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#Strongest Under Heaven
thechaosfriends · 18 days
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It's hard to find the right things to say here. Akira Toriyama was a massive influence for us as creators. Chaos Friends wouldn't exist today without us being in awe at Dragon Ball Z as kids. We learned how to make art and comics from seeing how Toriyama would use action lines. His sense of action, speed, and paneling are truly a class of it's own. It pushed us to want to create, and write, and make cool fights and characters. It's difficult to imagine how things would have been for many of us without Toriyama's imaginative worlds. RIP and thank you for everything, Akira Toriyama
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garoujo · 6 months
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✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU — gojo may be the strongest, but something about you makes him so weak.
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ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! f!reader, just gojo being obsessed with you + your kisses, pet names, mostly fore-play. ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! hiiii more jjk for the soul + i’m so into the sappy lover gojo agenda <3 he deserves happiness !!!
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gojo knows he’s up for work early tomorrow, but how was he supposed to resist— you, in any sense. when you’re curled into his side so closely he can basically feel the heat radiating from your figure that’s draped so prettily in his shirt.
your lips parted as you focused on the same show you both watch every tuesday, because you got him hooked on it just the same way as he’s hooked on you — and because he’d pout and complain if you watched without him.
but now that same show— your show, is forgotten in the background of the living room and gojo’s grateful he decided to record it because he’d much rather watch you right now.
“‘’toru—“ you whisper softly, your eyes casting the sorcerer a lustful glance as he presses down on your puffy clit harder, eagerly, as his huge body looms over yours even though he’s almost falling off the couch at this angle. he’s using his thighs to keep yours spread for him, languidly pumping two of his fingers in and out of the warm hug of your pussy before he smears an open-mouthed kiss along your temple as a means to soothe you.
“that’s it, sweet thing. nice and loud f’ me..” gojo’s fingers are long, but thick enough for you to hiss at the slight stretch everytime they sink into you, before he pulls back to really look at you. to admire the way your face contorts in pleasure and the way your pouty lips part to pant his name before he’s pressing his digits up with angled purpose, brushing them against the spongy spot inside you until you’re arching into his chest and he’s kissing you breathless.
“hm, that feel good? lookin’ real pretty like this.“ your boyfriend drawls against your lips as he sinks his fingers into you once more, swirling gentle circles into your clit with his thumb while his fingers drag more of your slick out, making a sloppy mess between your thighs and on the plush sofa cushions below you both.
gojo groans when he feels your tongue drag along his own, a low, gravely sound as he works your body with practiced precision. this was his kind of love, one part of it atleast — the kind that’s shown through the way he knows your body perfectly, the way he’s memorised every part of you but still wants to learn because he wants to love every part of you.
he feels your hips twist under him when he pushes his fingers deeper, feeling your walls tighten around the digits as he speeds up his ministrations, pulling an almost surprised whimper from your lips and god— he loves you like this.
gojo’s breathing becomes ragged as he kisses you, feeling him shift slightly from his position over you to support his weight with his forearm as it rests beside you. his hand moves after to rest around the back of your neck, pulling you closer— deeper into his mouth with a sigh, but it’s a more breathless, dreamy sound against your lips.
“when did you get so beautiful, hm?“ he grunts again, a slight whine to his words and he’s convinced the heavens and the earth dropped an angel into his lap everytime he steals a glance of you.
gojo’s giving in completely to the dizzy spin of the room and the buzz of his mind, a feeling he’s only ever found in you as he offers you the air from his own lungs just so you don’t pull away, not yet. you’re too intoxicating, his mind and senses feel blurred when he’s wrapped in you and not even the six eyes could control his body or the way his soul yearns for yours. nothing could stop him from curling over your as he loses himself— pushing his name between your lips.
it’s like fire lived within your kiss, and it had a way melting every part of him.
he’s only snapped from his lustful, drunken haze when you nudge him, a needy— questioning whimper falling from your lips and that’s all it takes for him to realise his fingers have suddenly stilled inside of you and he can’t help but smile.
maybe he got a little too lost in you. not that he cares, his need for you was limitless after all.
