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surielstea · 1 day

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Tattoos older than you

Based off that Tik Tok trend: “I have tattoos older than you.” because age gap is everyone’s favorite trope, let’s be honest.

Pairing: Azriel x Archeron!Reader

Warnings: Age gap | suggestive | cute fluffiness

1.2k words

I peek my head through the door of a familiar Shadow Singers bedroom with a mischievous grin. "Love, not tonight," The male warns from his desk, giving me a pointed look. I enter anyway, closing the door behind me with a soft click.

He sighs in faux disappointment as I approach him, footsteps padding on his carpet as shadows swarm me, curling around my ankles, up my arms, into my hair. "They love me," I beam, looking at the dark tendrils.

“They do,” He nods in heavy agreement, as if they never shut up about that fact.

"And so do you," I redirect my attention to the winged male in front of me.

"Do I?" He tilts his head tauntingly and as my reply I straddle over his lap, mounting his hips with a knowing smile. "I think I'm too old, forgot how to love," He shrugs.

"Az you're not that old," I groan.

"I'm twenty-three times your age," He argues, and my amused grin returns.

"You did the math," I tease, leaning closer to him, and pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.

"Of course I did, I can't get you out of my head," He grumbles as if it's my fault he's always thinking of me.

"Then why can't you admit that you're in love with me?" I cup his face in my hands, tilting his head and forcing him to look into my eyes.

"I do love you, and that's why I refuse to subject you to the judgment that us being together will bring you," He denies and my smile falters.

"I don't care about the judgment, I just want you," I confess, dragging a hand through his hair. "C'mon, Az," I huff, arching my back so my chest is pressed to his as I tease his lips with my own. His large hands come to my waist, his touch is tender and for a moment I think he'll give in, but instead, his grip tightens and he lifts me off his lap, placing my feet down onto the ground.

"No, the difference is too much," He rejects and I groan dramatically. The Illyrian stands, looking down at me with lowered brows. His height towers over me and his wings only add to the intimidating factor. Such an animalistic thing to do, making himself appear bigger than he truly is. He was trying to scare me off, and it wasn't going to work.

"You're fae, does age really matter as an immortal?" I take a daunting step forward and he mirrors it with a step back.

"When I'm old enough to be your great, great, great grandfather? Yes," He argues and I roll my eyes, such a stupid analogy.

"But you're not," I take another step forward.

"But I could be," He doesn't pace back.

"But, you're not," I repeat with another stride and suddenly I'm directly in front of him, chest to chest. He looks at me, his eyes swirling with both adoration and regret, adoration because he loves me, and regret because he allowed me to love him back. I stare with the most devoting and comforting gaze I can muster, I don't dare break eye contact, making it clear that my stance on the matter won't sway.

"I have tattoos older than you, love," He drags his hand through his hair, and I know in that movement that he's been defeated.

"Oh, I know," I bring my hand up to his neck, my nail tracing over dark ink that's lived there for centuries.

"You're like a friend to—" He tries but I cut him off, "That's bullshit, I could treat you better than all your previous lovers and you know it," I claim and he looks at me with those same hazel eyes I fell in love with.

He sighs, clearly upset because he's horribly losing this argument.

"Your five-hundred-year-old brothers are dating my twenty-year-old sisters. They can't judge and isn't it their opinion that matters most?" I point out and he slowly closes his eyes, needing a moment to think about the situation.

"They're mates," He attempts to explain but I don't buy it for a moment, I sling my arms around the nape of his neck with a troublesome smile.

"Are you trying to tell me you don't feel a connection between us?" I ask and he only stares down at me, knowing that if he spoke all of his truest intentions would come out.

"We're in love, let yourself be happy," I whisper, we're close enough so he can hear me. I lift onto my toes, our noses brushing and he doesn't have it in himself to back away. "Let me help you be happy," I murmur and his brows crease, in conflict with himself and everything else going against this, but I could tell by that look on his face that he wanted every part of this too.

"Do you know how helpless you make me feel?" He rasps and my smile widens.

"That's called love, Az," I explain.

"Is it always so consuming?" He asked, his voice tender and raw. My heart swells against my rib cage and I tilt my head, nose moving past his as I press a gentle kiss onto his lips then pull away as quick as I came.

“Yes,” I whisper, knowing the exact feeling he was describing. “And it’s not going to go away,” I smile softly. "Because you love me," I mumble, mostly to myself, the new confession will be at the front of my brain for the rest of the week.

"A little too much for my liking," He hums.

"Impossible," I shake my head with a grin and he leans in, pressing a hard kiss to my forehead, then one on the tip of my nose, and finally plants one to my lips. I pull him closer, my chest pressing to his as I smile onto his lips, my fingers twining into the back of his hair.

“I do love you,” He whispers against my skin as he begins to peck down the line of my jaw.

“I know,” I tease, dragging my hand from his hair and down the expanse of his tattooed neck. He pulls back only a fraction, narrowing his brows with a glare and I giggle.

“I love you too, Azzie,” I roll my eyes, pressing a tender kiss to his lips which he barely got the chance to reciprocate before I was pulling away.

“I hate it when you call me that,” He huffs.

“Would you rather I call you my great-grandfather?” I smirk and he playfully pushes me away, and I dramatically fall down onto his bed.

“I’m revoking sex tonight for that,” He warned and I smirked.

“Not even for the rest of the week? You must really love me,” I croon and he tosses me a glare before climbing into bed beside me.

“An unfortunate turn of events,” He sighed while slinging his arm around me and pulling me into him, as if it was torturous to be cuddling with me even though it was him pulling me closer.

I sling my leg over his waist and roll over, straddling his hips.

“I can’t believe you ever thought you could reject me,” I scoff and he looks up at me with a knowing expression.

“Shh, sleep now.” He pulls me down onto his chest, my chin propping up on his sternum to stare up at him. “You can tease me all you want in the morning,” He promises as I stretch out, my legs intertwining with his.

“Sounds like a perfect plan.”

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y2kuromi · 2 days

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⭑ : 呪術廻戦 ❛ 𝗨𝗡𝗠𝗜𝗦𝗧𝗔𝗞𝗔𝗕𝗟𝗘 : satoru gojo x fem! reader

࣪˖ ִֶָ𐀔 synopsis: you thought you’d never see satoru again, but those eyes are unmistakable

contents: sfw. angst to fluff. canon divergent, jjk 261 spoilers. my version of gojo coming back. est rel. they’re married & reader is pregnant. conflict. mentions of blood and injury. profanities. second and third person pov

summer isn’t over yet! collection, can be read as a stand-alone

shoko never cried. it was as immutable as hubble’s constant. not once — in the thirteen years you’d known her — had a tear fallen from her eyes. at most her brows would furrow and her pearly pink lips would quiver but she never cried.

she swore her lungs were too damaged from smoking and her eyes were too dry to sustain such ministrations, incapable of overflowing with bountiful water. but she was silent now and through your misted gaze you could see the tears in her dark brown eyes glisten like crystals as she choked back sobs. you could see the needle in her hands shaking as she gazed hopelessly at satoru’s body.

your hand is interlinked with his, and it’s so cold and lifeless in your grasp that you feel a fresh set of tears prickling your eyelids. his once bright blue eyes are pointed towards the heavens. devoted to the wispy clouds and pearly gates in a twisted prayer. a prayer to be free of the burden of being the strongest. a prayer to finally be human.

it’s selfish to press your lips to his hand and offer a mantra of pleas for him to come back — to hope the light returns to his infinitely blue eyes and his voice rings out as clear as day. teasing you for caring so much about him — but you do it anyway. you hold his heavy hand in yours and allow your thumb to graze the veins traversing his hand.

“please come back” the words sound feeble, and so weak as they fall from your trembling lips onto deaf ears “i can’t do this without you”

you couldn’t imagine what life would be like without satoru. there would be no more sunshine. no more meaning.

you were sure the universe would cease to exist. the days would blur into months, then years and it would all mean nothing if you could no longer feel the warmth of his love. the warmth of his lips against yours and his burning gaze fixed on you. not the heavens, just you.

“it doesn’t matter if you lost, i love you all the same” you whispered, “we both do”

it’s supernatural, the way you love him so wholly when your heart is broken beyond repair — the chambers are withered to a non-functioning pulp, the valves rendered immobile, and the tender muscle undeniably numb.

it hurts to breathe when satoru isn’t. when his eyes are out of focus and he’s frozen in time. it hurts but you allow your eyes to shift to the pool of blood on the operating table. shoko’s gloves are coated thickly with stains of red as she stitches meticulously. strong, neat crosses that bind what’s left of him together.

“sho” your voice comes out raspy, unabashedly raw from the consistency of the tears flowing from your eyes “is he going to be okay?” it made no sense to ask such a question, when you could see his corpse in-front of you. but none of this made sense.

he was supposed to come home to you.

“i’m trying my best” shoko said softly, wiping profusely at her heavy-lidded eyes with her free hand. “i want to bring him back. for you, for everyone, but i have to be honest, it’s not looking good”

“is there anything i can do to help?” you make a weak attempt to control your breathing. to still the ache in your heart, “supernova.. has this ability renewable energy. ‘toru called it a defibrillator on steroids but i’ve only used it twice”

“did it work?” shoko asked, rubbing her cheek nervously and smearing a sheer layer of scarlet blood on her chin. you shook your head. it had worked the first time you used it, but the it didn't work the second. tsumiki didn’t wake up.

“it's unreliable..” your throat felt immensely dry, and you swallowed desperately “but i want to try. i have to.”

“it might work with my reverse cursed technique” she murmured, “and with utahime amplifying it, it’s worth a shot”

your grip on satoru’s hand tightened. you felt the tingle of cursed energy spread through your fingers as they became shrouded in warm, orange light.

it felt foreign, to use your cursed technique after so many years of letting it simmer — a slowly dying ember — in your soul. you would dig up old wounds, and bear new ones if it meant having your husband back

the door creaked open and you couldn't bring yourself to peer and see who it was. you could hear three pairs of footsteps running into each other in quick succession.

“how’s it going shoko? okkotsu’s ready to take over go—” mei-mei asks, her voice trails off as her sharp brown eyes fall on you “oh (y/n) you’re here” her bottom lip is caught between her teeth as she runs a hand through her blue-grey hair

“i told you she was arriving soon” utahime says through gritted teeth. positively seething as her footsteps slow to a stop in-front of you “i’m really sorry (y/n), i wish things turned out different”

“i’ll say” mei-mei murmurs, leaning against the door frame “the live broadcast ratings have plummeted seriously, everyone wanted to see him go toe-to-to with the king of curses and win”

you blinked. once. twice. before rage slithered through your veins like a serpent. your blood boiled, bubbling precariously and you were sure you were going to explode.

