#why is it that when i start drawing with nothing particular in mind it just ends up turning into akaashi | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

satyricplotter · 1 month

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pairing: dick grayson x reader

word count: 3.2k (i think?)

warnings: rape mention (as per dick's canon)

notes: i keep thinking of applying one of my favourite manga/manhwa tropes with dick specifically, because it works so well, but i don't particularly care to put in the work of setting up that it'd take for it to land as well as it could. maybe later. as it is, i'll give you the quick rundown because i spent two days writing it lol

something ugly about you has made you undeserving of romance. you have spent your entire life puzzling out what it is and how to fix it. nothing much is special about you: the matter’s far from isolation, or becoming any particular sort of pariah. perhaps that'd be easier to explain. no. people leave you alone, your friends cherish you, your family loves you. it is not that you have not known affection, but that you have and so when you crash against the wall that horrible first time, it hurts all the more.

nothing changes after that. there is always a limit to where your interest can reach, unnamed but palpable. a line you cannot cross. it seems to you as if the entire world has reached a silent consensus during a meeting to which your attendance was not required and your input unnecessary. why would it be? this is not about you. after all, your ability to love has not become impaired. you like people. you’ve fallen in love. but who has ever loved you back?

this one facet of life has been closed off to you entirely, and you’ve been chased away from all attempts to form a romantic bond with unspoken threats of shame and implications of disgust. (a bit much of a display just for the offense of being little old you. you come to regard the matter so as you grow older and start curating some self-respect. it still stings as badly as scrubbing your skin raw under hot water, but not all the loathing is directed inward nowadays.)

regardless, you’ve learnt that you are undesirable, and nothing you can say or do will change that. you must be content with the other shapes that love can take. nothing that you want matters whatsoever.

you meet dick grayson one summer evening under exceedingly normal circumstances. you do not know about heroes or rogues, no batmans or nightwings. the person that crosses the threshold is none other than dick grayson, the handsome young man. suspicion does not cross anybody’s mind, and if it does, it comes only a good couple of thoughts after his darling smile and shapely thighs.

obviously you like him immediately. what’s not to like? he’s gorgeous.

you react to him with the tense wariness of someone hardened by years of useless crushes. trying to avoid him. trying to be normal when you invariably cannot. it’s fine. it’ll be fine.

you still crush on him.

it’s inevitable, at this point. he’s too pretty, too smart, too kind not to draw you in. every interaction comes a rush of exhilarating fear. at times, you manage to subdue yourself into normalcy, hang out with him with as much naturalness as you can muster. but then he does something particularly attractive and you’re back in square one, shoulders drawn together and so short with him he probably gets emotional whiplash. it’s as exhausting for you as it must be for him, and he still reacts to it with grace. it doesn’t help.

through your concerted efforts to be normal, or at least appear as much, you and dick become friends. not great friends, mind you, but good enough that you start hanging out on your own without any of your mutual friends present. and you only spend about three hours total pondering the meaning behind the phrasing of his texts. that’s gotta be some form of progress, right?

he sits at a little table away from the window, and beams when you arrive. coffee’s on him and conversation’s on you. you’ve got more in common than you first thought, but you go back and forth between imagining it must be fate and squashing down delusion, telling yourself you’re blowing it out of proportion.

at one point in time, a beautiful, sultry-looking woman approaches the table.

this sucks, you think, glancing away from dick’s bland mask of politeness. all of it is hopeless and it still sucks.

you and dick tense immediately, like you both know what’s coming. sure as ever, the woman smiles and asks for his number. you look away politely, sip at your drink. the proximity makes it useless to pretend you’re not eavesdropping (though it can hardly be called that when she came to your table), but you take care not to make any faces that’d give away the little storm brewing in your stomach.

you think about running off to the bathroom, get as far as shifting on your seat when dick shoots you a troubled look. the woman’s been at it for a little more than is appropriate. a minute or so more of insistence and she’ll be stretching the boundaries of her own dignity too far. you look away with pressed lips and move your hands under the table.

your alarm beeps.

“oh, shit, dude,” you gasp, hoping to land somewhere in the ballpark of realism. “It’s almost seven. we’ve got to go, or else we’re gonna miss the movie.”

dick gives the woman his apologies and swiftly runs out of the café with you hot on his heels. on the way to the movie theatre, you wanna ask the million questions running through your head—why’d he reject her? didn’t he like her? did he not think she was pretty? who is pretty for him? what’s his taste in partners? is he seeing someone?—but you know it’s a futile endeavor. what will you even get out of that? it’s clear dick didn’t enjoy the interaction either. you make small talk about something else, trying to draw his attention away from whatever conflicted feelings he’s moored in right now. just because you like him doesn’t mean you can’t be a good friend to him.

it’s a short walk. soon enough, he’s all smiles again. in the line for the popcorn stand, another two girls come up to him, this time much younger than you two. he’s nicer with them than he was before, but he rejects them all unequivocally.

“doesn’t it annoy you?” you can’t help but ask. when dick raises an elegant eyebrow, you panic and backpedal so hard you might as well have driven a truck through a storefront.

“a bit,” dick says, ignoring your rambling. you shut your mouth firmly closed when he gives you a sidelong glance, and continues, so very casually, “it’s worse when it comes from a friend rather than a stranger. so many people just try to befriend me because they’re looking for a relationship, or they want access to my body. it’s… tiring. i’m sure you can relate.”

“ah,” you say. your tongue feels numb, but you’re burning up under the weight of his gaze. “no. I don’t really get harassed like that or, um, asked out.”

“huh.” dick blinks. “really?”

“yeah,” you force out. blessedly, the attendant calls your attention. you jostle dick forward. “look, it’s our turn.”

dick orders popcorn. you get a large slushy that you’re not gonna finish. you make him pay. he complies with no question. inside the theatre, you spend all two hours and sixteen minutes of the showing in absolute silence. it is not so strange to be fixated on the movie, but you’re usually a little more chatty. under normal circumstances, you’d eagerly take the opportunity to lean closer to him, whisper something about the main character’s penchant for gummies and its relation to the degradation of the American working class. he’d glance at you and thoughtfully smile, and you’d catch a whiff of his cologne when you straightened. for the rest of the movie, the twinkle of his eye as he forwent the film for your conversation would be all you’d think about.

such is not the case now.

you can tell when you’ve been summarily dismissed. in fact, you appreciate when people are subtle about their rejections. it’s always all the more humiliating when they feel the need to bring it out into the open, like your affections have been so blatant they must be commented on, debated.

the rest of the evening is spent convincing yourself that this is good, that this means it’ll be better for yourself going forward. you’ll be less distracted, if anything. dick’s attempts to discuss the movie with you afterwards fall flat, as the only thing you really want is to get home and stare at your ceiling.

when you’ve reached your apartment door, and are turning to enter after a hurried goodbye, dick calls your name.

“look,” he says, running a hand through his hair unsurely. “I don’t usually do this.”

oh, no. dread fills you up. he’s breaking up with you and you’re not even dating.

you swallow. “dick—”

“I like you a lot,” he interrupts. your teeth clang the way you shut up so fast. in fact, you feel a little dizzy. he continues before you can even process that first sentence. “I think you and I could be really good friends, and I’d love if we could continue seeing each other to, you know, hang out and talk. I do truly appreciate your insight. is that okay?”

you blink fast some three or four times. it must be comical, the face you’re making, because the corner of dick’s lips pulls upward despite him trying to keep a serious air.

“I thought we were already friends…?” you say, at a loss for anything else to say.

“yes!” he beams. “we are.”

“okay,” you respond, perplexed. this is so far out of left field. “um. text me when you’re home?”

“yeah.” he grins. gorgeous grin, to be sure, but why? “for sure.”

“cool.” you give him an awkward thumbs up and scurry inside.

it is… baffling. you spend all of that night wide awake and pondering. dick must’ve misconstrued something, or either you missed a crucial step in your relationship. otherwise the end to that evening makes absolutely no sense. the only thing you can conjure up is that dick must reject a lot of people who, like he said, try to befriend him only to get with him or worse, only to fuck, and it’s not very likely most of those people stay in his life once it is clear he won’t budge on the matter. the fact that you didn’t immediately turn your back on him must’ve come to him as a pleasant surprise.

it’s sad. like, really fucking sad, actually.

that very sadness—and the memory of his handsome, bright grin—turns your outlook inside out. why do you like dick? clearly he’s got the looks and the personality, but do you really know him? what do you know of him? you make a list of things you’ve learned about him in the short time of knowing him. it’s not long.

you come to the conclusion, mortifyingly so, that you don’t, in fact, like dick grayson. that, if anything, the only thing you like is the idea of the boyfriend he could be, which is not the boyfriend that he is (you know nothing about that). it’s the social acumen inherent in bagging such a hottie, and the sparkling sexual attraction bound around it, that really prompt your crushing. it’s not dick as a person. frankly, you think, a little hysterically, could be anyone, really. didn’t even have to be dick. he was just there, the handsomest person in the room. an apt target for the voracious hunger of your heart. you’d mooned and mooned over him for ages and it turns out it wasn’t even about him.

god, you’re such an asshole.

in penance, you endeavor to actually get to know dick without the embarrassment of a crush between you. and it does, in fact, help. dick’s eager to get to know you too, now that you’ve both formally acknowledged you’re friends (such a weird practice, fresh out of kindergarten behavior, but, as you soon find out, dick is weird about plenty and not entirely well-adjusted as an adult). you go on outings together, attend one another’s events, text sporadically throughout the day. you learn which video games dick likes, you tell him which movies are your favorites. it’s fun and light and uncomplicated now that you’ve freed yourself from the constraints of romantic expectation.

not everything’s good. dick’s got bad habits, which grate on you. is it so difficult to put the stupid toilet seat down? can he not learn to chop vegetables in chunks smaller than an elephant’s baby teeth? can he, for the love of god, stop yelling at the tv during horror films? he’s got some serious character flaws, too. you find about those a lot more slowly, but they don’t cause too much trouble.

you fight one or two times due to dick suddenly abandoning you in the middle of an outing with no regard for your safety, and his tendency to get pissy instead of saying whatever’s upsetting him upfront when he knows, you’ve warned him that you’re stupidly thoughtless about your actions at times. all those are things you wouldn’t have come to experience if you hadn’t given the man a chance to actually be a friend. it’s kind of heartening, actually, to have come so far.

sometimes your crush rears up its head in the middle of nowhere. it’s kind of hopeless by now, but you can’t help the fact that dick’s attractive. neither can he, anyway. you just watch him sometimes, the way the sun hits his eyes, lashes sweeping over his cheeks. it makes you go tongue-tied and silly, but the moment always passes. it has to pass. you struggle against it, recall every time dick has upset you or insulted you in one way or the other. some days it’s easy as buttering toast, others you can barely think around the searing heat of your desire. those are bad days for all involved.

one evening, when you’ve grown close enough you’ve begun to think about dick grayson as maybe, possibly, only-if-he-says-so-too your closest friend, he tells you about catalina.

he does it over the phone line, during your almost-nightly calls. over the months, you’ve taken up the practice of teasing him about handsome people he clearly finds attractive in a desperate bid to divert attention and train yourself for when you have to do it for real. this is not one of such cases, and as soon as you realize this, you sober up immediately.

he says it so simply. talks about it like it’s just a hazard of life. there’s a tight hardness at the edge of his voice, but other than that, he speaks like it’s normal Tuesday for him.

not so much for you.

“is it okay if I come over?” you request over the line.

for a moment, the only thing you hear is dick breathe. “yeah,” he croaks, and you’re bolting out the room immediately.

you don’t know how to react to this other than with a shaky sort of desperation. it’s been years since it happened. there’s nothing you can do about it now. there’s something big he’s leaving out, which you notice but don’t point out. a big lump forms on your throat as he speaks. dick tells you when you arrive that the woman is behind bars for an unrelated crime and the only way you stop yourself from wishing ill on her out loud is the fact he looks so politely disjointed, you know your fury will only startle him.

and you feel it so frightfully, the fury.

you love dick, you realize. beyond the fancies and the underlying attraction, you love dick as a person, as a friend. he’s one of yours now.

the evening morphs into a casual sleepover. you don’t interrogate him, and he seems torn between wanting to say more and grateful you’re not prying. you keep yourself open to the possibility, but also try to comfort him as best you can. you make dinner. you put on a movie. you talk and joke and quietly watch. he invites you on the bed with him because his couch is a nightmare to sleep in and his guest room is “unavailable”, whatever that means. you don’t even think about it, just follow.

lying together under the sheets with the lights off, the rest of your feelings bubble up to the surface.

you ask before you clasp his hands between yours and look into his shiny eyes in the darkness. you try to tell him, how this single evening and all those that came before turned over your loyalty to him. how he can come to you for anything he ever wants or needs—your ear, your care, your protection. how much you appreciate his trust and how much you wish you could make anything, everything better for him. how much he deserves it.

“I’ll never leave you now,” you vow with fierce conviction, searching his eyes for any signs of doubt. any other time you would’ve questioned this statement with the sheer weight of infinite possibilities, but not now. tonight, truth is absolute and in your hand. “they will never take me from you. I will always be on your side, by your side. i’m serious, grayson. you’re not getting rid of me.”

a glimpse of a watery smile is the only thing you see before dick throws his arms around you and buries his face in your neck. “couldn’t dream of it,” he whispers into your hair.

you hug him back as tightly as he is, murmuring platitudes and running your fingers through his hair. he falls asleep like that, in the cradle of your arms. he feels secure enough to do so, and you feel both proud and nauseous about it considering the secret you keep.

that he’s told you this at all, that he’s trusted you with such a thing—you know how big it is. you know you can never betray him.

you consider your inherent monstrosity, that little unspeakable thing that bars your from that special kind of love. you understand, firmly, that any desire you feel will never be received eagerly and joyfully. not by him or anyone else. in silent fury, you vow to die before you be like her, to bestow upon this man your grotesque wanting with no regard for his own desire, for the integrity of his being.

that night, you press a kiss to dick grayson’s hair and let him go forever.

the next morning, dick watches as you leave. you turn back one last time to wave at him from the parking lot, a bright smile and tussled hair you didn’t bother to brush. you wear out the clothes he lent you to sleep, so harried last night in your haste to come over that you’d simply forgotten to pack pajamas. he suspects you hadn’t planned to stay the night at all, but he’d been damned if he’d let you go yesterday.

you’re pretty. he’s always thought so, but this morning, you’re prettier than ever. it’s the radiance of your heart shining through.

I will always be by your side, you’d said last night. you’d meant it completely, then. dick had been dazed, overcome. he couldn’t take the brightness of your eyes, the surety of your affection. he’d buried his head in your neck and fallen asleep breathing in the smell of your shampoo. in the morning, he’d woken up with your fingers carding through his hair and the gentle warmth of your body against his.

that was nice. he wonders what he has to do to make it happen again.

#dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #dc imagine #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #not that the night life features as anything other than a mention #anyway for those in the know.... this is the chundan 'i like you because you don't have expectations of me'/'im never gonna like ycy' scene #except set up a little differently given there's no isekai happening here #satplotdb

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saetoshi · 1 year

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corazón de melón.

tldr; the one time you have a proper conversation with itoshi sae ends up unleashing a series of events you never imagined could’ve happened.

wc. 10.2k

¿?: roommates to lovers, college!au, idiots in love, this is pure domesticity tbh, fluff, lowk word vomit, ooc-ish sae (he’s a silly lil guy sometimes this is the hill i’ll die on), slow burn ig ??, swearing, someone’s mean to you (not sae), not proofread (no surprise)

a/n: i have so many emotions in my heart for sae, SOMEONE SEDATE ME PLEASE FREE ME FROM HIM I CANT LIVE NORMALLY ANYMORE, turned rue into a sae liker for this so real of me, @rintosei, enjoy ur meal my children this is probably the longest thing i’ll write in a hot minute

when others think of itoshi sae, many words come to mind: genius, talented, jerk, asshole, rude, mean, scary, lashes, pretty—the list goes on.

you have no particular thoughts about sae. all he is to you is your roommate. you’d like to have an opinion of him, but that seems impossible with the way you can count the number of times you’ve spoken to him with one hand.

though, if you had to be honest, the only common thread in the few interactions you’ve had is that he very clearly does not care for your company—or anyone’s company, for that matter.

not that you blame him. if you had to deal with having to go to practice after a day of classes, you wouldn’t want to interact with anyone else, either. (you’d also not have the energy to do anything.)

it’s why you’re used to hearing him get back to the apartment while you’re eating dinner; why you started leaving some leftovers for him to eat whenever he wants to.

it’s also why you’re surprised when he comes back from practice earlier than usual. you jump when you hear the front door open, placing your hand over your heart.

your turn to the door, eyes widening slightly when you see sae walk in. you don’t greet him—you never do—you don’t think he’d appreciate it. (he never greets you either, so you assumed it was fine.)

so, you turn your attention back to the tv, reaching out to grab the broom. you quickly start sweeping, humming a tune while the noise of whatever drama is playing in the background fills the apartment.

you barely register that sae’s door doesn’t open, but the thought quickly leaves your mind when something dramatic happens to one of the leads.

you take a step back, an unceremonious yelp leaving your lips when your back bumps into something. a second passes by before you slowly tilt your head back.

your eyes are met with a pair of teal ones. a sheepish smile tugs at your lips, “hi?”

he raises a brow, “what are you doing?”

“cleaning.” you move the broom from side to side in hopes to draw his attention to it. (he barely glances at it before his eyes snap back to yours.)

you take a step forward, moving to face him. he just stares at you. an awkward silence settles between the two of you.

“you’re back early.” you hope he didn’t hear your voice crack.

he blinks, clearly uninterested. “practice ended early.”

you hum, nervously bouncing on the balls of your feet. you huff, tapping your fingers against the broom. “i see.”

it’s clear both of you feel uncomfortable. still, neither of you makes a move to leave. you’re more surprised sae’s still standing in front of you. (sae’s mildly intrigued you’re attempting to talk to him.)

you open your mouth to speak, but promptly shut it close. you repeat the action two more times before sae interrupts you, “what?”

your eyes drift away from his. you gnaw on your bottom lip. “it’s nothing.”

he glares at you. “just spit it out.”

your eyes widen, snapping back to look at him as you dismissively wave your hand. “it’s really nothing, you can just leave!”

“you clearly have something you want to say to me,” he deadpans, “so i suggest you get it over with so we can put an end to this lukewarm conversation.”

you take a deep breath, wiping one hand against your shirt, gently swaying the broom with the other. “i was just wondering, y’know since you’re back early–”

“hurry up.”

“do you wanna eat together?” you look at the ground, feet shuffling uncomfortably. the silence feels unbearable.

“that’s it?” the confusion in his voice confuses you. you lift your eyes to stare at him, confusion etched in your face.

your head tilts to the side in confusion, “what do you mean ‘that’s it’?”

“you wanna eat with me?” he points at himself. his brows knit when you nod. sae owlishly blinks,

“okay.”

his eyes widen in confusion when he sees an elated smile bloom on your lips.

“i won’t start cooking yet, since i at least have to finish sweeping,” you hum, “but if you’re hungry you could get started on something and i’ll join you when i’m done.”

“i can’t cook.” sae awkwardly coughs. he shoves his hands into his pockets, looking away from you, a soft flush spreading through his cheeks.

“oh,” you blink, smiling at him. “that’s fine! i can cook something while you clean instead.”

the blush on his cheeks deepens as his brows furrow. “i don’t know how to clean.”

your smile tightens, eyes squinting as you inch closer to him.

there’s a beat of silence. “what can you do then?”

“play football.” you wait a few seconds for him to say something else.

“that’s it?”

