the living area, the tube outstretched in your hand.
He took it from you gently, leaning his elbows across the countertop as he read the information on the back of it silently.
“What about you?” You asked, and he looked up, “Any Valentine’s Day plans?”
He blinked, sighing, “I laid in bed for an hour longer than usual.” He said simply, “Then I went to a late morning skate, came home, watched some TV, went to the gym, and now I’m here. So, no, not really.” He inhaled, and you felt yourself grow a little uneasy when he started poking the swelling under his eye, looking into his phone to apply the cream, “You got any more plans?”
Your eyes darted to the bottle of wine, “I was gonna drink wine and watch Lord of the Rings.”
He breathed a startled laugh, “Sounds like a good plan.”
“It is.” You agreed, pausing to consider something, before taking a breath, “Do you wanna join me?”
It wasn’t something you’d never done with each other before; in fact, the two of you seemed to get along better without a cacophony of people interrupting (though that wasn’t much of a surprise), however there was something more delicate and meaningful in the knowledge of the day: Valentine’s Day was undoubtedly something that was weighing on both your minds. It was impossible not to – the posts on social media, the love hearts plastered in shop windows and the flowers everywhere didn’t let you forget it.
It just felt different, somehow.
Nico’s fingers faltered under his eye, and he looked up, brown eyes a little wider than usual, with his mouth parted in surprise. Evidently, he’d been thinking along similar lines to you, but Valentine’s Day wasn’t just about romance and love and whatnot: it was also just another day.
He blinked, eyes searching your face for regret in asking, or for some sign that he should turn down your offer, no matter how tantalising it was.
“It’s not gonna drink itself.” You joked lamely, watching as he slowly nodded, ducking his head down to mask the smile you knew was now on his face.
“Are you sure?” He mumbled, placing his phone on the counter and screwing the top back onto the cream. His eye was now shining a little, but it gave you inexplicable comfort to know that it was at least taken care of temporarily.
Even looking at it seemed to send a dull ache thrumming across your cheekbone.
“I’m sure.”
Then: “Did you eat on that date?” He asked, raising a brow.
“No.”
He frowned, but showed nothing to say he was particularly shocked by that answer, and stood up from the stool very quickly – quick enough to startled the cat, and quick enough to have to catch the stool from falling over in his haste, “Do you maybe want to get something to eat, first? I know a good place a couple of blocks away.”
You stuttered, not entirely expecting such a spontaneous proposal, “Sure, I just—I should change first, though.”
His eyes dragged down your figure, and for the first time ever, you found yourself trying to regain control of the sudden blush that threatened to stain your cheeks, before he tutted, met your eyes, smiled and shook his head, dimples as clear as they’d ever been. There was something bright in his eye, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d assume there was some mischief lingering there – as though he knew exactly what you were refraining from doing under his gaze.
“Personally,” he started off slowly, “I think it’d be a waste of a beautiful dress.”
You sucked the inside of your cheek, looking down at your dress. It was beautiful, though arguably it had already been wasted on the day considering the hellish date experience, but maybe eating out with Nico would change that?
“In that case…” You trailed off, grabbing your coat and slipping your shoes back on, “But–” You whirled around, Nico’s hand going suspiciously fast to cover his mouth, though the crinkles by his eyes certainly told you everything you needed to know, and arched an accusing brow in his direction, “I’m changing when we get back.”
“Fine by me.” He held up his hands in surrender, mouth pressed tightly together to prevent himself from laughing, and you rolled your eyes at his innocent act, but said nothing.
#nico hischier x reader#nico hischier imagine#nico hischier oneshot#nico hischier fic#nhl fic#nhl oneshot#nhl imagine#hockey player x reader#hockey fic
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E2? Pervert Incel Yan!Megumi ?
FEMOID!
Pervert Incel Yan!Megumi Fushiguro x Fem!Reader
Prompt: “You’re better off without them anyway.”
Warnings: NSFW, heavy Yandere themes, non con, bondage, gagging, degradation, incel pervert, face slapping, Megumi loses his virginity, porn references, facial
Master List
Yandere Alphabet Prompt List
Requests are temporarily closed. Thanks for understanding.
@murderofravens I’m not sure if you like Yan!Megumi content, so I just thought I’d tag you in it anyway.
—————————————————————————
Megumi drags you into the bedroom, your feet kicking, your nails clawing at his arms. Your body twisting and thrashing as he throws you down on the bed and pins you there. He crawls over you, heavy on your chest.
You’re able to let loose one sharp scream before he’s slapping you across the face.
“Why are you pretending to be a victim? Poor baby. Can get all the dick she wants but closes her legs when a decent guy is interested in her.”
“A decent guy wouldn’t do this! Megumi, please!”
“Like you’d know anything about it. I know your type. You’re only after guys who treat you like trash while guys like me come in last. You’re a fucking pathetic whore, holding out on me just because you think you’re better. Is that it? You really think a little skank like you is better than the rest of us?”
He rips your shirt open, the buttons of your blouse going everywhere in different directions. He looks at your rack and smiles devilishly. You try to cover up, use your hands to block his view of your padded bra.
He doesn’t like that. Megumi holds your wrists down against the bed on either side of your hips. He leans in close, smelling the dot of perfume you usually put on your sternum. It’s faint, like a delicate flower, barely there, but he can still make it out.
Your squirming becomes too much for him to deal with. He slaps you again, making you so dizzy and compliant as he stands up to go get something. All you can do is groan and lay there as you try to get your bearings.
Megumi returns and grabs your limbs, and you come alive again when you feel something scratchy wrapping around your wrists.
“No! No, Megumi! Stop it! No! I don’t want this! I don’t want you!”
“Shut up!” He shouts at you. “I can’t believe anything that comes out of that lying, bitchy mouth.”
He tears off a piece of duct tape and shuts you up with it.
Megumi strips off his clothes. If you weren’t so terrified, you’d probably take the time to appreciate his athletic build. He’s just…oh fuck…hes palming himself, growing harder and harder as he looks at you all tied up for his own use.
He runs his hand up your inner thigh, hooking two fingers in your panties and pulling them down slowly. All the way off, he takes them in his hand and fists your cotton underwear against his cock right in front of you. He pumps himself until he has a full erection. It curves upwards slightly, long in length. His thick tip leaks with pre as he crawls over you once more.
Your skirt, bra, shoes, and socks are the next to go. Finally, he sees you, all of you in the state you were meant to be in: naked just for him.
Finally, he gets the girl.
He can see the tears in your eyes as you whimper and make incomprehensible noises behind the duct tape over your lips. He can’t help but smirk at your pathetic state.
“All you bitches are the same,” he whispers into your ear as he thrusts into you, pushing your knees up to your shoulders just like he’s seen so many pornstars do.
Taking your tight pussy might be the best thing Megumi has ever done for himself. He doesn’t know why he didn’t do this sooner. With the way you look at the other boys around campus, you fucking deserve it.
You throw your head back uncontrollably, thrusting your hips up without giving your body consent to do so. You don’t want this. Why, WHY, is your body reacting like you do?
This isn’t right! It isn’t normal. How his cock is hitting your sweet spot of pure pleasure, how he’s bumping your cervix with every heated thrust.
Megumi overstimulates you, biting down hard on your shoulder and pulling your hair back as he keeps himself up with one arm. The wild groans coming from his throat while beating your pussy senseless make you cry tears of terror and shame.
You don’t mean to do it. It just happens. He finally runs your g-spot so ragged that you can’t do anything but come. You’re a messy, twitchy little thing as Megumi splits you in half.
“You fuckmeats treat us like we’re less than you, less than human when we’re the superior ones. We’re your protectors. The least you can do is put yourself to good use and spread your legs,” Fushiguro taunts you, relishing in how weepy and scared you are.
Seeing your tears roll over the duct tape like that really drives him wild. He pulls out, fisting his cock until he’s spilling his seed all over you, giving you a nice and creamy facial.
When Megumi finishes, he’s panting heavily, taking a seat on the edge of the bed. You shake as you look at the back of his wild, dark hair.
“I hope you understand this means we’re together now.”
His words catch you off guard. You don’t want to be together with Megumi, but what can you do right now? You can’t even speak!
“You’re better off without them anyway.”
#yandere#triggering content#yandere x reader#yandere x you#yandere x y/n#triggering themes#yandere x darling#yandere themes#jujutsu kaisen#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere megumi fushiguro#yandere megumi x reader#yandere megumi#jjk megumi#megumi fushiguro#jujutsu kaisen megumi
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oh here's some toxicity (reborn au au). it's torito u_u
In another world, the assurance that Itachi would never leave her behind would be enough for Tori. She would find it comforting. She would move on.
In this world, she really didn’t see why violent revenge couldn’t be her solution.
“If you’re so mad about it,” Obito drawled at her, “just kill him yourself.”
Obito had thrown himself lazily over the armchair in the corner of her room, right on top of a pair of pants and a sweater she’d worn once and wanted to wear again before she washed them. The chair didn’t match anything else in the room, but it was comfortable. Obito had put it there himself, rescued from an Uchiha elder’s house after they’d died.
(Of natural causes, he’d assured her.)
He was the primary person who ever sat in it, besides Tori’s laundry. He did it with the lazy decadence of a king in his throne.
Tori, cross-legged on her bed, pouted back at him. The point wasn’t really that someone killed that guy. It was the intense loyalty the act would mean for her. Had Obito and Minato not both slaughtered absurd numbers of people in an act of love? She wanted that. She wanted someone who liked her like that.
Would it be bad to break up with her fake-boyfriend if he wouldn’t real-murder for her…?
She had no idea how to explain all this to Obito without sounding completely unhinged. Instead she said, “I’d kill someone for Itachi.”
“No, you wouldn’t,” Obito countered immediately.
“I killed Danzo for him,” Tori said.
“No,” Obito said, rolling his ankle in the air. He twirled a finger at her. “You convinced Danzo to do something stupid that got him killed because you get off on leading people to their doom.”
Tori pouted some more.
“I’m glad sensei backed you up,” Obito said eventually, carefully not looking directly at her. His legs were over one arm of the chair, and he rolled an ankle in a loose circle. “You’re okay, right? Besides your unquenchable thirst for vengeance?”