“‘toru, you okay?” you soften, smoothing your fingers through the snowy peaks of gojo’s hair and he grins, cheeky and a little smug despite the flush of his cheeks and chest and the kiss drunk little buzz in his mind.
“oh, is my sweet girl worried about me?” he breathes, deflecting the real reason but he smiles again, and because you love him, you catch yourself smiling too before you roll your eyes instinctively at his sickly sweet tone.
“yeah right, i just don’t think right now is the time to be distracted— i was so close, you know.” gojo pulls you in for another sloppy kiss and pulls away once more, slowly pulling back his fingers from between your thighs in favour of kicking off his sweats instead as he huffs—a more needy but still as fond sound before he chuckles again and takes a handful of his cock.
“oh no, i would never.” he gasps, free palm resting against his chest like he’s offended you’d even suggest that it wasn’t always you that’s constantly occupying the space in his mind. he gives you another look when you giggle, and he knows he’s so in love when it rings through the room before he’s back over you once more, cock pressing between your slick folds as he groans.
“got everything i’ve ever needed right here, sweet girl. just keep looking at me, yeah?”
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© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.
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tonycries · 25 days
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Dream A Little Dream - G.S.
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Synopsis. For the strongest, it was a privilege to dream. Especially when his dream is you. 
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. fem! reader, established relationship, implied sex, fluff, soft and sleepy Satoru, very slight manga spoilers, just Satoru loving on you and your future together.
Word count. 0.8k
A/N. Probably gonna delete. Art by @_3aem on X.
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It’s times like this - when the quiet morning sun is just peeking in through your window, in the still haze of your naked body peacefully intertwined with his that Satoru allows himself to dream.
He dreams of everything - from the strawberry lollipops he snuck into the Gojo Estate as a kid to the time when he forgot Megumi at the mall. 
But mostly, he dreams of you.
Eyes still veiled with sleep, wandering the expanse of your face, a hand tenderly running along the features he’s mapped a thousand times over. Thumb softly catching on the corner of your mouth, slightly quirked up, he wonders what you’re dreaming of. 
Do you dream of him too?
Because Satoru’s favorite dream will always be the one with you. 
Your laughter in the morning light as he smothers you in kisses, how it rings in his ears and carries through his day. If there’s one thing Satoru knows, it’s that he would burn this entire godforsaken world down to keep it there. Even in the face of violence, his favorite song.
Reaching out to softly kiss your fingers, the hands which hold his heart and his future. 
Unhurriedly, he caresses that empty spot on your ring finger. Soon. 
Little black box burning a hole into that hidden corner of his dresser, Satoru absentmindedly wonders whether you would go for a flowing gown or more of a sleek design? He dreams of the delicate lace under his fingers, the gentle sway of the fabric and the blue bouquet to match his eyes. 
A huff of laughter, followed by a melancholic twinge of his heart, finds its way into the still morning air as he imagines the way Nanamin would have been crying very reluctant tears of joy.
Long fingers deftly run along the expanse of your body, drawing patterns on the marks he’s left to remember him by, resting on your stomach. He dreams of a world where he is there to see you run around with a few white-haired bundles of joy. All of them with your personality of course - he couldn’t handle having to fight with some mini versions of himself over you.
And they may be closed for now, but he dreams of the twinkle in your eyes as they meet his, the promise of a beautiful day ahead. 
He can only pray that they always look at him that way. Even when the shine of your eyes dim with age, the chapters of your story showing on your face. The dream where you two complain about your first gray hairs - him cackling about you finally joining the club. 
It might not seem like it, but in the blood and merciless gore of jujutsu, a part of the strongest always thinks back to the heaven he’s found in you. 
The heaven where you both cry over your kids leaving the nest, and later he’d fervently deny his teary eyes - secretly wiping the tears off his glasses. 
Where you spend quiet evenings on the porch, wrapped in blankets and reminiscing about the adventures of your youth. Did he ever tell you that story where he lost the tickets to a movie and had to sneak into the theater with Shoko and Suguru? Boy, did he get an earful from Yaga that day.