“yeah.” he says it as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. (as if it was the only thing that mattered.)

you rub your forehead, a dry laugh escaping your lips.

if you were to tell others of this discovery you’re sure they wouldn’t believe you. you’re not even sure you believe him, yourself.

at least you didn’t, until he took the broom from your grasp. you have to bite back your laughter when he can’t even hold it properly. you wonder how he’d manage to survive alone.

itoshi sae is basically useless outside of football, you conclude. (and you’re not sure if this is the opinion you want to have about your roommate.)

it’s been a week since you learned about sae’s lack of ability to do seemingly anything other than kick a ball around.

it’s also been a week since he started coming back from practice earlier. you have mixed feelings about it. on one hand, you find it strangely comforting knowing you’re not alone in the apartment. on the other, sae just stares at you while you clean.

you’re sick of feeling his eyes follow you around. it feels like a predator watching its prey. having his eyes trail you makes you feel judged, and you’ve had enough.

so, you tighten your grip around the mop in your hands, turning around to look at sae. you take a deep breath, “why are you staring at me?”

he blinks, propping an arm on a couch cushion and leaning his head into his palm. “i’m trying to learn.”

confusion paints itself all over your face, “learn what?”

“learn to clean.” you hate when he says things like they’re the most obvious thing ever. it makes you feel as if he expects you to know what goes on in his head.

“by staring at me?” you raise a brow.

he simply shrugs, “i’m a visual learner.”

you don’t know if you believe him.

so, you place one of your hands on your hips, tilting the mop back and forth with the other one. “in that case, you should try cleaning today.”

his eyes widen, mouth curling into a fine line. “i don’t think i’m ready for that.”

you take a step closer to him, holding the mop out to him. “well, i think that after a week of watching me you should start practicing what you’ve learned.”

“don’t ever think again.” he frowns.

“oh, please,” you roll your eyes, “don’t tell me the itoshi sae is afraid of a little mopping.”

that makes him get up. you bite back the satisfied smile threatening to creep up your face when he snatches the mop from your hands.

“i’m just supposed to move this side to side, right?” he stiffly holds the mop, looking at you with a raised brow.

“‘m not gonna help you out,” you make your way to the couch, mimicking his earlier position. “if you’ve been learning from staring at me for a week then you should know what to do.”

“i know what to do.” he rolls his eyes, “i just don’t know how to do it.”

“figure it out, then.” you lean forward against the palm of your hand, trying to hide your smile behind your fingers.

he glares at you and scoffs, redirecting his attention to the object in his hands. you fail to stifle your laughter when he moves the mop in a sweeping motion.

“don’t laugh!” his grip tightens around the mop, heat rushing to his ears.

you bite your tongue, the ghost of a smile still lingering on your lips, “i’m not.”

he tsks, slightly pouting. he walks towards you, dragging the mop behind him. you look up at him, you eyes flutter closed when he flicks your forehead.

“teach me.” your eyes snap open, flickering to meet his. a confused noise leaves your lips as your brows furrow.

“teach you what?” your eyes flutter when he flicks your forehead again.

sae’s eye twitches in annoyance, “are you stupid or something?”

you glare at him, “not everyone thinks the same things you do!”

he clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes. he points at the mop and then at himself. “teach me to clean.”

“i thought you said you were a visual learner.” you deadpan.

“consider this your punishment for laughing at me.” he huffs, a condescending smile blooming on his lips when he sees your pained expression.

his face leans closer to yours, “i look forward to learning from you, teach.”

you dumbly stare at him as he places the mop in your hands. he flashes you a shit-eating grin before retreating to his room. you blink twice before coming to your senses, punching the couch cushions in anger.

you wish you hadn’t found out itoshi sae was a little shit. you much preferred when you only thought of him as your useless roommate.

itoshi sae is the most infuriating student you’ve ever met.

you thought someone described as a genius would be a much better student than he actually is. he doesn’t pay attention to anything you say at all. you wonder if his teachers just let him pass the class because they don’t want him around anymore.

you have a newfound respect for his actual teachers. you don’t know how they manage to stand him for a whole semester when you don’t think you can even last two weeks. (it’s still longer than you expected.)

“sae,” you loudly sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, “you’re doing it wrong. again.”

his grip around the broom tightens, his knuckles turning white, “i’m doing what you told me to do!”

“you’re not!” you groan, running a hand down your face, “gosh, how do you manage to do everything i tell you the wrong way?”

“what, so i’m the problem?” his eyes narrow, he takes a step closer to you, “have you ever thought that maybe you’re a bad teacher?”

an angry gasp leaves your lips, “excuse me?!”

“you heard me.” he grits his teeth, “you’re clearly the most lukewarm teacher ever. how do you expect me to learn when you don’t care about teaching me properly?”

“have you ever considered that maybe i don’t want to teach you because you forced me to?” you rub your temples in a poor attempt to prevent the coming headache.

he scoffs, brows knitting in annoyance, “you could at least put more effort into making sure i’m learning.”

“you think i’m not?” you point him square in the chest, glaring at him. “i’m doing my best here, okay? it’s not my fault you’re a shit student.”

“you–”

“you listen while your teacher is speaking.” you seethe, grabbing a fistful of his shirt, “i’m trying to do the best i can. i’m not qualified to teach you anything, especially not with how you don’t even pay attention to what i say!”

he frowns, “well, i–”

you shake him as hard as you can, angry tears pooling in your eyes, “you’re the most ungrateful, useless piece of fucking shit i’ve ever met in my life!”

sae grabs your wrists, letting the broom fall with a clang to the floor. he stares at you with wide eyes. you blink, heat creeping up your face in embarrassment.

there’s a beat of silence. sae’s eyes scan your face. “you good?”

he lets out a soft sigh of relief when you nod. “are you going to punch me if i let go?”

he relaxes a little when you shake your head. he looks at you as he slowly lets go of your hands. you stare at him, wide eyed as he gently walks you over to the couch and sits you down.

sae plops down on the other end of the couch, glancing at you. he opens his mouth to speak, but promptly closes it. you stop yourself from laughing at his awkwardness. (it reminds you of how you must’ve acted when you talked to him a couple of weeks ago.)

you twist the hem of your shirt in your hands, looking away from sae, gnawing on your bottom lip. “’m sorry about that.”

“don’t apologize.” he coughs awkwardly, crossing his arms, “i probably stressed you out too much.”

“yeah, but, still,” you turn to face him, “i shouldn’t have said something so rude.”

“it’s fine. i really did deserve that, after all.” an amused laugh escapes his lips, “i’ve never heard you so mad before, though.”

you tilt your head to the side, “what do you mean?”

“i mean,” a hint of amused smile tugs at the corners of his lips, “you tend to get really loud when you complain about your classes. i can hear you all the way to my room.”

your face heats up in embarrassment. you slump against the couch, hiding your face behind your hands. “sorry.”

“stop apologizing,” you slightly relax when you hear a sliver of empathy in his voice. “it’s better to let your emotions out instead of holding them in.”

you lower your hands from your face, staring at him. “do you do that?”

“it depends,” he hums, “feelings are lukewarm most of the time, so when i get angry or whatever i’ll let it out so i can get it over with.”

you narrow your eyes at him, scanning his face. “how does that even work?”

he shrugs nonchalantly, “if i get mad at someone i’ll say it to their face while i’m still mad so i can stop being angry.”

you mull over his words, “so instead of having pent up feelings and reaching your limit, you just act on your emotions as soon as possible so you go back to feeling nothing?”

“pretty much.”

a small hum leaves your lips. silence settles between the two of you before a loud growl echoes through the apartment. laughter bubbles in your chest, spilling out of your mouth when sae’s face flushes.

“shut up!” he hides behind his hands, “i haven’t eaten all day!”

you stand up, walking over and extending a hand out to sae, “wanna help out with dinner?”

he lowers his hands from his face, glancing between your eyes and your hand. he blinks, “i can’t cook.”

“i know,” a smile blooms on your lips, “you can consider it your first lesson.”

sae’s eyes light up, the corners of his lips tilting up ever so slightly. “you’re still gonna teach me?”

“i can’t let you stay useless forever.” you stick your tongue out at him, smiling when he grabs your hand.

a huff of laughter escapes his lips when you fail to tug him up. you flip him off before leaving him behind on the couch. a smile lingers on his face when he follows you to the kitchen.

he’s not a good assistant. (and he’s an even worse cook). in fact, if you’d known that letting him into the kitchen would’ve resulted in having to evacuate the building due to the fire alarm, you wouldn’t have asked for his help at all.

however, you do appreciate that he invited you out for dinner later as an apology for stressing you out.

(it makes you think he’s more considerate than he pretends to be.)

you’ve lost track of the times you’ve had to apologize to your neighbors over sae activating the fire alarm.

it’s embarrassing enough that seemingly everyone in the complex goes to your college, but sae seems to make it worse by glaring at anyone who so much as looks in your direction with a judgemental stare.

“i can’t keep going on like this,” you cover your face with your hands. you shrink into yourself when you feel multiple eyes staring at the back of your head.

“stop overreacting.” sae clicks his tongue. still, he discreetly grabs the hem of your shirt and gently pulls you closer to his side.

you lower your hands from your face, frowning at him as tears of shame pool in your eyes. “everyone’s judging us!”

“just ignore them.” he awkwardly pats your head, “they’ll forget about it soon enough.”

“sae, this happens almost every week!” you cry, gnawing your lower lip, “some guy yelled at me last time because we interrupted his studying! do you have any idea how long i had to apologize for?”

his jaw clenches as anger flashes through his face for a split second before his uninterested expression returns. “what’d he look like?”

“i don’t know,” you blink, “he was tall. he also had brown-ish hair, i think?”

he shoves his hands in his pockets, tilting his head in the direction of the building, “do you know his apartment number?”

“no,” you sigh. “why?”

the corners of his lips quirk up into a mischievous smile. “i was thinking of baking him some apology cookies.”

you cover your mouth in a feeble attempt to stifle your laughter. (if everyone was staring at you in judgment for triggering the fire alarm, now they’re judging you for laughing in this situation.)

sae tugs you into the building when you’re all cleared to enter, glaring at a few neighbors who shoot dirty looks at both of you.

you smack his arm, “stop doing that, you’re embarrassing us!”

he scoffs, flipping off anyone who’s still staring, “does it look like i care? they’re all too scared to say anything to my face, anyway.”

“yeah, but they always say shit to me when you’re gone,” you click your tongue, frowning. sae drags you up the stairs to your apartment.

both of you stand in front of your door when sae puts his hands on your shoulders, staring at you in the eyes. his eyes are a pretty shade of teal, you note.

“if anyone gives you shit when you’re alone, just remember what they look like, ‘kay?” he flicks your forehead, a malicious gleam in his eyes, “i’ll make sure to personally apologize for the trouble.”

a smile blooms on your lips, “you’re so mean.”

“shut up,” he rolls his eyes, pinching your cheek, “as your roommate, i’m the only one allowed to give you a hard time.”

“whatever you say, freak,” you rub your cheek, smile widening, swatting his hand away when he reaches out to pinch your other cheek.

sae bites back a smile as he nods his head toward the door. “did you bring your key?”

you reach into your pockets, feeling around for the key. your head tilts down, eyes widening in panic when you don’t find anything.

an embarrassed chuckle slips past your lips when you lift your head back up to look at sae. he pinches the bridge of his nose.

“gosh, you’re so useless.”

you kick his shin, sticking your tongue out at him, “you don’t get to say that to me.”

he sticks his tongue out at you in return, crossing his arms. “whatever. just go and ask the landlord for a key.”

“me?” you raise your brows at him, haughtily tilting your head to the side, “you’re the reason we had to evacuate the building in the first place! i think it’s only fair that you get the key.”

sae opens his mouth to tell you off, but seemingly decides to sigh loudly in annoyed defeat instead, “fine.”

you smile triumphantly, turning to face him, your eyes closing as your chest puffs out in pride. sae rests his index finger on your forehead. your eyes flutter open in confusion at the contact, smile dropping into a curious pout.

“tell me if anyone bothers you while i’m gone.” he flicks your forehead one last time before turning around and walking away. a content smile blooms on your lips as you stare at his back, sliding down to sit next to the door.

you don’t tell him the tall guy from last time dropped by to yell at you again. sae didn’t even have to ask to tell something was wrong with the way your smile seemed dimmer when you told him you’d take over making lunch.

he doesn’t tell you he’s going to give that asshole the ‘apology’ cookies he’d mentioned before. (and he definitely doesn’t mention that he got his apartment number from the landlord when he got the key to your apartment.) but you had an inkling of what he was going to do when you saw him take out some bowls and a whisk from the cabinets. (you didn’t stop him.)

you bake him some actual ‘thank you’ cookies and place them by his door before heading to your room for the night. the next morning you find a post-it with an ‘anytime’ messily scribbled on it and a ‘thanks for the cookies :)’ on the other side.

you smile fondly at the teal-colored square. you think it resembles the color of his eyes. (it makes you feel warm and fuzzy.)

sae’s gotten slightly better at cooking. he’s able to make at least one meal without triggering the fire alarms.

you feel proud. you suppose that’s what teachers feel when their most lazy, unmotivated student finally manages to put effort into something.

it makes you feel proud enough that you take a detour to the convenience store on your way home. a fond smile lights up your face when you walk out of the store, plastic bag in hand with a chocolate bar and a pack of star stickers.

there’s a skip to your step as you head home, swinging the bag back and forth.

you’ve barely even opened the door to your apartment when it swings open. your eyes widen in surprise when they meet sae’s.

his eyes narrow, “what took you so long?”

a slightly burnt scent wafts the apartment. your nose scrunches, “is something burning?”

“answer my question first,” he points the spatula in his hand at you.

“i got you a reward,” you smile, lifting the bag in your hands.

his eyes light up, “what’d you get me?”

you quickly hide the bag behind your back when he reaches out for it. “answer my question first.”

a small smile tugs at his lips. he rolls his eyes, “nothing is burning. i turned off the stove before opening the door just to be sure.”

you reach out to pat his head, a teasing smile on your lips, “good job, sae!”

he scoffs, a soft blush dusts his ears. “you make it sound like you’re praising a dog.”

you huff, “stop complaining when you’re getting praised.”

“whatever.” sae pouts, brows knitting, “when are you giving me my gift?”

“so impatient ,” you tsk, shaking your head, “let me in first, i don’t wanna stand in the hallway any longer.”

he grabs your arm and pulls you close to him, kicking the door closed. you bump into his chest, eyes widening as heat rushes to your ears.

the first thing that pops into your mind is that he smells nice. there’s a hint of a burnt scent that clings to him, but he still smells nice. (you note that he feels warm too. it makes you feel warm.)

you feel a slight pressure against your brows. it makes you blink as you slowly snap out of your stupor.

“you good?” your eyes meet sae’s worried ones. he leans in closer to you, scanning your face. you awkwardly nod.

his brows furrow. “are you sure? you zoned out for a bit. are your classes stressing you out too much?”

you shake your head, slightly leaning away from him. your lips press into a fine line. sae’s eyes narrow as he scans your face. he steps back, his hands resting on your shoulders. the spatula lightly digs into your skin.

“is it that guy again?” he tightens his grip, making you wince when the spatula presses harder against your skin, “is he still bothering you?”

“i think you scared him away,” you quickly swat his arms away. “i’m fine, though.”

“are you sure?” he sighs when you nod, “why’d you zone out then?”

“i got distracted,” you gnaw on your bottom lip.

his expression morphs to confusion, “with what?”

your eyes widen slightly. you don’t want to tell him he’s the reason you zoned out. so, you settle for the only thing that comes to mind, “the smell of something burning. are you sure you turned off the stove?”

“yes.” he groans in annoyance. there’s a small pause. sae turns around, tugging you into the kitchen with him.

“look!” he points at the stove, “it’s off. stop making me second-guess myself.”

an amused smile blooms on your face, “i can’t believe you had to come check if you actually turned it off.”

“i can’t believe you actually haven’t given me my gift yet,” he scoffs, pouting.

you laugh, reaching out to flick his forehead. “patience is a virtue, sae. it’d do you well to have it.”

“whatever.” he tries to grab the bag from your hands. “just give it to me already.”

you smile, pulling out the chocolate bar from the bag. laughter bubbles in your chest when you see his stunned expression.

“chocolate?” he glares at the bar in your hand, “do you know how unhealthy that is for me?”

“if you don’t want it i’ll just keep it, then.” you nonchalantly shrug.

he snatches it out of your grasp. “i never said i didn’t want it.”

his eyes twinkle when he unwraps it. he glances up at you, “do you want a bite?”

“just a small one,” you reach out to grab the bar.

sae moves the chocolate out of your reach, “open your mouth.”

you blink, tilting your head in confusion. he sighs, “i’ll feed it to you. i need to make sure you don’t bite off half of the bar.”

“do you trust me so little?” you scoff, crossing your arms. still, you open your mouth, heat rushing to your ears when sae tells you to take a bite.

“is it good?” he stares at you, taking a bite of the chocolate when you nod.

you both swallow at the same time, a smile lighting up your face. “i think you deserve another reward for sharing.”

his brows raise in intrigue, “another? gosh, you’re really spoiling me today, aren’t you?”

you take the pack of stickers out of the back, waving it in front of him. he gives you an unamused look.

“i bought these for whenever you do something nice,” you place a sticker on his cheek.

“that’s stupid,” he frowns.

“shut up, you look cute.” you pinch his other cheek.

he clicks his tongue, “whatever. now get out of my kitchen i need to continue making dinner.”

laughter spills out of your mouth when he pushes you into the living room. “do you want me to help?”

“no.” he huffs, “i can do it myself. now go relax or something, i’ll come get you when dinner’s ready.”

“are you sure you’ll be fine on your own?” you snicker, “i’d hate to have to evacuate the building.”

he lightly smacks your shoulder, “i can cook by myself!”

“sae–”

“just let me cook something for you this once,” he mutters.

a soft, defeated sigh leaves your lips, “okay.”

“i’ll let you cook alone,” you smile, “just this once, though. i can’t leave you unsupervised for too long.”

he hums, patting your head before heading back to the kitchen. a small smile lingers on your lips as you make your way to the couch, turning on the tv.

it doesn’t take long for sae to walk over, two plates in his hands, and a self-satisfied smile on his lips.

you’d be lying if you said the meal was good. it was slightly charred, and a little too salty. you’re sure you would’ve managed to turn it into something decent if he’d let you help.

still, as bad as the food was, you can’t help but eat it with a smile on your face, a warm, fuzzy feeling tugging at your heart.

sae groans in annoyance when you place another sticker on his forehead. (your heart leaps when you notice the soft flush to his cheeks.)

he lets you help him wash the dishes, complaining when you flick soapy water in his direction. laughter fills the apartment when he flicks water back at you. time seemingly slowing down to let you savor the moment just a little longer before you head back to your room.

you drift off to sleep with a smile on your face. your heart drums against your chest when you recall the smile on sae’s face.

(you wish he’d smile at you more often.)

you’ve discovered sae is much better at cleaning than he is at cooking. you’ve also discovered that he’s more thoughtful than he lets on.

he tends to clean the apartment while you’re in class. he claims it’s because he absolutely must practice cleaning in order to get better. (you don’t believe him.) he swears he ensures the apartment’s clean by the time you get home because he can’t stand your nagging. (you still don’t believe him.)

it’s why you’ve had to go out and buy more stickers to reward him with. it’s also why you’re a little surprised to see him still mopping the apartment when you get back.

you take your shoes off, quickly putting on your slippers. “you’re still cleaning?”

“i’m almost done,” he hums, “practice ended a little later today.”

you make your way to the couch, careful not to slip on the floor, “why? is there a match soon?”

“there’s one tomorrow,” he turns to look at you, frowning when he sees you pull out a pack of stickers with a teasing smile on your face. (he still makes his way over to you when you tell him to come closer despite knowing your intention.) he watches you place the sticker on his shirt, a concentrated look in your eyes.

he sticks his tongue out at you when you look up at him with a satisfied grin. sae rests his hand on top of your head. “wanna come watch?”

you tilt your head to the side, “i’m not a big football fan.”

he playfully shakes your head, brows knitting, “have you ever even been to a football match?”