“you were broadcasting this?” it’s inconceivable to you. the extent of which she didn't see satoru as a person, but a god.

the god of wealth and the antithesis of weakness. the god who had to pay her to keep her as an allied sorcerer. the god that meant nothing to her but strength and money. “are you fucking serious? you wanted to profit off my husband risking his life”

“it was a good idea if i do say so myself” she muses, as she glances at her phone. “but considering the outcome i'd assume you want some of my earnings? that can be arranged”

your vision was clouded with an anger so strong you were sure you would short-circuit. your sensory neurones couldn’t receive the impulse of someone being so cruel and heartless.

you were blissfully unaware you were advancing towards mei-mei until utahime placed a calming hand on your shoulder. her brown eyes were sad and she shook her head fervently “don’t. it’s not worth it”

“if she can’t handle knowing this how will she cope with the plan for okkotsu” mei-mei frowns, “she shouldn’t be here, she’s not a sorcerer anymore”

“and you would know, because sorcerers run off to malaysia and sell all their assets while their peers fight for their lives” you scoffed sarcastically, “if it came down to it you wouldn’t lift a finger to help satoru if there wasn’t money involved but i would. i would die for him—”

“you didn’t. you quit and look where he is now”

“mei-mei try to have some respect you’re talking to his wife” ijichi finally snapped, shooting her a well-meaning glare, “you can’t seriously be this tactless”

“his body wouldn’t have been claimed so easily without ui ui’s assistance. she should be thanking me” mei-mei argued, folding her arms over her chest

it took a sheer amount of willpower to regain your composure and reposition yourself on the stool beside the operating table instead of firing off a stable star at her.

“what’s happening with yuuta?” you asked, peering at utahime through your tear-filled eyes. you felt your heart sinking further into the bottomless abyss of your grief as she averted her gaze. her hands found the scarlet fabric of her hakama pants and she wrung the cloth nervously

“he said he was going to tell you but i knew he wouldn’t” her lips curved into a deep-set frown. she pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled softly. “ seeing him like this can’t be good for you or the baby” your hand fell to your stomach instinctively.

you could still feel his hands on the taut skin. you could still feel his fingertips trailing over the curved bump and hear him cooing to your baby — absolutely convinced it only moved when he spoke to it. satoru was prepared to give your baby the childhood he never got to have. the childhood you could only make together.

you couldn’t do it alone. you knew the baby would be the spitting image of its father. with little ivory tufts of hair and baby blue eyes that would rival the sky on a clear summer’s day. your baby would be beautiful. it was inevitable, even in death satoru didn’t fail to take your breath away.

you wanted to hate him, for leaving you again but you couldn’t. all you could do was hope he would defy all the odds and make his way home to you.

“it doesn’t matter. what’s happening with yuuta?” your eyes were pleading, it was torture being kept in the dark. you needed to know everything because ignorance wasn’t bliss. it was hell. you knew the gnawing curiosity and desperation would destroy whatever was left of your already shattered heart “hime, please tell me i need to know”

“i want to tell you" she gulped, "i can’t, it’ll be too much for you to bear. i can't have that on my conscience—”

“i’ll tell her” shoko said softly, “it’s the least i can do now that everything's gone to shit”

your eyes widened at how defeated she sounded. her voice was worn, as if she'd fought a million battles and lost each one. she had. you knew more than anyone how she felt. haibara, suguru, nanami, and now satoru.

“we’ll give you some privacy” utahime said, squeezing your shoulder lightly. it’s a gesture that seems to say a lot more than the sadness etched onto her face. it’s a gesture that says she cares.

the silence that follows as mei-mei, ijichi and utahime trail out of the makeshift infirmary is deafening. a silence filled with a magnitude of feelings and unspoken words.

“there’s no easy way to say this,” shoko inhaled sharply, “okkotsu copied kenjaku’s technique…and he’s going to take over satoru’s body to help yuuji finish this once and for all”

you didn't know whether to cry or laugh, the sound that escaped your lungs was a cruel combination of both.

“no” you said firmly, as if the singular world had the power to render the universe, fate and time itself motionless, “you can’t do that to him. i won’t let you.”

“please believe me when i say that we don’t want this any more than you do” her voice is subdued. the softest you've ever heard it. yet it does nothing to soothe your aching heart “but it’s the only way”

“there has to be another way” you cried, “he spent his entire life being used as a tool. i can't let him be used even in his death. satoru deserves so much more than that. how could you even be okay with this shoko? do you not care?”

you knew she did, in the murky depths of your shipwrecked heart and the wooden splinters you had for ribs, you knew shoko cared about satoru. none of this made a slither of sense.

“i’m not okay with this” tears brimmed at her waterline and she began crying again, cosmic beads trailing down her flushed cheeks as she looked at you helplessly, “but he said it was fine. he said he doesn’t care what happens to his corpse”

she doesn't believe the words for a second, even as they fall from her lips and fill the space between you. but she had to. the guilt would eat her alive if she didn't.

“he didn’t have a choice. no one has ever given him a choice” your eyes fell to satoru's unmoving body. you were positive a part of you was dying. a part of you was shrivelling up completely and this was the final blow. a part of you was dead.

“i can’t bring him back (y/n) i’ve tried everything” she said dejectedly, fumbling around for her lighter and setting a cigarette aflame, “i feel so useless, i would give up everything to bring him back to you but i can’t”

“i know” you said. it killed you to admit it. it felt like you were betraying satoru and everything he stood for. "what's going to happen to him?"

it would be fine, it was for a good cause right? once all of this was over satoru could finally be at peace—

“yuuta either dies after his five minutes granted by rika's manifestation are up or he lives on in satoru’s body” she muttered. you felt bile rise in your throat. you were going to be sick

“i can't allow that” you said shakily, “i can barely breathe without him.. but if i have to see okkotsu in his body.. shoko" your vision ran blurry and it felt like your throat was closing up

"he’s everything to me. i can’t live with that. i can't see his body alive and have my heart know it's not him. what about the baby? my baby is going to grow up without a father”

the realisation hit you like a splash of cold water. the picture perfect family you and satoru had just started to build came crumbling down in seconds, drowning in the uncharted waters of a future without him.

“i’ll be with you every step of the way” shoko promised, “ it won't be the same i know, but i’ll be right by your side when you give birth and i’ll be there with you until the day i die.”

she felt it was the least she could do after everything. after she couldn't save satoru. it would be hard and you would hate every second of it, "nothing will ever be the same without satoru"

your words seemed to be the final nail in his coffin. it was concluded. you would inevitably learn to live without him. you would inevitably learn to do the impossible.

“he wouldn’t want you to live the rest of your life being miserable” shoko sniffed, “he wouldn’t even want to see you cry. he loved you so much, it was sickening"

you withered noticeably, shoulders and morale deflating as you caught a glimpse of the hopeless look in her eyes. she really had given up.

and so had you. you'd wanted desperately to fight till the end, to cling onto the slim chance of bringing satoru back, but you couldn’t do it alone. you couldn’t face the monster alone. satoru was right about one thing, love truly was the most twisted curse of all.

“he told me he’d come back” you said quietly, a mere whisper amidst your heavy breathing and the sound of your choked sobs, “he promised”

you cupped his cheek in your palm once more. his skin was still cool to the touch and the pale grey undertones beneath it broke your heart beyond measure. you could barely make out his face through your tear-filled eyes. nor could you grasp the prospect of never seeing him look at you again.

you’d never see him gaze at you as if you’d single-handedly hung the stars in the night sky and crotched each slither of grass into the earthy soil again. you’d never have the pleasure of watching his beautiful eyes adjust to the morning sun again.

you wouldn’t have the pleasure of watching him cradle your child, watching him blow raspberries and nuzzle into your baby’s neck. you wouldn’t have the pleasure of watching him search for your traits he loved so much in the baby that would bind you together for infinity. and you had to find the strength to be okay with that.

you brushed back the limp white strands on his forehead and placed a desperate kiss onto satoru’s exposed skin. it sickened you to feel him completely still beneath your touch, unresponsive to your lips pressed against his temples.

you smothered muffled ‘i love yous’ to the expanse of his face. trailing kisses from his forehead to his cold lips. a last ditch effort to will him alive. to will his eyes to turn away from the heavens and look at you.

he does. in a moment that feels infinite, a flash of light beams in his eyes

you blink. once. twice. absolutely sure you were imagining the way his long eyelashes fluttered like a dove soaring from the cloying clutches of the ashes of death. absolutely sure you were imagining the pinkish hue returning to his porcelain skin. and his brows twitching as he regained what was left of his consciousness.

until you see the bright blue eyes you’d loved religiously, devotedly, for as long as you could remember fade from a dull blue into a beautiful mellowed grey-blue

it felt like the world stood still, the thumping of your heart reconstructing itself slowly, meticulously drowned out the ticking of the wall clock, the dripping of the intravenous fluids, and shoko’s breathless inhales of smoke.

“‘toru?” it feels surreal — the hand cupping your face, the thumb smoothing across your tear-stained cheeks, and the smile tugging at satoru’s lips. it feels like a dream, the hazy romantic grey eyes that drink you in. as if you’re made of every drop in the deep blue oceans that covered the earth’s crust. but the unadulterated love in his eyes is unmistakable. “shoko, he’s alive”

shoko rushes to your side and knocks over her stool in the process. it feels as though the heavens opened up and dropped you a lifeline. as if an immortal being heard your pleas and instead of casting away a god, cast a mere mortal, a human.

without the six eyes that had haunted him from conception. without the six eyes that made him the strongest. without the six eyes that took him away from you.

the heavens took the strongest away from you, and in return gave you satoru.

“how?” shoko spluttered, “i tried everything under the sun. how the hell did you come back by yourself, you vermin?”

a smile as bright as the sun itself is etched onto his face, and the dimples you loved to press kisses to are more than visible beneath the fluorescent lights. satoru mustered up the strength to pull you into his arms.

he was half the man he used to be, yet he felt so complete.

“binding vow” he hummed, pressing a soft kiss to the bone of your wrist, “it was a long shot but it worked, you’re looking at the new and improved satoru”

“the binding vow?” shoko queried, “i thought you gave up on that when you agreed to let okkotsu use your body” she propped her hand under her chin and looked at him sceptically.

"the heart wants what it wants" he shrugged sheepishly, "i thought it would be fine giving up part of the six eyes, turns out i needed to give up everything."

"are you okay with that?" you asked. he was more than okay with it. he would give up everything if it meant it could be with you. he nodded.

he didn't need the six eyes to see that you loved him. he didn't need to be the strongest, when he could be satoru with you

"don't worry about me sweets, i'll live" he said softly "besides nothing feels as good as coming back to you"

"nothing feels as good as having you come back to me" you murmured, allowing his hands to find repose on the small of your back. you buried your face in his chest, the tell-tale signs of tears soaking into his tight black shirt.

"would've been kinda funny if okkotsu took over my body" he said slyly, "you would've hated me"

"i hate you" you groaned, pushing yourself off his worn body, "i really hate you satoru gojo. so much more than you know"

"i know baby, i know" he laughed, lacing his fingers through yours and pressing a bittersweet kiss to your knuckles, "i love you too"

“how could you even agree to that?” you pried your hand from his grip and pointed an accusatory finger at him as you clambered off the operating table, “without so much as telling me ‘toru really?”

