#learned so much with him in these past few years | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

recycledraccoon · 2 days

Note

Quick! I'm from the future!! I need your inkblade headcanons or scenarios or the universe will implode!

Ok ok, I can do this. I can answer this ask without going out of control. I can be normal about this, I can.

I don't have very many hardset headcanons, but more vibes that rise and fall like the tide. Oisin's fins/head-crest flare out ramrod straight and the spines turn as purple as his face if he's blushing hard enough. I will die on this hill. Oisin's non-verbal emotions are actually really easy to pick up on if he's too distracted to keep them tightly in control. A thick dragonborn tail lashing back and forth like an outlet for Emotions That Are Too Big can be really inconvenient in a highschool hallway. The rise and fall of his fins/head-crest are MUCH harder to hide however. Oisin also smells perpetually of petrichor, and it drives Adaine insane.

1. I think Oisin's crush started softly, and with indescribable longing, probably before he ever knew who she was. Freshman year, a Thursday Intro To Glyphs class. He doesn't know or talk to her at all, just a face in a class he has that he barely notices. So he's not falling for her quite yet.

I think he first fell in love in the way one does when you see a stranger sitting across from you on the public bus or train. The sunlight hit her hair and he couldn't take his eyes off suddenly. Maybe he saw her smiling and laughing with her friends, maybe she was rolling her eyes at them with her nose scrunched up just a little in faint judgement, maybe he can't even remember because while walking past in the hallway he had been so dumb-struck for a second he walked face first into an open locker door to Ivy's absolute confusion. (She does laugh at him mercilessly, even if he won't say why he walked into it.)

It's a moment of "I don't know you, you don't know me, but for one unfathomably long moment I wanted nothing more than to imagine a life lived that included basking near you and your smile every day until I die."

Unrealistic right? Just a passing stranger, this isn't a love story, it's an average Tuesday and Oisin has homework and an appointment with his party in the forest after school.

He gathers his bearings and moves on, and if his mind wanders back to the girl in the hall who had captivated him to lethal effect? Well it's a pleasant memory for him and he thinks that's allowed, right?

Except she's in his Glyph class two days later, he realizes, and suddenly that hallway moment of longing rushes back until his entire face is purple and he's trying not to stare at the occasionally stuttering but brilliant wizard girl two rows ahead in class.

1a. I think Oisin continued to take Glyph classes at first because he hoped she would too. Adaine doesn't, but Oisin continues because he is good at them and enjoys it and it's certainly easier to learn when he's not distracted in class 70% of the time.

2. As Oisin gets older, more and more of his dragonic nature becomes apparent. It's like a second puberty happening concurrently with normal puberty, which means it's a rollercoaster nightmare for him and the High Five Heroes/Rat Grinders.

2a. Dragons have hoards, but not all dragons hoard the same things, even within their own subclasses. Still, Oisin has quite a few gems and jewels in his fledgling hoard, despite not knowing what he most wants to hoard, and if his favorite gem just so happens to be one that reminds him of the shade of blue in a particular elven girl's eyes then-

2b. Oisin also has a deep fondness for rain and storms. He always knows if it's incoming even if it's not in the forecast. Something primal in him connects to the raging skies, for good or ill. It makes him feel confident and powerful. He also considers it very romantic. Unfortunately, Adaine gets so cross with him anytime she hears him predict a storm coming, even if he's talking to literally anyone else. (Adaine thinks Oisin is a storm himself, and if she is not careful she will be like the last Oracle and have forgotten to stock up on water breathing spells and drown in him amidst the storm of his being.)

2c. Dragons also hold great respect for power and prowess. Physical fights for hierarchy, play, or even courtship are very normal. For all that they are sentient brilliant beings, Dragons are still wild, untameable, primal things. This lurks underneath all of them, good or evil. Some are just more adept at hiding it. For courtship, this comes into play as sizing the other up. Both sides are looking to find out whether or not the other has any worth as a long term partner who would need to help guard the nest. Protecting eggs and hoards from greedy adventurers is serious business. There are reasons there aren't many truly ancient dragons. Too large a discrepancy in strength can sometimes be a turn off for the stronger one, so the most successful courtships are usually of similarly strong dragons, or at least, ones that put up enough of a fight despite the gap.

c1. Oisin, seeing the great accomplishments and prowess of Adaine Abernant over the course of Freshman year, feels a deep stirring even before he's rage-starred. He wants to fight her so badly, to sling magic and bloody teeth until the raging beast inside is sated. Naturally this scares him at first, and Oisin REFUSES to seek Adaine out to talk because of it, because the teen boy part of himself wants something kind, soft and tender between them, while the dragon making itself known as he ages wants to prove itself strong to her.

Later, he will tell himself this urge was ENTIRELY because he'd been on the path towards being contaminated-then-consumed with rage and wanted the Bad Kids dead. Absolutely not because it's the first step in traditional dragon courtship. He just wants to prove himself to her. He wants to feel for himself the confirmation of her renowned battle prowess. This is all for purely rival-related reasons, he tells himself. He is, perhaps, a bit of a liar.

3. Adaine's crush, not just her thinking he's cute but her actual legitimate crush on him, actually starts when the Rat Grinders are being redeemed post-Junior Year.

Like, she hates his GUTS. He made her feel belittled and stupid during Junior year, and yes they kicked his and his friends asses, but also now they just have to deal with them still being around. (Yes this is how they made friends with Ragh too, but they're petty.)

Except...so now they have to spend time together, maybe in classes maybe because Lucy loves her friends despite everything but is also now a friend of The Bad Kids. The former Rat Grinders are CLEARLY trying so hard to be better and kinder, but still the parties are mingling and there is tension but its also so fucking funny.

So Adaine and Oisin's interactions is just a montage of them being assholes to each other. Oisin can be polite and respectable, funny even, with everyone BUT Adaine apparently. Bickering about wizard things, taunting cutting words, and Adaine repeatedly trying to punch his smug face whenever he gets too close while gloating if he's right about something.

3a. Adaine literally tells Aelwyn that while she wants and needs kindness, she does acknowledge that it's messed up that she wishes someone was a little mean to her sometimes. This rivalry with Oisin is NOT WHAT SHE MEANT!!!!!! (the monkey paw curls)

3b. The worst part, is no matter how much Adaine hates Oisin, is that it doesn't stop him from being attractive. Oh sure, she thinks he's an absolute asshole when he's sitting across from her in the library, but......

He's still absurdly tall, with large arms that are for more than just show. The conjuration tattoos are both practical and very pleasing to the eye, the almost electric blue of them a pleasing contrast to the softer blue shade of his scales.

The contradiction of those large round spectacles resting on his snout makes him look just dorky enough to go from being just another buff guy to being....well. Unfortunately, the glasses also do nothing to shield Adaine from the weight of his gaze.

When he looks at her with his full attention, behind those glasses are eyes of molten gold, and trained solely on her that gaze feels searing hot wherever it lands.

3c. Or perhaps, the worst part is she despises how he laughs. Sometimes, when she says something as clever as it is cutting, Oisin throws his head back just a little to laugh, bright and warm, all while his throat rumbles. It must be something draconic in nature, like a strong purr or distant rain clouds. It's much harder to get him to make that particular sound when he laughs, and the rumble feels unfairly like victory. Like she cracked the careful fascade he puts up to pretend like he's not a dragon.