“no,” you pry his hand off your head, “but i don’t really see the point of going when i know i’ll get bored.”

he rolls his eyes, “you won’t.”

“how do you know?” you lean closer to him, raising a brow, a playful grin on your lips.

he leans closer to you, nose playfully scrunching, “because i’m going to be playing.”

your face scrunches up in mock disgust, “you’re making me not want to go even more.”

he teasingly clutches his heart in faux pain, a smile on his lips as he tries to hold back his laughter, “you’re so mean. you’re hurting me right now.”

“are you trying to make me feel bad?” you bite back a smile, fondly rolling your eyes. “because it’s totally working.”

“your sarcasm wounds me,” he frowns, shaking his head. “i can’t believe my roommate won’t support me at my match.”

you punch his arm, “keep this up and you won’t be eating any dinner.”

“fuck,” a hearty laugh escapes his lips, “when’d you get so mean?”

“i learned from the best,” you stick your tongue out at him. a soft laugh leaves your lips when sae scoffs, looking away.

“are you really not going to go see the match?” he turns to you, pouting. you hate when he uses that little pout to guilt you. (you hate that you fall for it even more.)

you sigh, slumping against the couch, “i’ll think about it.”

“just give me an actual answer, damn.” he taps your forehead, “are you going, yes or no?”

a teasing smile creeps up your lips, “maybe.”

you laugh when he calls out your name in annoyance. he groans, glaring at you, “i hate you.”

“no you don’t,” you smile at him, “if you did you wouldn’t have asked me to go see you play tomorrow.”

his face flushes in embarrassment. “you’re not even going anyway!”

you rest your head on your hand, “i am, though.”

he stares at you, unimpressed. there’s a beat of silence before he huffs, the corners of his lips quirking up, “i really can’t stand you sometimes.”

“it’s not my fault you’re fun to tease!” you laugh. he flips you off before turning around to continue mopping. you sigh, stretching your arms up. a couple of seconds go by before you get up to make your way to the kitchen.

“where are you going?”

“the kitchen,” you hum, turning around to look at sae. your ears burn when your eyes meet his. you wish you knew what goes on in his head when he stares at you so intensely. you wish you knew if he even knows he’s staring at you so intently. a small, awkward cough leaves your lips, “i wanted to get started on dinner.”

“you’re not even going to wait for me?” you fiddle with the hem of your shirt at his teasing tone.

sometimes you wonder if he knows how domestic your dynamic has become. if he’s aware that people have started associating him with you, and vice versa. if he’s aware of the effect his words have on you. (you really wish you could take a peek inside his mind.)

“you’d just get in my way,” you tsk, “besides i wanna finish quickly, my head hurts a little.”

he quickly walks over to you, dragging the mop behind him, “have you taken any medicine?”

“i’m fine,” you wave off the hand he placed on your forehead, “it’s probably because i’m hungry.”

“are you sure?” your heart pounds against your chest at his concern.

you give him a reassuring smile, “i’m sure. if it still hurts before i go to bed i’ll take some medicine.”

“fine.” he huffs, lips pursing, “but if you still feel bad tomorrow, promise you’ll let me know.”

you feel your heart squeeze. you gnaw on your bottom lip, twisting the hem of your shirt with your hands.

“i promise.” your voice is barely above a whisper, it’s just loud enough for him to hear.

he smiles, patting your head, “don’t push yourself too hard, ok?”

sae turns around. you stare at his back, his name tumbling out of your lips before you can stop yourself. he turns around with a curious hum.

you feel like your heart rests on your throat. he patiently waits for you to continue. heat rushes to your ears and you wipe your hands against your shirt. “i also promise i’ll go see your match.”

the smile that lights up his face makes you wish it was tomorrow already. you want to go. (because you like seeing him smile.) you want to go see his match. (because it’ll make him happy.)

you want to see him do his favorite thing in the world. you want to share that happiness with him, despite not caring much for the sport. (because you think it’ll make him happy to see you there, even if he doesn’t say it. you want to be the reason he feels genuine happiness.)

you’re not there.

it’s the first thing sae notices when he looks at the stands. it’s what he keeps noticing whenever he turns to look at the stands throughout the match. when they reach halftime and you’re still not there, so he texts you. the second half starts and you’re still not there.

the game ends and you never showed up. his brows knit when he checks his phone only to find out you never even read his messages. concern carves itself into him.

he makes his way back to the apartment as quickly as he can, secretly hoping that nothing bad happened to you.

his heart beats faster, anxiety seeping into him when he opens the door and he doesn’t see your figure on the couch.

sae hastily kicks his shoes off, dropping his duffel bag somewhere on the floor. he lets out a deep breath when he stands in front of your door, quickly knocking.

a couple of seconds go by before he knocks again, frowning when there’s no reply. he quietly opens the door, mentally apologizing. his eyes quickly scan the room for you. there’s a lump in his throat when he sees something stir under your bed sheets.

he quietly walks over to your bed, slowly lowering your comforter. his chest tightens, brows knitting with worry when he sees your face twisted in pain, a slight sheen of sweat on your forehead. he grabs a tissue from your nightstand, gingerly wiping the sweat away.

he sharply inhales when you stir under his touch. sae stares at you as you slowly open your eyes. his eyes fill with concern when he notices how heavy, and unfocused yours look.

he presses the back of his hand against your forehead, brows furrowing even more, “gosh, you’re burning up.”

“sae?” he can barely hear your voice. “why’re you here?”

he clicks his tongue, wiping more sweat off your forehead.

“what about the match?” you blearily look at him, voice laced with soft concern. you try to keep your eyes open when he heads out, grogginess catching up to you when he returns with a bowl in his hands, a hand towel over his shoulder.

he dampens the towel, wringing out the excess onto the bowl. sae gently presses it against your forehead, “have you had a fever all day long?”

“did i miss it?” his heart aches at how choked up your voice sounds.

“i thought i told you to tell me if you weren’t feeling alright, dumbass,” he nags, carefully lifting your head up to prop another pillow under it.

“‘m sorry.” your eyes fill with tears, a pout tugging at your lips. he gently adjusts the towel against your skin.

“don’t apologize,” he softly tsks, “worry about getting better, not about missing the game, idiot.”

he panics when a tear rolls down your cheek, hastily brushing it away. his heart squeezes in pain when more tears freely roll down your cheeks.

“i didn’t,” you sniffle, “didn’t wanna miss the game.”

he shushes you, grabbing another tissue to wipe your tears away. “it’s fine.”

“‘s not,” your breath quickens, brows knitting in sadness, “i promised.”

he firmly calls out your name, “it’s not your fault.”

“i promised,” you hiccup. sae frowns, reaching out to remove the towel from your forehead, pouting when he notices you’re still burning up. he quickly dampens it again before resting it against your skin once more.

“i’ll go get you some medicine,” he whispers, turning around to exit your room.

sae stops in his tracks when he feels something weakly tug at his fingers. he turns to look at you, sucking in a shaky breath when he sees you holding on to him.

“don’t leave.” you weakly try to pull him closer.

there’s a slight flicker of hope in him that tells him you’re aware of what you’re doing despite your raging fever. but he quickly extinguishes it by reminding himself that you probably think you’re dreaming. (because there’s no way you’d tell him to stay with you otherwise, he’s sure of it.)

“i have to get you some medicine,” he mutters. still, he makes no attempt to free his hand from yours.

“stay.” he wants to. he wants to stay with you more than anything. but he needs to get you something to relieve your fever.

he sits on your bed, readjusting your grip on his hand, “i need to go get your medicine.”

he gingerly readjusts the towel on your forehead, slightly smiling at you. his heart pangs with worry when he notices how clammy your hands are.

sae’s eyes widen when you lift yourself up, wrapping your arms around his neck. the towel on your forehead drops into his lap. he feels you rest your head on his shoulders, frowning at the heat emanating from you. (still, he wraps his arms around you so you don’t fall.)

his worried eyes meet your hazy ones when you slowly lift your head to look at him, a sleepy smile on your lips.

“so stubborn,” your hands cup his cheeks.

sae freezes when he feels your lips press against his. his heart beats faster, blush spreading through his face like wildfire.

a sharp inhale leaves his lips when he feels your hands drop from his cheeks, your body tilting back. he cups the back of your head before it hits the pillow.

his eyes scan your face. he lowers his head when he feels your feeble grip on his jacket. his eyes flicker to yours when you weakly tug him closer in an attempt to press his lips against yours again.

he slowly lifts your head up, a soft huff of laughter slipping past his lips when a glimmer of anticipation flashes through your eyes. he presses his lips against yours in a short peck, a startled noise leaving his mouth when you pull him back in.

his face heats up more and more every time you chase after his lips when he pulls away for air. he pants when you pull away, trying to catch your breath. he rests his forehead against yours, his breath fanning against your lips.

you softly call out his name. butterflies erupt in his stomach. he really hopes you know you’re not dreaming.

his arm tightens against you, the hand resting on the back of your head gently tilting it to the side. he doesn’t think twice before pressing his lips against yours again, a content sigh escaping him when you melt under his touch.

he presses his lips against yours over and over again, gently lowering you back onto the bed. your kisses feel like they’re the very air he breathes. like he’ll suffocate if he’s apart from you for more than a second.

sae kisses you silly until he feels your grip against his jacket soften. he pulls away, panting, face ablaze, eyes looking at your sleeping face with a softness that is so unlike him.

he carefully removes your hands from him, lifting your comforter to tuck you into bed. a smile lingers on his lips as he places the towel on your forehead again.

he quietly makes his way out of your room, pressing the pads of his fingers against his lips. his heart feels like it wants to jump out of his chest. a deep sigh leaves his lips. he makes his way to the front door, quickly putting on his shoes to go buy your medicine.

sae really hopes you get better soon. (he wants to kiss you again, and he wants to be sure you’ll remember it properly.)

if you thought sae was a bad student, he’s an even worse patient. he is the most uncooperative sick person you’ve ever met in your life.

you suppose it’s only fair to put up with him since he took care of you while you were sick. (even if it makes you want to knock him unconscious.)

still, it never fails to make your blood boil when you find him wobbling around the living room with a broom in his hands.

“would it kill you to stay in bed?” you stomp over to him, prying the broom off his hands before propping it against the wall.

he blearily looks at you, pouting. he sniffles, “yes.”

you frown, grabbing his hand and dragging him to his room. he glares at you when you force him to lay down on his bed.

“stay here while i get your medicine,” you point at him, glaring back. “or i’ll suffocate you with a pillow until you fall asleep.”

“you can’t be rude to me while i’m sick!” he angrily crosses his arms, scoffing.

it’s still surprising that he’s still in bed when you get back. it’s even more surprising that he’s staring at the door, his face lighting up when you enter.

his nose scrunches up in disgust when he sees the cough syrup in your hands. he burrows himself in his comforter, turning his head away from you.

“sae.” you gently call out, sitting next to him. a small smile blooms on your lips when he slowly turns to look at you. “you know you have to take your medicine to get better, right?”

“if i take my medicine,” he sneezes, “will you give me a reward?”

“yeah, sure, i’ll give you a sticker.” you absentmindedly hum, uncapping the syrup.

“no,” he shakes his head, “i want another reward.”

your brows raise in confusion, your turn your attention to him. “what kind of reward?”

he smiles, lifting a hand to tap his lips and then tapping yours. your face heats up, jaw dropping. you gently swat his hand away, pouting. “you shouldn’t tease like that.”

“‘m not,” he sticks his tongue out at you, “i want another kiss.”

“another?” you blink in surprise. your eyes widen slightly when a cheeky smile creeps up his lips.

“you kissed me when you were sick,” he snickers, nose scrunching up when you force the syrup into his mouth.

“no i didn’t,” you frown. he forces himself to swallow the cough syrup, a choked gasp leaving his lips.

“you don’t remember?” he whines, sniffling when you shake your head.

you feel a pang in your heart when sae looks at you, eyes swimming with sadness. “‘m sorry, sae.”

“‘s fine,” he playfully smiles, “i’ll just have to make up for it later.”

heat spreads through your face. a pout tugs at your lips, “don’t say stuff like that. i might take you seriously.”

“i’m being serious,” he sniffles, “wanna kiss you again.”

you shyly stare at him, shrinking into yourself. you suppose being sick must’ve made him bolder. or maybe he just wants to get back at you. but you have to admit it gives you the perfect excuse to make him stop being so difficult.

“i’ll kiss you if you stop complaining about taking your medicine,” you quietly huff, fingers playing with your shirt.

your ears feel like they’re on fire when his face lights up. “but only when you get better! i don’t wanna get sick again.”

he nods, a satisfied grin blooming on his lips. “sounds good to me.”

there’s a beat of silence before you stand up. sae’s eyes widen, “where are you going?”

“i’m gonna go make you some soup,” you hum, “you should sleep while i’m gone.”

sae pouts, “‘m not tired.”

“that’s too bad, then,” you stick your tongue out at him. he clicks his tongue.

“i’ll be back soon,” you pat his head. he huffs, pouting.

you barely take a step forward, yelping when you feel something yank you back. your brows knit in annoyance when you feel sae wrapping his arms around you.

“sae.”

“‘m only going to sleep if you stay with me.” he mutters.

an amused smile tugs at your lips. you’re starting to think he’s cute when he’s sick. a little clingy, but cute. (you also think you might indulge him just this once.)

“fine,” you sigh. “but i’m leaving as soon as you fall asleep.”

you don’t.

you’re not sure exactly when you fell asleep, but you’re sure it wasn’t dark outside when sae pulled you towards him. part of you wants to stay with him, just to let him sleep longer. but you also know you need to make him some soup.

so, you gently try to pry yourself off of him. a soft groan leaves your lips when his arms tighten around you.

his name tumbles out of your mouth. “i have to go make your soup.”

“‘m coming with you.” his voice sounds hoarse. (his nose sounds stuffy, too.)

“sae,” you try to pry his arms off, “you need to rest.”

“‘m going with you.” he huffs, “there’s nothing you can say to make me not join you.”

you begrudgingly decide to indulge him again. which is why he’s slumped over your shoulder as you make your way to the kitchen. it’s why he’s holding onto your waist, burrowing his face in your neck as you move around the kitchen.

(it’s why your face feels like it’s on fire when he nuzzles closer to you, smiling.)

and you think that maybe him being a little too clingy isn’t that bad.

when a girl in your class asks you what sae is to you, you’re not sure what to say.

you could say he’s your roommate, like you used to. but you don’t think he’d make himself extremely comfortable in your personal space if he was just your roommate. you could also say he’s your friend (much to everyone’s surprise.) but you’re not sure if he’d be so obsessed with kissing you whenever you’re both home if he was just your friend.

(still, he’s not exactly your boyfriend, either. you’re not sure what he is. neither of you have brought it up before.)

either way, she wouldn’t be satisfied with the answer you give her. at least, that’s what you think with the way she glowers at you.

so, you just say he’s nothing. (which is a lie. but she doesn’t need to know that.)

the result is what you expected, some angry huffing and empty warnings to stay away from sae. (not that it’d work seeing how you live with him.) except, things take a turn for the worse when your phone screen lights up, displaying sae’s name on it while it rings on the table.

a pained expression flashes through your face when she clears her throat. you tilt your head up to look at her, an awkward, tense smile on your lips.

“i thought you said he was nothing to you?” she scoffs.

“he is.” you internally curse how fast you replied. you hope she didn’t notice.

she rolls her eyes, “then why do you have his contact saved with a star on your phone?”

you blink, your lips pressing into a fine line. “because he’s a star?”

she doesn’t look convinced. (neither are you.) a loud, annoyed groan leaves her lips as she looks you up and down, crossing her arms.

“listen here, idiot,” she glares at you. anger flashes in her eyes when your phone rings again. “i don’t know who you think you are–”

(you don’t know who she thinks she is, but with the way she seems to be unaware that you literally live with sae, you assume she must be some clueless freshman who happened to go to one of the football matches, saw sae, and became one of his many fans.)

“–but if you even consider the idea that sae might be into you–”

(you don’t even have to consider the idea, it pretty much solidified itself as a fact given with the way he kisses you until both of you are struggling to catch your breath whenever you two are alone.)

“–then you’ve got another thing coming,” she grabs your wrist, digging her nails into your skin. “i don’t know how someone like you got his number, but he doesn’t need freaks like you bothering him.”

she looks at you with contempt, “so stay away from him, or else–”

“or else what?”

you both turn your heads to the door. her grip on your wrist loosens. you bite back a laugh when she removes her hand, shyly tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“sae,” she takes a step closer to him. you hide your smile behind your hand when you see his clearly annoyed and disgusted expression. (you note he looks disheveled. you also notice his duffel bag slung over his shoulders.)

“or else what?” you snort at the clear anger in his voice. he glares at her, crossing his arms. she shrinks into herself, clearly nervous.

“i was just trying to keep this freak away from you,” she plays with her hair. you feel embarrassed for her when she continues, “you shouldn’t have to deal with–”

“who the fuck even are you anyway?” he cuts her off, scowling.

her eyes light up, “i’m–”

“leaving? i sure fucking hope so.” he scoffs, walking over to you. his face softens when he looks at you.

sae extends his hand out to you, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips when you slip your hand into his. he reaches out for your backpack, quickly shrugging it on his shoulder before you can protest.

“i thought you were one of the first people out of class,” he hums, lacing his fingers with yours.

your eyes flicker to the girl, who is still standing next to the table, face flushed in embarrassment. “i got held up.”

sae glances in her direction, scoffing in annoyance. “you’re still here?”

you can’t help but feel a little bad for her when her eyes well up with tears of embarrassment, her hands bunching up her skirt. “i thought–”

“you thought wrong,” he clicks his tongue, “now get lost.”

her eyes snap to yours, anger replacing the embarrassment, “i thought you said he was nothing to you!”

sae gasps, looking at you, hurt written all over his face. you look away, biting the inside of your cheek. he calls out your name, “why’d you say that?”

“i didn’t know what else to say,” you mumble.

“say i’m your boyfriend!,” he huffs. “or do you not want to say that?”

heat floods your face. you hide your face in sae’s back when you hear choked sobs. you tug at his jacket, “can we just go home already?”

you take a peek at the girl from behind sae’s shoulder. “i don’t want to talk about this here.”

“fine,” he mutters, “but this conversation is not over.”

he drags you out of the classroom. you don’t look back, but you gnaw your bottom lip when you hear muffled sobs coming from behind you.

you both walk in silence for a bit. a small smile blooms on your lips when sae slows down his pace to match yours.

“i’m surprised you didn’t tell her off.” he hums.

“you got there before i could,” you fondly shake your head, “i would’ve loved giving her a piece of my mind.”

a soft laugh leaves his lips, “i’m sure you’ll find another occasion to do so.”

the walk home feels quicker than usual. you suppose it’s because sae’s actually with you instead of over the phone.

you’re barely past the door to your apartment when sae wraps his arms around you, pulling you close. he relaxes when you wrap your arms around him.

“if someone asks you what i am to you,” he nuzzles his face into your neck, “just tell them i’m your boyfriend.”

“are you sure?” your hands clench around his jacket.

he pulls back slightly to look at you, confusion written all over his face. “yeah? am i not your boyfriend already?”

“i don’t know?” your brows knit in confusion.

“i thought it was clear?” he blinks. “it wasn’t clear to you?”

“i don’t think i would’ve been threatened by one of your fangirls if it was clear,” you deadpan.

“oh.” he presses his lips into a fine line. “well, now you know.”

your jaw drops, “you’re not even going to ask if i want you to be my boyfriend?”

“i think it’s safe to say we’re well past asking,” he stares at you.

“still,” you pout, “it’d be nice if you did.”

“what, are you going to give me a sticker if i do?” he scoffs.

“i was gonna give you a kiss, but if you don’t wanna ask, then–”

“would you let me be your boyfriend?”

laughter spills out of your lips, “you didn’t even let me finish!”