The dream where he’s surrounded by you and all your warmth. In the cold pain that comes with being the strongest, he can only hope that a day will come where his strength - rather than being used to kill - holds your future with ready arms. 
Ripping his eyes off of your face, they wander the room bathed in the soft morning glow. Mapping the empty spaces which you two would fill with pictures. The walls which would echo with laughter and whisper tales of serenity.
First days at school, graduations, all the friends and foes lost along the years - and one big picture of you in that beautiful white dress, right in the middle. All beauty and grace. His beautiful bride. A dream where his last name is a melody not a death sentence.
He dreams he’s there to fetch your walking cane to stroll through your little garden with a cup of his famous morning tea. He’d hold your hand as he always does, both trembling and frail with age. He dreams he would kiss the beautiful wrinkles on the corners of your eyes, only for you to push him away bashfully complaining about the grandkids seeing.
Blue eyes faded and the joy of the years showing on his face, not as strong or as vibrant as he once was, limitless nothing more but a trick to make his grandkids smile. Not a weapon, but just your Satoru. He hopes you’ll still be there to love him.
And he dreams he’s there.
He wants to be there. 
“Satoru?”
Satoru’s heart lurches as those beautiful eyes crack open, still foggy with sleep. A glimpse of that smile he found heaven in, and you pull him closer. Understanding. Skin heated against his, no one but you two in this quiet world.
All is well in your little heaven.
Today, the strongest will face Ryomen Sukuna, the fate of the world burdened upon his shoulders. But for now, Satoru is held fragilely in your arms.
For now, he is yours. 
He only dreams he can be forevermore. 
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A/N. Tony writing something that isn’t smut??? The world is coming to an end.
Plagiarism not authorized.
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hirsheyskisses · 6 months
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When You're Sober.
RORONOA ZORO x READER (short)
Summary: Being Roronoa's childhood friend, he's declared for the world to hear how one day, he's going to make you his wife. As adults, you had assumed he moved on, but as it stands..
A/N: I've had this in my head for AHH so long. So I'm writing it before I go back to requests 🤣
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"..are you going to stay this time?"
Child Zoro questioned you. You sighed softly, seeing the tears pricking at his eyes pulled your heart strings in ways the young swordsman couldn't even begin to comprehend. Kuina's funeral had just ended, and Zoro had immediately sought you out. You were a slightly older swordsman pupil, by 2 years to be exact, and Zoro had latched onto you recently, with Kuina jokingly teasing you of how much he liked you. Sure, 11 and 13 weren't too big, but to a kid, it was all the difference. Still though, you couldn't help but care for him.
"..no. I'll be staying at the dojo." You replied, watching him smile, just a bit. You were both still sad after Kuina's death, and you weren't about to leave the mossball all on his lonesome- and you'd grown to like this dojo, as had your father. You were certain you could convince him to stay, rather than travel to another.
"Good! 'Cause I'm gonna marry you one day, so I can't have you leaving!" Zoro declared tearfully, through his shit eating grin, and you quickly angled your head away and growled, "we're not getting married!"
It didn't matter how many times you defended yourself, he wouldn't let up. If flustered and enraged you to no end. No matter how many battles you raged against him, no matter how many times you had him panting and defeated, holding your wooden sword to his throat, no, none of it scared Zoro.
"I'm gonna marry you one day, (Name)!"
Sometimes, Zoro would even sneak into your bed. You realized they were mostly driven by nightmares. You'd hear him slowly open the door, sniffling from tears, and walk over to you. He'd prod your side before diving under the covers with you, snuggling as close to your side as possible. "I know.. you're awake." He'd mumble, wrapping his arms around you. You'd give in, wrapping one around him. "Yeah. Hard not to when ya sneak into my bed." Zoro snuggled a bit closer. "Wanna be close. That's all." You knew it was more. He trusted you. He even began to tell you about the nightmares, and despite yourself, You'd comfort him. Hold him until he fell asleep.