The rumble also feels particularly reminiscent of butterflies in her stomach. (She elects to ignore this part.)

4. Oisin is a dragon, and he is a little obsessed with Adaine even if he doesn't dare to dream of going on an actual date with her after everything from the previous year. He cannot imagine a world where she would ever again believe him to be genuine in affection or intention towards romantic feelings. No instance of genuine fluster could ever be seen as anything but a clever ruse, he tells himself, he certainly wouldn't believe it if it was him.

But he's got her attention now, and he is possessive of that, of what he CAN get. Even if she hates his guts and pointblank threatens to kill him if he steps out of line-

Even if it's because she hates him, Oisin still has her eyes on him. Eyes like clear skies before the rolling storm, like they can pierce through everything he is and will ever be and know the truth of it.

Every conversation is like a battle, a verbal sparring that he TELLS himself is nothing at all like the courtship fights, but oh how sweet does it sound to his inner dragon. She could be cussing him out and he could feel like his heart would burst from his chest from the affection he feels, even as he riles her up further, until she slips into saccharine elven curses that he can practically taste on his forked tongue.

4a. Once he tosses back a clever jape in draconic at her. When she immediately starts in on him with the gutteral words of his native tongue, perfectly fluent but lilted ever so slightly like a refined melody, his tail accidentally knocks over a chair and his crest flares so strongly that he KNOWS his face must be more purple than a ripe plum. He's lost a battle and her laughter at the way he flees claiming he forgot something haunts him for days. He tries to get revenge by whispering things under his breath at her in Elvish, and her glare is divine, but it's so risky because she might just start talking to him draconic again and Oisin fears he could live a thousand years and still not be able to handle the sound of it when it falls from her lips.

a1. It's a lost cause. Adaine has a weakness now, and she wields it with all the precision she's developed on a battlefield. It's the cutest surest way to put him in his place, rile him up with the same burning fire that he seems so expert in stirring up in her. Oh he might try to argue back in draconic, or even throw a taunt out in Elvish, but he always stalks off first. (He makes the refined, posh but ancient language of Elvish sound like something Tracker would appreciate. He makes it sound ever so slightly wild, like something else is lurking behind all the refinery. Adaine is well practiced in steadying her breathing, and Oisin always cracks first.)

5. Everyone has seen these two bicker back and forth, and everyone knows trying to get them to stop or get between them means the two turn as a united front against whoever interrupted, and that's honestly worse.

5a. The Bad Kids and High Five Heroes/Rat Grinders have an ongoing bet amongst themselves on on if the two will snap and legitimately murder each other, or snap and start making out in the library. It's honestly way too elaborate of a betting system with odds changing all the time, but it is actually probably the most fun, non-tense bonding the two groups have together. They have also gone to GREAT LENGTHS to keep it secret from the two wizards, especially when one of them is the fucking ORACLE.

6. It's not all bickering and scathing words. Sometimes, when nobody else is around to see behind this precarious curtain...its soft and tender too.

6a. Sometimes, when Adaine is genuinely having a bad day and feels one wrong moment from truly snapping, she feels the magic of a conjured summon passing by whatever table or nook she stowed herself away to hide in. The smell of arcane-tinted petrichor lingers afterwards, and settled nearby is a warm drink that hadn't been there before. Sometimes its tea's she's fond of, sometimes a warm peppermint mocha from her favorite coffee place downtown. Against her better judgement, she is increasingly fond of the smell of rain. 6b. Sometimes, the rage feels like it never left Oisin's body. It burns him inside and out, and he's so exhausted fighting back these aftershocks. He is trying every day to make up for what he's done, but the feeling of unbridled rage haunts him. To indulge is to fail, fall off the wagon, and he will not falter, even if he squeezes his hands so tightly they bleed beneath his claws. A message cantrip blooms to life in his mind. Melodic, lilted draconic, giving not words of comfort, but familiar unafraid taunts. It's a challenge, he knows it, and somehow that makes it easier, rage giving way to fondness and the desire to prove himself. 6c. There are more late nights in libraries and sitting close at tables in out of the way restaurants working on difficult projects then either would ever let anyone know, not that they let anyone know of them at all. It's quiet honest conversations over dusty tomes and scattered papers. (They couldn't know how to make the most cutting of remarks if they knew nothing about each other, after all.) a1. Its Oisin, laying his head down in his arms over the library table, eyes watching her sitting next to him with hair falling in her face like it always does when shes bent forward focusing intently on her work. There are many, many times when Oisin does nothing but watch in silence. Sometimes, rarely, when its late and nobody will come by except to kick them out- He reaches a claw to gingerly tuck the silken gold hair behind the bright red ear of a girl who doesn't say anything about it, before he looks away entirely, trying to ignore the way he can feel his crest fluttering up and down as it seemingly contemplates flaring out.

a2. It's Adaine, rolling her eyes with no heat, as she steps into his personal space and is enveloped in the smell of petrichor. Calloused fingers lingering on rough scales as she ever so gently corrects a stance or spell casting motion that the unfairly tall dragonborn boy next to her had been working on perfecting.

The both know she doesn't have to be so close for this, that another demonstration from beside him would work just fine. He doesn't have to bend ever so slightly, dip his long draconian neck down so he can better hear her murmured words either, so close they can feel the heat of the others breath. He casts the spell perfectly, and Adaine steps back out to a respectable distance, and neither of them say anything about it.

7. Neither of them ever mention any of it. It feels taboo, like the triggering of a spell that will destroy both of them. The fighting, the bickering, the cutting words and sharp swords aimed at jugulars? That's easy, that's familiar and safe. It's what's supposed to happen between them, safe territory they can walk with eyes closed. It's the tenderness that's hard. It's the yearning and soft touches aborted at the last moment-

This is what would be their ruin, and the threat of it lingers above them, rolling clouds heavy with rain that just wont fall. Days, weeks, months pass by and they do not mention it.

8. Adaine, flush with Oracle-sure certainty, gestures for Oisin to slow down, to bend down low so she can tell him something. He protests, its about to rain any second and really Abernant, they're going to be late- Adaine kisses Oisin first, soft and sure as her hands cradle his scaled jaw, just as the dark clouds above them break open.

The kiss tastes like rain, and the loud, pleased rumble in her ears certainly isn't from the storm coming down on them.

#IM ABSOLUTELY NORMAL aslfjuhbalefjbna #this got TOO LONG #I WASNT SUPPOSED TO WRITE FIC WHEN ANSWERING THIS #anyway blah blah blah the poetic nature of the elven oracle falling in love with a storm dragon #gosh i'm gonna have to restructure this for ao3 uuuuuug #if anyone is trying to clock where I'm self projecting from my own previous crushes #You Don't See Anything Shut Up #adaine x oisin #inkblade #adaine abernant #oisin hakinvar #fhjy #fhjy fanfic #oisaine

54 notes · View notes

clip-the-simp · 18 hours

Text

Not Much Else [Pt.4]

Ao3

Part 1 - Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 - Part 5

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem!Reader

Word count: 3,257

Warnings: 🔞 NSFW! mdni!, Swearing, drug use (? It’s The Ghoul’s inhaler) (I’m bad at warning tags so just let me know if I need/should to add some)

Tags: Mild Proofreading, NSFW!, fingering, oral (f receiving), PnV, unprotected sex, overstimulation, irradiated cream pie, wing play(?) suggestive content, flirting, reader had bat wings, Bounty Hunting, deviation from TV show, pre!show events(?), Slow Burn(?) (Again I'm bad at tags so let me know)

Summary: You're a vault experiment that makes it to the surface. Quickly you learn the lay of the land and a few years later end up working the same bounty as The Ghoul. You convince him to let you tag along after having a feeling that you just had to follow him. Where will this story lead? Only time (and my motivation) will tell.