“‘s too soon to be mad at me sweets” he pouted, voice syrupy. too syrupy. for someone who had just risen from the dead, “i wanted to tell you. i should’ve told you. forgive me please”

satoru attempts to prop himself up on his elbows, and fails in quick succession earning an exasperated sigh from both you and shoko. you can't truly bring yourself to remain mad at him. not when he'd sacrificed the sole thing that shaped his existence to come back

“stay put you idiot” shoko snapped, “i have to make sure everything’s in order” she stubbed out her cigarette in a petri dish before slipping on a new pair of gloves.

with the naked eye satoru appeared the same —save for his newly grey eyes— but she was concerned for his wellbeing beyond that. he’d pushed his brain beyond his capabilities during his fight against ryomen sukuna.

satoru cracked an insufferable grin as he ran his left hand through his hair. the slashed scars on it are equally as beautiful as the scars toji left on him. he's equally as beautiful as the day you met him.

“sho you look like death” he quipped, “you sure you’re not the one who needs a check up? ”

“funny” she deadpanned, a tight lipped smile tugging at the corners of her mouth, “you’ve been back for less than five minutes and you’re already riling me up”

"hah? don't act like you didn't miss me" he chuckled, "you've been crying haven't you? i knew you cared about me”

"please shut him up" shoko groaned, imploring you with her tired brown eyes. "or distract him while i run the necessary tests. considering the damage dealt by sukuna he should be on bed rest for a few weeks"

"mm i could do with a vacation" he grinned, "where do you feel like going sweets?" it felt like tempting fate to have such casual discussions with satoru when he had been gone mere minutes ago.

and you'd felt the weight of the universe and gravity crushing the embers of your soul — but you would always indulge him. it was your constant, forever unchanging, as immutable as the speed of light

"miguel said we'd like zanzibar" you said thoughtfully, plopping down on your stool as shoko pressed the diaphragm of her stethoscope to his chest, "what about your students?"

"they've got it from here" he hummed. he had the familiar glint of pride that flickered in his grey-blue eyes when he thought of his students. they would carry on his legacy, he was sure of it

they could be strong together.

#𓂃˖ letters from: satoru #❛ 五条悟 ❜#satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk 261 #⭑ : boom copium!#wrote this on a whim #but i fw it heavy

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xxbimbobunnyxx · 2 days

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Summary: Life is soooo hard being a spoiled little housewife, sometimes all you need is for Rafe to think for you. 18+MDNI!!

Warnings: Daddy kink!, cockwarming, body worship, dom/sub dynamics, mostly fluff? (Idk being soft is not my strong suit be nice to me) also you can thank @strangerstilinski for putting the image of Rafe playing w your hair while you cockwarm him in my head.

Today was hard. By your standards at least. It felt like every single little thing was going wrong. First your nail tech made your nails too squared off, then your hair appointment got canceled. You went to the mall to try to get the new shoes you’ve been lusting after but they didn’t have your size even though it said they did online. Starbucks made your coffee wrong and to top it all off you stopped at the store to get stuff to bake Rafe cookies and you fucking burned them. It didn’t help that you were about to get your period so you felt extra needy and Rafe wasn’t even here to take care of you because he had to work late.

You feel like a huge baby sitting in the edge of you and Rafe’s plush bed, pouting over such minuscule things. But it isn’t your fault Rafe conditioned you to get whatever you want, whenever you want. Plus you wanted to do something for yourself today, usually he drives you around on maintenance and shopping days but you thought it might be fun to go on your own. Apparently not. So after the commotion with the cookies and the smoke alarm you decided to just sit down and wait for Rafe. He was all you wanted right now. When you hear the front door open your entire body practically perks up, just knowing he was home eased the tension in your body some immediately.

“Baby? Where are you?” Rafe calls out to you as you hear his expensive loafers against the carpet. He rounds the corner into the room and sees you sitting on the bed with your pretty little eyes brimmed with tears and your sparkly glossed lips set into a pout as they wobble. “Hey, sweet girl, what’s going on?”

“Daddy - I -“ your sentence is cut off by a whimper as the tears in your eyes start to stream down your cheeks. He rushes towards you, taking your face in his hands, running his thumbs under your eyes to keep your mascara from staining your face.

“Shhh, it’s okay baby, daddy’s got you, I’m gonna take care of you, okay? C’mere.” He leans down and presses a gentle kiss on your lips before crouching down on one knee so he can take your little pink heels off your feet. He runs the tips of his fingers along your ankles before pressing his lips against the inside of each one. He stands again, taking your hands in his so he can softly pull you to your feet. “My girl just had a long day, huh? Need me to think for you?”

“Mhm.” You let out a sigh as he presses his lips to your shoulder, he pushes the strap of your little tank top down before kissing across your collar bones, his lips touching every inch they can.

“Use your words, Princess.” He mumbles against your skin as he starts to kiss up your neck, leaving soft nibbles and gently sucking on the skin.

“Yes, daddy, need you to take care of me. Don’t wanna think anymore. Please.” You whine.

“Alright, don’t gotta beg, baby. I’ve got you.”

His finger tips caress the skin underneath your shirt as he grabs onto the hem and pulls it over your head. His hand comes around your back to undo your bra and he places wet open mouthed kisses on each of your nipples. Rafe takes his time unzipping your skirt, and pushing it off your hips, his lips grazing over and sucking on any skin they can reach as he undresses you with such tenderness. Once you’re finally bare before him one of his large hands cups your face while the other grips onto your hip, pulling your lips to his.

“Look at you, my perfect girl, so beautiful.” He pulls his shirt over his head and grabs you by the hips as he walks backwards towards the bed, using his grip to maneuver you so that you’re straddling his lap. “What do you want, hmm?”

“Just want you. I don’t know.” You pout up and him and he chuckles slightly, placing a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Alright baby, how about you sit on my cock and just let me hold you for a while, huh? How’s that sound?” He smooths down your hair as he smiles sweetly at you.

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” You hum and Rafe wraps one of his thick arms around your hips to maneuver you so that he can use his free hand to pull his pants down enough to free his cock. He’s already hard, it doesn’t take much more than seeing you naked and needy for him to get him going nowadays. Honestly he thinks if you breathed just right he would be rock hard in seconds. He uses his grip on you to line you up with his cock, gently pushing his tip into your entrance.

“You’re always so tight for me, princess. So wet.” Rafe gently thrusts the rest of the way inside of you, pressing your hips flush against his. “There you go baby.”

“Mmm, missed you daddy.” You let out a sigh of relief as wrap your arms around his neck and lean forward, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

“Missed you too baby, always miss you.” He kisses the top of your head, massages your scalp, rubs your shoulders, leaving kisses behind his in wake. Rafe runs his hands down your back, gently massaging your muscles. He connects your lips and slowly rolls your tongues together as his hands continue to rub and worship every inch of your body they can reach.

“Love every part of you.” He mumbles against your lips as his kisses travel over to your cheek and down your jaw. “Love this pretty face.” He kisses your nose. “Love this cute little nose.” He runs his nose down your jaw to your neck where he counties to place tender open mouth kisses. “Love this pretty throat.” His kisses travel down your shoulder to your arms. “Your soft skin.” He kisses the back of your hand before gently placing his lips on the pad of each one. “Love your cute hands, all these lil rings you wear and how small they look around my cock.”

“Raaaafey, I love you.” You giggle, causing your walls to constrict around him.

“I love you, angel. If you keep laughing like that I’m gonna have to flip you over and fuck you until you can’t talk though.” He chuckles as his hands find your ass and squeeze the flesh between his fingers. His words make you wiggle in his lap, causing his tip to brush against your sweet spot.

“Mmm… I wouldn’t be against it.” You gently rock your hips against his, looking at up at him with your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Yeah?” You giggle and nod. He smiles widely at you before flipping you onto your back. “You’re fuckin’ in for it.”

#rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe cameron #rafe concepts #rafe x reader #rafe smut #rafe fluff #rafe cameron concepts #rafe cameron blurb #rafe cameron x reader #Dolly writes

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jupiter-letters · 24 hours

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Having thoughts about Husband!Art and his hands...

A/N: A little fic this weepy eyed blonde boy, I watched challengers yesterday and I'm obsessed.I need Art like carnally. People being hot in movies is so back dude. This was written with a fem!reader(afab, no other physical description will be written) in mind. This is my first attempt at smut so go easy on me I beg.🙏🏽

Word count: 1476

TW: Sexu*l content, f*ngering, reader just having a rough day in general.

divider cred || palestine links

One of the things that attracted you to your husband was his hands. The way his muscles in his hands tighten when he grips his racket, how he holds his coffee mug when takes a sip of coffee in the morning and the way they glide against your skin when you make love.

After having a difficult day he'd like to put those hands to use for you as he so often loves to do....

You walk into your home and make a beeline toward your bathroom, you need to get the grime of the day off you. You don't even notice Art on his laptop on the couch, he was about to greet you before he saw the look on your face. He just watches you kick off your shoes and drop your bag on the floor. You always greet him when you get home but he can tell it's been one of those days. He shuts his laptop off and the tv then makes his way to your bedroom. He spots your scattered clothes all over the floor and hears the roar of the bathtub's spout coming to life.

Art leans up against the door to hear what you might be doing, he hesitates before knocking on the door. "Baby?" The sound of running water stops and he hears a small tired voice answer, "Come in.." He opens the door to the sight of you naked and bare, head down in front of the mirror. He looks at you for a moment and turns his eyes to the floor as he shuts the bathroom door behind him. You turn your head toward him but avoid his eyes, he doesn't force you to meet his gaze.

Art moves behind you in silence and touches your shoulders just to test the waters of how much you're willing to be touched at this moment. You accept it, not moving away but not leaning into it. He wraps his body around you and kisses your shoulders. He kisses up to the back of your neck. "You wanna talk about it?", he asks as you take a moment to answer such a simple question. You just shake your head, still silent, you do turn around and look up at him. He looks into your eyes, a silent understanding takes over him. "Ok." He whispers, Art moves over to the bathtub and turns the knob back on. He goes to the sink cabinet and grabs some bubble bath. He pours some of the liquid in the water and glides in his hand in the water to make sure the temperature's perfect for you. Once the tub is full you step inside and breathe a sigh of relief. The sweet smell of the bubbles and the warm water expels the tension from your body. Art kneels next the tub, he crosses his arms over the rim and lays his head on his forearms. He gives you a small smile and you return it, you both gaze at each other in quiet admiration. Art takes a hand and caresses your knee with such tenderness, the feeling of his lithe fingers brings you such comfort.