It grew increasingly difficult for you to be mad at him, especially not seeing as it had become almost a game- plus his wholesome and innocent smile was so damn adorable. You figured he'd grow out of it eventually, popping out of nowhere to declare his undying love. Until then, you grew accustomed to him popping out of closets, around trees and doors, and through windows and met his confessions through the clashes of your blades.
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As it turns out, Zoro did grow out of it. The two of you had long since left the dojo together, became bounty hunters, and then became pirates on Luffy's crew. Around 16, and you being 18 is when Zoro had began to stop asking, the questions growing less and less often until they had halted altogether, his mind set on fulfilling his promise to Kuina, to become the world's strongest and carry his name to the heavens, where yours was to find the world's wonders, and the blades of your dreams. In fact, the last time he'd done so..
..Zoro had grown. He knew that, you knew that. He'd never let you live down that you're shorter than him, much to your dismay. You both had barely left the dojo, and Zoro had decided the first thing he wanted to do was drink for the first time. So that's what he did. You chose to stay sober, just in case.
What you hasn't anticipated was just how clingy he'd get when he was wasted.
"Hey.." you were leading him back to the hotel, when without any warning, he'd pulled you into an alley and pushed you gently against the wall. Zoro stared intently into your eyes and pressed himself a bit closer, you could smell the alcohol from his breath. "Fuckin- Zoro! What're ya doin?!"
"So cute.." he'd lean in and smell your hair, his earrings glinting in the moonlight, arms keeping you caged against the wall. "I've waited.. s'long. M' even of age now."
He pulled back a bit, towering over you, and you could feel yourself becoming a furious, blushing mess. Zoro himself was flushed, panting softly, lips parted ever so slightly.
"Wanna marry ya. Wanna marry ya s'bad.."
He slurred, and you flushed a deeper shade of red. His hand reached up to tuck some hair behind your ear, and you were frozen for a long moment. Until you finally came back to your senses.
Shoving his face away, you grabbed his arm and began storming to the hotel,
"Stupid mossball! Ask me again when you're sober!"
He never did.
Sometimes you missed it, how close you and Zoro used to be. Sure, you still had complete trust in one another, and always had each other's backs in battle, but it was as though you'd both spoken so much, that you no longer spoke. You'd still train, sometimes even nap in the others presence, but words had become rarer, instead communicating through looks more often than not, quick and brief. You were beginning to miss his voice.
"(Nameeeeeee).. hey. 'chu doin' all alone?"
Speaking of Zoro- he'd joined you on the rail of the Sunny. On the beach, the rest of the straw hats were celebrating with the locals, and said locals had given Zoro an alcohol like no other. Zoro, believing his tolerance was high enough to take it, decided to drink it during a drinking contest. For the first time in a long while, he was wasted. Again.
"Relaxing. It was quite the battle today." You responded, smiling at the swordsman. His swords rested at his side, and your two rested st your side.
"It was.. f'sure." Zoro agreed, leaning against the railing, "you handled yerself good out there." He placed a hand at the small of your back, smiling at you. "Saw the new technique.. should use it against me sometime."
You awkwardly moved away from his hand, laughing softly. "Yeah, sure, when you're sober." His smile fell ever so slightly, and you tilted your head in confusion. "Ya good there, Zoro?"
"No. I'm not."
He responded, and with little warning, he had you in his arms, practically squishing you against him in a fiercsome hug. "Ack! Zoro! Can't breathe!" You yelped, laughing breathily as you struggled to escape his wrath, deciding to worry about him after you could breathe again.
"....why ya talk ta Sanji s'much?"
Zoro growled, loosening his grip and grabbing you by your shoulders, suddenly pushing you away but still holding you, at arms length. "HAH? Fuck you mean?" "It means.. exactly what I'm askin'. You even ditched training the other day.. ta' talk to that damn cook. Why?" He sounded hurt, and you grew even more confused. "'Cause he's my friend? Plus, I've been taking some cooking lessons from him to help out." Zoro scowled, clenching his teeth and flat glaring at you. His grip was tightening to the point it hurt, and you tried not to wince, instead meeting his glare with one of your own. "What's your problem, Roronoa?! They put angry juice in your damn booze?" You placed emphasis on his last name, which only caused his grip to tighten more. You watched as he opened his mouth, then closed it again, struggling to find the right words to say.