A/N: Question for y’all. Is it confirmed somewhere that whatever is in The Ghoul’s inhaler is Radaway or are we just assuming that? And what methods are there of using RadAway. Haven’t done much research but figured someone would correct me in the comments. Would love to know. Anyway, this is part 4 to my Copper Howard/The Ghoul x reader fanfic. This is also my first time writing smut so that’s why it took me a while to update. Be forewarned that this is going to be far from canon and really unrealistic honestly. But listen. If writing has taught me one thing, it’s that anything can happen.

The Ghoul’s expression soured as he turned his head back to the fire and started poking at it with the stick. The burnt speaks of wood floating through the air and a few catching on the meat cooking above. No wonder you had been so drawn to him at first. The two of you had been thick as thieves before the bombs fell.

“You’re gonna need t’ be more specific darlin.” He stated while he leaned back, Cooper’s eyes stayed on the flames as they reached for the sky. Words failed to form in your mouth when you tried to clarify. Instead opting for a moment of silence.

You rotated the meat on the makeshift spit you had made. Memories of the past the two of you shared began to resurface.

The time when you had accepted an invitation to a wrap party at his house. You had fallen into the pool, while talking to Coop, when another party goer had drunkenly pushed you in. Being a good host he helped you out of the pool while Barb grabbed you a towel to dry off.

Another time Cooper and yourself were on set getting ready for a romantic scene. You had zoned out while admiring the set when he had spooked you from your thoughts. Out of instinct you had jumped and spun around. Cooper had been close enough to end up with a shoulder to the chin from your jump. You had apologized profusely but he assured you it had been fine.

You were brought out of your memories when the man beside you coughed. Your attention was drawn back to him as he rummaged through his bag for his modified jet inhaler. He had used it a few times a day but it seemed as if he was having to use the device a bit more.

“I can’t believe you’re still alive.” You said only slightly above a whisper. Having assumed everyone from your past had died, besides the ones trapped in vaults, you had accepted being the only relic from your time.

Cooper placed the glass vial into his inhaler before taking a large intake of the yellow medicine. He coughed a few times before trying to answer you properly.

“I may be ‘alive’,” He raised his fingers in air quotes around the word ‘alive’ before he looked at you. Cooper’s eyes held a range of emotions that you couldn’t narrow down. “But I’m not the same man I was.”

“Regardless. It’s nice to have you around.” You assured him before settling back against the log. Pulling your bag into your lap, you rummaged around for a moment to find your rations. There weren’t many options besides the human jerky you had prepared the night before. Deciding it’s better than using up your good food, you settled for it. Also pulling out the bottle of whisky you had stashed. As you tore off a piece of meat and began to chew, a chuckle rose from Cooper which got your attention.

“So, you go around telling everyone you were a floozy in Hollywood or am I just special?” He had a smirk on his face which earned him an extra hard punch to the arm. Cooper let out a hurt sound which bleed into a laugh, rubbing the spot you had hit.

“Is that really what you're stuck on? After this revelation that ‘oh hey, my friend is still alive’ all you got was ‘man what a floozy?” You questioned him with a raised eyebrow. Cooper relaxed again into the log, making sure to throw an arm behind you.

“Can’t say it went unnoticed. Never thought y’ to be the type.” He shrugged and grabbed the whisky bottle you had laid between the two of you as you took another bite. Cooper uncorked the bottle and brought it to his lips to take a quick swig. A few drops of the amber liquid escaped from the sides of his mouth. You gave him a glare as he helped himself to your liquor.

“Ya well it’s not like I went around flaunting the fact I had to sleep with a few producers to get my start.” You growled before reaching for the bottle which he pulled away from you. Cooper chuckled at the look on your face before reluctantly passing it to you. Yanking it from his grip you took a gulp. Letting the liquid burn its way down your throat as it chased down the jerky.

“Y’ didn’t sleep with Emil right?” He asked as you took a sip. The question caught you off guard as you began to choke on your meal. You coughed into your arm trying to compose yourself. If you hadn’t been choking you would've punched him again.

“God no! I was well in the business by then.” You said through coughs. Reaching his hand back out, you frowned and gave back the bottle. Cooper took another sip while looking into the fire. Feeling like causing trouble, you decided to poke the bear so to speak.

“Why? You jealous?” You teased with a raised eyebrow. You had to admit that Cooper was always charming. Before the booms, you had fancied him but kept it to yourself with him being married and all. You saw how much he loved his family even after the divorce.

“You want me to be?” He tilted his gaze to yours. The light from the fire distorting the look on his face, but the tone in his voice was unmistakable. It was predatory which matched the shift in the air you felt. Knots formed in your stomach as his gaze lingered. A heat building just below the surface of your skin.

You reached across him again trying to get the whiskey. Feeling like you needed some more liquid courage before you tried anything. Cooper pulled it from your reach again but this time you didn’t withdraw. Instead you continued to reach over his lap until he couldn’t keep it from you anymore that way. In retaliation he raised it above his head causing you to move and grab it from him.

Yanking it from his hand, you lowered yourself again and looked back at him with a look of triumph. It quickly faded however when you realized the position you were in. You hadn’t realized when you started to reach over his head, that you had moved to straddle The Ghoul holding your liquor hostage.

When you rested your weight back down Cooper jumped at the opportunity to pull you closer. One hand was pressed firmly against your lower back but placed to not touch the base of your wings. While the other rested on the back of your neck.

Your face was mere inches away from his and it made your heart race. The contact was sending waves of heat through your nerves that was making it hard to think. Your body was frozen in place and breathing started to become hard the longer he held you in his grip.

In a split second his lips were on yours and his hold on you got tighter. Cooper held you flushed against his body as he deepened the kiss with a slip of his tongue. It tasted of whiskey and whatever chems he had been puffing on earlier but in that moment it was heaven.

Your body loosened as you indulged in the kiss. Placing your arms on either side of his shoulders, you pulled closer. Still gripping the bottle of whisky in one hand you took your other, having dropped the jerky earlier, and rested it on the back of his neck.

The man under you groaned when you subconsciously moved your hips. Your body was begging for friction that you prayed Cooper would provide.

Pulling away for air, Cooper’s hands moved higher to graze the spot between your wings. A pathetic whimper left your throat as you let your wings go limp beside you.

“Fuck, Cooper.” You groaned, pulling the whisky bottle to your mouth again for a long sip before placing it behind the log. Hoping that it wouldn’t spill and be wasted. He tilted his head back to get a proper look at you, slowly taking away the hand at your neck to place his hat on the log. His gaze burned your skin and caused your clothes to feel as if they had become too clingy.

“Is that what y’ want?” Cooper’s tone was taunting. His hands moved to your waist as he held them in place to push his hips firmly between your legs. You could feel the tent in his pants beginning to form which only causes you to feel more desperate.