He moves his body forward and moves his hand further down your thigh looking at you for permission to keep going. You nod your head looking at him expectantly wondering what he was planning to do. Very slowly he slides his hand into the water in between your thighs, eyes laser focused on his own actions. You can feel him gently part your folds, using his index and middle finger to stroke your clit. He moves them slowly up and down, ghosting your entrance. Art looks back up at you when he hears you gasp quietly, he smiles again at the sound. “You want some more baby? Don’t worry I’ll give it to you, I’m gonna take care of you.” he purrs at you, but you won’t get what you want so quickly, he lives to tease you. He adds more pressure to your bud and rubs in more circular motions. Your breath quickens and you lull your head to the side pressing against the tub's rim. He stops for a moment just to move closer to your head so he can kiss your cheek and move onto your lips. You position your body closer to his head and crane your head to taste his lips more. Art continues stroking your clit, rubbing and pinching it between his fingers. He swallows every gasp, groan and whimper you make, stretching the muscles in his neck as far as he can to reach your mouth. The sensation of him touching you and the heat from the water has covered your body in a light sheen of moisture, everything about you is so wet and pliant. He finally feels that you’re ready to take his fingers, he stops kissing you. He wants to look in your eyes as he slides them, he wants to see your mouth part and hear a raspy moan slip from your lips.

There’s nothing Art loves more than the look of dazed bliss you get when he’s inside of your body. As he prods your entrance he watches you closely, “Sweetheart look at me…” ,he murmurs. You look up at him, hungry and waiting, the moment you do he slides his fingers eliciting a high pitched moan from you, mouthing widening in pleasure. He continues his slow pace, you can feel the metal of his wedding ring brush up against your lips as he pushes his fingers deeper. He leaves kisses all over your face before returning to your lips, smiling into the kiss. He opens his eyes for a moment to see your legs writhing and clenching around his hand when he curls his fingers every so slightly. The sight makes his arousal even stronger than before, a small wet spot makes its appearance in his sweatpants. He wouldn’t even need to touch himself, the sight alone of you slowly reaching your peak is enough to make him cum all on his own. The tension in your core continues to build, Art notices you shuddering and finally lets you have what you want. He puts his fingers in as far as he can and makes a scissoring gesture along with curling them pressing into your g-spot at random. As he does this it becomes harder to focus on his mouth devouring you and mind begins to go blank. You grip your hands onto his forearm and shoulder to anchor yourself. He angles his head to kiss the underside of your jaw while he increases his pace. The water in the tub starts to move violently as your body shakes and your legs thrash. You make the attempt to kiss Art again but are overwhelmed by the sounds that escape your mouth, he lets you moan into his mouth keeping his eyes closed and savoring the sounds. One final beckon of his fingers sends you over the edge, tilting your head back, orgasm rippling throughout your body. Art nuzzles his nose against yours and presses his forehead to yours.

It’s a full minute before he pulls his fingers out of you, when he does he drags his hand up and over your stomach. Between your breasts and glides up the side of your neck, he takes his thumb and caresses your lips before sliding them into his mouth. He smiles down at you and giggles. You laugh with him, “What?” you ask curiously. “I was supposed to help you get clean, not sweaty,” he says with a grin. You laugh again at his statement, “Well…it doesn’t matter, I do feel better now.” He smiles and kisses your forehead, he moves over to the towel holder on the wall and grabs one for you. You wipe some of the suds off you before you stand to be embraced by him with the towel. While he holds you, you notice he’s still hard. You look at him surprised, “You want me to take care of that?” He looks down as if he forgot too. “Oh! No baby it’s ok, I wanted this to be all about you, don’t worry about me.” he tells you softly. His statement makes you soften even more, you step out of the tub next to him. You take the towel from him and wrap it around yourself. “Thank you Art, I mean it. I really needed that.” You take his face into your hand and kiss his lips. “Of course, these hands aren’t just good at tennis y’know. You can use them anytime you want.” he replies smugly. You jokingly push his face away and make your way out of the bathroom looking back at him with a smile. He follows close behind and shuts the door behind him.

Thanks for reading! Lemme know what you think. Please like or reblog if you like my stuff. ♡

#tw: nsft #~⋆｡°tales from the dreaming #art donaldson x reader #challengers x reader #mike faist x reader #art donaldson smut #art donaldson x black!reader #black!reader #challengers 2024 #art donaldson fic #art donaldson imagine #jupiter-letters

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purel6mbie · 1 day

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'𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐠𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬' .. !

꒰ calcharo x reader

꒰ domestic au, fluff, i love him sm .. a bit longer than usual ♡ was planning to post it a bit later but take this as my celebration gift for finally pulling him yayyy !!

there was no bigger sin than cruelty. the way people could find joy in hurting others was beyond you. resonators were always confronted to all kinds of dangers while out on the field, but the scars they'd get from their battles would later serve them as trophies, some memorabilia of their bravery. there were scars, though, that were destined to stay buried both deep into one's skin and under layers of fabrics. those were by far the most painful.

you were far from knowing all the details of your lover's history. calcharo was a reserved man that spoke little and never about himself; but while most would qualify him as 'rude' or 'cold', you had learnt to appreciate the silent love he offered to you. he was a caring and faithful lover, making sure you were never missing anything, although he doesn't speak it out like most would. his love was in tender glances, gentle touches and loving actions.

the need to protect him grew on you like a mold, from what you didn't know yet. but you knew that you'd never hesitate to give all of yourself to him, for him. just like he has for you.

when he comes home, later than most would, calcharo isn't anymore surprised to see you had been waiting for him in the living room, reading a book. you act like you didn't see the slightly reprimanding glint in his cerulean eyes and come meet him at the door, welcoming him silently. you weren't much of a loud person yourself.

'i hope your day wasn't too tiring. i've missed you,' you smile gently at him as you make a move to free him from his sword; but his long gloved fingers catch yours to stop them, holding them like rare antiques and you can't help but blush at the touch.

'you don't have to, I'll do it myself, dearest.' his low voice assures you. you look back at his eyes and see the exhaustion behind them. 'I've missed you too, today.' calcharo whispers, bringing your knuckles to his pale lips before walking to put his weapons away.

the dinner you both share is mostly spent in a comfortable silence, some words being exchanged about each other's activities throughout the day. however calcharo always made sure to keep most of the details away from you : you didn't need to hear about the gruesome things he has to see daily.

your lover knew you by heart, and so when you muster the confidence to reach over the table and wrap your hand around his, he looks over at you and gifts you with a small, barely noticeable smile, that still manages to free the butterflies in your stomach nonetheless.

'let me do the dishes,' his voice interjects as you put on your gloves. the hand on your shoulder stopping all your movements. his voice is gentle as he breathes out the words. 'you should get yourself ready for bed, i won't take long.'

you know you won't be winning that argument so you defeatedly let him do, heart bursting at the sight of your lover doing such a domestic task. you were blessed to be loved by him.

when he is in fact done, calcharo joins you upstairs, tiredness pulling at his features. he doesn't hesitate taking your extended hand that guides him to bed, on the thick and pricey mattress covered in dark blue satin sheets. no matter how tired he might be, the man never would dismiss you as you sat behind him, brushing his long hair and braiding it before you both lie down. this had become some sort of ritual between you both, and rituals helped calcharo stay grounded both in time and space. it gave him something to look forward to at the end of each day. he might not express it as vocally, but the way he closes his eyes as the hairbrush slides down his scalp tells you everything you need to know. the mercenary trusted you fully, ready to risk being vulnerable while his back is turned on you.

'im done,' you whisper, setting the hairbrush down.

calcharo turns to take your hand, giving it a thankful squeeze to which you answer with tender smile, peeling the cover off the mattress and silently inviting your lover under.

he pulls the warm fabric over your shoulders and makes sure your feet are covered before letting his head fall onto the pillow, facing you. his blue eyes seem to glow under the moonlight spilling from the window and you bring your still intertwined hand between your faces, on the plushy pillow. your lips lean in to press an adoring kiss on the rough skin of his hand, and his soon move to do the same on yours, lingering there slightly longer before he pulls back.

you contently close your eyes, squeezing his fingers in between yours thrice, a grin playing on your lips as you fall asleep in an instant.

calcharo knew what that meant : each squeeze for one word I.love.you. you're the one who initiated it, and it since then has become yet another ritual you both shared.

contemplating your resting features, never letting go of your hand, the man renews his vow to someday manage to say the words to you, like you deserve to hear them, and not just through secret codes. once he feels like a man again, he tells himself, and not like some failed experiment, 'I will say the words back to you. dozens of times a day. as much as you'd want me to. I'll be a man to you, the one you deserved all along.' and, feeling from the vibrations of your unconscious that you've reached dreamland, he allows himself to close his eyes to, giving your hand three squeezes.

©purel6mbie 2024 | do not copy, translate, repost !

#calcharo x you #calcharo x reader #calcharo #wuwa x you #wuwa x reader #wuwa official #wuwa #wuthering waves x reader #wuthering waves #wuthering waves fic #wuwa fic #wuwa fluff #calcharo fic #calcharo fluff

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poppy-metal · 1 day

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need to hear ur thoughts on

arts reaction when u whine "daddy" for him while tashi punishes you

Tashis reaction when u whimper "mommy" for her while art stretches you with his cock

sniffles because arts cock would definitely twitch and his mouth would go dry but he's not coming to your aid 😔 he might throw in a placating "tashi..." but the second she slices her eyes at him, or raises a brow, he backs down. "sorry, baby. you can take it, just for a little longer."

"she'll take it as long as I want her to."

"..."

"oh dont give me that look. Its your fault she's a fucking brar, you know? maybe her punishment should be not getting to sit on your dick for a week."

"mommy, no!!! im sorry - I won't ask daddy for help anymore. I'll be good!"

you dont see arts sigh of relief. tashi does and she has to stop her eyes from rolling. that would be a punishment for art as much as it would be for you, maybe even more so on him. seeing you whine and cry in distress always made him antsy. that need to fix everything, to offer himself to you, to care for you ingrained into his very being. she couldn't handle it when it was all directed at her, having it split in half makes his love much more breathable for tashi. you're much more accepting of it than she is. that doesn't mean you get to turn to him in times like this, though.

"that's what I thought."

the reverse is very different. you usually cry out tashi's name, it's because you're overwhelmed and she anchors you. arts lovemaking gets so intense sometimes - much rougher than his usual tender, slow strokes inside - when he's worked up, angry about something or stressed out or worked too thin, it can get rough. hips crashing into yours enough to jolt you up the bed and its not bad, just the opposite, its so fucking good it takes you out of your own body. you feel like a toy under him, a fleshlight for him to pound into - and when you cry out for tashi its because you need her rare tenderness as much as you need arts rare aggression.

the plea leaves your lips and your eyes are too filled with tears slipping down your cheeks to really see her but you feel her, feel the bed dip and feel her soft slender hand on your cheek. rubbing the salt of the tears off your skin, petting through your hair, damp with sweat. you lean into it, into her.

"pretty girl." her voice can be so soft like this. "is daddy being mean to you today? hm?"

you nod dumbly, even as you gasp when one of arts thrusts has you keening. he's a powerhouse above you, face intense and focused and slack jawed all at the same time, lips parted as he uses your body, dragging you up and down on his cock. makes no comment about you and tashi's conversation, too turned on, too in the moment for speech.

tashi's fingers smooth along down your stomach, into the little notch of space between arts body moving above yours until she reaches your clit.

"do you want me to make him stop?"

art does groan then, and its almost a plea. sounding anguished.

you shake your head. tashi smiles.