"My problem is, is I wanna fuckin' marry ya, and seein ya with that damn cook pisses me off."
His voice was low, and he loosened his grip, instead opting to massage your shoulders. Yet again, you'd frozen, watching Zoro's glare turn into a pout as he dropped his head.
"I know I know.. ya dont feel the same.. but.. damn it, atleast choose someone better than him."
To say you were shocked was an understatement. You'd never seen Zoro look so defeated, watching him turn his head away. He hasn't given up, but he was about to. Your heart shattered in more ways than one. As his hands dropped from your shoulders, you knew one thing: it was now or never.. but what if these were just..
You reached out and grabbed his hand, staring at the ground. You couldn't look at him- not when he looked like a kicked puppy. "Zoro.."
"...yea?"
"Ask me again. When you're sober. I'll answer you."
Then, you jumped over the edge of the ship, landing on the beach, and ran to join the others, face beet red and guilt boiling deep in your gut.
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He didn't. The next day you both went on as if nothing happened. However, after breakfast, Zoro vanished off the ship, alongside Nami. You'd decided to think nothing of it, however, part of you wished, so badly, that you'd just told him. But you had also decided that if Zoro couldn't tell you when he was sober, then it just wouldn't work.
I've loved him for years.. I thought he'd forgotten. God.. I wish I could turn back time, and accept him. I'm a fool.
"(Name)-chan? You're looking gloomy. That damn Marimo do something to you?! I swear I'll-"
Sanji had approached you, and you cut him off with a wave of your hand. "Its.. just a childhood subject came up. It's touchy." You responded, finally removing your gaze from the table to meet his gaze. Sanji sat across from you, "Wanna talk about it?"
"...not sure what good it'll do." You huffed, fidgeting with your hands. For a long moment, Sanji was silent. Which was odd, seeing as he was usually swooning over you, or whisking you away to teach you a new cooking technique.
"..things will work out between you two. Don't worry. He may be a lumbering fool, but he isn't a total idiot." Sanji said, a twinkle in his eyes. You glanced at him, "whatddya mean by that?" "I mean exactly what I said, darling."
You spent the rest of the day wondering what Sanji could've possibly meant. Working around the ship and making sure everything was ready to set sail in the morning, Chopper dancing around your feet as he helped and rambled about medical knowledge.
As time rolled around for dinner, you were moving to the kitchen with the others, laughing with Usopp at Luffy's antics, when all of a sudden,
"(NAME)! hol.. hold on." Zoro came running up behind you, with something held in his hands. Nami wasn't far behind, but she maneuvered around the two of you to stand with the others.
"Fuck.. never doin that again." He grumbled, dropping to one knee and staring up at you, chest heaving, as he pulled out a small box.
"..zoro?-"
"You.. you told me to ask again when I'm sober. So I am."
"Marry me."
He opened the box to reveal a beautiful black and gold ring. You froze, staring at it, and then at the swordsman, who was staring up at you, just as still as you.
He..
"...fuckin' hell Zoro. Yes, I'll marry you."
The grin that erupted on Zoro's face was beautiful as tears spilled from your eye, and your crewmates cheered behind you both as Zoro pulled you into his arms, slipping the ring on your finger.
"SUPPPPER! finally!" "Yohohohoho! I should play some music!" "Damn marimo.. You'd better take care of her!" Their congratulations fell on deaf ears as Zoro held you, burying his face into your shoulder. The growing wet feeling on your shoulder told you one thing: he was crying, too.
"..I love you. So much.. please, stay at my side for the rest of eternity." He whispered, voice raspy, and you melted into his hold,
"Always, and forever. I've always been yours, Zoro."
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What does Lilith gain by owning Alastor?
A lot
As Mimsy said Alastor quickly made a big name of himself in Hell when he arrived. He slaughtered countless overlords and broadcasted their tortured screams on his radio show.