“Are y’ starting to remember those producers y’ had to fuck to get where y’ needed to be?” His question irritated you but only a low moan left you as you rested your face in the crook of his neck. The pressure that was starting to build was unbearable as you continued to move your clothed core against him.

“Can you shut the fuck up?” You grumbled into the flesh of his neck. His movements were quick as he pushed you onto the ground, parallel to the log and fire, keeping you pinned under him. Your heart was beating hard against your ribs. Laying on your back wasn’t the most comfortable thing in the world, but at that moment you wouldn’t dare protest.

“Seems to me Imma have to teach y’ some manners.” His fingers slipped under the hem of your pants and underwear as he began to tug on them, which you let him. You gripped onto his shoulders while trying to help shimmy out of them and slipped out of your boots simultaneously.

Cooper tossed your clothes behind the log which you prayed didn’t tip over the open whisky bottle. Your thoughts were quickly pulled back to the man looming over you when he leaned down and nipped at the side of your neck.

You felt vulnerable under him as he gripped every inch of your exposed body with greedy hands. There were bound to be bruises later, especially where he continued to bite at your skin.

Copper lifted the bottom of your shirt but didn’t dare to try and rip it off. He stopped his pursuit on your neck as he made his way south. His lips passed over the fabric before pressing them just below your sternum and continued to travel downward. The ache in your lower half began to grow as he traveled further. Embarrassment took over as you threw an arm over your eyes and your breathing became uneven.

“Look at me sweetheart.” The Ghoul demanded which you reluctantly obeyed, only slightly lifting your arm to meet his gaze. Your eyes met his and a breath caught in your throat at the sight of him. He laid perfectly between your legs as he continued his trip downward. Pausing for a moment, he lifted his gloved hand to his mouth and bit the leather to remove it.

He tossed the glove behind the log to join your discarded clothes before going back to his work. Taking a moment he lifted two fingers to your lips. Quickly getting the memo, you took them into your mouth. They were bitter and salty but that didn’t bother you too much.

Cooper let out a low hum as he pulled them from your mouth and examined the work. There was a glint in his eyes as he did so. Not wasting any more time, he brought them back to where you needed them most.

A whimper left you when The Ghoul proceeded to run a finger through your wet folds. You hadn’t been touched in years, always focused on staying alive and never letting yourself make time for pleasure.

There was a chuckle that left Cooper as he indulged in the sounds you made. Your face burned with embarrassment as another whimper left your throat when he proceeded to lazily tease your entrance.

His gaze was burning with lust as he pushed a finger into you. Your hand flew to your mouth as you tried not to moan. You could feel him working you open before pushing the other finger in. The sounds were lewd as he worked his digits in and out.

Your eyelids began to fall but quickly flew open as you felt The Ghoul’s lips press against your clit. It sent an abrupt wave of pleasure through you when he began to roll his tongue over the bundle of nerves. You couldn’t hold back your moans any longer once he began to work expertly at bringing you pleasure.

“Please, Coop.” You pleaded as his fingers began to speed up in their pursuit. Your hands gripped at his shoulders in an attempt to anchor yourself to reality. A knot began to tighten in your lower half as The Ghoul relented.

You were right on the edge, upper thighs glistening with your arousal and saliva both from Cooper and yourself. However, right when you felt that tipping point begin to appear is when The Ghoul decided to pull away. A growl of frustration left your throat before you lifted your gaze to glare at him.

Although you looked more like a begging mess then the threat you intended to be. Cooper moved upward and kissed you while slipping his tongue past your lips. The taste of yourself in his mouth was shocking but not as much as when his pants were suddenly half way down his thighs and his hard cock was grinding against you.

You couldn’t help when your hips came up to meet his and your legs spread further to accommodate him. He groaned at the action and brought one hand to lightly stroke the part of your wing that was once broken. You moaned into the kiss which was only amplified when you felt the tip of Cooper’s cock sink into you.

One of his hands remained brushing over your wing while the other pinned down your hip. You wanted more of The Ghoul but he would only allow it at his own pace. Your hands gripped into the leather duster he wore when he began to push further into you.

A grunt left The Ghoul’s lips as you held onto him tighter and squeezed your eyes shut. The hand that was once at your wing was soon placed at your jaw as Cooper tipped your face to meet his.

“Look at me while I’m fucking you.” He demanded and proceeded to bottom out. An abrupt moan left you as you absorbed the feeling of The Ghoul deep inside you. You could feel every dip and rib that his radiation scares provided as he allowed you time to adjust.

Once adjusted, you soon grew impatient as your hips began to move on their own, trying to provide yourself with stimulation. Cooper chuckled before proceeding to rock his hips into you, slowly at first but the pace soon quickened.

“Jesus darlin you feel good.” He grumbled in your ear before proceeding to kiss and bite at your neck once more. You moaned lowly as you began to feel close to the edge again. It didn’t take much considering the prep he had provided and already being so close to begin with.

Your release came quickly when Cooper lowered a hand between the two of you and started to play with your clit. Small crescent moons appeared in the leather of The Ghoul’s jacket as you rode out your orgasm. The man still biting at your neck letting out a few moan of his own as you came.

He detached himself from your neck to look you in the eyes, his pace never faulting. It soon became too much as he tried to find his release. Pathetic sounds fell from your lips and filled the air as The Ghoul became relentless.

“Fuck. Cooper. Please.” Your mind was a bit scrambled as you pleaded. The once pleasant bullying of his cock soon became far more than you needed. But you didn’t want to stop him. As overstimulated as you were, you wanted his release just as you wanted your own.

“I know just, fuck, hold on a bit longer.” The Ghoul’s movements began to sputter. His once steady thrust became deep and uncoordinated. He could feel your walls clamping down on him even after your climax which soon was his downfall.

Cooper got so lost in the moment that he didn’t stop to think about where you wanted his cum. You felt his dick twitch inside you as he came. Coating your walls white before he lowered to lay most of his weight on top of you. He stayed buried in you for a while as the both of you recovered.

You didn’t mind the weight of him even with your back starting to ache. Bathing in the afterglow provided you a moment to take in The Ghoul. His breathing had settled to an even pace as you rubbed your hands up and down his back.

“Y’ alright darlin?” Cooper asked, his voice muffled from where he had it buried in your shoulder. You hummed softly in acknowledgment. He raised his head up and placed a kiss on your lips before pulling out slowly. An involuntary whimper left your throat as he did so, now feeling empty and your mixed arousals leaking out of you.

He tucked himself back in his pants before digging in his bag for something. You didn’t bother looking as you continued to gather your thoughts. When he moved back to you he had a damp rag and something else you couldn't quite make out.

Cooper was as gentle as he could be when cleaning you up. The water was obviously cold but it didn’t bother you too much with how hot you were feeling. Once he was done he threw the fabric behind him and reached over the log to hand over your clothes.

Standing up to put your pants back on you looked down at The Ghoul to see what he had in his other hand. It was a small vial of RadAway which made you smile. He might not look like the same man you once knew, but god did you fall even further for him all the same. Even with his gruff exterior, The Ghoul was still a gentleman.

“Y’ should probably take this before y’ get sick.” He said as you sat back down and leaned against the log. Making sure to grab the whisky bottom from behind it, still upright and not a drop misplaced.