#ask #anyway i need them biblically #artashi x reader #art donaldson smut #tashi duncan smut #challnegers smut

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pinkflower2003 · 18 hours

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You are actually so talented. I’m addicted to reading your stuff. If you what to write a slightly more angsty one maybe could be a pt.2 to one of the pregnancy ones that Y/N has the baby and then starts struggling with postnatal anxiety and just can’t keep her eyes of the baby so driver comforts her and helps her even though she’s being a stubborn first time mum 😅

Baby Blues

Charles Leclerc x Reader

a/n: thank you so much that is the sweetest thing ever, you guys literally make me wanna cry omg🥹 i hope this is okay! thank you so much for your submission<3

The soft glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, casting a warm light on the nursery. You sat in the rocking chair, cradling your newborn daughter in your arms. The room was quiet, save for the gentle creaking of the chair and the occasional coo from the baby. Despite the serenity, a storm of anxiety churned within you.

As a first-time mother, the overwhelming love you felt for your daughter was matched by an equally overwhelming sense of fear. What if something went wrong? What if you weren’t enough? You couldn’t keep your eyes off her, afraid that if you looked away for even a second, something terrible might happen.

Charles Leclerc, your partner and the love of your life, had been nothing but supportive since the birth. But as days turned into weeks, he noticed the change in you. The way you barely slept, constantly checking on the baby, the way your hands trembled whenever you weren’t holding her.

One afternoon, Charles found you in the nursery again, your eyes fixed on the sleeping baby. He approached quietly, his heart aching at the sight of your exhaustion.

"Y/N," he said softly, kneeling beside you. "You need to rest."

You shook your head, your voice barely above a whisper. "I can’t, Charles. What if something happens?"

He reached out, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. "Nothing will happen. She’s safe. You need to take care of yourself too."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, the worry and fear evident in your expression. "I’m scared, Charles. What if I’m not doing this right?"

Charles cupped your face in his hands, his gaze steady and reassuring. "You’re doing an amazing job. You’re the best mother our daughter could ever have. But you don’t have to do this alone. Let me help you."

You wanted to believe him, but the anxiety was a relentless force. "I just…I can’t stop thinking about all the things that could go wrong."

He pulled you into a gentle embrace, his touch soothing. "I know it’s hard. But we’re in this together."

Charles took the baby from your arms, cradling her with practiced ease. "Why don’t you lie down for a bit? I’ll watch her."

You hesitated, your eyes lingering on your daughter. "What if she needs me?"

"I’ll be right here," Charles assured you. "And if she needs anything, I’ll wake you up. I promise."

Reluctantly, you agreed, allowing Charles to guide you to the bedroom. As you lay down, he sat beside you, holding your hand. "Close your eyes, amour. Just rest for a little while."

For the first time in days, you allowed yourself to relax, Charles’s presence a comforting anchor. Gradually, exhaustion took over, and you drifted into a restless sleep.

When you awoke, the room was dim, and you could hear the soft murmur of Charles’s voice from the nursery. You got up quietly and peeked through the door. Charles was sitting in the rocking chair, the baby cradled against his chest as he hummed a gentle tune.

He looked up and saw you, a tender smile spreading across his face. "Hey, you’re awake. How do you feel?"

You walked in, feeling a bit more rested but still anxious. "Better, I think."

Charles stood up, walking over to you with the baby. "She’s been fine. You’ve been fine. And you will be fine. But you need to take it one day at a time."

Tears filled your eyes again, but this time they were tears of gratitude. "Thank you, Charles. I don’t know what I’d do without you."

He kissed your forehead, his touch filled with love and reassurance. "You’ll never have to find out. We’re a team, remember? We’ll get through this together."

From that moment, things started to change. It wasn’t easy, and there were still days when the anxiety threatened to overwhelm you. But with Charles by your side, you found the strength to face it. He was there for the late-night feedings, the endless diaper changes, and the moments when you felt like you couldn’t go on.

And slowly, you began to trust in yourself as a mother. You started to believe that you were enough, that you could keep your daughter safe and happy. And through it all, Charles was your rock, your constant source of comfort and support.

#formula one imagine #f1 imagine #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #baby imagine

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minefield-of-a-ninja · 2 days

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*original Image from a CW still photo

Summary: Dean shows you what it means to be in a relationship with a self-proclaimed Red-winged Bloodhound, and to be loved.

Characters: Dean Winchester x You

Tags/warnings: 18+ ONLY, period sex, shower sex, brief oral, super horny bc hormones and Dean Winchester, ILY exchange, intimacy

Words: 2K

Author’s notes: Sanctioned will be a series of low-stakes explorations of sexual taboos and boundary nudging with one or both of the Winchester brothers and You. It will all be written in 2nd person, further fostering a sense of closeness and leaning into the level of intimacy achieved with each act. It will not necessarily be considered part of the same universe but can absolutely be read that way.

As always, all my love goes to my long-time beta and friend @brrose-apothecary and many thanks to @bigmouthlass for the read-through and green light.

Sanctioned: The Red-Wing Rodeo

Being on your period sucks.

You radiate heat, but you're freezing. You can’t even think about wearing anything other than sweatpants. Most days, you bleed through an ultra tampon and the thickest pads you can buy in less than an hour, and you’re hungry all the time.

For nasty, greasy junk food and for Dean.

Dean’s gorgeous and effortlessly sexy. Even when you aren’t on your period, all he has to do is say your name and you’re putty in his hands. When you are on your period, bloated as a bridge troll and craving melty cheese, the things your brain conjures up for him to do to you threaten to set feminism back faster and farther than an old, white conservative on the Supreme Court.

It’s all you can think about—Dean’s hands on your skin, his lips on your throat, and his cock hammering you senseless.

But you smell bad, right? Your eyes are puffy and your feet look like sausages. No one thinks that’s attractive.

He’s tried to tell you that he likes it. Loves it, is what he’s said. He’s the one who told you there’s a name for guys like him—Bloodhounds. He’s even gone down on women having their period.

You don’t consider yourself a prude, but he can’t be serious, can he?

Right now, you’re in the shower in an attempt to feel less ick and maybe work out some frustration where you can easily clean up afterward. You’ve washed and conditioned your hair, exfoliated, shaved everything, and now you’re standing under just-the-right-temperature water as it blessedly sluices your neck and shoulders to your toes. You’re starting to feel something approaching relaxed when you hear Dean’s voice.

“Care if I join ya?” he asks, peeking around the large shower stall with a grin that no one in their right mind could resist. He’s naked, his hair’s spiking in nine different directions, and his face is smudged with grease from the Impala.

You shake your head and shrug, afraid to firmly commit to any answer since every cell in your body is stretched tight between tenterhooks; you could snap at any second.

“You sure?” He arches a brow and dips his chin to his chest as he eases his way into the shower.

“M’sure,” you mutter, curling in on yourself.

He settles in behind you, tall and strong, skimming his big hands over your hips before gently palming your belly. You rest one hand on his forearm and reach up behind you with the other to slide your fingers through his dampening hair. Dean begins to hum and sway before moving to multitask—dragging one hand up to expertly cup and caress one hot, tender breast, and lazily drawing a random but intricate pattern around your navel and lower.

“I know it’s your time of the month or whatever you call it, and I know it’s gettin’ harder lately,” he murmurs, touching you with reverence and heat, kissing your temple, around the shell of your ear. “I wanna make it better.”

You sigh. “I know… I just-”

When his thumb brushes your nipple, you gasp and bite back a desperate moan.

“Just what, honey? Tell me.”

He shifts behind you and his thick, hard cock grazes the curve of your back. It’s too much. He’s told you so many times how good he could make it for you.

“Please?” He continues to kiss and suck the thin skin of your throat and thumb your nipple.

You bite your lip and twist his hair with your fingers. Maybe you can let go a little. The shower will help with the mess, right?

Dean sucks an earlobe between his lips and brings his other hand up to work your other breast, forcing a pitiful whimper from your chest. You grip his wrists, encouraging his touch and buck back against him.

“Fuck me,” you whisper.

Dean groans and you can practically feel him vibrate with excitement. “I promise I’m gonna make this so good for you,” he whispers back.

You sigh, brace your hands against the tile in front of you, and widen your stance before glancing over your shoulder. His eyes flick to yours as he lathers up his hands. When he takes a step closer to touch you again, you drop your head to hang between your arms and exhale. He works you up, kneading your breasts, pulling and teasing your taut, sensitive nipples.

“You look so beautiful when you trust me like this. I want you to know it and believe it.”

He nuzzles and nips under your jaw as he hooks one hand under your right knee and gathers both your wrists with the other. You gasp when he lifts and shifts you like you weigh nothing, spreading you up and open, pressing you up against the cool tile.

“Makes me crazy knowin’ how bad you want somethin’ but won’t ask for it.”

And then he slowly sinks inside you.

You sob his name and quake between his solid weight and the soothing ceramic. You feel so hot and light, spread wide and fucked tight.

“So good, Dean,” you whimper, and he kisses you everywhere he can, sucking small bruises into your skin.

“You too.” He pushes your knee up higher, opening you wider. “So hot and greedy. Fuck, your pussy’s squeezin’ me so tight.”

“Ung.”

His thrusts are slow, shallow, and precise. Each pass sends ripples of brilliant pleasure from the ends of your hair to the tips of your toes—liquid, rolling, boiling.

“Wanted you like this for so long,” he huffs in your ear. “Give you what you need when you feel so empty.”

He’s repeatedly, steadily driving over your g-spot, slip-sliding along the path he’s traveled time and time again—but this time, every single nerve ending inside you is engorged and hypersensitive. You can feel every ridge of his cock, stroking your insides.

“Yes, Dean. I can- can feel you everywhere. Fuck.” You gasp for air and arch your neck as he plants his forehead against the shower wall.

“C’mon,” he whispers, quickening his grinding pace and eliciting a shout from you.

“Fuck… fuck… fuck…” you’re chanting, your skin is singing, and your vision blurs.

Time warps and whirls, Dean tells you you’re so perfect, so beautiful, and then- your body seizes rigid and shocking before blowing up into the most powerful, white-hot orgasm you’ve ever had.

•

Dean gently nudges you awake with soft, warm touches and the aroma of chicken soup. Your eyelids flutter open and he’s lying on his side above the covers facing you, lightly brushing the wide tips of his fingers across your forehead.

“How ya feelin’?”

“Mmmph.” You wriggle into him, clutching his soft t-shirt in your fists, and nuzzle his chest.

Dean chuckles. “That good, huh?”

You feel brand new, wrapped in crystal-spun gossamer—delicate and feral. Your consciousness scrambles to catch up to your body’s instinct to climb on top of Dean and never let him out of bed ever again.

He runs a hand down and up your back, soothing and warm, and kisses your temple. “Should eat somethin’, babe. Made ya some chicken soup and those cheese crisps you like so much.”

“You’re so good to me,” you mutter as you roll and squirm toward your nightstand. You push yourself to sit up, holding the sheet to your chest, and reach for the steaming mug.

Dean traces your spine, back and forth, up and down, sending chill bumps all over your body. You are pretty hungry, so you take a few healthy sips from the mug and pop a cheese crisp into your mouth before turning back to face Dean.