He disappears and then reappears the same time Charlie opens a hotel with intentions of going against Heaven by saving sinners. Not only does he reappear but he immediately goes to the hotel offering his services, not for her soul. Just to help. We see him be protective of the hotel, he kicks out his only friend from his human life because her lifestyle brought danger to the hotel and by extension Charlie.
He has a weird hate of Lucifer and proclaims himself as a parent to Charlie.
We know a demon owned by another demon can be forced into any situation by contracts, so what if he’s her puppet? A guard dog. Lilith has one of the strongest sinners in Hell under her thumb, he can keep an eye on Charlie for her and protect her.
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driaswrld · 4 months
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🪷 — A ROYAL AFFAIR . . . THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT
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LADY DRIA WRITES . . . ˚ ༘ *
🪷 dearest gentle reader, what is a princess to do when she's caught between two dashing princes, both of which are her childhood friends? — one her betrothed and the other her past love... 4.7k words.
🪷 prince gojo x reader x prince geto jjk regency/royal au, use of regency era terminology, longing and more longing.
🪷 taglist : (lmk if you want to be added or removed!) @angelshimaa @yunymphs @todorokies @satocidal @maeby-cursed @rinniessance @cinnabooonn @shegetsburned @starry-grace2 @selfishdoll @shuuennovirche @wishmemel @riaki @yazzzmints @aphroditisxc @gojorbit @izakyun @satoruoo @irisxyphium @zwtari @/lollipop974 @r0ckst4rjk @softgirlgonehaywire @lilvampirina @brianmaysclog
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CHAPTER ONE. . . ˚ ༘ *
L'INCOMPARABLE.
Talks of betrothal began in the last Spring of your youth.
Under the cherry blossom trees, you sit in silence, fuchsia petals decorating the length of your hair in messy scatters.
Satoru Gojo, crowned prince and heir to the Gojo throne, picks the fallen remnants of flowers from your hair one by one as the nobles watch on.
Whispers of ‘they would make such a beautiful match’ and ‘look how the Prince dotes on her’ echo in the brush of the gardens, women whispering among themselves and the men chortling between swings of their mallets — in a near deathly game of pall mall.
“Don’t hide from me,” Satoru dips his head, breath fanning the shell of your ear. If possible, the whispers intensify, cutting past your ears and you bite back a giggle, stifling down the thought that crosses your mind, attention whore.
“I’m not hiding, your highness.” You counter, shifting to the side, your smile hidden behind a porcelain teacup, swift sips of ginger warming your cheeks.
“It’s improper, you know.” The words linger in the air between soft wisps of wind, flurries of foreign fabrics and bright layers of skirts pass your vision — and yet, all is drowned out by him.
Your anointed Prince, the attention whore.
“Improper to gaze upon my companion?” Satoru scoffs, grinning wide, toothy, dimples.
Childhood found you both tethered like bee and nectar, always close, always coming back.
At first, it was through duty, sharp tongued ten year old Satoru Gojo, a prince born with a halo and the title of the realm’s strongest to his name, meeting you, the humble princess of the Western kingdom, born in valor and sprouted in pride, a warrior’s code.
It was a disastrous first few encounters—
(—but then he was your bestfriend, and you his. )
His dear mother, bless her soul, had taken the time out to host this marvelous garden party to welcome the newest maidens into their debuts – moreso, to marry Satoru off quicker than he could leave for another battle, chasing another war – and yet, he cared not to meet with any of the women or entertain them beyond an inch of his being.
Not around you, at least.
“You shouldn’t jest about these things—!” A snort leaves your mouth, and whereas the ever uppity ladies of the palace court gawk at you in utter disbelief and mild disgust, Satoru finds himself bellowing a boyish laugh.
That was the last time he’d laugh like that with you, before a warm spring of youth turned to a burning summer, hot with passion, scorched with lust.
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THE SCANDAL OF THE CHILDHOOD CONSORT.
Dearest gentle reader,
As all royal scandals do,
It started with an invitation.
We cordially invite you to the Gojo palace grounds to celebrate the betrothal of our crowned prince Satoru Gojo and his bride to be [name] [name].