A sly smile cracked over Tori’s lips. He had shown up the second she was finally in her own home.
“Aaaw,” she cooed. “Were you worried about me?”
Obito rolled his eyes and finally looked at her. “I just think if you get any more traumatized, you might actually figure out how to destroy the world. It’s the natural escalation of things.”
“You would know,” Tori replied. She unfolded her legs and scooted forward to sit on the edge of the bed closest to him. “Hey, Itachi spent the night the first night.”
Obito frowned at her. “What, you need a babysitter?”
“You could sit outside on the balcony like a gargoyle,” Tori replied. “Bark at passers by. You know.”
“Oooh,” Obito replied, dipping his head back as he leaned into the joke. “Oh, yeah, I could guard the whole apartment. My poor partner was traumatized, after all. I’ll keep anyone from coming in and bothering you. I’ll set up traps and chase your neighbors off. Maybe put up a blockade in the road.”
“Deidara will love this,” Tori said.
“Deidara is one of the people I’m chasing away,” Obito replied smartly.
They joked. They talked about silly, unimportant things. Tori watched Obito intently as they chatted. She liked seeing him like this, she thought. Obito was fun when he was relaxed and just fucking around.
He looked good too, she decided. She missed the mask, but Obito definitely had a nice face. He had the pretty Uchiha cheekbones and a strong jaw, and the messy dark hair worked on him. Plus, he was tall and broad-shouldered and well-muscled and… hmm.
Hmm.
Obito started absentmindedly doing little kicks with his feet like a school girl while he groused about how much of the block he could get Deidara to blow up, just by being annoying.
Tori decided to change her strategy.
xXx
“I decided I want to break up,” Tori told Itachi.
“Oh,” Itachi said, frowning down at her. “Why? I’m amenable to making changes.”
Tori shook her head.
“I don’t mind helping you, or hanging out with you on dates,” she said. “But I realized this arrangement means I can’t pursue my own romantic interests.”
“Ah,” Itachi said. “I didn’t realize you had those.”
Neither did I, Tori thought.
She nodded and waited to see if Itachi would say more. Maybe he would offer to murder or beat up the person she was interested in. That might make her stay.
“I suppose that’s reasonable,” Itachi said after a beat. “Thank you for helping me. Would you mind if I said I was too heartbroken to date for a while?”
“Um,” Tori replied. “Maybe we should say we decided we’d be better as friends so we don’t mess that up, and you can say you want time to think about what you want out of a dating partner.”
Itachi nodded thoughtfully and continued to not offer to kill for her.
Oh well. She tried.
xXx
When Obito jimmied open her window, Tori looked up from her desk like she’d been expecting him. Which, she probably was. Obito loved gossip.
He flopped directly from the window sill into his chair and steepled his fingers.
“So,” he said. He leered at her, lips pulling back from his teeth. “Did you break Itachi’s heart? Did he break yours? Tell me everything.”
Tori rolled her eyes and pushed her chair back from her desk. Instead of the usual sweatpants she preferred when just sitting around her room, she was wearing one of her little sundresses. She brushed her hair over her shoulder as she eyed him.
“I decided I might want to pursue my own interests,” she said bluntly.
Obito raised his eyebrows. “Oh yeah?” he said. “Found some other sucker to sic on your enemies? Teenaged romances are so dramatic nowadays.”
Tori stood.
“I think that’s part of the problem,” she said. “I’m not really a teenager, am I?”
She ran her hands through the signs for a henge, and then a twenty year old Tori was standing in front of him. It was a better aging up than most teens could manage– Tori, after all, had once been physically an adult. She knew the subtleties of her own face and how her body would change with age.
“Interesting strategy,” Obito said, unsure where this was going. Was she planning to use a henge to seduce someone older? Was Itachi about to lose to some two-bit chump who liked women in short skirts just because they’d agree to murder some other two-bit chump for Tori? That would be hilarious.
Tori took a step towards him, and then another. She got close enough that the hem of her skirt brushed against his knee, and Obito suddenly realized that Tori’s skirt was quite short, wasn’t it?
“I decided I wanted to pursue more… adult interests,” Tori said, and then suddenly she was in his lap.
“Wait,” Obito said, voice cracking. “Tori, what are you doing?”
Her hand went over his chin, her thumb and fingers squeezing his cheeks. Obito found this did alarming things to his insides.
“Have I told you how much prettier your face is than it should be?” Tori said. Her thumb moved up and down his right cheek. “How about you let me mess it up again, and I’ll help you put your eye in Kakashi’s head?”
“What?” Obito full-on squeaked.
He could overpower her and push her off. He didn’t. He felt frozen, transfixed by her eyes, dark and heavy as she looked at him.
His heart pounded away in his chest. This was ridiculous, though. This was just Tori. She was probably angling to trick him into letting her store lab supplies in kamui or something.
Then why the henge? He thought. Tori wasn’t above flirting to get what she wanted, but it was rarely her first choice strategy. He had no idea why it would be her strategy with him.
The henge is the problem, he decided, hands sweaty. Sixteen year old Tori wasn’t hot. She just wasn’t; she was a teenager. He didn’t… he didn’t remember ever thinking adult Tori was all that hot either, but she’d never crawled into his lap. Maybe it was just the nostalgia this was calling up for him. Or maybe any pretty woman could get this reaction out of him.
Pretty? No, fuck– well. Either way. He could just get rid of the henge.
“No, stop that,” Tori said when he activated his sharingan. Her hand immediately went over his eyes. This did even more alarming things to his insides.
“Oh, because the sharingan is so easily stopped,” Obito heard himself drawl back at her.
His hands were gripping the arms of his chair instead of stopping her. This was bad. Many abilities of the sharingan could not be stopped simply by covering it, but covering it sure did stop him from seeing unsexy, henge-free Tori.
He felt her shift, leaning forward. Her hair tickled his cheek and he could feel the heat of her body on his skin. When she spoke, he felt her breath on his lips.
“Then stop me, if you want to,” she said.
Obito gripped the chair harder. Tori shifted again, her hand staying over his eyes. She pressed her lips against his.
I am going to stop this, Obito thought, and then instead kissed her back.
Obito had only ever kissed Rin before, which had been weird and also terrible. This was also weird and terrible, but in a way where he didn’t want it to stop. Tori was familiar. She knew about the absolute darkest parts of him, and he wasn’t entirely convinced she wouldn’t murder him if given the chance. But she did know him, from his favorite bad jokes to his stint as a super villain.
She broke the kiss first.
“Are you going to be a good boy now?” she asked.
It was embarrassing that he found her wording hot.
“For you? Always,” he replied.
She removed her hand from his eyes. He deactivated the sharingan, studying her face. He set his hands and her hips and then trailed them up her waist, and he watched as she bit her bottom lip in response. He liked that.
There was no way she was doing this if she didn’t want something. Unfortunately, her method had worked in that he did now very much want to give it to her. But what would Tori want…?
“So you want that guy killed?” Obito asked.
Tori’s eyes lit up. It was… extremely cute. Fuck.
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OKAY SO I DECIDED TO DO IT PROPERLY
WRITE SOMETHING WITH ODETTE LIKE MAKING OUT WITH HER (AND MAYBE LIKE WE SHOULDNT BE DOING IT CAUSE LIKE NO ONE KNOWS ABOUT THE RELATIONSHIP IF IT IS EVEN ONE) (the build up to it too if you feel like it!!) AND THEN CLARA CATCHING US AND TEASING BOTH OF US BUT MOSTLY ODETTE CAUSE DUH!!
~your biggest fan😙; LOVE YOU SUNSHINE!!🩷
Interrupt much??
Summary - *ask* Reader and Odette have an established relationship
Warnings - Small make out session. Probably OOC for Odette😭
Author’s Note - I AM SO SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG- I HAD WRITERS BLOCK AND LIKE NO MOTIVATION😭 SO SORRY POOKIE😭😭 IM SO MAD CUZ ITS SO SHORT AND IT TOOK MORE THAN A WEEK😭(One of my favorite songs, just a bop to listen too, not really related to the fic💀)
You and Odette have been dating for a while now. Not that anyone knew about it, but you had. You hadn’t told anyone about it since Odette wasn’t very comfortable with sharing the news yet, and you were okay with that, you went at her own pace. The only problem was that in order for you guys to meet without being caught would be that you would constantly have to climb in through her window in order to get your cuddles worth. Today was no different than usual.
You did your usual routine of climbing up a tree(which always hurt to be honest) opening the window, and climbing in. Odette had been waiting for you for a while. "What have I said about being punctual? Mother arrives in almost 2 hours." Odette scolded you sternly. "Sorry, the tree was giving me trouble again. The important thing is that I’m here.” You added, barely making it through the window.
Odette was sitting on her bed with her arms crossed. You collapsed onto her lap. “We need to find some other way to meet up, that tree makes my back hurt. More than you would at least,” you teased, this caused Odette to turn red. She smacked your arm. “Shut up. You’re such a tease.” Odette said with a red face.
You rolled your eyes playfully and cupped her cheek with your hand, she turned an even brighter shade of red. "You're warm" you muttered. "Well, last time I checked, I'm not a reptile so I don't think I'm meant to be cold?" She said with a soft giggle as she played with your hair. "Haha, very funny- I was TRYING to say I could you make you warmer" you teased grabbing a hold of her chin and making her face upwards so her neck was exposed. She got flustered and swatted your hand away, "Sh-shut up!"
You sat up and adjusted yourself on her lap, wrapping your legs around her waist. You chuckled softly, giving her a soft peck on the cheek. "You're so soft and comfortable, I could stay with you all day." You smiled softly, resting your head on her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around your back and rested her head on yours. You could tell she was getting comfortable around you and your affection a lot more. You began to nuzzle into her neck and could’ve sworn she purred a little. She turned red again and looked away. You saw how she had reacted and let out a soft chuckle, ‘she’s so cute’ you thought as you continued to nuzzle into her.
You had the urge to just take a small bite, a little nibble if you will. You pinched her neck with your teeth and Odette let out a sharp wince followed by a soft moan of pain. “H-halt! That hurt!” She whined. “Sorry, I just couldn’t help myself” You chuckled back. “Hmph” she crossed her arms and looked away, her face still red.