“just answer my question.” he smiles. “and hurry it up too, i have to clean.”

you playfully shake your head, “so demanding. but, i suppose you can be my boyfriend.”

sae’s lips are on yours as soon as the words leave your mouth. you gasp in surprise when he nips at your lower lip.

you’re not sure how long he kisses you for, but you feel dizzy when you pull away. you angle your head away from his when he chases after your lips again.

“i thought,” you pant, “thought you said you had to clean.”

“it can wait.” he breathes out.

“i have to cook.”

he angles your head back to face him, “it can wait.”

“but–”

he calls out your name with a smile, “it can all wait. just let me kiss you again.”

“okay.” you smile when he tilts your head towards his.

you think you’re starting to understand sae’s obsession with kissing you.

when you think of itoshi sae, the first thing that comes to mind is: boyfriend. you’re not sure if you’re ever going to get used to calling him that. you’ve told him it still sounds weird, he simply says it sounds perfect.

you’re also not sure you’ll ever get used to the many pairs of eyes staring holes into the back of your head. (you blame sae for insisting you wear his spare jersey to his games.)

still, you suppose you could put up with all the staring if it means you get to see sae play.

(even if it means you have to endure his showing off for the next hour.)

“did you see how great i was out there?” he puffs out his chest.

“you were the best!” you smile when he laces his fingers with yours. “i think you deserve a reward.”

you bite back a laugh when his head turns to look at you, eyes twinkling with anticipation. “close your eyes.”

you can practically feel the excitement rolling off of him as he closes his eyes. you let go of his hand, snickering when his brows furrow. you quickly reach into your bag, pulling out the sticker sheet you stashed in there.

a laugh leaves your lips when you gingerly place a star sticker on sae’s cheek. “you can open your eyes now.”

you heartily laugh when sae touches his cheek, glaring at you when he feels the outline of a star. he huffs, “you’re the worst.”

“shut up, you love them.” you flick his forehead.

he tsks, poking your nose. “when you said i deserved a reward, i thought you meant a kiss.”

“i can kiss you if you want.” you cheekily smile at him. he huffs, crossing his arms.

he turns his head away from you, “you ruined the moment with those stupid, lukewarm stickers.”

“you say that as if you don’t stick them against your mirror.” you stick your tongue out at him, the corners of your lips lifting into a smile when his cheeks flush.

“i hate you,” he frowns, looking at you.

“no you don’t,” you peck his cheek.

“whatever,” he grumbles, “let’s just go home already.”

you laugh when he grabs your hand, tugging you in the direction of your apartment. (you don’t mention the smile on his lips.)

“i’m going to cook today,” he laughs when you groan in disgust. “i’ve gotten better!”

“yeah, right.” you quip. “i think it’d be better if you clean while i cook.”

“what if we cook together?” he hums.

“you’ll just get in my way.” you smile, laughing when he shakes your arm.

“what if we go out to eat?” he shrugs nonchalantly. (you still notice the flush on his ears.)

“itoshi sae!” you gasp dramatically, “are you asking me out on a date?”

he scoffs, cheeks turning bright red. “don’t make a big deal out of it.”

“i’d be honored to go out with the itoshi sae,” your voice drips with mischief. a soft gasp leaves your lips when he tugs you to him, wrapping his arms around you.

“i think it’s me who’s honored to go out with you,” he mumbles. you hug him back, nuzzling into him.

“we still need to head home, though,” he pulls away, “i want to take a shower.”

“want me to join you?” you laugh when you see his scandalized expression.

“you’re so shameless!” he bites back a laugh, hiding his face behind his hands.

“oh, please, like we haven’t showered together before.” you playfully scrunch your nose.

he clicks his tongue, “as tempting as it sounds, i really would like to go eat early today.”

you fondly roll your eyes, tugging him towards your apartment. “fine.”

“but i’m not opposed to taking a shower with you when we get back.” he bites back a smile when you smack his shoulder.

the walk home is filled with laughter, teasing smiles on both of your faces. and, for once, you’re glad to have an opinion of sae.

(especially because it’s based on the version of your sae, and not the one everyone else thinks he is.)

#i fear i am NEVER GOING TO BE FREE #OH I AM SO ILL #i fear i can no longer be set free #i fear ive cemented my legacy as a sae lover #bllk x reader #sae x reader #sae x you #bllk itoshi sae #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae #bllk sae #bllk x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #bllk fluff #blue lock fluff #blue lock sae

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broomsick · 1 year

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Fun and easy habits to develop as a pagan!

Or, a few ideas of routine pagan stuff I personally engage in, or wish to start engaging in.

Opening the curtains and taking a quick moment to appreciate the daylight (or the darkness) of the outside. Draw from it the energy you will need for the day!

After waking up, saying a short prayer to a deity of your choice (you could very well change it up based on your intent, or always pray to the same if you are devoted to one in particular). A simple “Good morning. I will try to honor you today” shows that you’re thinking of them!

Taking a little time every once in a while to learn about local plants, trees or fauna! Little by little, you’ll learn to recognize them when out in nature. Nothing more rewarding!

Playing a song, or simply instrumental music that reminds you of your spirituality when doing chores, preparing for the day or the night, etc. Useful if the day-to-day makes you feel disconnected from your spirituality!

Every once in a while, cleansing a spiritual space by simply cleaning it out before lighting a fragant candle or incense. Always makes me feel refreshed!

Focusing on a picture of a deity/deities (or spirit/spirits, or ancestor/ancestors) of your choice in adoration. What can they teach you today? How can you honor them? If a new and inspiring idea comes to your mind, why not note it down!

Diffuse a smell (either by candle, incense, essential oil diffuser or else) while getting prepared for the day! If such a topic interests you, you could learn about how different smells affect us, and how you can use that in this specific ritual. With what intent do you wish to start your day?

If you have a book/books on mythology that pertains to your deity/deities or their related culture, why not read a few pages every once in a while, just for fun! Like the song/music I mentioned before, this an easy way to start your day thinking of your spirituality.

Looking up art: depictions of deities, or if you worship nature spirits, pictures of the animal or plant the form of which it takes.

Adopting a deity’s symbol for the day! You can do that by wearing a piece of devotional jewelry, or even drawing a rune/sigil/symbol on your skin so as to keep the deity in mind.

If you’re reading this, it means you use tumblr! Why not use such social networks to talk to other pagans who share your practices? There’s lots to learn from each other! Plus, you may make good friends this way.

Look outside, observe the weather. What color’s the sky? How strong is the wind blowing? In what direction are the clouds being blown? Stay in tune with nature! You may even become able to tell which signs foretell which weather events!

Make stuff you find in nature into amulets. For example, if a leaf, rock, acorn, fallen branch or else catches your attention, why not bring it home as a lucky charm? If you possess such a skill, you could even make it into jewelry!

#paganism #polytheism #witchcraft #norse paganism #heathenry #norse polytheism #pagan tips #tips #witchy tips #deity work #deities #spirit work #animism #norse gods

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beaker1636 · 6 months

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Tied Up - Noah Sebastian Smut

AN: Here we go, Noah bondage smut. Tied up with Christmas lights, not much of a plot, just straight up smut. Hope ya'll enjoyed this as much as I did writing it because I got into this one 🤣🤣🤣

“Why are you standing at my front door with several strands of Christmas lights?” You ask your boyfriend Noah, eyeing him suspiciously as you open the door.

He isn’t big on holidays, Christmas in particular so this is really out of character for him. In fact when you were putting up your decorations in your house last night he watched you, refusing to have any part in it and just sat there. It was a whole fight, you were upset feeling like you did it all yourself while he didn’t understand why you were upset. Ultimately it led to him storming out and going home, and you not feeling in the mood to finish your decorating and putting the tree up anymore so there it sits, nothing on it.

“Well I believe last night I told you to lighten up… and you told me to get into the holiday spirit so I come with a bit of a peace offering, and maybe some fun,” he gives you a sheepish grin when he steps into your house, hoping that you aren’t too angry with him from last night.

“Okay… and that is?” You question, eyeing him closely as you try to read his mind and figure out what he is getting at.

“Well you liked that one time when I tied you up right? So do you want to do it again? Only this time we would maybe use the string lights? Let me show you how sorry I am and that I am trying to get into the Christmas mood for you?”

At this point he has moved so he is standing over you, your back against the wall as he looks down at you, leaning in so close that his breath is ghosting over your ear and neck as he speaks.

“Let me make you feel good tonight baby, make up for last night.”

You swallow, suddenly more turned on than you probably should be at the thought of what he wants to do to you, and honestly you are unwilling to admit that to him.

“You think tying me up with Christmas lights will somehow make up for the fight you caused last night?” you question, trying to hide of for the obvious arousal you are feeling thanks to the man blocking you in.

“No, but the multiple orgasms I plan to give you might… and we both know how much you love it when I push you around, turn you into my little whore,” he whispers in your ear.

He brushes your hair off your shoulder on one side so that he can have access to your throat, leaving a light kiss before nibbling on the flesh there, causing you to let out a breathy moan as you press your legs together, telling him all he needs to know. That you want this even if you are trying to fight that you do.

“See, you want this just as much as I do. And think about how pretty you will look with nothing but these glowing against your skin as you fall apart on my tongue,” he slowly steps back from you, giving you the chance to turn him down but you don’t . Instead you find yourself nodding at him, giving in to what he wants.

“Good girl, let’s go to your room then,” he smirks at you as he begins leading you towards your bedroom, setting the bag down and then turning towards you.

He makes his way towards you, backing you against the wall before his lips find yours, much gentler than you are expecting them to be as they slowly draw you into the moment. Noah can tell that you are a little wound tight still, that he needs you to relax before he starts to bind you, so that is what he is currently working on. Kissing you gently as he slowly guides you towards your bed, slowly lifting the shirt you have on above his head, not missing that it is one of his own but choosing to ignore that fact for now. Your bra eventually follows, leaving you in only your panties in front of him as he continues.

He pulls away after he has you sit on the bed, that way he can plug the first strand in before sitting behind you, leaving kisses along your neck as he slowly brings your arms behind your back. Wrapping the cord around your wrists and gently binding them, making sure they aren’t so tight they’re digging into your skin.

“You look so pretty like this baby, the lights glowing against your skin,” he praises softly before moving to stand in front of you. Helping you to your knees in front of him before he kicks his sweatpants off, his erect cock now standing at full attention in front of your face as he strokes it, watching you.

“Open your mouth for me, fuck, that’s it,” he groans as you do, leaning forward slightly so you can take the head into your mouth.

You swirl your tongue around the head before leaving a couple teasing licks along the slit, wanting to drive him crazy with your mouth. He gladly lets you do it for a few moments, enjoying as he watches closely while your lips slowly lower on his dick, you bobbing your head as you begin to take more of him.

Fuck, he loves watching you when you blow him but it’s even better watching you do so while your hands are behind your back, knowing that you can’t pull yourself away from him even if you had wanted to.

He soon grows tired of this, of you barely taking him as, so he pulls your head down to make you take all of him at once, holding you there with a groan when he can feel your throat constrict around him. Tears building in your eyes as you choke around him before he lets you go, giving you a moment to catch your breath before giving an experimental roll of his hips to see if you accept it without complaint before he begins to do so.

“Can I fuck your pretty mouth tonight baby?” He asks, waiting for you to indicate it is okay.

When you nod your head he thrusts into your mouth again, starting slowly so you can get used to it before he begins going harder. Letting out low groans as he seeks his own pleasure, letting you know how good you are at taking him as he continues until he draws close.

Right before he finishes he pulls himself out of your mouth with a pop, moving so he can help you get back up off the floor and having you kick your panties off before laying down on the bed for him.

“Are you still fine with your hands being behind your back? I can move them if this is too uncomfortable while I am doing your ankles,” he asks, looking up at you from where he stands at the foot of the bed.

“I’m fine,” you answer, watching him closely as he takes your ankles, tying each one to one of your bed posts with more strands of the lights, you watching him as he does.

When you’re secure he looks up at you with a smirk, really enjoying the view of you all spread open, at his mercy to do as he pleases. He can edge you all night if he chose, or make you finish over and over if he chose to. He enjoys having this power over you, getting to do as he pleases while you just lay there and take it.

He leans over you, giving you a light kiss before he begins to trail his lips down your throat. Leaving little marks as he goes, loving the bruises he is leaving along your skin, reminders of who you belong to that’ll stay for the next few days. He knows you’ll probably be pissed when you realize that he left a couple in visible places, but that is a fight he is willing to deal with later.

You let out a gasp when his lips dip lower, taking one of your nipples in his mouth. Swirling his tongue around it, then lightly biting down as you let out a breathy moan, feeling yourself growing more and more wet with each pass of his tongue across the sensitive peak while his fingers roll the other one between his fingers. Building you up, teasing you relentlessly, wanting you aching for his touch between your thighs before he ever makes it there.

He slowly begins to trail his lips down your torso, but skips from your belly to your thighs, passing over the place that you currently want him most. Chuckling against your skin when you whine from the lack of contact.

“Patience, this will all be worth it,” he says softly before biting down on your thigh, leaving a mark where he was before he pulls away.

Looking up at your face from between your thighs as he runs a finger through your folds, gathering some of your arousal on it before circling your clit with it, you almost instantly whimper at the contact, at how great the simple act feels.

“Fuck, you’re this wet and all I’ve really done is play with you tits,” he says in amazement, but mostly to himself, almost blown away at how big of a mess he is currently making of you with barely any contact. “Do you want me to use my mouth or my fingers on you first?”

He continues to barely brush your clit as he asks, enjoying when you try to squirm from his movements but can’t. Enjoying when you realize that it is useless and he can see the frustration cross your face.

When you don’t respond you are met with a stinging slap to your thigh, making you gasp as you shift your hips slightly.

“I believe I asked you a question princess. How do you want me to make you cum the first time hmm?” He asks you again, now glaring at you from where he is, irritated that you aren’t responding like you are supposed to be.

“I, I want your mouth on me, please?” You ask, turning slightly red as you blush from the embarrassment of being forced to ask him for what you want. The two of you have done so many things like this but you still don’t like voicing what you want from him, and you are starting to think you never will be comfortable with dirty talk in any capacity.

“That’s better, thank you,” he says.

He leans down and dives right in, using his tongue to run it from your hole to your clit several times, making you impatient before he finally wraps his lips around your clit and sucks it harshly. Making you moan and attempt to shift your hips but finding you are unable to.

“Be good and stay still or I’ll stop,” he mumbles before smugly running his tongue across your clit again. He pulls away long enough to smirk when he sees how wet you are, watching as you begin to drip on your thighs, knowing that it is him and him alone that is turning you into an absolute mess.

His tongue traced the line of liquid up your thigh, loving the taste of you before he sucks on your clit again, his tongue running circles on it as his lips continue to stay wrapped around it, making you let out a gasp, finding yourself growing close at his actions. You try your hardest to stay still, to not move at all as your high hits you but you fail, arching your back when you cum against his lips without much warning. Instantly feeling guilty you broke the rule that he gave you.

“Shit, that was beautiful. Should I make you cum again princess? I think maybe I should make you with my fingers too, and then my cock. What do you think?” He asks you, smirking up at you as your breathing evens out after you finally come back down from the high he just gave you.

“Please?” you ask softly, not really having it in you to say much else but knowing that he won’t accept just a nod for an answer right now.

He dips his head back down, lightly running his tongue over your sensitive clit before abruptly slipping two of his fingers inside of you. You are so wet that he is met with almost no resistance as he sinks them inside of you. He pulls his hand back only to thrust his fingers back inside of you, rough, as he pulls his mouth away from you.

He wants to watch your face as you come undone for him again, to see how much pleasure he can bring you with just his hand.

He continues to thrust his fingers inside of you, rough and unforgiving as his thumb begins to rub your clit, adding to the building orgasm that you can feel creeping up on you. Loving the little sounds that keep dropping out of your mouth as you try to hold back the feeling you are currently experiencing. He gives you a particularly hard thrust out of nowhere, you moaning at the sensation, at the sting.

His thrusts of his fingers getting rougher and rougher as the pressure on your clit increases, you finding it hard to keep quiet this time as he pulls you closer and closer to the edge. He leans up to give you a kiss as he continues, you tasting yourself on his lips as he pulls you over the edge, your second orgasm of the night hitting you harshly. Him slowing down his movements as you ride it out before halting, giving you several light kisses as you come back down, telling you how amazing you are doing.

“Okay, are you ready for my cock?” He asks you, leaning down to untie your legs.

When you nod, giving him the okay, he flips you onto your stomach, your hands still tied as he pushes your face down into the mattress while your ass is up.

“I’m going to be rough with you, let me know if it is too much,” he says, pressing one last gentle kiss against your shoulder before he pulls back. Appreciating the view in front of him, how smooth your skin is under his hands.

He is able to see just how wet you are, coating your thighs and glistening in the light of the room. It pleases him to no end that he is the reason why you are this way, that it is him that you are craving so badly right now.

Without a warning he pushes inside of you, making you cry out both from surprise but also the slight sting of pain as his hard cock stretches you out. No matter how many times you have taken him it still feels so wonderful when he first enters you. Both of you groan at the feeling as he begins to thrust, deep but forceful dispute the fact that he is begging slowly.

One hand resting on your hips as he brings your body back into his as he pushes forward, each thrust getting harder and harder as he goes, watching how your body jolts and moves with each thrust of his hips against yours.

Your body feels amazing around him, how wet you are, the way that you are clenching around him, shit it has him close. He knows that he will not last long from this but judging how you are clenching around him and moaning, he doesn’t think that you are going to last too long either.

Snaking a hand down underneath you he begins to rub your clit again, wanting, no needing to make you finish one last time before he does. Wanting to stay true to his word about making you fall apart with his mouth, hand and cock like he threatened earlier. Wanting to feel you cum around him, milking him for his own release.

You are so overstimulated from already finishing twice that it doesn’t take much, you falling apart one last time within seconds of him finding your clit, collapsing down on the bed as he continues to ram his hips into yours chasing his own release now. He groans, slowing his movements down as he finishes inside of you before stilling. Watching closely at how his cum slowly leaks out of you as he pulls out, moving to untie your wrists for you.

Once you are untied you roll over, staring at the ceiling as your chest heaves, trying to catch your breath as he lays next to you, his head on your shoulder. You don’t say anything as you lay there, turning your head so that you could kiss him.

He whispers praises to you, telling you how good you did and how beautiful you looked all tied up before getting up and returning with a washcloth, cleaning the mess you both left on your thighs off before glancing at you.

“Why don’t you settle into a warm shower, help soothe your muscles that are probably aching at this point while I change your sheets. I’ll join you in a couple minutes baby,” he says softly, rubbing the red marks that are on your wrists as he helps you up off the bed.

“That sounds wonderful, I’ll see you in a few minutes, I love you” you say softly, giving him a kiss before you make your way to the bathroom. The fight from the night before is not forgotten, but figuring that it isn’t worth worrying about tonight.

#noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian fanfic #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian #noah sebastian smut #bad omens smut #bad omens fanfiction #bad omens imagine #noah sebastian imagine #Noah Sebastian x reader smut

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libraryofbronze · 4 months

Text

Dommed Through Discord

“Master,” I type carefully, still blinking sleep out of my eyes. I woke up only a few minutes ago and I still feel groggy. The blankets wrapped around me from how I turned and tossed in my sleep. Around me, my room is nice and warm. Familiar and safe and happy. My laptop is propped up on the other side of the bed, just close enough to see and use.

It’s probably a bad habit to go straight from sleep to staring at the screen. In fact, I know for sure it is. A few months ago, I’d probably have never imagined that I would be doing this.

Then again, a few months ago I hadn’t met him yet. A little shiver runs down my spine and I close my eyes. I can’t exactly remember the dreams I was having but I know they got me all hot and bothered. Waking up to a wet pussy isn’t something I used to do either, but I have gotten used to it in the last few weeks.