“I appreciate the gesture but please don’t worry about me.” You grabbed the cork and pushed it back onto the bottle. Looking back at him his brows were furrowed. You gave a small smile before placing your hand over the vial and pushing his hand back towards himself.

“I don't think a little bit of you being in me is gonna kill me. There is enough radiation pumping through my veins as is.” You reasoned, Cooper mumbled a few words under his breath before putting the RadAway back in his bag. He didn’t feel like arguing but would make sure you took some eventually.

He leaned back against the log, making sure to be as close as he could beside you. Your body was zapped of energy and couldn’t help your head falling onto his shoulder. The wing farthest from Cooper came in to tuck around you as you drifted off.

#the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard #x reader #x reader fanfiction #f!reader #fem!reader #x fem!reader #x female reader #fallout franchise #fallout fanfic #fallout #fan fiction #fanfic #writing #writers on tumblr #female writers

22 notes · View notes

oddballwriter · 3 days

Note

(I apologize in advance if this is does not land in ur inbox, I have not used tumbler in a few years)

I think a short fic with Nordic being overly clingy would be cute, like his partner needs to leave to do something but he doesn’t feel like letting them leave quite yet

What is this Exam?

Summary: Basically what the requests says.

Warnings: None really, that I can think of

Author’s Snip: I wrote this down in a sort of haze, so sorry if it's bad.

I’ll shut up now. Enjoy! And don’t be afraid to request.

Word Count: 543

Ah, Nordic Bunny. What an interesting boyfriend you managed to score. I mean, he's a guitar-robot alien who plans to take over the galaxy and is currently working on taking over Earth, with varying degrees of success. But you love him from tail to strings and you've managed to find s place under his big bad imperial emperor of the galaxy and extreme barrier of awesomeness persona.

Clingy is a word that could definitely be used when describing one aspect of your relationship. You don't put it past him too much since he's apparently never had a friend before, something that you were sure came with being dead set on domination of the galaxy. However, he's very... insistent that you be around him all the time. That's how you end up spending a lot of time at his base, which actually has a breathable atmosphere, to your surprise. Nordic Bunny has made an effort to make his base more homey for you whenever you visit, at least as homey as he can make it considering most of it is a factory-like setting, but a corner of his office and a place for you to sleep is good enough for you.

But much to his dismay, you have things to do back on Earth that would cause you to have to leave every once in a while, something that Nordic hates but has come to understand as more of a you-thing than a him-thing. That doesn't mean he doesn't try to object though.

"And what exactly is the importance of this exam? What are you examining?" Nordic questions, earning a laugh from you. "Well, I'm not the one examining. I'm the one getting examined." you clarify. "What?" Nordic exclaims, "There's nothing wrong with you? You seem in perfectly functioning order to me?" Nordic explains. "No, not that kind of exam," you mention. "It's an... intellect exam. It's to test how much I know about a certain topic that I've been learning. So I need to take it to see how much I've retained and have it measured on if I know an acceptable amount." you explain.

"Well, what happens if you just don't take it?" Nordic asks in a tone that makes it clear that he wants you to try and opt out of it. You try to explain what would happen if you did that but you figure that it would be hard to articulate how a grade and college system works to your robot boyfriend who's probably never heard of a college so you settle on just saying that you don't have the option to skip it.

"I'll come back." you promise, "I always do, you know that," you mention. "I just need to leave so that I can study to have enough knowledge for the exam and then take it. When I have my grade I'll have you come get me so that I can come back here. Okay." you say. Nordic crosses his arms and grumbles before saying "Well why don't you just study here and then you go take the exam?".

"Because you're very distracting," you flirt with a wink, Nordic gasps and then smiles.

"Oh, and no creating a plan to get my exam day canceled," you warn.

#nordic bunny shred force #nordic bunny #nordic bunny x reader #shred force nordic bunny #shred force #shred force x reader

21 notes · View notes

scarlettjulz · 2 months

Text

The only drawing sessions I enjoy is when father is streaming

#overwatch #cole cassidy #wip #just wanted to flex my cassy sketch #arrge my beloved #learned so much with him in these past few years

35 notes · View notes

harmonizewithechoes · 3 months

Text

It’s my middle child’s 3rd birthday today 🥺

3 years ago my partner was deployed overseas and couldn’t come home for the birth because the military didn’t want to spend so much time quarantining their soldiers. Fortunately I had help as my parents were watching my son (at the time just a month shy of 2) for a few days before my due date and we had moved across the street from my partner’s parents when we found out about the deployment. So I had his mom with me at the hospital holding up her phone while we got to have a rare video call with my partner as we welcomed our daughter into the world after a very quick labor. I then had two months with our two very little kids by myself before he came home. It was an incredibly hectic time and I’m still not quite sure how I was able to get through all of that but here we are with the sweetest little 3 year old (let’s call her C) we could have asked for 🥰

C loves to play dress up and she has specific characters she’ll play as where you can’t refer to her as her name or she’ll get mad. She’s not C she’s Dr C or Baby or Baby Kitty or Princess Bucket (this was her first character and yes she does put a bucket on her head as a crown). Her favorite game to play is hide and seek and she loves dance parties and drawing and she’s obsessed with her 1 year old sister. We love C so much and I’m so excited to see how she grows and changes and learns over this next year ❤️

#personal #tonight her and her little sister are sleeping in their beds in their very own room for the first time #they’ve had their beds in my bedroom since we moved in and very often just ended up in our bed #but I’ve spent the past few days getting the room we’ve used for storage ready for them #and they’re doing really well so far #I’m sure they’ll end up in my bed again at some point but this is at least a step in the right direction #our crib that we’ve used for all 3 babies turns into a toddler bed and as I was taking it apart and putting it back together in the new room #my son started crying because he didn’t want his sisters to be big girls in their own room #he wanted me to put everything back and make the 1 year old 0 again so she could keep being a baby #I should point out that he is also obsessed with his baby sister #I told him that’s not quite how it works and kids are meant to grow up #and then he asked yet again for a baby brother because he loves babies so much and then he’d have a brother just like him 😅#he’s very sweet but also…. that’s not happening lol #I’m slowly becoming a person again and being able to focus more time on hobbies #and my partner and I now have our room back #all of that would be reset again with another baby not to mention another year of nursing and diapers and sleepless nights…. pass lol #I’m emotional about my babies growing up but I’m also so excited to learn who they’ll become as time goes on #sorry for rambling I get sappy on their birthdays

4 notes · View notes

imthatqueerkid · 7 months

Text

CRUSH BLOGGING DAY 365!!!!!!