“Fine, fine. I’m sorry. Will kisses help?” You asked cupping her face. She was giving you the silent treatment. You grabbed a hold of her shoulders and shook her, causing her to giggle. “So?” You asked. “Maybe…but it’s not guaranteed!” she added with a cheeky smile. “Good enough for me.” You smiled. You leaned in for a soft kiss. Odette’s lips met with yours in warm kiss, she hesitated at first but she still wrapped her arms around your waist. You made sure to stay at her own pace, which was actually not as slow as you expected. You placed your hands on her neck as you kept kissing her tenderly. You could tell Odette was still getting flustered and you pulled away slowly. “You okay, darling?” You asked, wanting to make sure she was comfortable. “Mhm!” Odette smiled. “Just not used to it as much yet- But I’ll get the hang of it, I promise” Odette leaned in again, the kiss was much quicker this time. Odette was still blushing, but you could tell she was a lot more comfortable now.
You could feel yourself gaining more and more butterflies, your chest was becoming a little tighter. You moved your hands slightly more up into her scalp. The feeling of her hair intertwined with your fingers wasn’t new, but it sure as hell felt more familiar. You were breathing a little heavier too. As the kiss continued to deepen, the door suddenly opened. It was Clara, Odette’s sister, who was standing there staring at her phone. “Hey sis do you know where……..” she looked up and trailed off.
Odette immediately pushed you off of her, causing you to fall on the floor. “Ever heard of knocking?” You chuckled. “Did I interrupt you guys about to fuck or something?” She said with a grin. “W-WE WERE NOT! W-WE WERE JUST KISSING! GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF THE GUTTERS!” Odette said as her face turned red. “Wait, we weren’t?” You added while getting up, obviously you were teasing, which made Odette get more annoyed.
“Dang sis, I didn’t take you for the type to have hook ups.” Clara said with a teasing grin. “I’m not! Y/n is my girlfriend, you imbecile!” Odette exclaimed in annoyance. You sat down next to your girlfriend and grabbed a hold of her hand. Suddenly, Clara turned to you and gave you a ‘seriously?’ type of look. “Really…? Her?” Clara pointed at her sister, Odette rolled her eyes. “I know, right? It’s hard to believe for me too.” You grinned. You felt Odette let go of your hand and give you an elbow to the side, which actually hurt REALLY bad.
Odette stood up and you followed. “Look, darling, as much as I crave your attention, I also crave your silence. So, how about you…I don’t know..?…shut up?” Odette added facing you. “As if you can shut me up.” You scoffed. Clara had a grin plastered on her face, she found this amusing. “Careful, she might pull a ‘no cuddles for a week’ on you” Clara chuckled. “Make that two weeks” Odette grumbled. “You aren’t helping, Clara!” You shouted at her. “Lucky for you, that wasn’t my intention” Clara shrugged with a grin.
You hugged Odette by the waist. “Don’t do this to meeeee….” you pleaded resting your head on her shoulder and glaring at Clara. “Hey, you got yourself into this” Clara argued and crossed her arms. “But I wasn’t deprived of cuddles until you said something!” You shot back. “Boys, boys, you’re both handsome. And I respectfully take away such punishments since I’m pretty sure I’d give in after an hour or so.” Odette interrupted and had a faint, annoyed, smile on her face. You and Clara both rolled your eyes.
“So-? How long has this been going on?” Clara said sitting on Odette’s bed, you let go of Odette’s waist and stand next to her, grabbing her hand. “5 months,” you responded, kissing the hand you just grabbed. Odette pouted but her cheeks let off a small hue of pink, “5 months and 3 days,” she mumbled. “5 months and 3 days if you want specifics.” You added with a small smile. “What the fuck?? You’ve kept this a secret for that long??” Clara looked absolutely flabbergasted, especially when she turned to her sister . “Well- I wouldn’t exactly consider that first month as ‘dating’ but it was close enough?” You added. “Let me guess, you would occasionally hold hands while Odette called you darling?” Clara said looking at her sister, which made Odette turn red a little. “I considered it to be dating-“ Odette mumbled. “-What matters is that we’re officially together now.” You interrupted.
“Just as long as you don’t break her heart or do anything she doesn’t want to do, I approve of this relationship.” Clara shrugged, she stepped closer to you, seeming menacing. “In all seriousness though, if you break her heart, I’ll break your bones” she glared. “Y-yes ma’am-…” You shot back as fast as a gun shot. Dang- Clara may be younger but you could’ve sworn she seemed like an overprotective older sister for a second there-
“Alright, well, I’ll let you two be. Y’all can go somewhere, I’ll cover for you” Clara spoke as she continued to glare at you. She eventually turned and walked out of the room. Odette scoffed and turned back to you. “You feel like going out somewhere?” She asked. “Sure, darling” You replied with a smile. You grabbed Odette by the hand and dragged her outside. You had won over sister-in-law, but what about mother-in-law, hm? Luckily, that’s a problem for another time. Right now, it was just you and your girlfriend taking a peaceful stroll in hell, hand in hand, for what you wanted to be forever…
THIS FEELS SO SHORT UGHHHHHH
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The fundamental problem with Scar and Grian when it comes to forming alliances is a difference of expectations. Grian is a tactician. He assumes that in a war or a big multiplayer game, you need to get yourself a loyal team. Anybody who is on your team is your buddy, anybody who isn't on your team is your enemy. That is the only way to win. Anybody who won't pick a side is not to be trusted, and he is surprised and annoyed if someone won't make their allegiances clear.
Scar, on the other hand, is a diplomat. He never thinks about forming a team because his assumption is that everyone he meets is going to be nice to him. His charisma is high enough that this is true way more often than not. Even when he is being a chaos gremlin, he tends to get away with it for much longer than he probably ought to because he is funny and charming and just a little bit intimidating. He doesn't consider people he makes deals with to be teammates because he doesn't see the world in terms of teams, but as a network of shifting relationships. He is surprised and annoyed when the web starts getting sticky, with various friends starting to want him to fight other friends.
Grian believes that loyalty deserves loyalty, and that if you are someone's teammate you protect each other no matter how you feel. Scar believes that friendship is what it is, and that relationships can ebb and flow with time and circumstance. Note that in Third Life, newly-red Scar seeks to reestablish a friendship rather than confirm that Grian is still loyal to him, and that in Double Life, Grian justifies his secret soulmate by rationalizing that the relationship will in the end also benefit Scar by keeping them safe. Note also that in Last Life and Double Life Scar wanted to live alone but work together and Grian was not at all on board with that because you can trade and borrow and joke from separate bases but you can't really protect one another.
There is always going to be friction in their alliances because Scar wants a buddy and Grian wants a teammate and those two things are not always compatible at all. It's going to be the same thing with Hermitopia because the more Grian tries to loop Scar into the team, the harder Scar is going to fight to get away, while at the same time Scar is very unlikely to actually take sides against the Hermits because they are his friends. Neither of them can get what they want from each other because neither of them have figured out how to make the other understand what it actually is.
Maybe they need another panda sanctuary. I hear that's good for communication.
#hermitcraft#traffic smp#empires smp crossover#grian#goodtimeswithscar#desert duo#thinking too much about the block guys again
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#misogyny anons#i reply in tags because I don’t want to spam the dash#i’m not saying they shouldn’t be called out#never said that actually#im not gonna lie to you and I’ll say#i blocked all of them on instagram because they said or done things I didn’t nor don’t agree with#my problem isn’t with the fact that people call them out#i think we should always acknowledge problematic behaviours especially when people could just educate themselves to be better and act better#I have a problem with people who treat them differently based on the idea some of them are worse than other because of who they are#look at the treatment lottie receives#how different it is from gemmas for example#why is that? is because Gemma is a better person? or is it bc Lottie is blonde with lips filler?#i simply don’t like how women are treated in fandoms in general I fear#it’s what I mean when I talk about internalised misogyny#but I would focus on the classism too#bc there’s much classism in these dynamics and it’s definitely not subtle#anyway again sorry for replying late but it’s a busy week for me since#im moving out to a new city!#hope you guys have a nice day or night :)
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low key wanna like
set up a queue for posts i like that don’t circulate anymore so that way the recirculate but also i don’t spam but like
i don’t think i’ve ever used a queue before tbh lol
#listen i’ve always been the kind of blogger where you just know what i’m about when i’m about it#but since this is more of a fandom sidespace than my actual blog maybe that’s the better route?#cause there’s a lot of really good fanart and fanfics and analytical pieces that just#don’t get as much love since they got burried by time and i wanna bring them back to the forefront becuase they’re GOOD#and people put their heart and soul and time into them and i want them to be appreciated becuase i love them and they make me happy#but also i’ve hit post limit multiple times becuase if this blog and i’m scared it’ll happen again#cause i think you still hit it with the queue too#and like#i do actually use my main blog a log and the posts come from the same pool#(pro tip for new users btw if your side blogs are connected to your main account all your posts come from a pool that your account gets)#(kind of like a deck of cards that has to be distributed between all players)#ANYWAY it might be the better move for now#i’ll stew on that while i try and get myself out of writers block#cause i’ll need to get the first draft of peghawks2023 done this weekend if i want ot done in time for the 16th#need to figure out how to trick my brain into working#had this problem in school also#the only reason i passed is because most my teachers loved me and wanted me to succeed in spite of my executive dysfunction#and my other two teachers hated me so much (adhd kid with a pension to cause problems) that they passed me#just so they never had to see me again lmao#it’s okay feelings were mutual fuck those guys#(or love those guys for the teachers that adored me)#(hope they’re doing good)#what was i talking about#RIGHT queues and writing#yeah i should go do that okay bye for now!!!