After all, I’m not allowed to touch myself without permission.

The thought brings blood rushing to my face. Even now, I can’t believe that I agreed to it. I’ve done a bunch of things in the last few weeks that I never thought I would. All for the sake of a man whose face I’ve never seen.

Even as I think that, I know I’m lying. It’s not just for his sake, but mine as well. I love this. I love what he has made me into. My body tingles every time I think of him, and the first thing I do every morning is check to see if he’s online.

We talk through Discord, emails, and sometimes Steam as well. It’s a long-distance relationship and our hours don’t always match but that only makes the time we do have together all the more precious.

I am still blinking sleep from my eyes. My long, dark hair is all in a mess. I toss and turn a lot in my sleep, and I know I am going to have an annoying time fixing it later.

But for now, that doesn’t matter. I stare at the screen, waiting for his reply eagerly. I can see that he’s online, but sometimes he likes to make me wait. A subtle reminder of the power difference between us. He’s in charge, the master, the owner. And I am the pet and the toy, the desperate girl not even allowed to touch herself without permission.

God, I want to touch myself right now. My pussy is throbbing, lingering half memories of my dreams glitter in my mind like shards of silver. Slowly, one of my hands moves under the blanket, pressing against the outside of my panties. I take a deep breath, shuddering at the touch. Fuck!

I should stop. I know I’m not allowed. If master finds out, I’ll be punished again. But it’s hard, and gradually, the silence grows. I start to wonder if he’s not at his computer. But then why is his status set to green?

Then, suddenly, he replies.

“Hey, May.”

May. That’s my name. That’s why I introduced myself to him by the first time we met. But it’s not usually what he calls me. Is he teasing me? Playing with me? I don’t know and for a moment I’m thrown.

But only for a moment.

“Master,” I write back, typing eagerly. “How are you today? Did you sleep well?”

Stupid question, but I can’t think of anything else. My pussy is still throbbing and with extreme effort, I draw my hand away from my wet panties. I’m wearing nothing else, the blankets wrapped around my pale skin. I am breathing a little bit faster, anticipation and eagerness twist within me.

“Well enough,” he replies. “Did you want anything in particular?”

He knows. He has to know. How could he not with a question like that? He always seems to know exactly when I am desperate like this. I delay my response for a few seconds, feeling the blood rushing to my face. A few weeks ago, I’d not even need permission to do this. I’d have laughed at the very thought!

But now I am lying in bed, about to ask my boyfriend for permission to touch my own pussy. Like he owns me. Like I am just a toy to him.

But the thing is, that’s exactly how we both like it. The air catches in my lungs and I close my eyes, savouring the feeling of helplessness and submission before I start to type.

“Master, I’m horny.”

A few seconds pass and he doesn’t respond. My pulse races, and I can feel myself growing ever more desperate. What is he going to say? Will he deny me? He has before. He loves to do it just to show me that he is in charge.

“My little slut,” the words come back. “We played the day before yesterday. Don’t tell me that you want to go again?”

I close my eyes again, loosing a soft moan. May is my name, but between the two of us, I’m his little slut. It’s demeaning and humiliating and I love it.

“Please sir,” I type back. “I’m so horny. I know we played recently, but I’m so wet right now.”

Silence follows again and I feel as if something important is hanging in the balance. My pussy throbs and the possibility of another day of slowly growing arousal fills me with dread. I wanna touch myself so much! It’s not fair that I have to ask permission!

But the fact that it’s not fair is why he has me do it. We both know that he’s in charge. That he is the master and I am the little slut who can’t keep her legs closed.

God, I love this man.

“Are you still in bed, May?”

He knows my schedule well. I nod even though he can’t see it and answer.

“Yes sir. I just woke up.”

“Wasted no time, did you?” I can almost hear his chuckle. Satisfied but not cruel. I was always into BDSM, into giving up control, but it was he who pushed me further and further. Who showed me just how much control I could really surrender.

“Please sir,” I try again, typing with one hand. My other brushes lightly against the material of my panties. The gentle touch makes me shiver.

“Why don’t you ask properly?” His reply comes back. Again, I can almost hear his teasing tone. He likes to tease, does my master. He likes to make me squirm and right now, I am squirming like hell. I know what he wants, and I know that I’ll do it. But I can feel my face heating up as I begin to type out the request in the approved manner.

“Please master, can your little pet slut spread her legs and play with her soaking pusy for you sir?”

My clit throbs as I type, a small moan plays through my throat. I feel hot, my skin tingling as I close my eyes. Fuck, how can he make me feel this way when we aren’t even in the same country?

But he does. He always has. Even if we’re not together, I can still feel his presence. I am still under his control. Still his little toy and every bit his little plaything and I love it.

“Kick off your blankets,” he writes back to me. “And wriggle out of your little panties. But don’t take them off totally. Leave them around your ankle like a slut.”

I do as I am told, my heart beating faster, the cold air pressed against my skin as I peel back the layers of my bedclothes. I make a soft sound, half yearning and half moan. Flushes of heat flash through me. One hand cups my left breast, teasing myself there. My thumb and forefinger gently work my nipple until it’s good and hard.

My back arches, my eyes close. God, it feels so good. My other hand moves to the waistband of my panties, gradually pulling them lower. The elastic clings to me a little as I draw them down my legs. My pussy is wet, and as my arm brushes against it, a little shudder runs through my whole body.

I leave my panties hanging around one ankle, my legs are spread, I’m lying on the bed totally exposed, my back propped up by a pillow just so. My pussy throbs with tightness, and my throat is dry.

“Are you lying in bed naked, my little slut?” My master writes again. “Are your legs open? Is your pussy begging for you to touch it? To stroke it?”

“Yes,” I write back. My heart thundering in my chest. “Oh god yes sir. Please master, please let me touch myself. Please let your little slut play with her pussy like a good toy.”

He takes longer to reply this time. I wonder if he is hard? I hope he is. I can imagine him stroking himself as he reads my words, realises how desperate I am. It’s not the first time I’ve broken down and begged like this. Sometimes he gives me relief.

Sometimes he doesn’t.

I wonder what he will do this time.

“Play with your nipples for me, May.” he writes back after a few moments.

He knows that my nipples are sensitive. Pausing only to write a quick ‘’yes sir’’ I begin to rub and tease them. My long, slender fingers pick at my nipples, caressing them and stroking them and rubbing them. Before long, my body is responding. I am moaning slightly, and shivers of coiling anticipation run through my body. My pussy pulses, my deft strokes are erotic and tender. My eyes flutter, and the feelings rise through me.

I know I am getting wetter and wetter and I still haven’t closed my legs. I’m not allowed to when we play. That was one of the first rules. He told me that if I wanted to be his little slut then I would act like a little slut, and a slut should never close her legs when she’s performing for her master.

I moan, my voice ragged and desperate. Aching need throbs through me. My pussy is hot and tight, tingles of desire and want sweep up my body. It wants to be touched, it wants to be stroked and teased and entered.

Fuck, I want to cum!

“Are you teasing your breasts, May?” master asks. “Have you touched your pussy? I hope not. You know I’ll have to punish you if you do.”

“No sir,” I manage to type with one hand. “But I want to! I want to so much! Please sir! Please, please, please!”

“I’ll think about it,” I can almost hear his chuckle again. Light, not cruel but firm.

“Good,” master says. “Now, I want you to imagine that I am there with you. That it’s me stroking your chest, teasing your nipples. Making you squirm and moan. Can you imagine that?”

“Yes,” I breathe, half gasping in ecstasy. I realise a moment later that he isn’t actually here, so I need to type it out.

“Yes sir, I can imagine it, sir.”

“I’d be so hard for you, my little slut,” he writes back. “Can you imagine it? Can you imagine what it would feel like if I tied your hands behind your back and fucked you then and there?”

I can imagine it all too well. My legs flex, anticipating what it would feel like to have him between them. His cock burying itself inside of me, thrusting and fucking me as my spine arches and my cries gradually turn into a chaotic sound of ecstasy.

“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” I moan. My nipples feel so good. So sensitive. Little darts of pleasure snap and worm their way down my spine. My mouth is dry, I can barely remember to keep looking at the screen.”

“Or maybe I’d put your collar on you,” Master writes. “Nice and tight just how you like it. Dress you in your black stockings and fuck you against the window. You’d love that wouldn’t you, May? You always love to put on a show, my little slut.”

My desperate murmuring grows ever more desperate. My pussy is throbbing for attention, a needy heat shooting through my body as I gasp and moan and wriggle on the bed like a mad thing. My nipples feel so good, but my pussy would feel better.

But I am not allowed to touch it yet. I’m a good slave. A good slut who does what she’s told. I’ve been naughty a few times and Master is inventive with his punishments.

“Or maybe we could get your little toy,” Master continues “The vibrator that you love so much. I can dial it up and down on my phone, keep you on edge all day. Just leave you on the bed for hours and hours and hours with your legs spread. Wouldn’t you love that?”

Yes! I want to scream, my body shuddering with heat and want. I love it! I want it all!

But right now, I just want to cum!

“Master,” I write desperately. “Please can I touch my pussy, sir?”

A pause.

“You didn’t ask permission properly, my little slut. I should punish you for that. But later. First, you can ask me properly.”

My hips are grinding back and forth now, my fingers work my breasts and nipples, I’m moaning and gasping openly like the slut that he taught me to be.

“Please sir,” I write. “Please can your slutty slave touch herself, master?”

“More humiliating.”

“Please! Please let me masturbate sir! I want to cum!”

“More humiliating.”

My face is burning, my chest is tight. I know he knows what he is doing to me. He’s loving it.

“Please master, can your slutty slave girlfriend fuck herself with her fingers while fantasising about what it will be like when you finally take her for yourself? Can she cum like a whore with her legs spread, moaning your name?”

My heart hammers. Humiliation washes through me but I adore it so. My pussy is pounding, it’s as if electricity is coursing through every cell in my body.

“You can touch yourself, May. But you’re not allowed to cum. Not yet.”

I don’t know what he’s planning but right now, I don’t need to. As soon as I have permission, one of my hands flies to my pussy. I bite my lower lip, my fingers working myself down there. Instantly, the pleasure intensifies, reaching a whole new level. I begin to squeak and moan. My lower lips are already soaked, tingles become waves of sparking pleasure as I twist back and forth in place.

“Oh fuck, master,” I write as soon as I am able. “Oh fuck, it feels so good sir. It feels so good.”

“Do not cum,” my master writes, and I realise with an odd feeling that he isn’t done with me yet. “May, you do not have permission to cum but nor are you allowed to stop. You can slow down, but you have to keep going.”

That’s unfair! I feel the realisation stabbing through me, even as my eager fingers begin to slow, it feels so good. Waves of heat and tightness throbbing through my pussy. How can I resist this?

“You’ll just have to have control, my pet.” My master seems like he read my mind. “I’m sure it won’t be too hard. By the way, while you’re doing that I want you to imagine what it would be like to be fucked by me. What it will be like.”

Oh fuck. How am I supposed to resist cumming while doing that? One hand is desperately kneading my chest, flicking and rubbing and stroking my nipple. My fingers probe and pinch, mixing pain with pleasure. The other is between my legs, my body rocking. Heat flushing through me. I am fucking myself with my fingers now, grinding against my hand. My clit burns and throbs, it feels so good.

I imagine his cock inside of me again. Thrusting, penetrating, filling me up. I begin to grind against the air, matching each of his imaginary thrusts. The air catches in my throat, heat builds between my legs. I am squealing now, static leaping between my nerves.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” I shudder. “Master Ethan! M-master!”

He can’t hear me, but he seems to know what’s happening. I hope he knows how desperate and wet I am. I imagine wrapping my arms around him as fucks me, as he makes me his now and forever.

I am so close! The tide of pleasure threatens to carry me away. I look desperately to the laptop.

“Master, I’m gonna cum!”

“No.”

“Please!”

“Absolutely not, my slut. I told you you weren’t allowed to cum.”

“Then can I stop?”

I imagine the little smile on his face.

“You can’t do that either.”

“Master!”

It’s only a single word, desperately typed, but I hope it can convey my desperation. My whole body feels tight, my muscles are stinging, I’m holding them so tensely. I know I am gonna cum if I keep going, I can feel the orgasm building and building and every part of me is screaming to surrender to it. To let it take me. But I fight it, holding myself back, resisting with everything.

But I am not allowed to stop playing with myself and gradually, my squirming becomes more and more frantic. My gasping breaths are quick and furious. How long has it been? I need to ask again!

“Master please!”

“May, are you disobeying me? You’re not allowed to cum. Now just think how long I could hold you like this, in that state. You’ve surrendered to me and given me everything. You got on your knees and promised to be my little slut, remember? Did you think that would be easy?”

“Please! Please! Pleasepleasepleaseplease!”

I’m reduced to just writing the word ‘’please’’ over and over as my body rocks. I don’t have enough energy to think of anything else to say.

“I suppose I could be convinced,” Master says. “But you have to offer me something. What do you have to trade, May?”

I shake my head. There are tears in my eyes. It feels so good, it’s taking all of my strength of will not to give in and cum. My body is shuddering, shivering and burning all at the same time. I gasp for air, trying to force myself to think.

“I won’t wear underwear, sir!” I write. “I’ll go without it all day and wear a short skirt!”

I can already imagine the humiliation that will come from that. A whole day of knowing that I am only one wrong move away from exposing myself to strangers. I know I’ll be mortified later, but for now, I don’t care. I just wanna cum.

“Not enough.”

“Sir!”

“It’s a start, May, but I am going to need more. How much longer can you hold back again?”

Not much longer, I think. It feels so amazing. My whole body is lighting up. Twisting and gasping and moaning in bed, my legs are still spread, but my pussy is soaking, my fingers sliding in and out of myself more quickly now than ever. I’m so close, I’m so close!

“I’ll wear my vibrator too!” I write, grasping for the first thing I can think of. “I’ll keep it in all day! The one that you can control! You can torture me with it all day! Just let me cum now!”

A shiver snaps through my body, I give a long moan. Feeling as if I am about to break down, but I manage to wrestle myself back. Just about. I know I won’t make it much longer.

My master still hasn’t replied. Is he holding back? Does he want more? What else can I even offer him?

“I’ll make you a video, sir!” I gasp. “When I get home from work, I’ll make a video of me undressing and you can see the kind of soaking mess I’ve become after so many hours with the vibe! And I’ll play with myself! Do whatever you want! Just….just please let me cum now!”

I am spiking, the climax rising. My moment approaching, my fists curl, and I know I am about to cum whether I want to or not.

“All right then, May,” my master writes. “Cum for me you little slut.”

I do, I cum like I never have before. My nerves scream, the world seems to fade and all I am left with is an ocean of pleasure that fills every inch of me. I am moaning his name, my master’s name, like it’s some magical incantation. My body is wracked with convulsions, the strength of my orgasm streams my breath away. I cum with my legs spread like I should, gasping his name until the end.

And then it’s over and I am lying in my bed. The laptop open in front of me, and my master’s latest message.

“Enjoy yourself, did you?”

“Yes sir,” I type shakily. “It was amazing. Thank you, sir. Thank you so much. I love you.”

“I love you too, May,” he writes back. “You little humiliation-loving slut.”

#bronzeplacewriter #bronze's stories #sexywriting #bd/sm dynamic #bd/sm community #bd/sm kink #cnc k!nk #original fiction

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verysillystarr · 3 months

Text

𝙸'𝚖 𝚐𝚘𝚗𝚗𝚊 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚊 (𝙸'𝚕𝚕 𝚐𝚎𝚝 𝚢𝚊!)

One way, or another, I'm gonna find ya

I'm gonna meet ya, meet ya, meet ya, meet ya

One way, or another, I'm gonna win ya, I'll get ya, I'll get ya

One way, or another, I'm gonna see ya - Blondie

--------------------------♡---------------------------

☆: I originally got this idea from a fic I read but most of the credits got to them

★: Lucifer Morningstar (Magne) x Reader

☆: Mentions of kidnapping and yandere behavior(I think?)

★: Gender-Neutral reader.

☆: Reader is 20-23

★: This is a oneshot

-----------------------×---------------------------

Short Summary: Who would've guessed that a certain devil liked you in particular? Unfortunately, there's no way out for you..

Your friend kept telling you how good this show was. 'Hazbin hotel' I think? It was actually quite popular from what you know, and you already had prime so there was no hassle for you to watch it.

Surprisingly it was quite good. Even had some likeable characters. You only started watching yesterday and now you're on episode 5! Lucifers' character stood out to you. He was so, in a way, goofy but also kind of charming.

Though.. it felt like he was looking directly at you sometimes when facing at the screen. Or maybe that's just something the animators did intentionally. It wasn't that important just slightly off-putting.

Your phones clock read 5:30. Didn't realize it was getting so late. Guess that's what happens when you spend so much time watching TV.

That show can wait till tomorrow, it did kinda waste your day. Though it was hard to shake that feeling that someone was watching you.

You were confused why the next episode was playing. " I could've sworn I turned it off last night."

[ Breif time skip ]

You finished the show. Although, it did dim your mood that it was already over. So much had happened. Yet you'll have to wait for the next season to come out.

Oh well, you could always - " Hello dear! "

That's not right at all.

After the credits ended the screen went black. Meaning it was over. Meaning Lucifer Morningstar should most definitely not be on your TV screen.

" Are you.. talking to me? "

" I don't see any other person in your room. "

You had to sit down on your bed to process this.

" Y'know, Y/N , I've been watching you for a while now. And what else can I say beside you have most definitely peaked my interest! "

" .. But aren't you.. you know, Satan? The devil himself. Why would I be interesting to you? "

At first you assumed this was a hallucination. Maybe your mind was playing tricks on you. But this was to real to not be happening.

That explains a little too much actually. The feeling of being watched was actually true.

But this can't be. He's fake. He's just a drawing basically. He's stuck on a screen. Which actually calms you down a bit.

It made you feel eased that he wasn't actually there. But you were still tense.

" Listen, I don't what you want from me but- "

"Oh it's quite simple my love! I want you to come here! With me! I can do more than a few tricks. And perhaps treat you better than anyone ever could? Or do you need more convincing ? "

He must be delusional to think you're coming with him. Quite honestly he talks too much..

In attempt to escape him you tried turning off your TV. And it.. didn't work. He must have done something.

Unfortunately he knew and (threatened) "persuaded" you to hear him out.

" Uh- hey! It's kinda rude to push someone who loves you away! "

" You're not real. "

" So I guess I'll have to make you come with me then? "

You laid down slightly, not really sure of how much he could do.

" As much as I hate to tell you this there's nothing you can do. You're trapped in there and I'm , thankful , not. So good luck trying to- "

There was a loud sound of something banging against the screen three times and then a shattering sound.. you flinched at it.

And there he was. Standing right at the foot of your bed looking smugly.

" You were saying something about 'being trapped' sweetheart? "

Oh Lord.

#hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer x you #⭐-Nah I would be scared to #I forget the original fanfic but credits to them full🙁 (it was a wally x reader fic)#no part 2

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angry-geese · 1 year

Text

Sea, Swallow Me

Satoru Gojo x Reader

Warnings: not OSHA compliant. hurt/comfort, light angst, ex-husband Gojo. angry/hate sex, unprotected sex, oral (cunnilingus), fingering.

Synopsis: some ex-husband Gojo smut except him and the reader are still totally in love with each other >:)

a/n: this has been rattling around in my drafts since like march and I finally got my thoughts gathered enough to write it out lol

Word Count: 4.7k

jjk masterlist

Outside, the sky grows dark, signaling an incoming storm. The weather report called for it yesterday; off and on thunderstorms all night, and well into this afternoon. Not uncommon for this time of year. This morning’s grocery trip was one made with the hope of being back before another downpour started, and from the looks of it, you were successful.

Typically, when you come home, the cat is the first thing to greet you. Today, even after she hears your keys hit the counter, she remains just out of view. You don't mind it so much, even if you do find it odd. It gives you time to put away groceries, and the treats you bought for her without her begging for anything.