#crush blogging #crush blogging day 365 #fire boy #oh my goodness it has been one hell of a year!! what started as a simple crush has grown into something very special to me #i went from listening to him stage kiss someone else from the pit band to having him be *my* first kiss #from giggling about him to my bff at the time to writing and performing songs about him with him onstage #he was with me when i got my license years after i 'should have' he was there when said bff and i fell apart he was there when i hit a deer #i was there when he started counseling and he was there when i finished therapy #he saw me get my diagnoses and start to live again #he was my first real 'i love you'#the first person ive had sex with #ive been to his family gatherings and he met my godparents #my mom calls him the son she never had. he drives my suster home after school. his sisters say i can talk to them anytime #his parents gush over me like im their own kid #it hasn't been easy. because i care so much our few 'fights' really scared me.#but ive learned a lot #idk what is coming next. but im so grateful for everything ive gotten to experience this past year.#from the couch #Spotify

3 notes · View notes

starstaiined · 4 months

Text

thinking about the unforgiving nature of the passage of time

#just realized that i've probably rocked my baby boy to sleep for the last time without realizing jt #he's three right now and so fucking big #when did he get so big?#everytime i used to watch him when he was a baby i'd put the same lullaby on and rock him to sleep #he'd tuck his little head against my neck and i'd just rock him #tonight i picked him up and he had a growth spurt so he doesn't quite fit the way he used to #but he still cuddled close and hugged me tight while i rocked him #had to put him down and tuck him in so he could actually sleep comfortably though #long gone are the days where he'd drift off comfortably on me then i'd go around cleaning things up while holding him in one hand #god #i dont miss the person i used to be #i'm glad for the time passing for that much #i've learned to stop drowning in the waves of grief #learned how to cup it before it can grow. to say 'i know this hurts and i'm sorry it does. let's sit in it together.'#learned how to mourn without swandiving into a lake of self pity #but for all i've changed in the past few years so has everyone else #the kids have grown up. all of them were so little and are now at such different stages of their little lives #and i'm grateful to be a part of their story but damn it's so bittersweet #anyways i'm rambling and probably incoherent i'm just overly emotional about this

5 notes · View notes

bobmckenzie · 1 year

Text

ok i don't know WHAT kind of brain fart I had but I've been thinking today marks 6 months since I started shipping with Bob... IT'S NOT SIX DLSKJFKSF IT'S EIGHT 😳😳😳 8 MONTHS!!!

so today i learned i don't know how to count but idec bc it's my 8 month bobiversarry lol ❤️

#(sorry there's basically a freaking diary entry in these tags damn) (needed to get my thoughts out ig lol)#i really am so grateful for him and doug. which i get could sound really silly to ppl outside of this community lol #but they've helped me through the past 8 months and have made me smile even when in the worst moods :'3 #even putting the selfshipping aspect of it aside they just make me happy !!#i honestly CANNOT believe its been that long already though... time has freaking FLOWN by since sept #but actually thinking about it in that way makes me oddly motivated? like that post abt how #'the time will pass anyways.' like i could have done A LOT in those 8 months but... i didn't 🧍🏻‍♀️BUT #there's 8 more months right ahead of me to make use of. like i've been really wanting to learn music theory and production #and im scared bc of how much time it will take. but I started studying a few days ago... and in 8 months i'll have 8 months of experience #idk it's just a comforting thought #like maybe even just in 4 months on the one year bobiverssary (lol) i'll be able to look back on today #and be like WOW i learned SO much since then and made so much music etc. just need to manage my time better all around.#bc of course i also need to do my actual JOB aka finish my next novel and prep for selfpub #cause i'm excited but not nearly ready 4 when my current contract ends. idk if it'll get renewed or not but i'm cool w either outcome 🧘🏻‍♀#UMMM. i didn't expect to ramble that much LMFAO sorry i was caught off guard by the passage of time ! 😳#peanut butter and jelly donut #caitiechat

8 notes · View notes

thebirdandhersong · 2 years

Text

orange peel promise

In between gut-wrenching deep breaths

and the sweat forming between my forehead

and the wooden pew, there was some sort of prayer

birthed: just like there was a prayer knitting itself

together when my friend hooked her arm around mine

and made her shoulder a resting place

for my bowed head. She just let me cry

into her sleeve in that empty, echoing church,

and her sturdy hand (steady with the repeated

knowledge of baking and painting and unnoticed serving)

held me close. There was a prayer there in the silence

of companionship, just as there was prayer

in the song rising around me in the service, though

I had no strength to rise from my knees then.

The pew in front of me: my favourite hiding place.

I wanted to hide from the truth--I wanted the sadness

to end--I wanted to stay silent.

They were praising God with joyful voices all around me.

I will praise my God, I thought, as my handkerchief

turned cold and heavy in my hand. I will. Even now.

Especially now. And so I got up, and the prayer

that was the dull beating of my tired heart

turned to shaking song.

There was prayer, too, when I split the sealed

envelope and unfolded the first and last letter.

And there was consolation in knowing that my God

was holding the what-ifs that had made an uneasy home

in my heart. What about the oranges I never peeled for you?

I had been thinking days ago. You don't know how

much I wanted to sit with you at the kitchen table

and watch the sun set on a quiet summer evening.

Here is how it goes: we say nothing, but the words

that sit there in the silence with us are simple:

I love you, I love you, I love you.

Here is how it goes:

I peel oranges first with the curve of my nail

digging into the middle, and I turn it into

a little clumsy blossom, a sea star with uneven arms.

I am good at peeling oranges.

I would have been good at peeling oranges for you.

And what about the letters I wanted to write?

What about the meals I'll never make?

What about all the little things I wanted to give to you,

the happy secrets I thought we'd share,

your absentminded hand trailing over your

guitar strings like fingers trailing in a lazy stream,

the family dinners and the walks by the sea?

But I stopped myself, and was content for a while

knowing that my God held all those little hungry

thoughts, too. And so the prayer that came when

the darkness descended over me again was this:

Lord, be near to me. Lord, please be near to me.

And there was consolation in knowing that He was,

even as you walked through the door that heavy

summer day, for our friend's wedding.

In between fervent applause and joyful song,

there was another prayer rising to my lips:

God, help me. What about the oranges? (Why oranges?)

What about the first time I ran to the basement door

and leaned my head against the cold metal frame

and listened, heart humming, for your voice?

What about the first time you held the door

and the first time you looked at me and smiled

as if your heart-gladness was as deep as mine?

Of course, it is easier to say "forget" than to not remember.

You were there. I was glad and relieved and hurting,

because you were there.

Here is how it went: I saw you on the stage and I forgot

to not think to myself: I love you, I love you, I love you.

Naturally, I was ashamed. Naturally, I was not surprised.

There was prayer before I opened your letter,

though I did not voice it, though it had no words

to give it shape. But I am sure there was. There was

no longer silence then: the generosity of the balmy air

was filled with outside voices, while in the office

the girl in the purple dress a size too big for her

cried into the palm of her hand so that no one would hear.

Before the letter, we walked towards the emptied altar

(where our friends had just exchanged vows) as

almost-strangers. After you gave it to me, we walked

down the quiet aisle side by side, almost-friends.

I read it and there was that prayer again, but this time,

it was one of simple joy. Joy that at last I understood.

Perhaps part of the problem was that I wanted--

expected--oranges, too, when what you were trying to give

was the quiet of companionship. Perhaps the problem

was that the thing we'd been trying to say

(I love you, I love you, I love you) was lost in translation

again and again.

The prayer when I walked back home today after church

was this: Thank you, thank you, thank you. In the

birdhouse of my imagination, in the fragile glass cabinet

hidden in my soul there was simply heart-gladness

that I knew you, that I loved you, that I was loved by you.

You know, the birds sing on in cheerful oblivion,

whether you're laughing or crying. Perhaps they know

that love never truly ends--it only changes shape.

Perhaps they know that song is really a form of prayer,

and all desperate prayer can be turned into gut-wrenching

praise. For our newly wedded friends, it began

at a kitchen table and ended (or began again) at

the altar. For the two of us, it began at a kitchen table

and ended (or began again) at the altar, when the decorations

were gone, when the people had migrated in great birdlike

flocks to the shade of the trees.