“Thank you. I do love those crisps. But I like you even better.” You scoot closer to him and slide your hands up under his t-shirt. “You should get naked and get under the covers with me.”

“I should?” He smirks in that way that makes your heart skip and your guts twirl. “One single period sex shower session and you’re hooked. I like it.”

He helps you get his shirt off before shimmying out of his pajama pants and sliding under the covers with you so you’re skin to skin.

“God, you’re already hard.” You immediately push a hand down and wrap your fingers around his thick length, kissing him hungrily. “So smooth, want you in my mouth.”

“Uh-uh,” Dean stops you from diving down, rolling you to your back and kneeing your legs open to slot his hips and grind his cock right there. “I want you in my mouth, smell so fucking good, so ripe and hot.”

You groan. Two hours ago, you’d have been horrified by the mere suggestion, but now you want, want, want.

“Dean, you can’t-”

He answers your groan, rolling his hips and nestling his face against your neck. “I won’t if you don’t want it, but,” he pauses, pushing up to look you in the eye. “You want it, don’t you?”

His eyes sparkle, and your pussy throbs. He’s right; you’re hooked and there’s no going back. You’re so turned on that he likes the way you smell—that he wants to devour you. Dean’s always eager to eat your pussy, but right now he looks ravenous.

Your heart rate kicks up a notch, and you nod.

Dean swears under his breath before kissing you, hot and firm. He kisses you so well, every day. He’s thorough with his kisses and touches. This is no exception.

When he finally, slowly begins his descent, you’re breathless, writhing in the twisted bedding and fisting your hair. He gives every square inch of your body the same treatment as your mouth, all the way to your ankles and the arches of your feet. Everywhere he touches, licks, and kisses is a hot zone. As he makes his way back upward, you think you might come before he even lays a finger on your clit.

“Dean, I’m-” You break into a sob and squeeze your eyes shut.

“No, no- don’t hold back, honey. Make some noise, make a mess, I gotchu. C’mon.”

You open your eyes and he’s watching you closely as he hunkers back down, nodding. You mirror his nod and take a deep breath, reaching for him to sink your fingers into his hair.

He smiles as he continues kissing his way from your knee up the inside of your thigh, then splays his fingers against the backs of your thighs. You watch him gently part your seam with his thumbs and dip in to press a kiss to your swollen clit.

“Fuck,” you breathe, dropping your head back to the mattress and twisting his hair in your fists.

He huffs a quiet laugh, blowing a stream of cool air over your slick, open pussy, and you lose it.

“Aaahhh!”

You’re higher than you’ve ever been on any substance, raw, and on fire. You feel like you might rocket through the roof of the bunker into the stratosphere; then Dean slides up over you and inside you, filling you up and anchoring you. He braces his forearms on either side of your head and you wrap your arms around his back.

“I love you so much,” you whisper, accepting his kiss and reveling in his long, steady strokes inside you.

He rests his forehead against yours and breathes, dragging out and pushing back in.

“Me too,” he whispers back, brushing noses with you. “So much, honey. Thank you for lettin’ me take care of you.”

You giggle and lift your legs to hug him tight. “Thank you.”

“Next time, I’m goin’ down on you ‘til you forget your own name, but,” he pauses to rotate his hips and kiss you again. “I just had to be inside you.”

“Not complaining.”

Dean keeps that connection, pulls the thread, loops it back again, and reminds you why you’re there. He reminds you of why you love him.

#dean winchester x you #Dean Winchester x reader #dean winchester smut #cw blood #cw period sex #cw periods #sanctioned

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radioapplerevue · 2 days

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Radioapple Fic Recs

Finally got around to organizing a rec list. Going to pin this, since I see people ask for recs a lot. I expect I'll be updating this periodically, too, as I've only just started adding things to it.

These are my personal favorites. For context, I'm an almost 40 year old aroace person whose favorite fics tend to be those who take you apart and then put you back together, haha. Putting them under a read more because I expect this to get long.

The Ruination of Lucifer by @syaunei. (Explicit)

Remember what I said about taking apart and being put back together? Nothing has come close to toppling this fic for me when it comes to emotional catharsis. One of the things I love most about it is how directly it deals with Lucifer's severe depression and the consequences of it, as well as the many, many centuries of him having to deal with just being Who He Is, Where He Is. He's terribly wounded and suffering, but he's also indisputably the King of Hell, with all the power and all the knowledge and all the experience that comes with it.

This fic also stands out for being from Alastor's POV, which I love, because as much as this fic is called The Ruination of Lucifer, the subtitle could be "How Alastor Fucked Around and Found Out". Both of them are getting broken down here, and both of them are -- hopefully -- learning how to grow and move forward. It also takes into account Alastor's asexuality and his unconventional approach towards sex, and what it can (or can't) do for him.

Mind the warnings, though, because shit does get heavy in here for a while. And enjoy the gorgeous illustrations by @betti2024.

2. Lucifer and his Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Relationship by @keelywolfe (ratings vary by part)

This series has me in a chokehold. It's considerably softer than many Radioapple fics, but it really draws you in and makes you so invested in these two idiots and how much they care about each other but also how bad they are at understanding how much they care about each other. It's Lucifer's POV, which causes Suffering not only because he's an incredibly unreliable narrator, but because there's Something Going On with Alastor that we know nothing about except that it's Bad. And we (and Lucifer) are dyiiiing to know what it is, haha.

There is a lot of sex in this series, but there's something about it that's very compelling to me, especially from Alastor's side. The way he is written in these encounters is just so... tender. It's obvious that (most of the time) he's not getting anything really in terms of sexual gratification, but he's getting a great deal in terms of gratification of a different sort, and the fact that it's so clear that he derives as much -- or perhaps more -- pleasure from that as Lucifer does from the sex itself is so delicious.

But my favorite aspect of the whole thing is that no matter what conflicts are going on -- whether outside of themselves, or of their own making -- Lucifer has become Alastor's safe harbor. And that kills me.

3. Bedtime Rituals to Try Out Before the Next Angelic War by @miribalis (teen and up)

Did I mention I like soft? Because I do. And there's something so lovely about the slow, careful way their relationship progresses here, especially on Alastor's side. My issue with this fic is that it ended, haha! I was so looking forward to seeing where it went, because I got addicted to the particular tender rapport that the two of them built. But being left wanting more is hardly a knock on the fic itself, and it's absolutely a treat to get to read.

4. devils don't fly (don't expect me not to fall) by @corgiss (mature)

I think it's becoming apparent that I really enjoy fics that begin with the two of them butting heads, and sometimes stumbling into a huge blunder, only for them to slowly grow together into something much softer than either of them likely intended. This is one such fic. It also involves some fun stuff with the rest of the cast, and a masquerade. Gotta love that.

5. All changed, changed utterly by @tollingreminiscentbells (explicit)

This series is very different from the rest. It's a canon AU where Lucifer and Alastor first met when Alastor was still alive, and then proceeds to go into canon events from there, with Lucifer being the one holding Alastor's leash. There's a lot to chew on, and the author has chosen to go a very different route regarding biblical mythology than the show does. Definitely something I recommend if you want a deep dive into a really meaty series, that delves into both the dynamics of Heaven vs. Hell as well as the worth of free will, as embodied by Alastor (for better or worse).

It also includes one of my new favorite recurring things, which is Alastor's 'delusional not-sex'. (It's sex.)

6. Of Saints and Sinners by @morningstarwrites (teen and up)

This fic is probably the most lighthearted of the radioapple fics I read, haha. It's a fun romp and has definitely made me laugh out loud on more than one occasion. So if you're looking for something that preserves that antagonism-to-grudging-friendship-to-oh-no-we've-caught-feelings kind of story, but with more comedy and less angst, this is the fic for you! (I mean, I have no idea if angst is going to happen in the future, but so far.)

7. hit me where it hurts (the bruising will be worth it) by RestlessWanderings (mature)

This one can only be called radioapple if you squint, but I'm including it because a) it's by far my favorite take on the hotel battle scene, b) I love when Lucifer gets fucked up and people get scared for him and c) it's technically part of a radioapple series. I don't know if that series is still going to happen, but I do enjoy this plenty on its own!

Hold here for more! There are a bunch of fics I’m following but am unsure if they’ll ever be finished — which is fine, writers don’t owe us anything! But it will definitely determine how high up they are on my favorites, haha. And of course people are posting new ones all the time.

#radioapple #appleradio

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dollypopup · 12 hours

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"Colin didn't do enough to earn/deserve Penelope!"

but that's the rub, isn't it? he didn't have to. that's why people are so mad. He didn't have to, and he never had to

Because what this season proves is that love isn't about what we deserve. That love cannot be earned. Viewing love in such light makes it conditional- a matter of transaction. That if we simply do enough, if we humble ourselves, if we are ground down to humility, surely we will be cared for. That love can be a matter of groveling, or suffering, is antithetical to what it truly is. It is such an incredibly puritanical, highly Catholic perspective on it. That Colin has fallen from grace with what he said at the end of Season 2, and thus must now repent. Must have adequate penance.

Who determines what would have been enough, in such circumstances? What would be enough from such a puritanical viewpoint to garner forgiveness? When Colin had history of being soft and tender with Penelope- writing her letters, complimenting her, finding her in ballrooms, laughing at her jokes and making her laugh in turn, defending her- would it truly appease us to have the shape of their lovestory form around the skin of suffering? Of coming to hands and knees in a plead for mercy?

No.

Penelope informs that she's hurt by his comments, and Colin sought to soothe that pain without her demanding it of him. That is love. Penelope reveals the ache of being unwanted and how it affects her self worth, and Colin says 'I will help you see yourself the way I see you', because he has always found her wonderful. That is love. Colin comes to Penelope and reveals that he appreciates her, that he does not want to lose her, and requests a chance to prove that, and she not only accepts, but finds relief in doing so. That's love. Penelope feels braver because Colin thinks she already is. That's love. Colin feels unseen but Penelope sees him. That's love. Penelope asks Colin to kiss her with no expectations of more, and he tenderly touches her face and dreams and dreams and dreams of that moment where she put her heart in his hands. That's love. Colin runs after her carriage and has no idea she harbors affection for him when he spills his own heart open, asking her to choose him, and when she says they're friends, he backs off. That's love. Penelope says she wants to be more than friends, and they fall headfirst into each other. That's love. Colin asks Penelope for her permission to provide pleasure for her, and in doing so, finds pleasure himself. That's love, that's love, that's love.

It has never been about 'deserving'. It has only ever been about opening themselves up to the possibility. Colin and Penelope said: I know you're scared, I know it's scary, but it's worth it. I adore you. Take my hand. Stand with me in corners and have a good time. Crack silly jokes with me. Let's eat cake. Walk with me. Talk to me of matters so foolish, it would make you blush to do so with someone else, I want to listen. I accept you. I see you. Love is not owed, earned- but given. Shared freely. Without expectation. Without condition. With an open hand and heart.

They said: You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees for a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.

Nicola was right. Season 3 is about romance.