The foul weather makes it as good a day as any to spend inside. Plenty of chores need to be done around your apartment, as work has begun to consume much of your free time. That’s nothing new. Certain times of the year are busier than others at Jujutsu Tech. It certainly doesn't help that two people are out due to injuries, and another is on maternity leave, meaning you’re on call nearly 24/7.

The cat makes herself known only after she hears a can of food open, chirping as she trots into the kitchen. She stays long enough to finish eating, and get some pets from you, before settling into her spot on the window sill, intently watching leaves being blown around outside. You settle on preparing dinner: thawing meat, and chopping veggies for a soup that’ll take nearly an hour to simmer.

A noise from the other room draws your attention; in the living room, the TV is on—something you vividly remember shutting off. A drama was playing, but the lead was giving you such bad second-hand embarrassment that you just had to shut it off.

Maybe you really are starting to lose it.

You’ve seen it happen to others. The stress of the job—this way of life—gets to some. You could chalk it up to forgetting; maybe the cat stepped on the remote, or maybe you really did just forget. Come to think of it, didn't you turn off the lights in the kitchen before leaving too?

The back of your neck prickles with fear. Did someone really break in? You know this isn't a particularly nice part of town, but the chance of that happening is unlikely. Besides, there is no sign of forced entry. It's just a feeling of being watched. Nothing is missing, just some lights are on, and the books on your coffee table have been moved around, as if someone looked through them. Why go through the trouble then?

Nothing in particular tips you off to the presence behind you. It comes suddenly, and without warning. Fight or flight kicks in. With your elbow and wrist parallel to your collarbone, you swing outwards.

Any normal person's elbow would have been shattered by that hit. Satoru blocks it with little effort. He uses the weight of your movement against you, allowing you to fall against him. It doesn't take much time for you to realize what he’s doing, and shove yourself away from him.

“You broke in?” You say, although your voice doesn't carry any surprise. “I gotta admit, Satoru, that's a new low.”

“Technically I didn't,” he says, “I explained to the guy up front that I was your husband and he let me in.”

Internally, you curse your landlord, a sweet old man by the name of Saito. He was one of the few people who would let you move in on such short notice. This was never meant to be a permanent placement, but you suppose you don't have much to complain about here. It's an older building, but maintenance is consistent, and the interior has been completely redone. Your neighbors are quiet, pleasant people, and this is a nice corner of the neighborhood. Not nearly as luxe as your previous home, but not bad either.

As he sits down on the couch, the cat jumps straight into his lap. You know it's not fair to project human emotions onto her. She's just a cat. But you swear you see a smug little look on her face. She chirps, and bumps her head against his hand, purring loud enough it's audible across the room.

“I think I would have rather dealt with a house robber,” you say.

“I mean, if you're into that kind of thing,” he says, “I can put the mask back on. We'll roleplay…”

“Absolutely not,” you say, snatching the remote for the tv, switching it off, “what do you want?”

Even sitting, he’s nearly eye-level with you. His hand comes up to tug at the silver chain around his neck. You don't know whether to feel angry, or sorry for him. Gojo is almost pathetic enough that you feel bad for him. Almost.

“What?” He asks, feigning hurt. “I can't drop in to say hello to my lovely wife?”

“Ex-wife,” you say.

Despite your current irritation with him, the separation was about as amicable as it could be. Although it’s not official in the legal sense yet, the two of you have been living separately for months now. There was no great turning moment in your relationship, just a lifetime of little things that forced a wedge between you two. These things happen. You were young when you married, and so consumed with grief that perhaps there wasn't enough thought put into it. You don't blame yourself for it, or for anything that happened. At the age of eighteen, you had a skewed view of the world. Mistakes were common at that age. That’s just part of growing up. You were young, and every emotion felt so much more potent back then. It felt right at the time. Hell, it was right.

Maybe you still love him. It’s hard to spend so much time with someone—have so many memories with them—and not love them.

“Tsumiki has a game Saturday,” he says, “you coming?”

You're slightly offended at the suggestion you would miss it. She sent you a text about it nearly a week ago. You swore to her you'd make it, even going as far as to make arrangements to leave work early.

“Of course I am.” You say. “I’ll take her—I’m off work early anyway.”

It's better for the kids that you remain an active part in their life. Megumi and Tsumiki have already dealt with so much upheaval in their life. It's cruel enough that one caregiver left them, but two?

You tell yourself you couldn't do that to them. That alone was enough to get you to stay in your old apartment for a few more months. By then, the kids knew something was up. They're smarter than people give them credit for, and there's only so many excuses you can make for sleeping in separate rooms.

It's been maybe a year since then. Six months since you moved out. You wouldn't call it easy, but you’ve settled into your new routine quite nicely.

“Great,” he says, “why not go together then? I’ll drive. We can get dinner together afterwards.”

Your mouth opens in protest. Although it’s phrased as a question, you know him better than that. Satoru will do everything to weasel his way into this situation. Your barely-pleasant expression sours entirely.

“No, thank you,” you say, gesturing to the door, “now get out of my house.”

“Don't be like that, baby,” he says. His arms stretch out towards you, and you immediately dart out of their path.

“I hated you calling me that when we were married,” you say, “what makes you think I’ve changed?”

“You haven't.” He says. “That’s why I’m still here.”

Within the air here hangs a rift that time won't heal. This room—this space—is too emotionally charged for you to think straight. Your head spins, clouded with anger and spite.

“Don't tell me you left the kids alone to come bother me?” You say.

Tsumiki is nearly fifteen, and pretty independent, but you don't like leaving the kids alone any longer than you have to.

“Of course not,” he says, almost looking offended, “Tsumiki is off at a sleepover, and I got your mother to watch Megs for the weekend.”

“You what?!”

A look of shock and betrayal crosses your face. You love your mother dearly, really, but sometimes she can be a bit… much. Early on into your marriage, she was asking when you were going to have children of your own. Being freshly twenty at the time, your answer to her was simple: never. Megumi and Tsumiki were enough. You wanted to be able to devote your time—and attention—to them, not a newborn.

Satoru catches you in your moment of shock, his arms snaking around your waist. Your hands plant on his wrists to shove them away, yet you stop yourself.

The sound of your phone ringing in the other room gives you a reason to escape. You free his arms from your waist, heading into the bedroom. You don't hear him get up to follow you, yet you know he does. Sitting on the table beside your bed, still charging, is your phone. It’s Tsumiki. You only glance at your phone long enough to see her name, not what she’s saying.

The end of the bed dips under his weight as he sits. He tries his best to be covert about it, but you feel his gaze wandering around the room. From the photos on the wall, to the papers on your desk, to the stuffed animals on your bed. Oh, you can hear his snide comments now.

“Those earrings are new,” he says. And you swear you hear a slight tone of disappointment in his voice. “Pretty.”

Goosebumps rise along your arm as he reaches out to feel it, brushing across your shoulder in the process. Crystals, although they may be glass, cut to look like gems, dangling from your ears. They’re blue in color; not a light slate, but a deep cerulean. Subtle enough that they’re rather unnoticeable from a distance.

“Shoko gave them to me,” you say.

She took pity on you once she found out about the divorce. Maybe she felt partially responsible, seeing as she was the one who introduced you two.

Getting sent off to the religious boarding school known as Jujutsu Technical college was a major blow to your teenage social life. At fifteen, all you wanted was to go to a normal high school with your normal friends. Yet you weren't granted such a luxury, and instead were thrown into a world you knew nothing about. You quickly found solace, and a strange kind of companionship in the girl that smoked behind the school: Ieiri Shoko.

If you didn't end up marrying him, you probably would have married her.

For you, it wasn't love at first sight. You could barely stand him in the beginning. It was a rivalry that slowly turned into friendship, ending in romance, albeit with much prodding from Suguru and Shoko. Teenage love consumed the two of you harshly, and entirely.

It wouldn't be until years later, after the wedding, when you would find out they bet on it.

You don't push him away when he kisses you. Just a peck, nothing more. Like you’re teenagers, exchanging affections in the stairwell between classes. When the higher ups would get upset at you, not him, because he was the strongest and could get away with just about everything.

Of course you still love him. How couldn't you?

You were one of the first to look at him as something other than the strongest. Even after the star plasma vessel, and Toji Zenin. Even after Suguru’s death. Even through your own grief, your presence was constant. To him, the concept of not having you around was strange.

The taste of coffee and lipstick lingers on your lips. Your thumb comes up to wipe away the smudge of red that’s transferred to his lips. And you, so pliable and eager, fall right into his lap.

His lips find your neck, hands wandering from your arms, to your chest, to your waist. He’s savoring your closeness—the scent of your shampoo: coconut. Little do you know, he keeps a bottle of the stuff in his own bathroom. If anyone asks, he claims it’s Tsumiki’s. Only you would know otherwise. She hates the stuff, and has been buying her own since the moment she was able to. Really, he keeps it around because he can't bring himself to throw it away.

“Satoru, we shouldn't do this.” You say. You don't really want him too, it’s only to preserve your pride.

Then why is your body responding so well to him? Your body knows this routine. Maybe the last several months of living alone has sped up the process considerably. Blood rushes where it needs to be, and perhaps most shamefully of all, you’re wet. Although you’re not quite prepared yet, it’s just in the early stages of gathering.

A line of saliva connects his lips and your neck as he pulls away. “If you really wanted me gone, I wouldn't still be here,” he says.

You tell yourself that, if you really wanted him to stop, then you wouldn't have spent so many nights dreaming of this. You wouldn't reach out to the cold spot on the bed beside you. Your subconscious wouldn't long for him in nearly every way imaginable.

His hands trace across your waist, coming to take yours. They’re warm, albeit a bit shaky. He’s just itching to undress you—to claim what’s his. It's a sick, possessive side of him that’s only fueled by your recent months apart. He comes to kneel before you like a man bowed in prayer. Satoru sits in worship, but not for the favor of a higher being. You might as well be one to him. Should you wish it, the strongest—wielder of the six eyes—would worship the very ground before you. That devotion would soon become suffocating. It was a bandaid on an already failing relationship.

“Still want me to stop?” He asks, squeezing your hands. Whether that’s on purpose, or an accident, you can't tell. “You say no and I’ll stop here. Just give me the word and we won't ever have to do this again.”

In this moment, your body betrays you: you shake your head. You don't truly want him to go; you know that, he knows that. He wouldn't be poking and prodding at every little unhealed wound if that wasn't the case.

“I need to hear you say it,” he says. That’s when you notice what’s on the chain around his neck: his wedding ring.

It's like he’s mocking you. Of course he still has it. Of course he saw that yours was still sitting on the bathroom counter.

Satoru has always been like this. He pokes and prods, finding out where you’re weak. What cracks or wounds he can press his fingers into. Pushing boundaries comes natural to him.

Maybe you’ve changed. Maybe he hasn't changed at all.

“I just want to get off,” you say.

“Poor baby,” he coos, “you haven't gotten off at all while I was gone, have you? You should have called me. I would have taken care of you.”

“I think I'd rather call Nanami for that.” You say.

The chuckle he lets out sounds nervous. “I know you're joking,” he says, “but judging by the way he looks at you? I think he'd take you up on the offer.”

You believe it. It was a thinly veiled secret that Nanami harbored a little crush for you. The man would never go as far as to pursue his coworker, let alone his coworker's ex wife. This entire time, he’s kept a respectful distance, only speaking about your marriage if you expressed a want to do so. You’ve considered it. Hell, you’ve given it a lot of thought. You think maybe… just maybe, if the two of you were drunk or desperate enough, something could happen. But fraternizing with coworkers in such a way is ill-advised.

Satoru is going to give him hell tomorrow when he sees him at work. Nanami will be none the wiser, assuming Satoru is up to his usual antics.

“One last chance to back out of this,” he says, “if you don't want to do this…”

“Are you going to fuck me or not?” You ask.

His fingers trace down the curve of your spine, before coming to the hem of your sweater, pulling it up—and over—your head. From him comes an audible little gasp once he realizes you have no bra on underneath. That part wasn't intentional; you need to do laundry, and your shirt was baggy enough that a bra wasn't necessary. Your nipples stiffen once exposed to the open air. Although you know how this looks, it sends a pang of self-consciousness through you, causing you to cross your arms in front of your chest. It’s not like he hasn't seen this before. Maybe it's a last ditch attempt to preserve your pride. And he’s nearly tripping over himself to undress, pulling off his coat, then button-up, then trousers. Off comes your skirt, the silky fabric pooling around your feet.

If you could stop for a moment and think, it would be endearing: the desperation that falls over you two like teenagers. He can hardly keep his hands off you, while you don't quite know what to do with yours. Eventually, you settle on wrapping your arms around his neck.

You sit on the edge of the bed before him, still in your panties. Plain black. Nothing fancy, but cute. Maybe if you knew…

You almost scold yourself for thinking such things. It’s not like you had any way of knowing this would happen. You know part of it was to preserve your pride. Being able to move on without seeming like you needed him. He’s not your husband anymore; why go through the effort of getting dressed up?

Beside you, on the bed, he finds a spot to sit. He’s half hard already. His hands ghost up the outsides of your arms, before coming to cup your face. They soon fall to your waist as you move to straddle his lap.

Satoru leans in to kiss you, and it’s… uncharacteristically sweet. That almost makes things worse. If this were something over and done with quickly, that would be tolerable. You could chalk it up to raw emotions or hormones or something other than the fact you still have feelings for him and haven't come to terms with that.

Sex for the sake of mindless pleasure is one thing. It’s tolerable. You can explain it away easily. But the way he handles you—like you’re going to break—sends a pang of pain through your chest. It's too much. Should he act selfishly, that would be far more bearable than this.

You almost want him to. It would be so much easier if he just took what he wanted, and left.

“Lay back,” he says, “like that. Good girl.”

You scoot back on the bed just far enough to fall against the pillows. Your thighs part just enough to accompany him. The body above yours is warm. His lips find yours, then your neck, then one of your stiffened nipples, softly biting down on it. That draws a sharp gasp from you, although the shock it sends down your spine is rather pleasurable.

His fingers hook under the waistband of your panties, tugging them down your legs slowly. Achingly slowly. Shamelessly, his eyes linger on the way they stick to your already slick cunt. This moment is only dragging out because he wants it to. They’re tossed away alongside the rest of your clothes. Long, deft fingers come to trace along your slit; teasing motions done by a man who can barely contain himself. The patience of Satoru Gojo has limits, and you’re testing them.

He palms himself through his boxers. He's completely hard now. That doesn't stop him from trailing long, sloppy kisses down your stomach, and up your thigh. His thumb traces across the bundle of nerves. Slow and steady. Just enough to get you aching for him, but not enough to get you anywhere. You try to angle your hips towards him—to grind against him—but Satoru cruelty pulls his hand away.

“Just… let me have my moment,” he says, chest heaving as he breathes in.

So he admits it…

His thumb is soon replaced with his mouth, greedily licking and sucking at the bundle of nerves that is your clit. There's little rhyme or reason but it's just messy enough that it'll get you off. First, his index finger pushes into you, then another. Satoru must be moaning nearly as loud as you. The hand that isn't fucking out is wrapped around his cock, and he's bucking into it like it's a warm body. Judging by the noises he's making, he's going to cum, so he stops himself before he does so. You don't. Satoru guides you through your own orgasm, his mouth leaving your clit only after you've stopped trembling. It felt rushed. You're not quite satisfied.

Satoru makes a show of licking his fingers. When he kisses you, this taste only grows more prominent. He's making you taste yourself and you're not quite sure how to feel about it. It's not unpleasant, akin to unripe persimmons in taste.

“Is it how you remember?" You ask, a coy expression spreading across your face.

“Different,” he says, “better.”

There’s no time to grab a condom. Not that you have any in here anyway. Whatever consequences that result from this will be dealt with in the morning.

A small groan leaves him as he bottoms out. It's obvious that he tries to stifle it, and fails, resulting in a noise that certainly has your neighbors questioning things. You'll avoid their gazes in the hall tomorrow morning. This won't become a regular thing, you tell yourself.

Hardly a few thrusts in and he knows he is going to cum too soon. You can see it all over his face. Pleasure turns to concentration, then thinly veiled stress. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills your bedroom. Some small, sick little part of you is grateful for your thin walls.

You hate him. You still love him. You wish he would walk out of your apartment right now. But part of you can't bear to sleep another night alone.

“You don't know how much I've been thinking about this,” he says, making a noise between a grunt and a huff, “about the way you feel. Taste. I couldn't get it out of my head.”

His mouth finds yours again and the kiss he exchanges with you is dripping with desperation. Something small, and quiet leaves his lips once they part with yours. You soon recognize it as an “I love you.”

He cums sooner than either of you expected, and from him, your name spills past his lips like a prayer. Though, you suppose that this is the closest he'll ever get to praying.

Your own release is still just out of reach. It doesn't take much effort to get him on his back, and you on top, riding him. He’s still hard, despite having just cum inside you. The fruits of his effort can be seen streaming down your thighs. Your movements grow sloppier as you grow nearer to your release, grinding down against him and his softening cock. Within your stomach, it’s as if an invisible band is tightening. Your own orgasm comes out in the form of a noise that sounds like both a moan and a sob. It's anger and pain mixing with pleasure. Tears of frustration are brimming along your lower lash line. You hate him. You love him. You wish he would leave but you don't want to sleep alone. A rift exists between the two of you that time will not heal.

Instead, you lay beside him on the bed. From beside you, he grabs a blanket for you to cover yourself with. As much as he missed the sight of your naked body, he knows this room is cold, and you’ll be getting up to get dressed anyway.

To him, there’s not a more beautiful sight: you, laying on the bed beside him, leaking of his cum. It would be better if it were his own bed, he thinks, but this'll do.

“I take it we’re on speaking terms again?” He asks.

“I don't know yet,” you say, “depends on how this conversation goes.”

From beside you on the nightstand, you retrieve your glasses, putting them back on. Outside, the sky still appears dark, only lit up momentarily by a bolt of lightning. The rain has slowed to a drizzle, running down your window in streams.

“Seems like great weather to stay in bed,” he comments.

An arm snakes around your waist. You debate with yourself on whether or not to shove it off.

“I think some time apart will do us good.” You say, and the arm around your waist stiffens. He seems to be deciding whether to pull away or not.

“And what? Couples therapy too?” His tone suggests he's making a joke, but not one in bad faith.

“Just in general, you need therapy,” you’re only half joking when you say it, despite it applying to you too, “but I don't think there's one that specializes in whatever you have going on.”

“Funny.” He says flatly.

He lays on his back on the bed, and you lay on your side, watching the steady rise and fall of his chest.

“I don't know what I want.” You say, finally. “I guess I could use something to eat.”

You had plans to make a nice, elaborate dinner tonight, although you’re no longer feeling like it. You went through the effort of buying the ingredients, and cleaning the kitchen, so you might as well.

Satoru follows you as you make your way to the kitchen, stopping once to pull on a shirt. It used to be one of his, he notes. Maybe enough time has passed that you don't remember. Maybe you do. It’s just long enough to fall towards the middle of your thighs—you won't be giving the neighbors a show. He stops long enough to pull his boxers back on, leaving the rest of his clothes discarded on your bedroom floor.

From a cabinet, you retrieve two mugs. On goes the kettle to boil. He watches as you fill the french press with one… two… three scoops of coffee grounds. Just enough boiling water goes in to wet the grounds—they have to sit for a few minutes before the rest is poured in.

Your taste in coffee hasn't changed much over the years. You still take it with cream and sugar. Satoru—when he does drink coffee—takes it with enough sugar to make your teeth hurt.

“We must be on speaking terms,” he says, “otherwise I'd have been kicked out by now.”

“If I was going to kick you out, I would have done it before we had sex. Not after.” You say, taking a sip of your coffee.

Something about the casualness of this moment makes your chest ache; like the last year hasn't happened, and the two of you are just sharing a moment over coffee.