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Currently mad at my brain for giving me a boyfriend in my dream...like hellooo, now I would like something this cute in real life, please
#also i'm fairly sure i wasn't a girl in that dream so. much to think about#actually no we're gonna block that out i refuse to question it now nope lol#i might try and create the boy in the sims later#usually when my brain is like you get a boyfriend in your dream#it just reuses the guy i was 'dating' in kindergarten. and briefly in elementary school#and then middle school. and then let's be real something could've happened in high school too lol#oh hey look i'm oversharing again oh no#anyway this time it gave me a brand new boy. i don't even know who he was#and yes i must've seen him before because that's how brains work but i just don't know him at all lol#nika rambles
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//Something I relate to with Samurai Jack, is that feeling of life finding every opportunity to push you back down, to kick your legs out from under you, bring you to your knees, leave you screaming, in pain, desperate, on fire. And yet to persevere, not just for your sake, but because you don’t see any other way. And somehow, even limping, you’ll find a way to wring out peace, happiness, contentment, love, and passion from this never ending path of pain. If you are to suffer, but there is no other way, there must be joy to be gripped with white knuckles and hungry claws, to fight for peace and to strive for hope even in the midst of all your anger and confusion and despair.
I may feel like there’s no way out, but I’ve got to keep moving. There are people out there depending on me to not give up. I can’t let these forces trying to cut my journey to an abrupt end win— even if I’m tired, even if I feel like it’s too much. When I feel alone, I let my mind picture what they’d want, I let myself mourn and wonder and wish, but I don’t let it give up. I can’t go see you yet. I have more to do. Watch me and I will see you when my work is done. But I will hold onto you for all of my life. I will make my life a service to you, my actions a memorial that can be trailed to you. In every move I make I will tell the ones I love, gone and with me, “this is for you, this is for you,” and when I live, even with tears and anger and joy, “this is for you.”
#『名誉: musings』#『 out of robes 』#『 meta 』#『 sharkie chews the scenery 』#//and maybe someday once the oppressive darkness doesn’t feel so close I can say ‘this is for me too’.#//hi guys I bet you weren’t surprised when I didn’t actually start rping again after trying to come back#//that’s because I posted that promo got zero response and felt discouraged#//and then life threw every awful thing it had at me.#//I feel like haven’t been able to do anything but fight to survive lately. been in a bad place#//and right as new year’s started I lost a very very beloved friend and pet unexpectedly and too soon#//I’ve lost a lot of loved ones these past few years. it builds up. I think this last loss was the most unexpected though.#//since then I’ve been in a worse state mentally that I probably have been since high school#//but I refuse to give up hope because that’s what helped me climb out of my last endless pit#//I’ve been really wanting to write Jack again since I posted the promo but haven’t really had much I could do#//plus I’ve been battling all this irl stuff and it’s made it hard to find much left over for hobbies#//but I’m posting this both as a love letter for jack and for those here I care about#//and to say I’m still here. I won’t abandon Jack I don’t think. he means too much to me#//I’m thinking if I start rping him again I’m going to worry less about cosmetics and worry more about getting something written#//I’ve been worried about trying to be presented in a nice aesthetic fashion but tbh I think that’s blocking me from actually doing things#//I’d like to do a soft restart and maybe focus more on the people I know have talked to me and talk to them#//hopefully you will have me back after to much time away and waffling to get started again. I had decent reasons but still#//being away does a lot to severe decent connections#//anyway. Jack means Hope and Healing to me. no matter how much he goes through it isn’t about the pain.#//it’s about the Herculean yet incredibly human task of overcoming constant and monumental odds because you care.#//because at your core is hope and passion and love.#//I‘ve been crying writing this so it’s probably very sappy and unpolished but I’m not sorry lol#//listening to my old playlists I used to play on loop whenever writing Jack or thinking about him and it made me emotional
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I lied about taking back that vent post, do I really need to unfollow all of the BakuDeku and HeroAca blogs I have just to not hear "Bakugou is dead" five times in one sitting?
Like I'm starting to get tired of the 'He's not even dead' ones because it's just everywhere.
Post-leak mania, fine, but now? Seriously? What kind of fucking manga are you guys reading? Y'all have THAT LITTLE faith in Horikoshi?? After literal years of joking about how much of a simp they are, years of meta and anyalysis about Bakugou and the tropes he contributes to, access to every and any Shounen series ever like???
Aizawa cut off his own fucking leg. Miruko lost an arm AND a leg. Midoriya broke all of his bones so many fucking times AND used one million (or some thousand) percent of his power.
It's not even about 'curarting your own experience' anymore, because everyone is doing it. You didn't post about it yesterday? Well, it's being posted about today. Haven't talked about leaks in months? Talking about leaks now. Don't like angstposting? Angstposting.
At this point I want him to die so that he stops suffering again and again. So that you guys can shut up and this series will finally dissolve all of the last bits of joy I feel from it so I can unfollow you all and sit in the void.
Death is already a reoccuring thing in my life irl, and I really don't need it from fandom right now, so like? I dunno block me or something lmao. Blacklisting the tag doesn't work or help, I've already unfollowed a dozen people, like I've started blocking people ffs.
I want to follow Bakugou-centric (or just Bakugou enjoying) blogs in general because I like his character. I want to interact with people who like and care about him, but god fucking seriously?
Go pick up AoT where Erin LITERALLY DIES in episode, like, three or something. Bleach where Ichigo spent three days in a hole trying not to become a Hollow and failing. Naruto where Sasuke got stabbed a bunch of times by literal shards of glass. (And those are JUST the early game deaths)
"Overcoming death" is literally just a popular Shounen trope- and that's not even counting 'gets maimed horribly and beyone compare, but comes out scott free' like??? People have literally been OVER THE MOON about the fact that Midoriya!!! Has scars!!! Because Shounen is so notoriously awful at showcasing the results of Heroes' mistakes. Even then, the series still uses the same 'ohohoho they are dying horribly!!1' trope all the time.
Not only are y'all not reading any other series, but, hell, you're not even reading THIS series. Like I followed people for their deep and insightful takes, for their understanding of the characters at hand... Where did all that go?
Even if he does die like???
What fucking themes are left???
'Save to Win, Win to Save'? One of the biggest themes Gone.
'Society creates Villains just as it creates Heroes'? Still there, I guess, but Bakugou's addition to that narrative was huge- a supposedly "villainous" kid rejecting villainy?
'You're worth more than your power'? Bakugou is one of the only people who saw Midoriya's worth BEFORE he got his power. He's also one of the only people (save Aizawa) who has acknowledged and pointed out Midoriya's recklessness and his self sacrificing tendencies.
'Heroes need to work together'? Bakugou is still one of the only people that Midoriya has actually fought side by side with other than the Stain Arc. Bakugou was the person who said "Don't go playing Hero on your own." (He's also one of the biggest showcases (bleh) in how Hero Society fails at teamwork- every time he has
Is it really a coincidence that his biggest win was a 'complete victory' that came from him working with his team? Him pushing Jirou out of the way during the 1A/1B showdown? How everyone pointed out his growth, and how he inspired the rest of the class?
During the Provisional License Exam he and Todoroki both failed (because they let their emotions get in the way of their Heroism), but remember what Aizawa said? About how Midoriya and Bakugou inspire the rest of the class to do better?
Especially now with the parallel to the Second User- WHY would they be using foreshadowing and parallels if he's gonna die? What the fuck would be the purpose??
"If all you see is your strength, then you won't be able to acknowledge your own weakness."
#leaks mention#really tired guys#being an asshole#again#man what is it with life right now#every fucking time I think I've overcome something it comes back full fucking force the next goddamned day#I guess I'm just lucky my family is busy so that they can't screw me over either huh?#someone needs to start paying me for all the tears I have cried in the past month because it is too fucking much#I'm not letting some stupid blorbo push me over the edge again I have more important things to cry about#if this is going to be a theme for the next two fucking weeks let me know so that I can just start hating this character#enough to block all of you
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“heatwaves”
pairing: alpha!gojo x omega!fem!reader
summary: when a work trip takes you to japan, the last thing you expect is a heatwave... and some guy with blue eyes?
content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, a/b/o dynamics, no established relationship, dubcon (i feel like it’s always kinda dubcon with a/b/o), p->v, unprotected sex, creampie, breeding, biting, blood, marking, spit, praise, swearing, pet names (baby/sweetheart/princess), brief mention/implication of pregnancy, knotting, reader gets picked up, reader is american, reader is unaware of their omega status, reader experiences their first heat, reader and satoru “bond” without having a fully conscious conversation, reader and satoru are early twenties.
a/n: it's here! somebody spay me.
by popular demand i have written alpha!gojo for you all… just a classic reader goes into an accidental heat at work and (x) character happens to be the nearest alpha LMAO. this is entirely uncreative, but i love it for that!!! straight smut with a little plot if you squint hard enough! i hope it lives up to your expectations. find my alpha!geto fic here and find the list of my 1k event fics here. enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED!
credits: dividers by @cafekitsune.
wc: 5k
Nobody ever told you that Japan was so damn hot.
Hot was not what came to mind when you’d heard you’d be taking a trip to Tokyo. Temples? Sure. Mt. Fuji? Great. Hot? No fucking way.
But, here you were, boiling away under the sun on what you’d thought would be a fun little work trip. Instead, you were just suffering with every step, trying to listen to what Principal Yaga was saying and failing miserably.
“These are the sparring courts. No students right now, but they’ll start training within the hour.”
You rub at the back of your neck, cringing when your palm comes away coated with a thin layer of sweat. Gross.
You lift your eyes to the sky, wondering how much longer this was going to take. Your little trip to Japan was to organize an exchange program with Jujutsu Tech. Your students had been begging to take a trip to Tokyo, to where their cursed energy would be closer to the source and, consequently, stronger. You had to admit, it was a good idea. A few months spent training here in Japan would do them good. From the moment you’d set foot on Japanese soil, your power had thrummed faster in your veins than ever before.
Principal Yaga was giving you a tour of the grounds and had sealed your horrible fate when he’d decided to start outside. You barely heard a word the man said. New York was never this hot…
“Are you alright?” You blink, fanning your face as best you can. It provides no relief. God, it felt like the heat was penetrating your fucking bones…
When your eyes slide to Principal Yaga, you’re surprised to see that he looks genuinely concerned. “Y-yeah.” You blink again, shocked by your own stutter. Maybe you were coming down with something? “I’m fine, just not used to this kind of heat, I guess.” You fan your face again and clench your jaw when it still does nothing.
Yaga’s brows furrow and you see him glance around, like he’ll find said heat standing next to him. How was he wearing so many layers?