#polin #bridgerton #colin bridgerton #penelope featherington #bridgerton season 3 #listen to me- LISTEN #their love story means so so much to me #and with the rise in puritanism in our culture and society it just makes me so grateful they didn't go there #they gave us a soft and tender love story #they made us swoon and smile and to the people who still want groveling and suffering: i'm sorry to you #because that's drama- not romance #and at the end of the day i fell for this couple because they were one another's ride or die #they looked each other in the eye and said 'this too- all of it- all of you' and i hope all of us can have that kind of love #not sorry for crying in the club (the club is the polin tag)#this season was for us hopeless romantics and the poets and it has DELIVERED

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mononijikayu · 1 day

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“go on caring for me.” — gojo satoru.

When Gojo Satoru first appeared at your doorstep, his usual confidence and easygoing demeanor were replaced by relief. The sight of him, with his usually covered eyes now piercing through you, almost made you crumble on the spot. Those cerulean blue eyes seemed to see right through the walls you had built around yourself, and the vulnerability you felt under his gaze only intensified your headache. You had tried to hide, to disappear into the shadows, but Satoru had found you nonetheless.

GENRE: post hidden - inventory arc (2010s)

WARNING/S: domesticity, fluff, angst, trauma, implied death, violence, romance, hurt/comfort, character death depiction of death, depictions of loss and depression, depiction of blood, depiction of killing, depiction of suffering, depiction of anxiety, mention of death, mention of grief, profanity, family drama;

LISTEN: fuyu no hanashi (orchestra version) by given

NOTE: reading kafka's letter to milena and thought about how genmei (you) had a life before gojo satoru and how that impacted you. this is not my regular writing schedule, but im just to broken up to stop. i feel like i imagine them too much in my head too. both of you loved someone at one point. but after they left you, your hearts broke and you're here for each other. because that's just who satoru is. he likes being genuine towards people he loves like that, as you are too, im sure <333

addendum: im very close to 500 followers, thank you!!! i love you all!!! but this means side 500 fanfic event — so i gotta write that soon!!! 🥹🫶

masterlist

u s and t h e m

YOU DIDN'T KNOW IF IT WAS THE FEVER OR IF IT WAS THE REALITY. But you never expected those cerulean blue eyes to stare at you like this — somehow it made your migraine worse. Satoru visiting you in your Kyoto apartment was both a surprise and a relief. You had been off the grid for months, grappling with a depressive breakdown triggered by Suguru's departure.

The flashbacks to similar traumatic events were vivid in your mind. You can never escape it. Stolen glances, tender kisses, warm hands marred with bloodshed, madness, grief; You never thought it would repeat again. But well, it did. And you were stuck. Memories from your youth had been relentless, leaving you isolated and vulnerable. And it didn’t help you that a god was messing with you, voice echoing so mockingly, so full of depravity that you couldn’t take it anymore. You didn’t want anyone to see you in that light. Not in that way.

Gakuganji had reassured you that you were fine — but you were sure he was only saying that because that’s what the higher ups say. He’s still an ass kisser, you know that much. You were also his favorite. One that is seen as the prestige of that world you had wanted to leave behind. And you hated it. You didn’t want it, not anymore.

You didn't know how Satoru found your secluded hideout, but he did. You had moved a few months prior, knowing Gakuganji would send Mei-Mei or Utahime at your door again. You’d told no one that you were here. But he was here. And you couldn't do anything about it.

When Satoru first appeared at your doorstep, his usual confidence and easygoing demeanor were replaced by relief. The sight of him, with his usually covered eyes now piercing through you, almost made you crumble on the spot.

Those cerulean blue eyes seemed to see right through the walls you had built around yourself, and the vulnerability you felt under his gaze only intensified your headache. You had tried to hide, to disappear into the shadows, but Satoru had found you nonetheless.

“How did you find me?” you croaked, your voice barely audible over the sound of your own pounding heart.

Satoru didn't answer immediately. Instead, he reached out and touched your forehead gently, his touch cool against your fevered skin. "You're burning up," he murmured, his voice filled with worry. “Genmei–senpai, how long have you been sick? Hey, don’t close your eyes yet!”

Before you could protest, the world went black.

When you woke up, the apartment was strangely quiet. The room was dimly lit, and you were lying on your couch, a cooling towel on your forehead. The faint smell of candy wrappers lingered in the air. You still feel too warm, but not like before. You supposed that he did his best. He couldn’t do a reversed cursed technique on you — your body’s a bit weak to do it. But he tried his best. That’s all that matters to you.

You turned your head slowly, and there he was, sitting on the floor beside the couch, his head resting near yours, watching over you with a look of pure concern. The figure of Gojo Satoru resting his head near you was quite something to wake up to. He must have been tired. He’s been on non-stop missions, you knew that much. Your fingers brushed against his hair. Your eyes softened more. He kept his promise, how he would never use Infinity against you.

The realization brought a mix of emotions. You hadn't felt this level of care since Kaiko's death. Memories of Kaiko flooded your mind, particularly the time during your second year when you walked home together. Namie was too sick then, she caught a cold after staying up late finishing a drama series. So in the end, Gakuganji just sent the two of you.

Somehow, she looked more beautiful in your memories. But you supposed that it's because you love, loved, her. Just as Satoru still longs Suguru, just as you long for Kaiko – there’s always going to be beauty in that longing — because it is love. It will always be love.

The sun was setting, casting a warm, golden hue over everything. The two of you walked side by side, the weight of the day slowly lifting as you chatted and laughed.

"If we ever break up," Kaiko had said, her tone surprisingly serious for a moment, "you should go on caring."

"Huh? Why'd you even think that we'd break up?"

"Dummy, it's just a hypothetical!"

You frowned at her. "I don't wanna joke about our romance ending like this, thank you very much."

"Boooo, you're no fun!" She gloats, making faces at you. "Come on, already. Indulge me once, lover! Please?"

You hated it, when she used her bright eyes against you.

But you loved her too much to say no, especially like this.

Somehow, after all this time, she just knows how to get you.

You had scoffed, nudging her playfully. "I'd go on caring for you, of course. You think I wouldn’t care about you, huh?”

Kaiko laughed, the sound light and full of life. "No, silly. I mean, you should move on and care for someone else. Love someone else."

You had paused, the weight of her words sinking in. The thought of moving on, of loving someone else, seemed impossible at the time. But Kaiko's eyes held a faraway look to them. Ever since you met her when you were children, it always feels like she was always far too much ahead of you.

You always wondered how she could be this mature for her age. How her smile was still so soft, encouraging despite all that had come past her by. Sometimes you wanted to ask her.

How she could be like that. How she could smile so beautifully, without reservation. But you didn't want to ask, not right now. You just wanted to love her. To enjoy her wonder, even from afar.

"Promise me, hm?" she had said, her voice gentle but firm. "Promise me you'll move on and find someone who makes you happy."

You had smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "I promise." you had said, though at the time, you hadn't fully understood what that promise would come to mean. “Even if it was never going to happen.”

“Oh, how sure are you that you’re going to keep me, Zenin?”

“Just as sure you are, you'll keep me whipped, Kamo.”

“Ohhhhhh, we’ll see about that!”

Now, lying on your couch with Satoru watching over you in slumber, those words echoed in your mind. Kamo Kaiko had known, even then, that life would move forward, that love would find a way to heal the deepest wounds.

You could feel Satoru mumble against your touch, slowly moving against your fingers. It was as though he was asking you to do it again. As though asking you to be tender with him again.

You gazed at him, the soft rise and fall of his chest, the way his lips parted slightly as he slept. His presence was a balm to your weary soul, a reminder that even in the darkest times, there was light.

The way his fingers instinctively tightened around yours made your heart ache with a mixture of gratitude and something deeper, something you weren't quite ready to name yet.

"Satoru," you whispered, your voice barely audible, not wanting to wake him. His hair was tousled, a few strands falling over his forehead, and you couldn't resist the urge to gently brush them away. The simple act of touching him, of feeling the warmth of his skin, grounded you in a way nothing else could.

As you continued to watch him, memories of Kaiko's laughter and her encouraging words filled you with a renewed sense of purpose. She had wanted you to move on, to find happiness, and here was Satoru, offering you a chance to do just that.

The years of pain and isolation seemed to melt away, replaced by a fragile hope that maybe, just maybe, you could find solace in each other.

Satoru stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open. For a moment, he looked disoriented, but then his gaze focused on you, and a slow, sleepy smile spread across his face.

"Hey." he murmured, his voice husky from sleep. "How are you feeling?"

You smiled back, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Better," you replied softly. "Thanks to your help.”

“You don’t have to thank me for anything.” He snickers to you, his dark glasses lowering to reveal more of his eyes. “I was around.”

“Hm, and how did you know where I was in Kyoto? And which building?”

His face turned flustered, a blush echoing on his cheeks. He rubs the back of his head. “It wasn’t that hard.”

Your face dropped. “Is that why you were more tired than you were? You used six-eyes to track where I was?”

“It’s not that bad, senpai! Really, you have a particular cursed energy–”

You flicked his forehead with your fingers, causing him to groan. “You could have messaged me, you idiot! It wasn’t worth getting a headache for, geez.”

You could see his lips turn into a pout, looking down as he rubbed his forehead. "…Is your number still the same?"

"Huh? Why would it change?" Your lilac eyes furrowed at him with confusion.

"......’uguru changed his."

You realized at that moment that you made a mistake. The weight of those words hung in the air between you, a poignant reminder of the deep chasm that Suguru's departure had carved into Satoru's life.

You felt guilt seep into you as you realize how stupid it was of you. Kaiko did the same thing. And you really had no one to help you reassure you about it. You couldn’t help but pierce your lips into a flat line.

Your eyes grew tender with apologies as you watched as he stared at the floor, his normally confident demeanor now clouded by an uncharacteristic vulnerability. It was a stark contrast to the confident sorcerer you were used to seeing, and it tugged at your heartstrings.

"Satoru…" you began, your voice softening as you reached out to gently lift his chin, forcing him to meet your gaze. "I'm not going anywhere. My number hasn't changed, and it never will. So call me, okay? Even if it's just about your new favorite mochi flavor. Tell me. Call me.”

“Genmei-senpai….”

“You're not alone. You never will be. So just, believe me, okay?”

He let out a shaky breath, one that he had surely been holding for far too long. You could see his cerulean eyes reflecting a myriad of emotions—pain, fear, and a glimmer of hope.

"It just… It feels like everything is changing. I don’t… I don’t like it, senpai. It’s like… like I'm losing everyone. Shoko’s leaving for medical school… and… Nanami’s leaving by the end of the year. I just… Where did it all go wrong?"

The raw vulnerability in his voice broke your heart. You had never seen him like this—so open, so human. It was a stark reminder that beneath his powerful exterior, Satoru was just as susceptible to pain and loss as anyone else.

Gojo Satoru always was like a little boy, he acted like one — a brat, as Shoko likes to say. But he had never looked more like it than he did now. Defeated, vulnerable. A boy who had lost everything that made him feel alive and now was longing for something to make him feel alive again.