Neither of you notice the front door opening, nor the jingle of keys being inserted into the lock. Tsumiki, standing in the doorway, nearly drops what she’s holding: a book. Her eyes are wide with a mix of shock, before narrowing into anger.

“‘Miki!” You say, almost as shocked as her, if not moreso. “What are you doing here?”

“Returning this,” she says, holding up the book in her hand, “I sent you a text about it like an hour ago. What are you doing?!”

Truly, you don't have anything to say for yourself. Your mouth opens, and a few, broken fragments of an excuse come out. Satoru, looking nearly as surprised as you, simply waves to her, before disappearing into another room. That won't help your case at all.

“Having coffee,” you say, “we were just talking about your game on Saturday.”

She seems unconvinced. Tsumiki, like most teenagers, is a lot smarter than people give her credit for. Silently, she sets the book on the counter, before turning back towards the door.

“I’ll see you at dinner," she says, leaving.

#jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo smut #not osha compliant #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #ive kinda forgotten how to tag stuff tbh

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j-niret · 11 months

Text

“ let’s stay in ”

✩‧₊˚ pairing — bf!hyunjin x curvy!gf!reader warnings — fluff, mild mentions of insecurities, lots of kissing and hyunnie being needy for his bby, size kink if you blink??? is pretty suggestive but i wouldn’t say this categorizes as full-on smut tbh

✩‧₊˚ requested? yes!

debuting this acc as my skz writing blog hehe (๑ > ᴗ < ๑) i had fun doing this request! pls lmk your thoughts on this <3

“almost ready yet babe?” hyunjin’s muffled voice through the door asks for the third time in a row. your brain kicks in to panic mode knowing he’s been waiting patiently for the past half hour yet no progress has been made. you were both supposed to meet with chan, changbin, and minho for dinner reservations but you loathed every single thing in your wardrobe right now. nothing was cooperating and you felt a meltdown beginning to transpire with the piles of clothes scattered across your bedroom floor. “y-yeah just um- give me a few more minutes be out in a jiffy!” that was a total lie but at least you stalled for more time. you’ve scoured your whole closet for a nice outfit to wear tonight but today was just not your day… almost everything you tried on was seemingly inadequate, fit weirdly, or accentuated that one particular body part a little too much for the other boys to see.

you huff in frustration, sifting through the tornado of a mess you’ve created, nothing was going your way; you still had no clothes on and hyunjin will start to grow suspicious any minute now. it’s not like you even have ugly clothes either — you buy the cutest stuff that matches your pretty aesthetic. you own a million and one dresses, skirts, frilly tops that hyunjin always says makes you look like a fairy princess, you had endless options but none lived up to your standards in this moment. time was ticking and you were only digging a deeper grave from procrastinating. “y/nnn, what’s taking so lo- you aren’t even dressed yet?!” hyunjin barges through the door without even knocking first. his eyebrows lift in confusion at the sight of you still completely undressed, you attempted to shield your body with your hands but hyunjin glares at your reaction. “what’s to hide? i’ve seen you in much less, no sense in being shy with me now babe.” he teased, snaking his arms around your waist while proceeding to litter kisses all over your flustered face.

usually you’d welcome this type of action with open eager and delight but your mind was being cruel to you, inability to focus on any positive attributes at this point. you wiggled in his arms to let loose from the tight grip he had on you but this only made him question your resistance, “what’s the matter bun?” he asks sweetly, voice notching up several octaves. “nothing’s wrong hyune, why would you think that?” you’re a terrible liar, hyunjin could notice something off with you instantly. “we’ve been dating almost a year now y/n, you can’t think i’m that oblivious to when you’re upset about something… talk to me, i’m here for a reason.” he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, pulling you closer into him. your timid nature makes it harder for you in expressing the way you feel, looking down at your feet clad with a pair of cinnamoroll socks. you hesitate to speak up but it was only fair to be honest with your boyfriend, “i just don’t feel like myself today…” your voice trails, unable to choke up another sentence. “how come? what’s goin’ on in that pretty little head of yours?” his hands roam your curves, delicately massaging your body. “i don’t necessarily… like the way clothing draws attention to my bum…” you admit, sulking in his arms “i get insecure about how large it is.”

hyunjin couldn’t tell if you were actually being serious or not, is this really something to feel insecure about? he thought to himself. he loves every inch, nook and cranny of you — it was a shock to him you could even think so poorly of yourself. “i’m not sure i understand where you’re coming from.. i mean look at you, you’re literally the cutest girl ever. i adore your body, and you have the nicest bum i’ve ever seen might i add!” he twirls you around to face him, eyes glimmering with twinkles in them as you looks at you. you couldn’t help but pout, although his reassurance was sincere you were still unable to get out of the funk your mind settled in. “heyy, don’t give me that look— turn that frown upside down for me doll.” his finger probes the side of your lip to curl into a faux smile. large, ring clad hands drift down further to scoop your toosh firmly in his palms. puckering his lips for a kiss as he leans down to close the space between you, you scrunch your nose while hesitating to kiss back — you still felt uneasy in your own skin, the sweet sugary taste of him was distracting you well though. you soon melted into his touch, forgetting about your problems once the kiss grew heavier, lips hastily moving together as he squeezes your rear, giving it a light tap to make you squeal in his mouth.

smirking into the kiss, he kneads the plushness of your cheeks while you sigh into him. you were on your tippy toes since his height towered over you like crazy, one of your favorite polar opposites you were most fond of. as you pulled away a huge grin was plastered on the brunette male’s face, admiring you in awe, he still can’t fathom someone as ethereal as you being fully his. “you’re perfect just the way you are babe. i’ll tell you everyday ‘til you get sick and tired of hearing it, even then i won’t stop!” he assures lovingly, “my juicy booty cutiee.” you burst out laughing at that silly little nickname, he never fails to turn your sour mood sweet again. he peppers a soft kiss to your forehead as he rubs your sides, he’ll never get enough of you, truly addicted by your existence.

the buzz of vibrating echoes in the air, interrupting the shared moment between you; hyunjin dug into the back pocket of his jeans to answer his phone. “yello?” he responds, you could faintly hear what you think was changbin on the other end asking if you two were still coming. “ahh right, about that… i think we’re gonna have to skip out on this one hyung, y/n’s not feeling too well right now and i need to take care of her.” your eyes grow wide at the excuse hyunjin came up with, it seems he’s changed his mind about the plans too. uttering a few more things before hanging up he shoves the phone back into his pocket and faces you again. “you know you didn’t have to cancel right? that was rude of you!” you felt slightly guilty but deep down you were relieved. “it’s okay really, let’s stay in and order takeout instead. i’m sure they’ll understand.” he shrugs, voice sounding like honey as he bends down for another quick kiss. “i just want all my attention on you tonight, my darling.”

#hyunjin #hyunjin fluff #hyunjin x reader #hyunjin x female reader #hwang hyunjin imagines #hyunjin smut #hwang hyunjin x reader #skz x reader #skz fluff #stray kids imagines #hyunjin fic

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dapper-zappa · 10 months

Text

His Conejita, Her Spider. | Miles Morales

Pairing: Miles Morales x Fem!Civilian!Reader

Summary: While you're hanging out in your boyfriend's place, a particular sketch in Miles's room intrigues you and then you get to know the meaning behind it.

Word count: ~1,5k

Warnings: Fluff, established relationship, cute Miles, Uncle Aaron death mention, Mama Rio interrupting some couple's time 😭

A/N: I love how the "Childish Gambino inspired Miles" thing has come full circle so don't mind Miles and Y/N talking abt him in the first part of the fic. If you find any mistranslated Spanish, please let me know abt it <3

Today’s one of those days where Miles invited you to his family’s place because hanging out with his girl is simply one of his favorite things to do, other than drawing various kinds of doodles in his sketchbook. While the two of you don’t have any homework for now, there’s nothing better than to spend the time together… right? Miles’s family also grew a lot on you to the point you almost see his mom Rio as an aunt figure and his dad Jeff as an uncle figure.

“Hi… Mr. and Mrs. Morales. I’m Y/N L/N, Miles’s classmate.” you greeted shyly.

Rio let out a warm chuckle. “Oh mija, no need to be shy around me. Feel free to call me Mrs. Morales or Tía Morales, I’m fine with both though so you’re welcome.” (dear)

“You must be Miles’s new girlfriend!” Jeff joined. “Kinda wish his uncle Aaron is still here because he’d love to see his little nephew together with a girl he pulled up, though.” he whispered into your ear, much to Miles’s annoyance.

“Dad!”

The tunes from various songs in Miles’s playlist flowed through the earbud you shared with him in your ear. One of his hands linked with yours the entire time he talked about why he loved the artists featured in his playlist, and you couldn’t help but smile the entire time at your doe-eyed boyfriend passionately rambling about his favorite artists.

He’s an artsy boy who enjoyed drawing and making , but also in love with music and how it made the world feel more alive, according to him. And you loved him for that because while you’re not an artist yourself, listening to Miles’s rambles about his favorite artists and seeing the drawings he drew by himself made you appreciate the hard work between them more. Even the fact your boyfriend’s mostly self taught in art.

“So I’ve been thinking…” you mused, getting absorbed in the song currently playing from your earbud.

“Hmm? Told you that you’d like Childish Gambino.” Miles gently nudged your arm. “It’s obvious I love Sunflower by Post Malone at this point but dude’s discography is like, everything to me-“

“No no no no, it’s just that for some silly reason, whenever I look at his face… he kinda reminds me of your uncle from the photos here. I can’t exactly describe why but maybe it’s because of his entire vibe? Like, both him and your uncle have this sort of warm, approachable chill vibe? ” you giggled, trying your best to dismiss how silly your brain was being right now. “I honestly don’t know.”

He thought about what you had just said about one of his favorite artists and his uncle for a brief moment, nodding once he found himself agreeing with it.

“You know what, you’re right.” he flashed you a dopey grin. “Actually my uncle introduced me to Childish Gambino first.”

“Wait, what? Miles, are you serious?”

“Cielo, I’m serious.” he immediately paused the music from his phone. “So it all started with that one time I heard ‘Me and Your Mama’ blaring in my uncle Aaron’s place, then when he told me about the song’s title thanks to him noticing me jamming myself to it, he also said that the song reminded me of my dad falling in love with my mom. While he just thinks Childish Gambino is neat, for me his music means a lot because I was really close with my uncle and he always comes up in my mind whenever I listen to one of his songs.”

“That explains why he pops up quite a lot in your playlist.” you said. “I like that. You’ve got a great taste.”

Miles shyly scratched the back of his neck. “You do? Well thanks, I mean- yours isn’t so bad either.”

The more you hung out in Miles’s place, the more you loved his place and his family because of how close you were now with him and his parents. Though you just noticed a particular object displayed on his desk began to arouse the curiosity within when your head turned to face the desk he often used as both his little art studio and his study desk.

It was a drawing of you with for some reason, rabbit ears on top of your head smiling gleefully, along with sunflowers surrounding your smiling face. It was a really beautiful artwork, from what you’ve seen. Out of the many impressive works made by your boyfriend, it’s definitely your new favorite as of now.

“Why, thank you!” you beamed, though your demeanor suddenly shifted into a nervous one as your eyes briefly glanced at his desk. “But if you don't mind… Can I look at the little drawing on your desk?” hesitatingly, you pointed at the artwork on his desk but Miles cut you off before you could say anything else.

His eyes widened at the mention of the piece of artwork you were referring to. “Y-you sure you wanna look at it?” he stammered, standing up from the bed.

“Yes.”

Walking towards his desk, he picked up the paper before sitting back on the bed and handing it to you.

“I hope you’ll like this one.”

You took the paper from his hands and now focused yourself on the drawing depicted on the paper. You couldn’t believe your eyes as you finally got to see it right in front of your eyes. From the precise ink strokes in the sketch that made up your face’s exact likeness, how the drawing pops from the vibrant yellow, orange, and pink used in it, and to the silly little addition he chose to add this time in the form of bunny ears, you couldn’t help but love the drawing (and Miles himself) more than before.

“You like it, cielo?” His question made you snap out of your trance.

“This is way more than beautiful, babe!” you squealed, immediately wrapping your arms around him. “I can’t describe how perfect this drawing is and the sunflowers are the best addition because they look so bright and like, everything about this is so amazing.”

“You’re welcome, Y/N.” he replied.

By this point, both of your faces were beaming with happiness. You from being impressed by your boyfriend’s art skills, and Miles, from the fact you loved this doodle of you that he had drawn. Keeping your arms placed on his shoulders, you slightly pulled away from the embrace in order to face him while his hands reached for your waist.

“But one question, Miles.” you retrieved the paper again and shoved it directly in front of his face. “Why the bunny ears? It’s not like I hate them or anything, I just wanna know why.” smirking, you waved the drawing to tease him until he revealed the answer..

He playfully shoved the paper away and gave you the biggest and proudest shit eating grin you’ve ever seen as he pulled you closer by the waist, before whispering in your ear.

“Because you’re my cute little bunny rabbit. That’s why I often call you ‘conejita’, because it literally means ‘bunny’ and the sunflowers represent how much I love you and how happy you make me.”

Before you could say anything, you were interrupted by Rio clearing her throat. You immediately scrambled away from Miles and caught the sight of her holding 2 mugs of steaming hot chocolate standing in front of his bedroom door.

“Just wanna say that I made some hot chocolate, kids!” Rio chimed in as she set down the mugs on Miles’s desk. “And my oh my, Miles, looks like you and Y/N were having some serious love conversations right now from the looks of it.” she teased, putting her hands on her hips.

“Mamá, ¿por qué no llamaste a la puerta?” Miles whined. (Mom, why didn’t you knock the door?)

“Dios mío, Miles, ¿no te diste cuenta de que dejaste la puerta abierta?” (My god, Miles, didn't you notice that you left the door open?)

“I’m sorry, mamá, I forgot to close the door so I didn’t notice you were coming.”

“Está bien, mijo. Just make sure next time you don’t do it again, okay?” Rio gently patted Miles’s shoulder before she headed to leave her son’s room, only for her to pop her head back in, much to his annoyance. (It’s okay, dear.)

“What again, mom?”

“I love you both!” she winked, closing the door and truly leaving from the room this time.

Leaving the tiny awkward moment you two just had because of your boyfriend’s mom barging in, you both continued your previous activities of just chatting with each other while listening to each other’s playlist. It’s really sweet to know that the symbolism Miles put in the drawing of you with bunny ears meant wonders to him thanks to his adoration for you. Now you get why movies and artworks tend to be careful with the colors or details depicted there, because symbolism were pretty much seemingly small things that actually mean a lot, like why Miles chose to draw you with bunny ears and sunflowers around you in the artwork.

You’re his bunny rabbit, and he’s your spider. How cute is that?

#miles morales x you #miles morales x reader #1610!miles x you #1610!miles x reader #atsv fic #atsv fanfic #atsv x reader #atsv x you #smokey writes #atsv #spider man atsv #spider man across the spider verse

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thesithdiaries · 2 years

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In The Shadows (Harwin Strong imagine)

Pairing: Harwin Strong x second-born female Targaryen!reader

Requested: yes, by @astraljedi

Warnings: just overall mutual pining, spoilers for the first episode of hotd, being followed by a drunk man

Y/N was the second daughter of King Viserys and Queen Aemma. Life in King’s Landing was never dull, in fact, it was always chaotic. Before their mother’s passing, her older sister, Rhaenyra was always trying to find new things to do. Riding dragons was fun but she needed other things to bond with her sister. Therefore, they started learning more about their home. Secret passages, hidden places, ways to sneak out undetected. Their uncle, Daemon, was more than willing to share the information. Y/N had a way with words and knew exactly what to say to get him to agree, even though he was going to tell them regardless. He has never denied them anything.

As the attention fell on Rhaenyra for being named heir after Aemma's and Baelon’s death, Y/N was pleased to do what she desired. It stung, at first, but she knew that being second in line meant that her chances were minimum. To spare her future grief, Viserys had mentioned marriage quite a few times, but Y/N always paid no mind to his suggestions. There was no need to make haste, she was content with her life at that moment.

For this particular reason, Y/N loved leaving the Keep at night to be by herself, away from the whispers from the court. Most of the time, she walked around the city, hiding in the shadows to stay away from the men of the City Watch.

It was a noisy night, like usual. Y/N had decided to watch a play. In all honesty, it did describe what happened behind the walls of the Keep well. It was tasteless at times, but she thought it was best for the people to learn about it this way.

The play was describing the issue of who was the rightful heir, Y/N tried to concentrate and try to have fun, but she felt someone staring at her. It made her feel uneasy, maybe it was nothing. Minutes later, the feeling did not fade. Her heart started beating uncontrollably when she turned her head slowly and saw a man staring at her. Without drawing too much attention to herself, she managed to slip away from that area. The man noticed, the drunken fog had not settled entirely.

Y/N ran for her life. The man was not letting up, he was determined. As she was looking back, she bumped into a hard, cold chest. Strong hands grabbed her forearms, preventing her from losing her balance.

“And what are you running from, girl?” A deep voice asked. Y/N stood frozen, she knew that voice. Keeping her head down, she tried to shake free from his grasp to no avail. He was not letting go. “Enough. Tell me why you were running.”

There was no doubt in her mind that the drunken man caught up to her. Feeling defeated, Y/N looked up. It was Ser Harwin Strong. He was appalled.

“Princess," he breathed out, “What are you doing beyond the walls of the Keep?” Y/N shook her head, finally looking behind her. They were the only ones standing in the dark alley, it did not stop the panic from bubbling inside her. Harwin seemed to catch on, quickly moving her to another private area. The air felt tense, Harwin was breathing heavily, trying to stop himself from losing his temper. “Princess…," he started, taking a deep breath. “It is dangerous for you to be out so late, especially without protection. If I had not been here, someone could have hurt you.”

Y/N was quiet, arms wrapped around herself. She truly felt disappointed that she got caught but relieved that it was him and not someone else.

“I am escorting you back to the Keep,” he declared, extending his arm to let her walk first. However, she did not move. “Princess, please.”

“No,” Y/N hissed. “I am not going back with you.”

Harwin was aghast. “You need to be in the Keep, it is not safe here,” he desperately repeated.

“I have been doing this for many moons, Ser Harwin, I do not need your help. I know what I am doing and where I am going.” The Princess was looking straight at him, serious. “Continue to do your duties and leave me be.” He opened his mouth to ask her, once again, to go with him but she spoke first. “I order you to leave me alone, at once.”

Harwin wanted to disobey. He wanted to throw her over his shoulder and carry her back, yet he decided against it. “As you wish,” he muttered in defeat, finally walking away.

There was a knock on her door the following morning. Y/N felt a fluttering in her stomach. Excitement, perhaps?

“Come” she called out.

Standing up from her dressing table, she peeked towards the door to see who walked in. The fluttering intensified. It was him.

“Ser Harwin, what a pleasure,” Y/N smiled, walking towards him. “Is there something you need?”

“We need to talk,” he grunted, partially annoyed by her cheeky attitude.

“We do?” She replied, laughing softly. Harwin scoffed, now he was mad.

“Yes, we do!” He cut the distance between him, standing close to her body. Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. Gods be good, he’s so handsome. “What you did last night was unacceptable and you cannot do it again.”

Y/N cocked her head to the side, grinning. “If I am not mistaken, you have no right to tell me what I can or cannot do.”

“Princess, you need to understand the severity of what you do,” Harwin begged. “Why must you be so stubborn!”

“Because I do what I want, whenever I want”

Harwin took off his helmet, throwing it on the chair. He grabbed Y/N’s chin, pulling her face closer to his. Her eyes widened, what is he doing? “Stay in the Keep.”

“No.”

He let go of her face and moved away, running his hands through his soft hair. “You are aggravating!” He growled. “For once, listen to me!”

Y/N sat down, placing her feet on the table, looking unbothered. “No.”