And so here is how it went: I met you (a blessing),

I loved you (a blessing), I was loved by you (a blessing).

And it was like looking at the world through stained glass.

And it was like dancing under the first shower of snow.

And it was like watching a garden grow,

like watching cherry blossom petals fall in April,

like the wild impulse to kiss the young sprout of a tree

in front of our church just because it was a young sprout

of a tree, just because it was spring.

And it was a good thing. It was a blessing.

You said so yourself. Naturally, I believed you.

And when I touched your cheek and you cried, I was

not surprised. And when I held you too long for

the last time, you were not surprised, either.

Some people wish on eyelashes, some on clovers,

some on shooting stars, some on pennies in a fountain.

Wishes for what? Probably not for the chance to peel

oranges for someone. One last thing, dear.

I only have one thing left to say today: I wish (no,

I pray) that you will be happy. That you will know

that God is near. That the spring comes again and again

for you, just for you. That someday, someone will peel

orange after orange for you, and that you will sit with her

and smile that rising-sun smile you saved for me,

and both of you will understand that it all means the same

thing, really: the oranges, and the silence, and the song,

and the spring, and the wildness of joy, and the

stillness of peace: that it means this: that it means yes:

that it means the heaviest and lightest promise of all:

that it means, truly, with all heart and soul:

I love you. I love you. I love you.

#and that is Closure!#alas the first time i post any poetry it is the long and rambly kind. at any rate it is what it is #i am only very young and have much to learn and see! and who knows if i really understand what true heartbreak is #but i do know that it was and is love and i am glad for it #mr knight :) God bless him #he is still one of the warmest kindest sweetest most joyful most steadfast people i know #i have had crushes in the past but! i think mr knight was my real first love #and i hope that God gives him much joy in his lifetime #slings and arrows of outrageous fortune in year 21 #aaaaaand now i'm back to doing homework :D troilus and cressida is not an easy play to write on but. a paper must be produced #and sleep must be had at SOME point. so an early good night dear friends #it has been an Experience these past few weeks and i've learned plenty about my own failings and shortcomings #thank God for His grace through it all. and thank God for ALL!!!

43 notes · View notes

drbtinglecannon · 7 months

Text

Why did my cat have to be allergic to the most common ingredient in all cat food (chicken) and why did it also have to be his most favorite thing in the world

He doesn't understand that not giving him his favorite numnum is for his own good, and he also doesn't understand that when he manages to steal some of his brother's food (who REFUSES to change food to something they can both eat to avoid this goddamn issue because fuck me) and he gets itchy and has catbox issues that it's a direct correlation to eating his favorite numnum (chicken) (which he is allergic to)

#I spent so long reading labels on wet food packets at the pet store to find anything that didn't have any chicken product in it #so many times there'd be chicken broth/meal/paste/etc in and it's like “ARGH *puts it back on shelf* *grab different brand*”#I managed to find a few packs for the next couple days. he's such a picky bastard too like not only can he not have chicken but he hates #most everything else and wants different food every few days. this needy bastard is my perfect babyson that I love so much #cats #tc posts #“allergic” as in “food intolerance but if he eats too much of it he will die like he almost did last year and that's how we learned he #developed this intolerance“. we don't intentionally let him have food he can't eat but he tries SO HARD #chester's food is technically seafood but I'm sure it has some chicken byproduct in it and also he won't fucking eat anything else!! so!!#we're stuck playing this “keep Squeaks away from his food” game forever ig

5 notes · View notes

zemnarihah · 1 year

Text

much to think about.

#i had lunch w my sister today and she was talking abt our dad and abt how him being like emotionally abusive made her a huge people pleaser #and she was like yeah i think you didnt get that as much #you were always the one who stuck to your guns or just didnt talk to him #and at first i was like what bc i literally dont think anything i ever did could be rlly described as actually sticking to ones guns i alwa #felt like i was so avoidant of any conflict w him bc yk i was like. terrified of him. but i was thinking abt it and compared to her i think #like yeah actually shes right? bc i would avoid conflict w him but i did that by like fully cutting off our relationship as much as #possible and she did it by trying to please him all the time. which probably neither were that healthy obviously they were jsut like. our #instincts for how to protect ourselves yk. but the thing is for the past few months i thought i had been learning how to not be so scared #of making ppl mad and to be more assertive and stuff. but i think actually i probably have always had that strength maybe it was just.#kinda beaten down for a while since standing up for myself always made things worse. so the other option to not allow him to treat me like #that was to cut myself off from him. But i still did that yk? idk.#like i was thinking more abt it and #i was the one who left the church at 18. after i moved out but i did. and i didnt hide it after that. my sister has apparently been mentall #out for years now and nobody in our family knows but me. bc she is so scared to disappoint him. and like idk. i always was like why couldnt #i get out earlier bc i know so many ppl who just said fuck you im not going anymore at like 14 or smth and i was like why couldnt i do that #but i guess looking at it from my sisters pov our situation was just really fucking hard. and i guess im realizing i was honestly a lot #stronger and braver than i thought i was that whole time. idk.#lol its like bittersweet. bc it makes it so much more real that it was actually super fucked up. the way we grew up. like i think sometimes #the easiest thing is for me to go haha yeah my dad was kind of a dick and whooaaahhh so crazy i grew up mormon hahah! but its like no that #was fucked up. but look at how i made it through that yk. its kind of making me. idk. develop some more respect for myself i guess #idk idk #ignore me i am just journal posting . lol #exmo tag

6 notes · View notes

dreamsy990 · 1 year

Text

random thing i noticed in my spanish class:

my spanish class is full of people who like. dont care about spanish in general and just took it because they knew a little already or their parents wanted them to. or they hate the teacher. or they just dont like the way we're learning it.

and like. you'd expect people to be playing games. but theyre just DOING OTHER LANGUAGES ON DUOLINGO!!!!!!!!!!!! THE GIRL NEXT TO ME IS DOING FRENCH!!!!!!!!!! SOME GUY IN THE FRONT IS DOING JAPANESE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ONE OF MY FRIENDS IS DOING YIDDISH AND HEBREW AND ANOTHER IS DOING RUSSIAN!!!!!!!!! I'M DOING GERMAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i just think thats pretty interesting. not sure what its saying but its probably saying something

#fun fact about my school #my dad went here and according to him the school actually used to have 4 languages instead of the usual 3 #so pretty much all schools in this area at least have spanish french and latin #(everyone does spanish)#but apparently they used to teach german #and the teacher just. died #and they never replaced him #so they dont teach german anymore #i feel like the few days of german duolingo ive done + what i got from my dad is more than all the spanish ive learned in the past 3 years

3 notes · View notes

blossom-hwa · 1 year

Text

#lina talks #nas #a little bit of bragging (?) to follow so scroll past perhaps? I just wanted to say it somewhere #............................................................................................................................................#reading a new fic from my favorite ao3 author set in my favorite series by him #and realized that his style has very very much influenced mine - at least what it currently is #and from the moment I finished reading the first story in the series I kinda knew I wanted to write like him #bc the way he writes is so beautiful and it flows just like poetry #but didn't realize the extent of it I guess until now when I'm reading his style againm #just a week or so after I heavily edited my writing workshop submissions to turn in as my final project for the class #kinda just hit me that I can see the influences he had on my writing and that I can also see the improvement I've made in my own style #which is nice :) bc I often do feel frustrated when I can't word things properly or when something sounds weird but I can't figure out why #but that's also a sign of improvement I think #idk I've learned a lot unconsciously and consciously about writing over the past few years and it's just nice to see #thank you for coming to my ted talk skndjgh