“How about we head inside and take a break, then? We can continue the tour… later.” You nearly fall to the ground and kiss his feet. Air conditioning is truly God's gift to man…
You smile and it’s all genuine. “That would be amazing. Thank you.”
Yaga nods, but you think his eyes linger on you for just a beat too long before he turns. He still looks confused… or maybe flustered? That only leaves you confused.
You follow after him, each step feeling like you’re sinking deep into cement. You tug at the collar of your shirt, trying to get some ventilation. When you finally reach the building you nearly sigh with relief. Air conditioning… that’ll be good. Just what you need. A few minutes inside and you’ll be good to go. You’ll just have to remember not to wear so many damn layers again when you continue the tour.
You’re smiling as you step inside, so ready for relief that you’re practically shaking– but relief never comes. Your brows furrow. You brush your arm through the air. It… doesn’t help. It’s strange– you can feel the coolness of the air conditioning, feel it gliding up and across your skin, but the heat doesn’t subside, doesn’t so much as lessen.
“I trust you know how to find anything you might–” Yaga clears his throat. “Need?”
Your brows furrow. He’d shown you all the school’s resources last night and your room was already stocked with food, toiletries, and every other thing you could possibly need. Of course you knew where everything was…
“Yes… Thank you.”
Yaga shifts so uncomfortably you think that maybe he’s about to pee his pants. “Right, well, you have my contact information. Let me know if I can be of assistance in connecting you to any… resources.”
You’re more confused now than you were at the start of this conversation. “Right…”
“Take care.”
Yaga shoots you one last– worried?- glance and stalks down the hall. You’re left wondering what the hell is happening in his mind and why he seemed so desperate to offer you resources?
You blink, clearing your mind as best you can, but some sort of fog seems to be settling over your consciousness. Definitely coming down with something, you think.
You make your way through the halls, steps still feeling suspiciously heavy and heat still radiating off your body. A cold shower. That’ll help. Or so you thought. The further you walk, the more each hallway starts to look like the next. Was it left or right next? Was this hallway always a dead end? Since when was there a bathroom there?
You’re leaning against the wall now, panting. Something is pooling in your gut, something warm and far too intense. Your inner thighs are wet, too. You want to convince yourself it’s sweat, but… you’re horny. More horny than you’ve ever been in your whole damn life. You think you might die if you don’t get some dick in the next ten minutes. What the fuck?
You slide yourself into the next room you see: an empty classroom. Thank fucking god. You grab the back of a chair, hands shaking with how hard you’re gripping the wood. You take a deep breath. You need to get a hold of yourself, need to figure out what the fuck is happening to you.
You swallow and try your best to think. It’s not without difficulty. Your head feels like somebody’s filled it with glue. It takes a minute for a coherent thought to come through, but when it does, you think it’s a good one. Doctor.
Yes– you don’t feel well, so obviously a doctor is the correct choice, right? You scramble for your phone in your back pocket but freeze when the brush of your own hand against your ass sends a jolt up your spine. What the fuck is wrong with you?
Carefully, you extract your phone from your pocket, but it’s too difficult to even remember your fucking passcode. You press your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the overwhelming ache that’s forming between your legs. Something is definitely wrong.
You fumble with your phone, but your hands are shaking so hard it just tumbles to the floor.
“Fuck,” you breathe. “Fuck, fuck, fuck?”
“Yo, who’s baking cookies in here without me?”
Your head snaps up and, with some difficulty, your eyes settle on a… man. You suck in a breath. He’s… dazzling. He’s wearing all black, but it’s not a student uniform. One of the teachers that you’ve yet to meet, then. White hair and pale skin contrasts against his clothes, but his eyes are covered by a pair of sunglasses set low on his nose. Even in your delirious state you still have the wherewithal to wonder who the fuck wears sunglasses inside.
You get a quick look at him before a wave of intense- fuck, desire?- washes over you. You tremble again and shock yourself when a whimper tumbles from your lips.
“Oh, shit,” you hear him say. You glance at him from the corner of your eye and watch him inhale again– deeply. His lips part. “Oh, shit.”
You clench your jaw and tighten your grip on your chair. Your legs are shaking now– you can barely stand. You squeak pitifully.
The second the sound leaves your throat you hear footsteps– rapid, hurried, concerned, ones. Warm hands clasp your waist and you cry out at the touch, electricity sparking on your skin.
“Shhh, it’s okay.” He turns you gently to face him, hands steadying your swaying body. “Who the fuck left you alone in here?” His hand is rubbing soothing circles on your lower back now and you think you’ve never felt something so good in your life. It’s so good that you almost miss what he said. Almost.
“W-What?” You see his brows furrow as you peek up at him. At this angle you can see under his sunglasses. His eyes are blue. Really fucking blue. You think he might be the most attractive man you’ve ever seen, even with the expression of… anger?- that he’s currently wearing.
“Whoever he is, I'll kill him.”
That makes you blink. An extra sliver of clarity opens in your brain. “What are you talking about?”
He tugs you a little closer, wrapping an arm fully around your waist and pressing you up against him. You try to ignore the fact that you love it, that you want nothing more than to wrap yourself around him and climb him like a fucking tree.
“What idiot leaves an omega going into heat?” He’s glaring at the doorway like he’s torn between staying here with you and running after said idiot to pommel him into the ground.
“‘M not an omega.” The words are out before you’ve even stopped to consider them. It’s true. You’re not an omega. You’re a beta. You’ve always been a beta. You’ve got the little “B” on your ID card to prove it. You were tested at birth, just like everyone else, and even if you really were an omega you would have presented years ago.
He only glances down at you and snorts. “Funny, sweetheart.” His hand is still rubbing those little circles into your back and it’s enough to make that fogginess in your mind grow a little thicker.
But your fear, your uncertainty outways your instinct. You pound a weak fist against his chest, not to push him away, but to get his attention. He’s still glaring at the doorway like he wants to murder it.
“‘M serious,” you gasp. “I’m a beta… I don’... know whas’ happenin’… to me.” Each word is a tremendous effort to form. Your tongue seems to have lost its ability to do anything but hang limply.
That gets his attention. He lifts a hand, gently brushing your hair back from your eyes and then cupping your jaw. “Is this your first heat?”
You find yourself leaning into his touch despite the fact that you’ve only known him for thirty seconds. Your eyelids flutter. “N-Not a heat… jus’ feel… sick.”
His brows furrow again, deeper this time, and he shakes his head. “How old are you?”
You know why he asks. Most omegas present around eighteen or nineteen. “Older than… nineteen…” You try to laugh, but it only comes out as a whimper.
That answer only serves to make him push closer. You feel his hand trailing down your neck, skimming gently over the skin until he reaches a spot you hadn't even realized was so… sore. You keen at the touch. Fuck, no. There was no way. You had swollen fucking scent glands.
You try to push away, but he pulls you in, burying his face in your neck. You shudder when he groans. “You smell like a damn bakery exploded,” he chuckles, and the sound is muffled by your skin. When he pulls away he makes it look like the action is physically painful. He cups your face again. “Hate to break it to you, sweetheart, but you’re an omega. If this is your first heat then…” he swallows and your eyes track the bob of his throat. “You’re just a late bloomer, baby.”
You shake your head desperately. It’s just the stupid heatwave. It’s just… hot outside… right?
You try to think about how this could be possible. It could be that the test you took as a baby was wrong… it happened sometimes. It was rare, but it happened. But if you were an omega, what would have triggered your presentation now? What had changed?
Your eyes widen. Japan. You’d set foot in fucking Japan. Ever since you’d gotten here, you’d felt power pulsing in your veins. Maybe it hadn’t been just power…
“N-no–”
A gentle thumb smooths over your cheek and you meet his eyes again. You shiver when you see a whole lot more black than blue. “You have no alpha?”
You whimper, leaning into him. Touch me, touch me, touch me, a part of you begs. You shake your head again and a tear slides down your cheek. “No,” you whisper.
Strong arms slide beneath your knees and you squeak when you’re suddenly suspended in the air. When you glance up he’s grinning triumphantly. “You have one now,” is all he says before he’s carrying you out of the classroom and twisting through the halls.
Warmth rushes over you at the sensation of being held, and something begs you to give into it, to give into the heat still washing over you, to the throbbing between your legs. You fight it and fight it hard.
“Where’re we going?” you ask, but your voice is sounding more and more like a whisper.
His eyes stay focused ahead, even as he presses a comforting kiss to the crown of your head. “Your room, sweetheart.”
Your brows scrunch. “How d’ you know where–”
“‘M following your scent, baby.”
He can do that? You bury your face in his neck, embarrassed, only to be hit by a different scent so delicious your mouth starts watering. You groan. Loudly. There’s a scent pouring from his neck that’s filling your head with memories of spices you can’t name, but suddenly know you love.
You think you hear him chuckle and then feel a gentle hand on the back of your neck, encouraging you. You snuggle deeper into him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and burying your fingers in his hair. Taste him, taste him, taste him your mind chants. It’s too good an offer to deny. You lick a stripe across his skin.
Your groans are instant. He’s squeezing you closer, leaning into your touch, and you’re pulling him closer. Your fingers curl into his jacket, tugging and tugging. You lick again and now he’s the one groaning.
“Damn, that feels good,” He sounds as surprised by that fact as you feel. The swaying of his steps comes to a sudden halt. You whine, missing the rocking of his body. “Think we’re here, princess. This it?” His hand is smoothing over your hair, slowly coaxing you away from the curve of his neck. You blink, not wanting to leave the paradise of his scent, but also feeling some overwhelming urge to please him.
Your eyes settle on a door and you recognize a little chip in the wood. You nod. “Mhm.”
You gasp when his hand grips your hip, wriggling through your pocket until he pulls out a little brass key.
“Perfect,” he says, and his voice sounds like he’s all too pleased with himself. He shimmies your key in the knob until the lock clicks and then you’re inside. The door slams shut loud enough to make you jump and squeak.
“Oops, sorry, baby. Guess I’m a little excited, heh.” His hand squeezes your hip soothingly and you mewl at the wave of heat that pulses through you. Your clit throbs almost painfully and you feel something gush onto your thighs. You whimper.