“Then let me be your escort if you desire to go out at night," Harwin cried out.

Y/N sighed loudly. “I will consider it.”

She did not consider it in the slightest.

Two days passed and she left the Keep again.

Y/N was occupied while buying from different merchants. Many trinkets to use as gifts for her family. It was going well until she felt it. Someone was staring.

After saying her farewells to the kind couple she bought from and promising to return, she walked towards an alley and waited.

A short minute later, a tall, brooding silhouette approached her.

“You just do not want to lose, Ser Harwin.” Deep down in her heart, Y/N was glad he was there.

“I am just doing my job, Princess. My job is to keep you safe," he reminded her while taking off his helmet. “I knew you did not consider my proposal to be your escort.” And he also knew she would try to sneak out. Harwin waited for her to make her escape and followed her from a safe distance. The thought of the Princess leaving by herself was not to his liking.

Y/N placed her bag on top of a barrel. “Enough of this.”

She grabbed his armor softly and pulled him towards her, finally kissing him. Harwin was startled for a second before he relaxed, bringing her closer to his body. His lips were surprisingly soft and he tasted of wine. His hands were holding her face. It was glorious.

They eventually pulled apart, resting their foreheads together. The alley was quiet, the only sound was their breathing. The Princess smiled, making Harwin's heart flutter.

“Now will you let me escort you?”

“No.”

She giggled when she felt Harwin push her against a wall, kissing her again. If this is what would happen every time they left the Keep together, then she might just say yes to his proposal.

#hotd imagine #hotd fanfic #harwin strong x reader #harwin strong imagine

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lolitakirstein · 3 months

Text

Hey Neighbor Pt 9

Part 8

WC: ~1.5k

AN: I'm so worried about writing longer chapters in case they are too boring. but I hate splitting things up when I'm on a roll. ha

You watched as the man you had run into exited Toji’s house 30 minutes later. Unable to hear what the two were discussing you relied on their body language to give you some hint as to who he was. The men seemed formal towards each other yet relaxed; Toji with his hands in his pocket or across his chest, the other guy casually lighting a cigarette while showing his back to toji. There must be some level of trust between them, then. Before the man leaves, you notice him gesture towards your house. You draw back further from the window, afraid of being seen.

Once the car is out of sight and Toji returns to his house, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Should you ask Toji who he was or was that being too nosy? Not like i’ll get a straight answer, he refuses to tell me anything, you think, settling on being nonchalant about it.

Fortunately, you had work to keep you focused. And most fortunately, your hangover was minimal. Nothing more than a slight throb thanks to the pain meds Toji had offered you. You become robotic as you scan, sort, and shelve books and answer the same boring questions from customers.

Before you can notice, it’s your lunch break. You sit in the small cafe that the bookstore offers, downing a hot chai latte and checking your phone. One message from the work group chat and one from Toji that was sent a few hours ago

Toji: You ok?

You fight back the urge to send, “I can’t tell you right now, it’s not the right time,” instead, pocketing your phone and playing hard to get. You clock back into work, ready to start the second half of your shift.

Wait, am I wanting him to chase me or something? This guy who knows things but won't tell me? Why am I trying to act like this is a dude i’ve swiped on Tindr? This guy has secrets, deep ones. Ones I probably don’t wanna know—

“Excuse me,” a soft voice snaps you out of your internal monologue. You spin around and are met with a man. His dark auburn hair is close-cropped at the sides while the top fashionably brushes just above his deep brown eyes. A soft shadow of stubble peppers his strong jaw.

“Oh, hello. Can I help you?” you quickly revert to the robotic motions of a customer service provider.

“Yeah, I was looking for your classical section.”

“Are you looking for anything in particular,” you ask after leading him to the designated section of the store.

“What would you recommend?”

A question every worker hates. “Well, can never go wrong with Doestrevsky.”

“Ah, yes, I read Crime and Punishment in school. Incredible prose,” he responds.

Your heart lifts at finally being able to discuss books with someone. “Indeed, if you like that, you might like The Idiot. Same themes of human nature and society.” You grab a copy off the shelf and hand it to me.

“Well I’d be an idiot if I didn’t take the advice of such a beautiful, well-read woman,” he says coyly as you walk to the counter. You internally groan but also can’t help but blush at the compliment, though the joke was indeed awful.

“Let me know how you like it?” you say after ringing him up and bagging his purchase.

“How about we discuss it over dinner sometime,” he cocks an auburn brown.

“Oh,” you stammer, thrown off by the sudden offer. It’d been so long since you’d been on a date you forgot what it was like to be asked out. “Sure!”

“Great I’ll keep you posted on my progress,” the man who you now know as Connor pockets his phone after you exchange numbers. “I look forward to discussing it with you and hearing your beautiful thoughts.”

Ok, he was laying it on a little thick but you don't mind. The only interaction you had had with a man for the past few months had been with Toji. And those interactions were hardly civil, much less flirty. Though Toji tended to tease, it was mostly to throw you off the topic of his secrets.

The rest of your shift goes by quickly and you arrive home before the sun goes down. As you get out of your car, you notice Toji sitting on his porch steps. You try to ignore him but ignoring him is like trying to ignore a bear about to devour you. You give a wave, walking fast to your house.

“You ok?” Toji asks, still sitting on the steps. Damn, he either can’t take a hint or is just stubborn.

“Yeah, thanks,” you respond fumbling your keys out of your pocket. You drop them. Cursing yourself for being so easily intimidated by him you stoop to pick them up. Toji’s feet appear in your line of vision. You look up at the giant man standing over you. You want to feel afraid, but you can’t deny the absolute feral part of your brain at the sight of him standing over you.

“Why didn’t you text me back?” the possessive tone didn’t help dampen the submissive part of your psyche. Damn, why do I have to be such a whore for crazy men?

“I was working,” you squeak out, picking your keys up and walking to your front steps.

“I wanna talk,” Toji says behind you as you march up the steps and unlock your door.

“It’s fine Toji. Nothing to talk about,” you turn around, Toji is standing at the bottom of your porch steps.

“There is,” Toji huffs a breath. “A lot, actually.”

You were not in the mood for this. Your day ended on a good note and you intend for it to stay that way. “Look, whatever it is. I don’t care.”

“Yes you do,” Toji takes one step up.

You shake your head, even though you were screaming yes in your head. You will not let him win. “Nah, I’m good. I really couldn't care less what your little secrets are. I don’t even know you.”

“It’s not that, it’s just—”

The notification on your phone interrupts the moment. You reach into your pocket for it and notice a text from Connor.

Connor: I hope you had a good rest of your day. I must say, you made mine :)

Oh, the cringe was off the charts with this guy. But you can’t keep the stupid smile from appearing on your face. Followed by a giggle. Shit I’m giggling over a guy. I need laid

“Who’s that?” Toji asks sharply.

“No one,” you shake your head.

“No one huh,” Toji takes another step up, finally standing in front of you. “‘No one’ got you smiling like a goof?”

“You have your secrets, I have mine,” you shrug.

“You don't blush like that for just no one,” Toji teases, he steps so close you can feel the heat off of him. “Now who could possibly be making sweet little y/n blush so much besides me?”

You crane your neck up to look at him, refusing to show he’s affecting you. “I can’t tell you. It’s not the right time.”

Finally, you manage to knock him off his game by throwing his words back at him. He steps back, putting some distance between you. A scowl wrinkles his brow and his jaw ticks as he clenches his teeth. You smirk, pleased with yourself. “Good night toji.”

Toji

Toji stares at the door you slammed in his face, stricken dumb by the sass you dished out. He had expected this to be a moment of confession, finally getting it all out in the open. Now standing at your closed door, Toji has no choice but to retreat back home.

After dinner and tucking Megumi into bed, Toji collapses onto his king-size bed. He turns his head to the window, towards your house. The lamp on your bedside table creates a soft glow from your window. He watches as you enter the bedroom. Your eyes on your phone, smiling.

Toji clenches his jaw. Here he was ready to start having an honest conversation with you, and you were too busy with this mysterious ‘no one.’ He hated being this way, but he couldn’t deny that he felt a sense of protectiveness over you.

He watches you throw your phone on the bed, the giddy smile still on your lips—perfect lips, soft delicate lips he’s thought about kissing on multiple occasions. With your back to the window, you remove your shirt and toss it to the chair before you begin sliding your pants down. As much as Toji would love nothing more than to watch, he has enough decency to look away, he’s not THAT much of a pervert.

He reaches into his back pocket, depositing the contents beside him.

First is his cellphone which he text Shiu–I need to borrow a few of your tech geeks.

The second, is a sealed envelope. No address, no street names or numbers. Just 3 words written in delicate script:

il mio agnellino

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lime-bloods · 10 months

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Homestuck's Gnosticism: The World / The Wheel

Everyone knows Homestuck is "a Gnostic story".

Wait, why does it feel like we've had this exact conversation before...?

AH. SO NICE OF YOU TO JOIN ME.

If you followed along with the first post in this series, you'll be familiar already with the Gnostic nature of Homestuck's central conflict between the spirit world and the flesh. And even if I say so myself, I think that post is pretty definitive; if you're ever unsure what a particular character's motivations or end goal are, the Conflict will tell you. But what's conspicuously absent from the post is any explanation of what actually happens in Homestuck. We've covered the why, but very little of the how.

I left us off on the "synonymous goals" that spring naturally from this conflict between flesh and spirit; attaining ultimate knowledge, and escaping the confines of Homestuck itself. Eagle-eyed readers probably spotted what was lying between the lines, there: the comic is called Homestuck because it's about being stuck in a house, so the ending is about escaping the house. But what does that really look like? And how did they get in that house in the first place?

Let's return very briefly to a quote I used in the previous post. "[Y]our ultimate self [...] unlike god tiers or bubble ghosts or whatever, it really IS immortal". Two assumptions naturally grow out of this fact. First, and probably most obvious: when John dies, he's not really gone. The idea of him still exists out there, somewhere, and in our minds, so he still exists. Second, though: if the idea of him is eternal, John obviously didn't start existing when he was born. So again we ask, where did he come from?

How did John get here? Where does he go? The answers to these questions are like the four sides of one hypercoin, in that Homestuck is a time loop... of a sort.

To begin to understand this, we need to reiterate what was basically "the point" of the first post: Homestuck operates on two distinct levels, a spiritual plane consisting purely of ideas, and a "literal" physical dimension. What happens on these two planes often mirrors each other, and because Homestuck itself is a work of fiction which operates in the realm of ideas, they can even intersect. But ultimately, what "literally" happens to the characters in Homestuck is not the same as the ideas the comic is expressing in its spiritual metanarrative.

The fact that a physical time loop is impossible is something Homestuck inherits from real-life physics: to put it simply, John being born can't be the physical John from the end of his timeline, because that John would be way too old to be a baby! But ideological time loops are not only something sanctioned by Paradox Space, but essential to its very being; they are where it gets its name, after all! To repeat another lynchpin quote from the comic: there is essentially nothing new in paradox space. Any idea that seems new necessarily must have just come from somewhere else.

"SbaHJ has the distinction of being the symbolic language of [Dave's] subconscious." (Homestuck: Book 3: Act 4, p. 282)

Frequently we see this expressed in the rooms representing characters' dreams, which, as discussed, sort of transcend the character's physical form and represent the broad ideas that characters are made of. Dave's dreams (pictured above) are covered with drawings of Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff, characters he seemingly invented as a child after being inspired by a drawing Terezi sent to him. But Terezi's drawing was based on Dave's own illustrations she saw later on in his timeline; so which of them truly "invented" Sweet Bro and Hella Jeff? Neither of them did; SBaHJ exists as pure subconscious ideological matter floating through Paradox Space, only sometimes being picked up by a character's conscious mind. Similarly, Gamzee tries to manipulate this subconscious realm when he uses his psychic powers to place a terrifying effigy of Jack Noir in John's dreams, as punishment for the destruction of the trolls' session. But as we know, Jack Noir only took that form because of the nightmares this doll caused! So again; neither John or Gamzee thought up the demonic clown "first". It existed in the realm of ideas before either of them ever had the chance to invent it.

These kinds of ideological loops are the bread-and-butter of jujus. We're told their origins are untraceable and that they can't be destroyed, but neither of these things is really true; these superstitions exist only to obfuscate the true rule that jujus "emerge spontaneoUsly from the void." Rather than be erased from existence, a juju can only be banished to that same void of nonexistence where disembodied ideas live, and then pulled back into the world of dreams by a prospective psychic.

With these rules established, now we can really delve into with appreciation the ideological time loop that underpins all of Homestuck. And like all good time loops, the best place to start is at the end.

ACT 7 (Are you tired of seeing it yet?)

Let's not insult anyone's intelligences here: you know and I know that Caliborn's little house juju looks like the Homestuck logo because it is Homestuck; when he wins it from Yaldabaoth, he takes control of it, and when he sucks the heroes inside, he's trapping them in the confines of his material world.

What's essential to keep in mind here, though, is that the power of a juju is the power of the idea itself. It's easiest for us to think of the word juju in Homestuck as a concrete noun, referring simply to a magical object. But the word's real-life origins, referring more abstractly to magic or enchantment, are still relevant in this fictional framework. Lil Cal isn't just "a juju", but is "FILLED WITH BAD JUJU." Magic in Homestuck has always really been about the idea that believing in something can make it real, and the purpose of all Homestuck's dealings with chucklevoodoos and jujus is to evoke the anthropological concept of the "fetish"; an item whose power comes from human beings ascribing supernatural qualities to it. Jujus are all part of the "game" the cherubs play, with all its rules and quirks; breaking an enchantment is like breaking a rule, in that it changes nothing about the real world: you've just infringed upon an idea. The juju isn't the object; the juju is the power, good or bad, ascribed to the object.

All of this is really just to say one thing: Caliborn's home juju can't trap the flesh versions of John and his friends; as we established, you can't send old John back in time to become young John. But what a juju can trap is something far more important; the ideas of John and his friends. This is why it doesn't matter if the heroes who travel back to the beginning of everything to beat Lord English while he's still a kid are the "main" timeline versions of those heroes from some point in the future, or if the Epilogues' version of events is truth and they're some "irrelevant" offshoots: because all of those characters are represented by the same idea, and that's what Caliborn puts in the box. No matter what timeline John is from, he's from Homestuck, to Homestuck he must return, and as such Homestuck is what he must be forced to escape. Refer again back to the previous post: Caliborn can't create or destroy, only take pure ideas and alchemise them down into a form he can control.

And that's why Act 7 so enigmatically features two different white home-doors (above), seemingly so interconnected yet effectually unrelated. Because Act 7 takes up the hefty role of concluding two storylines simultaneously: allowing the "real", flesh-world versions of John and his friends to escape Lord English's reality through one door, while also concluding Homestuck's metanarrative by setting the ideas of John and his friends free of their prison through another door.

So far, most of this is probably stuff you'd have either figured out on your own or at least heard from someone else already. And if we set aside such distractions as run-ins with radioactive imps and omnipotent dog-gods, the "whats" and "hows" of the heroes' story are probably the easier parts of Homestuck to figure out. What's more difficult to fully comprehend on a first pass is how Lord English himself fits into all of this.

If you've been following me for any stretch of time, you'll notice in my analysis of Homestuck I've returned to the topic of black holes frequently. I've lost track of how many versions I've published of what I call "Black Hole Theory". And I won't link to any of them here, because ultimately Black Hole Theory was a corkboard to which I could pin the evidence that would eventually, piece by piece, lead us to where we are right now:

If the home juju is a white "hole" leading out of the confines of Homestuck as a story, then black holes are the doors that lead back in. An early clue to this comes in the form of Calliope's stage in the heart of a spiral: these spirals are Calliope's visions of black holes, which she uses as "dark pocket[s]" from which "no information can escape" - a literal description of a black hole - and that stage is the very same one Caliborn stages his story on when he takes full control of Homestuck's narrative. The meaning here should be clear: Calliope creates black holes, and it's the center of these black holes where stories can take place.

But for all the evidence we need to suggest that Lord English's fall into a black hole leads to something more complex than just his destruction, we need not look further than conventional science:

In the quantum world [...] information cannot be created nor destroyed.

Lisa Zyga, on the conservation of quantum information.

This rule that "ideas" are truly immortal, and that any time an idea seems to be destroyed it must have merely been transported somewhere else, holds true even in the scientific world of black hole physics. This has been played with in MS Paint Adventures before; theoretical physicist Stephen Hawking's take on black holes was that some stuff could in fact escape a black hole, contrary to Calliope's assertions, in the form of Hawking radiation. But Hussie's own version of the story was always a lot more to the point: something gets sucked into the center of a black hole, it gets shot out somewhere else. In hypothetical physics this is called a white hole - no doubt you can see where this is going.

So Lord English's final moments in Homestuck see him not destroyed, or killed, or defeated in combat in any traditional way, but sucked right back into Homestuck. What exactly does that mean?

Homestuck, p. 8105

As long as we're talking the power of ideas and symbols, possibly the most blatant a symbol can get is in the form of a gesture; and the thumbs-down is possibly one of the most ancient gestures there is. Dave gets one, Tavros gets one, and, so they say, even the Roman gladiators got them. This precedent makes the meaning of the gesture clear: "you're going down." And it makes sense, too, that Hussie, the "good author", would signal the "evil author's" demise in such a way. But some might question the effectiveness of the power of gesture at such a pivotal point in the comic. Are we really to believe that English's defeat was, even in part, the result of another author merely willing him away like a tyrant doing away with an entertainer who has fallen out of favour? Or did the Hussie-character actually have some kind of plan to deal with his Hulk-like alter ego?

Of course he did.

...now Caliborn has hijacked the property of his experiential continuum which he has reason to believe is called "the narrative". Little does he know you recently made the shrewd decision to purchase(?) the ACT 6 ACT 6 SUPERCARTRIDGE EXPANSION PACK! Just plug it into any in-universe console port to unlock a variety of exciting new gameplay features and proceed through remaining canon unfettered, while Caliborn muddles through six new sub-sub-acts of infantile "subversive parody" targeting the very tale he inhabits, none the wiser!

To allow our heroes the chance escape their narrative prison, English isn't just to be trapped in their old cell; it's to be trapped within an infinitely-recursing cell, not just reliving one story over and over again but forced to live out infinitely many different stories. Not just a narrative loop; a narrative spiral. That's what being sucked into the black hole means for Lord English.

When Roxy - the Hero of Void whose very symbol is that of the black hole - banishes Caliborn-as-Cal into the void, he becomes one of the very wandering ideas with which English plays like dolls. "Instances of [Doc Scratch] have spawned in countless universes", and they have "never once failed to complete [their] objective": whether he wants to or not, Lord English will always be born again. In a new universe, perhaps, maybe even in a different shape, but his role always the same. Caliborn thinks that by filling the supercartridge with special stardust and corrupting the story, he's won, but looking at the bigger picture the truth is clear: he's only playing by somebody else's rules.

Just as Skaia uses lotus "seeds" to store items away for later use, and employs meteors as "Seeds" to send important elements back in time to set up the beginnings of new stories, so too are English's cue ball "seeds" only a means of transporting his essence from one place to the other; the black hole and the Rapture are, after all, only Skaia and the Reckoning sized up to a truly macrocosmic scale. The cue ball is able to be a font of endless knowledge because it is the "white hole" at the other end of the black hole! No information can escape a black hole, and therefore there is no information that escapes Scratch's attention -- he is limited only by his "pockets of void", which exist only to, in time, be filled, as more and more falls into these black holes like a multiversal game of billiards. Not only is this a transparent allusion to one of the most fundamental representations of the paradoxical time loop as a concept, but it is also the ultimate insult to injury: despite having lived an infinite number of lives, and being cursed to live out an infinite number more, Lord English cannot know what his fate will be until he literally falls into it. This is what forces him to lose, over and over again for eternity, while our heroes triumphantly escape Homestuck onto greener pastures.

#homestuck #analysis #lord english #black holes #metanarrative

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