1 note · View note

irrelevant-host · 2 years

Text

feeling vv abnormal about the loss of myself :\

#haven’t done anything besides school and work in like half a year #and I literally maintained my 4.0 gpa right up until this past semester but now I couldn’t give a shit about clases and my degree #i have zero motivation to do well and pass my classes even tho I’ve set myself up for another 5 years of education #i haven’t seen my best friend since last year when I used to be able to see her everyday or at the very least visit every few months #my brother had to fucking move back to canada and I miss him so fucking much it’s unfair #my younger brother is struggling and I don’t know how to talk to him or help no matter how much I reach out to him #my youngest brother is the only one I can do my best to be there for by babysitting him and trying my best to make sure he’s having fun #and learning but I’m mentally exhausted and I feel like I fail him because of it #my mom lives 15 minutes away but she’s always working or out of town and I feel like I’m intruding if I stay over for more than a few days #and I’m never able to spend time w my sister anymore like we used to #i can barely hold a conversation w my dad or stepmom no matter how hard I try I just feel like I’m too much or they don’t care #i don’t know where I’m going w this #oh yeah also I haven’t practiced anything I’ve wanted to despite my brain itching to do something productive for forever #i took my keyboard out from under my bed for the first time in a year but I can barely get out of bed #i tried looking for my sketchbook and my fucking desk drawer fell apart lmfao so I gave up on that #everything just feels so dull all the time #I’m spending hours and hours on my phone or not sleeping and then sleeping way too much at the wrong times #everyday is the same and not in a good way #this is so long and I feel like I haven’t even begun to cover how numb and lonely I feel lol #anyway I’m gonna go back to watching youtube videos instead of working on lab hw #nyah speaks

2 notes · View notes

envy-of-the-apple · 3 months

Text

Sun Eats Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word count: 9.1k

Part two: Earth Kills Moon

Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.

(Warnings: noncon, dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, bullying, harassment, one mention of choking, penetrative sex, afab!reader, coercion, forced relationships, implied baby trapping attempt, hint of pregnancy kink)

You wanted to quit the second you read the name.

You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place.

It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now.

You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?

It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client.

"Is everything alright?"

You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke.

Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired."

The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited.

He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics.

Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention.

It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice.

You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps.

He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes.

"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."

His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face.

Nothing.

Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next.

"I look forward to working with all of you."

𖤓

If you could describe Gojo Satoru in one word, it would be: celestial.

He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order.

But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way.

Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too.

"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.

Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you.

"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?"

"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks."

You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours.

𖤓

The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms.

You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching.

He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru.

You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch.

It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair.

Through your blinds, the sun happily shines.

𖤓

You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.

Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.

He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted.

You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class.

It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it.

"What?" Because you must have misheard him.

"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official."

You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours.

You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop.

"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine.

He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore.

Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes.

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you.

𖤓

It was something minuscule.

Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always.

"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector," Higuruma says, over whiskey.

The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her.

"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out."

He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life."

When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger.

Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru.

Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help.

Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that.

Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break.

He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing.

You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator.

"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-

"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!"

Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle.

The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you.

When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen.

𖤓

You don't have proof it was him.

It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that.

But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him.

In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back.

At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.

There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.

Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down.

You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.

Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.

Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it.

“Are you hurt?” Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.

You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.

“That's good,” he says anyway.

You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares.

You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.

“Take my advice,” he says just before he leaves, “give in.”

He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything.

“It'll only get worse from here if you don't.”

Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.

You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend.

Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.

Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.

Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg.

You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open.

It's worse than anything you could think of.

Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you?

This wasn't bullying.

This was abuse.

Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.

You were so tired.

Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky.

"Why?"

Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group.

"Get lost."

They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone.

"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored.

"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-"

It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away.

"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?"

You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear.

"Anything, right?"

You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek.

"Get on your knees."

You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little.

"I-I-Gojo you-"

"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?"

He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru.

To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk.

You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him.

"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh.

"Gojo I-"

"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems."

You look down at the grass. Green, soft.

"Satoru."

His eyes flash in satisfaction.

"Open up, pretty girl."

The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you.

"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought.

"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?"

If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame.

"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you.

You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth.

"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me."

But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world.

"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?"

If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it.

He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help.

He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time.

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you.

So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath.

"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you."

His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum.

(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)

"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something."

You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him.

"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair.

"My laptop...it's broken."

You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it.

Satoru only scoffs.

“that old thing?” You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you.

(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)

“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”

He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his.

The sunset is pretty today.

𖤓

It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied.

You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from.

"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?"

You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf.

"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait."

She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts.

"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her.

Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright.

"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting."

Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs.

Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way.

You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-

"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to.

The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go.

It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you.

𖤓

By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable.

You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework.

Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips.

He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever.

"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom.

"Thank-"

"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me."

He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself.

There are theories that the Moon once had color.

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection.

When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at.

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks.

Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too.

You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him.

Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons.

"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?"

You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment.

You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken.

"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."

On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours.

Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now.

"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action.

You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone.

He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can.

Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch.

"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you."

He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock-

Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's.

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks.

He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.

You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing.

Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you.

"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?"

He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again.

"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust.

You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper.

"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "’would do anything for you, pretty girl."

He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.

You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar.

"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious.

"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your ‘Toru's right here. Just where you need him."

His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock.

"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch.

"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need.

You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt.

You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration.

"I love you."

You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.

"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh.

Fuck three weeks.

You needed to get out, now.

𖤓

The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there.

His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours.

Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out.

Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there.

And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room.

His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction.

"You're off the clock, Ijichi," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?"

His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke.

The door shuts with a click.

"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward.

You take one back. He puts his hands up.

"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?"

He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood.

"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody.

He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too.

When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes.

"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules."

"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked.

"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent.

He seems to take an issue with that, regardless.

"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text."

His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake.

You go to move.

Satoru's faster.

Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment.

"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze.

It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness.

"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-"

"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt.

You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client.

Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him.

When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless.

You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears.

"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar."

He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words.

"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.

Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses.

"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now."

"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again.

"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic.

"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily.

"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?"

His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too.

He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall.

Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action.

"That's-"

"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar.

He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate.

"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate.

It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste.

"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits.

Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed.

Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out.

He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear.

"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?"

You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that.

"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you."

You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his.

Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure.

It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom.

"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught.

"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl."

"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-"

"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."

"No-I-I-can't-"

He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled.

"I'll make sure it takes this time too."

Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea.

He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb.

You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine.

He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness.

"I love you."

You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.

Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran.

"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me."

"Not ever again."

There are theories that the Moon once had color.

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The Sun had eaten it. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection.

If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given.

How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation.

#yandere jjk #yandere #yandere gojo satoru #dark content #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru #x reader #gojo satoru #reader insert #afab reader #bullying #harassment #forced relationship #tw: dubcon #tw:noncon

4K notes · View notes