"Satoru, you should know this but…." you said gently, moving closer to him, your hand finding his. "Life has a way of shifting, sometimes so subtly that we don't notice until it's too late. But it doesn't mean you're losing everyone. But it doesn’t mean you’ll be alone. Shoko and Nanami have their paths to follow, just as you have yours. It doesn't mean they care about you any less."

He squeezed your hand, as if drawing strength from your touch. "I know, but it still feels like everything is falling apart. Suguru… his choices... I thought we were in this together. I thought we’d always be together."

"I know," you whispered, your heart aching for the weight he carried. You thought like that too, at one point. You thought you and Kaiko would always be together. "But Suguru’s choices were his own, and they don't reflect on you. You did everything you could. So don’t blame yourself, hm?”

"But it wasn't enough," he replied, his voice breaking. "I couldn't save him."

You shook your head, gently placing your other hand on his cheek. "You can't save everyone, Satoru. No one can. We can only do our best and hope that it's enough."

His blue eyes searched your lilac ones, looking for the reassurance he so desperately needed. "But what if it's not? What if I can't protect the people I care about?"

"You can only do your best," you repeated softly. "And your best is more than enough. You're strong, and you're kind. And more than that, you have people who love you and want to help you carry the burden. You don't have to do it alone."

Satoru nodded slowly, his eyes closing as he leaned into your touch. "I don't want to lose anyone else, Genmei." he murmured, his voice barely audible. “I don’t….I don’t want to.”

"You won't." you promised, your voice steady and filled with conviction. "We're all still here. Shoko, Nanami, me… We’re here for you."

He took a deep breath, his grip on your hand tightening. "Thank you." he said, his voice a little stronger. "I just… I needed to hear that."

You shook your head, your fingers brushing away a stray tear that had escaped down his cheek. "You're not losing me." you said firmly. "I promised you that day, didn’t I? I’m not leaving.”

Satoru's lips twitched into a small, tentative smile, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. "Promise?"

"Promise," you replied without hesitation, your heart aching for the man who had always been a pillar of strength for so many, now struggling with his own inner turmoil.

He lifted his pinky finger, extending it towards you with a serious expression. "You have to make sure that it's a super promise, senpai."

You blinked at him for a moment, taking in the sight of the strongest sorcerer in the world making a pinky promise like a child. You couldn't help it; laughter bubbled up from within you, spilling out uncontrollably.

Satoru's face turned a deep shade of red, his usual confidence faltering as he became flustered. "Egh!? What's so funny, senpai? I thought that was our thing?"

You tried to stifle your laughter, but it was no use. "It's just... you’re such a boy, Satoru," you managed to say between giggles. "Here you are, all powerful and mighty, and yet you’re making pinky promises like we’re kids again."

He pouted, looking both embarrassed and indignant. "Hey, a promise is a promise! And pinky promises are unbreakable, you know."

You shook your head, still smiling. "I know, I know. It's just... it's endearing, that's all."

Satoru's pout softened into a shy smile. "Well, I'm glad you think so. So, are you gonna make the promise or not?"

You sighed dramatically, but linked your pinky finger with his. "Alright, alright. I promise, Satoru. A super promise."

He nodded, his expression growing more serious. "Good. Because I mean it, senpai. We’re going to get through this together."

You squeezed his pinky with yours. "We will. I promise."

For a moment, you both sat there, pinkies still linked, feeling the weight of the promise you had just made. It was a simple gesture, but it carried a depth of meaning that went beyond words. In that small, intimate moment, you both found a sense of solace and connection that was desperately needed.

His face slowly regained its usual mischievous glint. "You know, senpai, you laugh like that... it was nice to see."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh? And why's that?"

"Because," he said, leaning in closer, "it means that there's still a bit of joy left in you, even after everything. And I want to see more of that."

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, but you couldn't deny the truth in them. Despite the pain and the struggles, there were still moments of light, moments of laughter. And as long as you had Satoru by your side, you knew there would be many more to come.

“You sound confident that you’ll keep bringing it out in me, Gojo?”

“Of course I am! I’m your most dependable kouhai, Zenin-senpai!” he responded playfully, causing you to laugh.

“Hm, but Nanami’s my most dependable kouhai. Maybe even Nobu-chan?”

“Oi, that’s not fair! I thought I was your favorite?”

You snickered at him, your eyes becoming teasing. “Since when did I say that? And what’s with the ‘oi’? Where’s my honorific too? You were saying senpai properly and then you became a brat again.”

Satoru pouted dramatically, his lower lip jutting out in a comically exaggerated fashion. "Hey, I deserve some leniency here! Besides, isn't it endearing when I'm a bit of a brat?"

You rolled your eyes, but a smile tugged at your lips. "Maybe a little," you conceded. "But only because it's you, Gojo."

He grinned, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "I'll take that as a win. And you know, senpai, if Nanami and Nobu are your most dependable kouhai, then I'm definitely your most charming."

You laughed, shaking your head. "You're something, alright."

“Something amazing, you mean,” he corrected, his grin widening.

You sighed dramatically, feigning exasperation. "If only your humility matched your charm."

Satoru laughed, the sound rich and warm, filling the room with a sense of ease. "But then I wouldn't be Gojo Satoru, would I?"

"No, you wouldn't," you admitted, smiling. "And I suppose that's a good thing. Because the Gojo Satoru I know is pretty amazing just the way he is."

He blinked, a bit taken aback by your sincere words. For a moment, the playful banter was replaced by a genuine connection, an unspoken understanding that despite the teasing and the jokes, there was a deep bond between you.

"Thanks, senpai," he said softly, his eyes reflecting a mixture of gratitude and affection. "You know, you're pretty amazing too."

You felt your cheeks warm again, and you playfully nudged him. "Alright, enough with the flattery. Help me up, will you? I need to get some water."

Satoru immediately stood up and offered you his hand, his expression turning serious. "Of course, senpai. Anything you need."

“Medicine, I think I might need it from my medicinal cabinet.”

“Right away, senpai! Your charming, dependable kouhai to the rescue!”

“Oi, Satoru, don’t run off! You don’t know my house just yet!”

“AHHHHHH, HELP! SENPAI, THERE’S A SNAKE!”

“Satoru!?”

You didn’t know that you’ve been asleep for a while. You must have been exhausted. You tried to stay up long enough to wait for your husband. But with how early you had to wake up to get Tsumiki and Megumi up for school, you couldn’t really fault your body for shutting down itself to rest.

You didn’t hear the door but Satoru was just returning from a mission. You didn’t notice until his figure filled the wide expanse of your doorway. His bright blue eyes lit up when he saw you rouse awake, a soft smile playing on his lips.

"Welcome home, ’toru." you greeted him, your voice still weak but filled with warmth. You looked at the clock. It was midnight. You yawned. “You’re a bit early, hm?”

“Of course.” His voice rang out as he removed his shoes. “I wanna spend time with my wife, hm?”

“Shhh, don’t be too loud. Megumi and Tsumiki are still sleeping.” You say with your index finger on your lips.

Satoru's smile widened at you. When he moved closer, his presence was a soothing balm to your frazzled nerves. "How are you feeling?" he asked, his tone was a gentle whisper. He kissed your temple. “Got some rest now, hm? You worked hard, darling.”

"I’m alway good, because you’re here. " you replied, managing a small smile. "All thanks to my dearest husband.”

He shrugged nonchalantly, though you could see the relief in his eyes. "Couldn't leave you alone in such a state, could I? Besides, who else is going to eat all this candy?" He gestured to the candy bag with a playful smirk. “Got it on the way home. Thought you’d enjoy this with me!”

You chuckled softly, the sound feeling so good in your chest. "You really went all out, didn't you?"

"Only the best for me and the missus!" He kissed you loudly on your cheek, which made you laugh.

"Hey, I thought we were supposed to keep it down. The kids might wake up.”

“Hey, it's not my fault you kissed me like that. I’m ticklish!”

Satoru grinned, leaning back with a smug expression. "Ticklish, huh? Good to know for future reference."

You rolled your eyes, still smiling. "Great, now I've given you ammunition."

He laughed, the sound infectious. "Oh, you bet. I'll save it for when you least expect it."

You shook your head, but the warmth in your chest remained. "Seriously though, thank you, Satoru. For everything. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He softened, his teasing demeanor giving way to something more sincere. "Hey, you don’t have to thank me. We're in this together, remember? I’m not going anywhere."

You nodded, feeling a surge of gratitude. "Yeah, together."

Satoru’s eyes twinkled with a mixture of mischief and affection. "So, you gonna help me with this candy or what?"

"Fine, but you better not hog all the good ones," you said, reaching for the bag.

"No promises," he replied, grabbing a handful and plopping down beside you. As you both started unwrapping the sweets, the room filled with the crinkle of wrappers and the shared comfort of being together.

You took one more look at him and smiled.

If you meet Kaiko again, you wish you could tell her.

You wished she knew that you were happy again.

That you continued to go on and care for her too.

You found someone that could truly love you well.

epilogue

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over the living room. Tsumiki and Megumi tiptoed into space, rubbing sleep from their eyes. There was no school today, it was Sunday. But they still wake up early. The two were in contrast to the two of you — early birds.

When they stepped into the wide expanse of your home, they couldn’t help but stare. They felt like this was a new sight, one that they didn’t really see that much. They paused at the sight before them: you and Satoru, curled up together on the couch, wrapped in each other's arms. The sight was unusual, but it brought a sense of warmth and comfort to the room.

Megumi furrowed his brow, glancing at Tsumiki. "Should we wake them up?"

Tsumiki shook her head gently, a soft smile on her lips. "No, let them sleep. They look peaceful."

"But what about breakfast?" Megumi asked, still unsure.

Tsumiki pointed to the kitchen. "She prepared meals we could heat up. We should let them rest and enjoy their happy dreams."

Megumi nodded, finally agreeing. "Alright. Let's heat up the food and eat quietly."

The siblings moved silently, warming up the meals you had lovingly prepared the night before. The aroma of breakfast soon filled the air, but the sound was kept to a minimum to not disturb the two of you on the couch.

Tsumiki glanced over occasionally, watching the steady rise and fall of your breaths, the way Satoru's hand rested protectively over you. You tried to move slightly for a while, but Satoru would just keep following. Tsumiki laughed silently. You both look cute together.

"It's nice, isn't it?" Tsumiki whispered to Megumi as they sat at the table.

"What is?" Megumi replied, keeping his voice low.

"Seeing them happy. They both deserve it after everything," she said softly, taking a bite of her breakfast.

Megumi nodded slowly, understanding what Tsumiki meant. For a long time, life has been filled with uncertainties and hardships. But now, in this quiet morning moment, there was a glimpse of peace and happiness. The sight of you and Satoru finding solace in each other was a small, yet significant reminder that things could be better.

As they ate, Tsumiki couldn't help but feel a sense of hope for the future. Maybe, just maybe, things would continue to get better. And for now, she was content to let you both rest, wrapped in each other's arms, dreaming happy dreams.

As she ate another bite, Fushiguro Tsumiki hoped that you both will always be happy together. That you four will always be together, too. She looked at Megumi, who glanced at you both. She smiled. She knew he wishes the same things too.

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