He inhales. “Oh, shit,” he breathes, and then you’re moving again. He navigates your room like he knows it. He probably does. From what you can tell, most of the rooms at Jujutsu Tech follow a standard layout. He weaves down a hall to the left and then into your bedroom on the right.
He lays you on the bed gently, tenderly, like he’s afraid you might break if he drops you so much as an inch. “There we go,” he breathes. You can’t deny that it feels good, that it feels right, to be lying on the softness of your mattress, but it’s not enough.
You claw at him, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him close. You want something from him, need something, but you can’t name what. You just know that the heat boiling beneath your skin can only be sated by him, that the throbbing between your legs can only be calmed by him. “P-Please,” you whimper. Tears well in your eyes. You need him so bad it physically hurts.
The smile he gives you is soft and genuine and it takes your breath away. He dips his head and you think you see him slide those sunglasses down his nose and toss them to the side. You don’t pay too close attention, though, because he’s kissing your neck again and your body is screaming with sensation.
“Aw, I know, baby. Don’ worry. ‘M gonna take care of you now. Jus’ relax.”
His words spark something in you– your last bit of consciousness. A brief moment of clarity shines through the fog of your mind and you remember what the hell is happening, what the hell you’re doing. You squeeze your eyes shut and shake your head desperately. No, no, no, this is not happening to you. There’s no way.
“Hey, now. None a’ that.” Fingers clasp your chin, holding you still. When you peek your eyes open, you see that he has in fact removed his sunglasses and that his eyes are more black pupil than dazzling blue. His jaw is clenched and his breathing is heavy. “Don’t try t’ fight it. Jus’ try to enjoy it…” His head dips and suddenly he’s nipping at your scent gland again.
You thrash and scream, but not in fear or pain. You’ve never felt something so good in your life. Every graze of his teeth feels like heaven. Your skin zings with electricity, sending pulses of pure need straight between your thighs.
You grab at him, tangling your fingers in his hair and tugging him closer. Your chest is heaving when you speak. “Please, p-please-”
“Shhh…” You think you hear your shirt tearing, but you’re too focused on pulling him closer to care. His tongue licks a stripe up your throat and your eyes roll back.
You’re sure your shirt is off now. You can feel the cool air, but it does nothing to ease the heat raging inside you, pulsing and pumping through your veins.You feel him tugging at your pants, too, and you try to raise your hips. He only shushes you again. “Jus’ relax. Let me do the work, baby.”
Your pants are gone in seconds, even without your assistance. So is your bra and then your panties. He tries pulling away to undress himself, but you mewl and his eyes blow even blacker before he’s back over you again. He settles for popping the buttons straight off his shirt and shimmying out of his pants.
The sight of his bare skin makes you whimper and then you’re clawing at him again, dragging your fingers across his shoulders, over his chest, down his abs. It’s a greedy touch and one that he returns. His palms move along your body, kneading and squeezing at any flesh he can grab. It feels so good that you think you might pass out– but it’s still not enough. Something is still missing. You feel… empty.
His fingers trace across your stomach and it’s too late to realize what’s happening before he’s circling your clit. You jerk and jolt at the touch, but he presses his chest to yours, pinning you. The throbbing only worsens when his fingers settle into a rhythm.
Tears leak down your cheeks. It’s too overwhelming. You’re burning– burning from the inside out. The pulsing between your thighs is all-consuming with its intensity, with its-
“Need! N-Need–” you’re crying out, but you don’t even know what to ask for– don’t even know what you need.
“God, Fuck, I know, princess,” he groans. He licks a long stripe up your neck. “But ‘s your first heat. Gotta–” he has to pause to swallow. He’s panting, now, just as lost as you are, and you get the sense that he’s restraining himself. “Gotta get you ready… go slow.”
You shake your head. Now, now, now is all you can think. You need him now. “No… please…” You bury your head in his neck and find that spot that’s pouring his spicy scent into the air. Your mouth waters and you lick him, letting your teeth graze his skin.
“Fuck!” He shivers atop you and you feel the pure strength restrained within his muscles. “Fuck- okay. Okay. Relax f’ me, princess.”
You try, you really do, but your body refuses to do anything but try to pull him closer. You feel his fingers digging into the flesh of your thighs, pressing them up, up, up until they’re pressed tightly to your chest and your feet are dangling on his shoulders. The position makes you whine, feeling more exposed than you ever have before.
“You on birth control, baby?”
Your brows furrow. It’s becoming harder and harder to focus on what he’s saying rather than simply the sound of his voice. Were you? You try to think, try to remember through the pit of glue that is your brain. No…
You shake your head. “N-No…”
There’s a slight pause, a beat of contemplation, and then he’s laughing. “Guess I’m bouta be a daddy then, heh.” He chuckles again and the sound rings through you with a wave of pure bliss. His lips brush your neck again, settling on your pulse and making you whine. “Don’t really mind as long as I get you.” Your head rolls back submissively, exposing your throat. Yes, yes, yes, your mind screams. There’s nothing you want more than that, you think.“Okay, here we go, baby.”
There’s hardly any more warning. One second you feel him shifting between your thighs and the next he’s pressing inside of you, feeding his cock in inch by inch. The stretch is… delicious. It burns, fuels that fire inside you, but it makes the heat feel more… pleasurable. Your back arches and your head rolls back submissively.
“Oh, fuck, princess.” His voice has gotten higher, more like a whine than anything else. When you gaze up at him you can see the flush in his cheeks, even through the fog in your mind. More, more, more your mind screams. Or maybe you say it aloud, because more is exactly what he gives you. The second you feel him tucked up against your cervix the second he begins to take you. He sets a pace that is somehow both brutal and gentle, with strokes that rattle your skull and also give you exactly what you need. His hands grip your hips, holding you still to take exactly what he wants to give. His head dips until he has his lips wrapped around your nipple, and his tongue is swirling so deliciously that you can’t help but drag your nails down his back.
Your body rocks with every thrust, teeth rattling and eyes rolling. The heat inside you grows… tighter, like it’s all pooling to your core, waiting for something you still can’t quite name.
“N-need…” You don’t know what you need, still. Only that you want to beg for it so badly it hurts.
His tongue slides away from your nipple, tracing a line up between the valley of your breasts, over your collarbone, before he finally settles on your pulse once again. The nick of his teeth makes something click in your mind. This is what you need. Bite me, bite me, bite. Claim me, claim me, claim me.
“Yes,” you breathe. Your fingers dig into his scalp, pulling him closer, coaxing his teeth to sink in, to stake their claim. “Oh God, yes. Please.” You sound delirious, you think, but then so does he when he answers.
“Not yet, princess. Not yet.” His tongue darts out to lick across your neck again and you can only sob. Why not yet? Now, now, now…
Tightness coils in your muscles, the throb at your core reaching a breaking point. You feel something coming, something like an orgasm but yet also not. You know that when whatever is pooling inside you releases, you will shatter, and you’re not sure you’ll ever be put back together.
Your nails claw across his back hard enough to draw blood and the action forces out some sort of low grumble from his chest that makes you whimper and melt into the mattress. The tip of his nose draws a line up your throat. “Keep doin’ that, baby. Mark me up.”
You don’t dare deny him. You scratch at his skin, desperately trying to pull him closer. His thrusts grow faster and your thighs begin to tremble and shake on his shoulders, overwhelmed with the intensity of all you’re feeling. You pull at him, grab at him, thread your fingers through his hair.
Your body jolts with each thrust and you’re sure you’re going to burst any moment. But you can’t. Not yet. You still need something, something he hasn’t given you yet. He groans and the sound is so delicious that you feel it sliding over your skin and settling in your bones.
“M’ gonna knot you now, princess,” he breathes. “Gonna make you feel so good. Gonna take care ‘ve you.”
You whimper at his words. You hope they’re true. You don’t think you can take much more of the incessant gnawing of need in your gut.
“Please…” your voice is hardly more than a whisper. His breath is hot as it shakes against your neck. He’s licking and nipping at you ravenously, like he needs you just as badly, like he wants to claim you as badly as you want to be claimed.
His thrusts quicken even further and your jaw falls open, neck arching. You don’t think you can hold on much longer. Apparently, neither can he.
You feel it the moment he starts to swell inside you. It’s perfect, you think. It can’t get better than this– but then it does.
His teeth graze your throat again, this time a little harsher and with a little more intent. “Mine,” he whispers. The second he bites you everything goes blurry.
You’re experiencing… heaven. There is a rush of that electricity that buzzes under your skin. It bursts forth and you feel it reaching out, forming a link between the two of you that you know is now impenetrable. It pulses and burns and you can feel him, feel his pleasure, his desire, his need for you and only you– his need to make you his. You think your souls must be blending, merging, with how deep the connection runs. You think you know him, know everything you could possibly ever need to. You know he’s the one. You know he’s yours.
It’s perfect, the way it fulfills every desire you’ve ever had, the way he notches inside your cunt like that’s where he was made to be, the way his teeth clamp around your throat and bond you together forever.
You scream for him, you think, but you can’t tell through the complete and total haze of pleasure. Your walls spasm around him, milking him for every last drop, and you feel the heat of his cum coating your cervix. The heat at your center finally releases, bursting and flooding through you in a way that feels like pure bliss has been injected into your veins. Your thighs quake and tremble with the pure intensity of it all and white spots dot your vision.
His body is tense above you, shivering with the magnitude of what’s just happened. He’s groaning into your neck, your flesh still clamped between his teeth like he never wants to let go. You’re not sure you ever want him to.
Your breaths shake in and out, lungs heaving as you finally come down. His knot is still settled deep inside you and with the few strings of consciousness that slowly filter back into your mind you know that he’ll remain there for a while.
His teeth release from your neck with a squelch that you think you would be sickening in any other context, but only makes you whimper at the loss of contact. He only hums and finds your hand, twining your fingers together as he laps at the fresh bite on your throat. It feels… amazing. Not in the way it felt before, like he was licking pure lust straight onto your skin, but more like he’s giving you a comfort you have never known in your life. You feel safe in his arms, like nothing could ever hurt you here.
His lips press a final kiss to your throat before you feel him shifting. He gently rolls you both onto your sides, getting comfortable and pulling you to his chest while you both wait for the next wave of lust to hit you. It will, you know. Sooner rather than later, too. Your mind has cleared enough to realize what’s happening, what’s to come. You won’t be leaving this room, this bed, for quite some time.
A gentle hand brushes a sweaty lock of hair from your eyes before it settles on the nape of your neck, massaging the sore muscles there. You sigh and raise your gaze to find him already looking at you, an easy smile on his lips. He has dimples, you realize, and he’s… breathtaking. And now… he’s all yours.
There’s a beat of silence between you, a moment of reconciliation with what’s just happened between you, of what it means. You blink up at him, your lips parting to say something, anything, but instead your brows furrow in thought.
His smile drops instantly. He leans into you, thumb caressing your cheek. “What is it, sweetheart?”
Your mouth runs dry. You peek up at him from beneath your lashes. “What’s your name?”
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#bree’s fics#jjk x reader smut#jjk x reader#jjk smut#jjk#jjk gojo#jujutsu kaisen#gojo smut#gojo x reader#gojo satoru#satoru gojo#jujutsu gojo#satoru#gojo#jjk satoru#gojou satoru x reader#gojou satoru x you#gojou x reader#gojou satoru x y/n#jjk gojou#satoru gojou#gojou satoru#a/b/o#alpha gojo#alpha!gojo#a/b/o dynamics#omegaverse#jjk omegaverse#tw: a/b/o dynamics#tw: omegaverse
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Do you think there could be a chance where reader and bully! gojo meet again years later and try again? Maybe 🥹
part one here — contents. fem! reader, exes to lovers, neighbors to lovers, slight nsfw so minors do not interact, slight angst but it’s a hopeful (pretty much happy) ending, idk what else lmk what i missed
imagine you guys are neighbors—you accidentally meet when you’re both walking up to your apartment doors one night after work. he pauses, and you can feel eyes staring into you from the side so you look over and yeah. wow. there’s your worst heartbreak of your youth standing right there in all his glory, staring at you like you’re a figment of his imagination come true. like he never expected to see you again (you suppose he probably didn’t).
“hey,” he says softly. satoru has never been one to greet someone first, never been the one to reach out and bridge the gap himself. he always waits to be approached. that much has surprisingly changed since the last time you saw him.
“oh…” you trail off, “hi. it’s you.”
you don’t seem half as happy to see him as he does you—but that much is to be expected, of course. satoru didn’t have the luxury of moving on, you can tell because you still can read him just as easy after all these years. like he hasn’t changed the small quirks about him, like he’s still tried desperately to hold onto his past because that’s where you were. he still looks desperately in love like the night you left him.
it’s pathetic, you wanna say. to still be in love for so long. when it’s so clearly over and there’s no coming back. a small part of you is filled with this sick, evil satisfaction that he’s still thinking about you when you don’t spare him a single thought.
but you suppose you’re not at over him as you thought when there’s this much excitement bubbling into you at his suffering. maybe, if you were actually completely over him, you’d be indifferent to him. you wouldn’t forget, but you’d forgive. you’d hope he learned his lesson and spared another innocent, poor girl from what you suffered for simply loving him. for simply wanting him to feel cherished and special and worth someone’s time.
you hope he’s better now—not for yourself, but for someone else. he doesn’t deserve a second of your time.
“you live here?” he asks, mildly shocked.
you’re almost offended. does he mean he thinks you can’t afford to live in the same apartment building as him? or is he just that shocked to see you? nothing about satoru seems genuine—you can’t help but assume the worst in him.
“yes,” you say curtly, “i moved here for work.” (why did you add that? why are you giving an opening to make conversation?)
“oh, really? me too,” he nods. (why is he making conversation? why couldn’t he have just ignored that opening and spared you the trouble?)
“oh,” is all you say. it’s silent for a bit, and then, “well, i better—”
almost like he knows what you’re about to say, he cuts you off with a quick, “i teach now.” you blink, staring at him in confusion. he rubs his neck as he adds, “i uh…i teach at that high school down the block. so uh…that’s why i moved here.”
“that’s…that’s nice,” you nod awkwardly. why is he telling you all this?
“yeah, my students are really cool,” he adds with a grin—it’s…a bit cute, actually. because he means it. his smile is too fond for it to not be true.
this isn’t the satoru you know—at least, not the one you think is the real satoru. you’re not so sure which side of him is actually him.
“i’m glad you enjoy what you do,” you offer. there’s not much else to say. “i’ll be heading in now.”
“right,” he coughs, “s-see you around.”
and then you really do see him around.
sometimes, it’s when you both leave in the mornings—he lets you enter the elevator first and presses the button for you when he gets in. he always lets you exit first too, like he cares to be chivalrous even if you’re not together anymore. sometimes it’s when you’re coming home—he’s holding a bag of take out as he walks up to his own door. you suppose he’s never been one to cook, and that probably hasn’t changed. sometimes, you’ll see him at the grocery store too—his cart is usually just filled with snacks and sweets. it’s not a very adult like shopping cart, so something’s evidently never change.
and every time he sees you, he always tries to strike up a conversation. no matter how short of a window your time is. even if it’s the forty five second elevator ride from floor one to floor three, he’s determined to say something.
today my students got me a gift—it’s a pair of sunglasses, because he still apparently loves those.
i got to take my students on a field trip today. i’ve been planning it for weeks—they have to write a paper on it, though. they’re not too happy about that even if they enjoyed themselves.
today was my student yuji’s birthday. i let the others out early to celebrate with him—they’re apparently all a good bunch of kids. friendly and tight knit in a way satoru’s never experienced. he thinks kids should hold onto that. good friends are hard to come by, after all.
and you’re always guarded. always so cautious and careful when you talk to him. sometimes you try to be polite, other times it’s abundantly apparent you don’t want to converse. he doesn’t pay it any mind, though. just rambles away and away and away and talks enough for the both of you because he’s just happy you’ll listen. even if begrudgingly.
and then one night, it happens—it’s late and you had to stay extra in the office. you’re grumpy and tired and the only good thing about this is that it’s late enough that you probably won’t run into satoru today.
except he’s waiting right there, head against your door as he fidgets with the door knob and grumbles incoherently under his breath.
“stupid damn door,” he slurs, “jus’ fuckin’ open.”
“ahem,” you clear your throat—he stiffens. “any particular reason you’re trying to break in?”
he turns to face you—stumbles a little as his glossed eyes look at you in confusion. he’s drunk—you can smell the liquor on him.
“whad’ya mean? ‘s my door,” he holds an arm out to gesture at your door.
“no,” you sigh, pointing to the door next to yours, “that one is.”
“oh!” he perks up, “‘s why it wasn’t working?”
“most likely,” you nod awkwardly, “that’s usually how that works.”
you watch as he unceremoniously stumbles over his steps to his door—how he tries but fails to get his keys through the key hole before you sigh and take pity on him. you don’t have it in you to leave a drunk person out in the cold, no matter how much (bad) history you might have.
“here,” you sigh, grabbing his keys from his hand and opening the door for him. you try to ignore that brief moment of warmth where your hands brushed against each other.
“do y’know what today is?” he mumbles, breath fanning over your shoulder as you open his door.
“i….tuesday?” you ask, in confusion. he looks crestfallen when you stare his face.
“oh, n-never—” he stumbles a bit. you catch him before you realize. “never mind.”
somehow, you barely manage to help him to his couch before he’s passing out, too drunk to really register anything else. satoru never drinks much—it was the funniest part about him. you used to tease him for it all the time, for being a frat boy who can hardly handle some alcohol.
i like being in control, he’d say petulantly, i don’t need to be drunk to have a good time. i am the good time.
you take a quick glance around his place before you can catch yourself. it’s not very different from your place—the living room is the same size and the structure is more or less the same. his tv is a bit more expensive, and his furniture is more simple. that’s about it.
you glance down at him one last time before walking out and shutting the door behind you. you hesitate for a moment before turning on the screen of your phone to check the date—it takes you a moment, but then it hits you.
it’s the day you broke up. all those years ago. it’s certainly been a good few—you almost forgot the date, but apparently satoru remembers. he remembers enough to go get shit-faced drunk as if the memory is too much to bear.
does he do this every year? drink away his sorrows every anniversary of the day you left him? does he really still care that much? why hasn’t he moved on?
and then you stop thinking about it. it’s not your problem.
but then you just…can’t help but be a bit more gentle around him. it happens without your control. maybe it’s muscle memory. maybe you’re finally letting your muscles relax and do that involuntary thing of their own that they do.
evidently that’s to be more soft with the boy who broke your heart. except he’s a man now, you suppose. he should’ve been a man when you dated him—but you’re glad he grew up eventually. even if you couldn’t be there with him for it.
but you’re a bit more friendly with him now—you suppose you can coexist with your talkative neighbor that also happens to be your awful ex boyfriend. you answer him a bit more when he talks to you, ask him about his students when he brings them up—he brightens so much when you do. it’s….painfully endearing.
yuji is sweet, a little too kind for his own good. nobara is a little tough to soften up, but once you do, she loves tenfold. megumi is a grump, but he’s a real softie. yuta is a bit socially awkward, but he’s got a good heart. maki is all business and very studious, but she’s a determined young girl. panda is not a panda—his name is odd but he’s funny. toge is quiet, but he looks out for people.
they’re good kids. he cares a great deal about them.
and then you start to tell him about your job. how your boss is another baldy that’s annoying—just like the professor you both shared. he chuckles at that. your coworkers are a good gossip, but you’d never go hang out with them outside of work. well, maybe except for one—utahime is a nice person, even if a bit of a priss sometimes.
it’s nice, talking to him. he’s funny, makes banter easily like it’s second nature. sometimes….sometimes it feels like old times. you’re not so sure how you feel about that, but you think it’s not bad. you can be grown ups, the two of you. you can be adults and ignore your immature past. the hurt is still there, but it’s manageable now. doesn’t linger and doesn’t weigh on you anymore.
sometimes satoru still stares at you in that way he did all those years ago, sometimes he still stutters over his words and loses his train of thought when he meets your eyes. he still loves you—you knew that from the start.
you stopped loving him a long time ago. that’s what you thought, anyway—but sometimes seeing satoru is….too familiar. it makes you feel things you thought you buried away for good. maybe it’s just deja vu, maybe it’s just the history speaking for itself.
or maybe…maybe you’re starting to tread a more dangerous path. the one that led you to your first, and worst heartbreak. you can’t step foot on that path again, no matter what.
that’s what you tell yourself, anyway—but satoru and you are talking one night. in front of your doors, like usual. you’re excited from a raise at work, and he’s excited because his students have done exceptionally on their final exams and you’re both celebratory in spirit enough that it turns into a cheery hug—and then…and then you’re kissing.
that wasn’t supposed to happen, but it does. you don’t know who kisses who, but you’re both wrapped up in each other and your lips are pressed against the others and oh, he feels so, so familiar.
like home. even if it’s not always safe to be there anymore, it’s still your home. you can’t let go of that nostalgia.
and then his hands cup your cheeks and your arms wrap around his neck and suddenly he’s in your bed—your door was already unlocked and the two of you somehow managed to stumble through the entire apartment until your back hits your mattress. your place is similar enough to his that he finds your room without any issues.
it was never supposed to happen—the shedding of clothes and the desperately needy kisses. the way you held his face and he held you. the way he trembled as he touched you, scared he’d mess it up again. the way you laced your fingers and kissed him between his brows like old times.
and then he fucks you like he means it. has his head in the crook of your neck and sniffles into your skin, rolls his hips and makes you mewl his name while he tells you every good thing about you.
you’re beautiful, the prettiest he’s ever seen. you’re so soft when you love, so delicate with the ones who hold your affection, it’s too much for anyone to deserve. you’re laugh is like music, a melody that’s impossible to grow tired of. but the most important part? you look at everyone like they’re worth something—just for existing, just for being there with you and crossing your path. worth your time, and energy, and compassion. they never have to work for it.
it’s rare, finding someone like that. it’s even more rare to get them to fall in love with you—satoru has never stopped regretting letting that go.
he whispers that all through breathy moans and the occasional cracked sob. whimpers when your fingers lock into his hair and pull the strands when his swollen tip kisses that spot he never forgot how to find. you cum first, falling apart with a gasp—and he cums right after, like feeling you is what it takes to make him come undone.
you still do that thing you did—rubbing his back as he spills into you, soothing him as he pants harshly into your skin. the only difference is that you don’t kiss his head sweetly and call him yours. god, he misses that so, so badly.
when his body slumps over yours, it’s when it hits you, what you just did.
“oh no,” you breathe, “oh god. we….we shouldn’t have done that, should we?” you ask tiredly.
satoru’s lip is trembling—he can’t bear to have you regret him. not again.
“i love you,” he says desperately, “i…i never stopped.”
“obviously you didn’t love me enough,” you mumble, not looking at him. it’s something you’ve realized—looking satoru in his eyes makes you weak.
you can’t have that.
“i’ll love you more than enough now,” he promises.
“what if i say i don’t love you anymore, satoru?” you challenge, “it’s been years. i didn’t wait around for you.”
his breath shakes at that. you think you got him there, but apparently he’s determined. it shocks you.
“then i’ll love enough for the both of us.”
for a moment, you can’t help but think if only everyone could see him now. years later. gojo satoru begging you to let him love you hard enough that you don’t have to. being okay with half of you because that’s better than none of you.
it’s almost comical. maybe a little sad. entirely avoidable if he’d just been brave from the start.
“that’s not fair to you,” you sigh, “you’re an asshole but…but you don’t deserve that. you deserve someone who can love you—”
“then i’ll show you,” he grabs your hand, pressing it to his face as he looks at you with enough hope that it’s almost too cruel to crush it. even for someone like him. “i’ll show you how to love me again. it’ll be easier this time. i promise.”
there’s a tear that slips down his cheek—and then another and another and another. and your thumb, just like muscle memory, swipes it away.
you want to tell him—it’s always been so, so easy to love satoru. easier than anything in the world. easier than loving yourself. it came like second nature, flowed through your blood stream and pumped through your heart. you loved him so easily.
you wish he’d loved himself a little bit easier back then. maybe he’d have realized who was worth keeping and who wasn’t. maybe he’d be happier now—a selfish part of you thinks you could’ve been happier that way too.
“satoru,” you sigh, “i have more self respect these days.”
“i know,” he nods, “i’ll be good—so good. i promise. i’ll wake you up with breakfast in bed and we can have three cats and i’ll pay for the vet visits. just like you always wanted.”
you can’t help but chuckle at that. he’s always known how to be charming at the right times.
“and what about the fancy window i always wanted?”
“i’ll get you one of those too,” he swears, “find us a nice place by the school and your job and we’ll be the best cat parents ever. and i’ll be good. so good.”
“i can’t do that all again,” you shake your head, “crying over someone like you is not worth it.”
“i won’t make you cry,” he insists.
something in you screams to believe him—that voice from your youth. that one that never quite stopped falling in love. that one that can’t ever really let him go.
“you don’t deserve me,” you mumble, pulling him close. he tucks his head into your neck, kisses your skin and breathes you in like he needs you to live.
maybe he does.
“i know,” he murmurs. “but i love you. i’ll make you love me again.”
“good luck,” you snort—your hand weaves into his hair, and your lips kiss his head.
well….maybe he’s already succeeded.
#i wasn’t gonna tag this buuuuuuuut….its kinda long so#i was like eh why not#but i’m not like tagging every tag just the main few#gojo x reader#gojo x you#jjk x reader#jjk x you#bully! gojo tag
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Typing that out has had me panicking and freaking out sweating for the past few hours. I've been miming to myself and rehearsing talking to the woman about it and the only way I can describe how overwhelming and intense this feels is that it's like when I came out to my mum. What the fuck does THAT say
#i feel like throwing up#like anger mixed with shame mixed with a very strange relief mixed with a lots of hating myself and being exhausted#jesus christ its like hard to think about#to be honest i convince myself i have a new mental illness every few months this is probably just the next in a long series#ive had this realization several times over the years but i normally block it out and it makes a huge mood drop#talking to the alcohol guy and this woman and what the p.doc said where theyve been questioning my usual excuses or reasons i tell myself#has got me thinking about it again and this time my mood is clearer and ive typed it out rather than passed out and reading it back is#extremely fucking exhausting#it literally feels like coming out to my mum#what the actual f u c k#bro this is too much#jesus christ#its fine its probably just traits lol like its not the end of the world im literally fine#it literally cant be bad if i can see it#maybe its not true at all like im just completely wrong about this or im missing something or not understanding myself clearly#i need to feel like i can live the life i want one day otherwise i dont know how im gonna cope lmao#im tired of grieving for a person i never was#i cant cope with the idea that i might never get to be that person#ive been too scared to try on my own and if people cant teach me how to try or tell me I'll likely never be able to have normal relatnships#and be liked and secure and feel proud of myself and stop disappointing my parents#oh my god#anyway#just got a notif from the abstinence counting app it says#continuous effort is the key to unlocking our true potential#ig mb thats cool#whatever
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I do like the fact that in a session where there were three permadeaths, they were all so very different.
There was the useless, senseless accident that was Jimmy's death. Jimmy's death was unique because it was both preordained and fiercely denied. After three series with Jimmy the first permadeath, it's almost a game in itself to make it not happen again. People were willing to die to keep Jimmy from going out first. Bdubs, who was barely Jimmy's ally, literally begged Jimmy to kill him when Jimmy's timer ran into the single minutes. Scott jumped off a bridge to give Jimmy just a bit more time to live. Grian and Joel were on deck, ready to spoonfeed more life into Jimmy with their own deaths if they needed to, just to keep that canary chirping a little longer. But none of it mattered in the end, because Jimmy's foot slipped in a moment of excitement and he was too startled to pearl or bucket clutch or do anything to save himself. Gone in an instant for no reason and no chance to say goodbye.
There was Joel's death, a helpless, hopeless race against time and an implacable enemy. Joel made some serious tactical mistakes in his final episode. His gleeful killing alienated him from his allies, antagonizing the Clockers by killing Cleo, annoying the Nosy Neighbors by killing BigB. He griefed Scott's base with TNT twice, once tactically and once just because he wanted to blow stuff up. By the time he was down to the wire, there were lots of people who wanted him dead and barely anybody who wanted him alive. Even Grian, his Day One ally, eventually realized that trying to keep Joel alive was a losing proposition when Scott and Scar and Martyn and Cleo could siphon away Joel's time much faster than Grian could ever donate it. But even knowing that it was hopeless, even knowing that a _best case scenario_ would barely carry him into the next session, Joel fought desperately til his last second ticked away.
And then there was Skizz's death, premeditated and proud, carried out at the hands of a friend. Skizz had been dying from the very first day of the server. His Session One was absolutely atrocious, losing four hours right off the bat to back-to-back Bogey kills. No matter how well he played after that, no matter how many kills he got or plans he came up with, Skizz was never seriously in contention to win the game. And he knew that. He came up with alternate win conditions for himself. He set a goal to affirm every person on the server and he did. He set a goal to make the team he led a force to be reckoned with, and he did. And most importantly, he set a goal that somebody from TIES make it to the end of the game. By Session Seven, it was clear that Skizz wasn't going to be around to bring that goal to fruition himself. Time was not on his side, and his skill was just not there. Skizz is a clever redstoner and a good entertainer, but he's no PVPer and his bow skills are mediocre. Every time he tried to get a kill, he wound up losing more time. So when it came down to the wire, he didn't beg for his life or fight for more time, despite knowing his friends would give it to him. He called his team together and he gave them his new strategy. Someone from TIES needed to make it to the end, and it couldn't be him. But they could take his resources and his time forward with them, so long as he gave them up willingly. By sacrificing himself for his team, Skizz lost his last 20 minutes of life, but he put his team one step closer to that final goal.
There's probably only one session left, which means it's going to be choked with permadeaths that don't get focused or remarked on very much. Each one will be different though, each one will have its own flavor. In a series like Limited Life, the end is never in question, but the ending is unique to each player.
#limited life#limited life spoilers#limited life smp#trafficblr#solidaritygaming#smallishbeans#skizzleman#thinking too much about the block guys again
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