This author finds herself compelled and rather . . . intrigued.
What a match made in heaven! Our beloved Prince Satoru and his most dearest childhood friend!
Your fingers tremble at your sides, the aura that is the strongest permeates your very being. The soft hum of piano keys coupled with string and bow becomes near inaudible – the power Satoru Gojo has on you is like a moth to a flame, lamb to slaughter.
But I assure you,
When it comes to matters of the heart —
Carefully, your feet carry you across the crowded ballroom, mass of bodies parting the instant they catch a glimpse of your eyes – that desperation is familiar in young women like you – and they pity you.
You, who should be above them, who should be the next Queen, the current Princess consort to be.
And yet.
“I’ve told you endlessly, I will take no wife!” Satoru’s voice is a staccato, bouncing off the walls of the vacant corridor adjacent to the ballroom, echoing past your ears.
Dare I say, our beloved crowned Prince
Is not the strongest.
“Some nerve you have, boy.”
Satoru’s father, the King, is a stoic man.
You’ve come to know this well in your youth. He rules firm and his word remains law. By no means is he the strongest or possesses any more battle capacity than that of any other noble, but he remains a political stronghold.
And his grip over his family — his subjects, remains unwavering.
“I don’t care for your affairs or your crown,” Satoru’s gaze remains hard, even as he meets his father’s ire in tow, and in such a barely secluded place too. “Let one of your bastards have it, my place is on the battlefield doing what you are too cowardly to.”
Your mind runs rampant, palms pressed against the cold wall concealing your presence.
You wonder what Satoru might be thinking — if he’d be so foolish as to forsake his lineage and do away with his duty, if he’d give up simply because his fate was not his choice — he wouldn’t.
No, Satoru is good and kind, and he would see this kingdom to a new realm of peace just with his bare hands alone.
“And that is all? You wish to do away with it simply because it does not suit your childish desires? I have given you everything! And the one thing I ask of you—”
You still yourself at the near animalistic growl that leaves Satoru’s lips.
“She will never be Queen.”
It cuts through you like blades of grass, familiar, scratching at your skin softly, pinpricks of green drawing blood from your calves.
It reminds you of when you were younger, more naive and susceptible to the follies of men and matters of the heart.
“Who’ll marry you if you spend your days swinging a sword and broadening your shoulders?”
“Aren’t there girls your age you can follow around? I don’t care if you’re a princess, we’re not friends.”
“I don’t know why you’d believe he’d ever want to court you.”
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Three months, thirteen days.
Your betrothal has long exceeded and broken the record of engagement wait time.
Most women would be married within the same month of betrothal, the longest and most respectable wait time being a month and a half, only due to cases of overdue dowry payments.
Three million dollars was your reverse dowry.
Paid directly from the royal treasury to your father, and four million dollars paid in return. That was how much yours and Satoru’s hands were worth to your families, a testament to the weight you’d both bear by wearing a crown.
Except, you hadn’t been crowned yet. Or married for that matter.
“—summer solstice hunt!” It’s Yuji who exclaims, voice filled with childlike wonder. Recently knighted by Satoru himself and a renowned protege of the Kingsguard, the boy is eager to please. “Who will you cast your bets on, your grace?”
The confines of Satoru’s private study function as a meeting room for idle chatting — he leaves the letters to his advisors when they are of little importance.
Or discards them entirely when he has company, like now.
You sink deeper into the cushioned seat, Satoru’s arm draped over the back of your chair. A tuft of snowy hair falls over his forehead and he breathes a chuckle, your weight curling in on itself with every rise and fall of his chest.
why don’t you want me why don’t you want me why don’t you want me why don't you want me
“It’s out of question to bet on one’s self, no?” Satoru chuckles and it earns a cackle from Yuji, who, despite himself, has already casted his own bet on his annointed Prince. “I wouldn’t want to make anyone’s head bigger than it ought to be.”
The summer and winter solstice brings with it two separate ceremonial festivals — the hunt being the most anticipated due to its cutthroat competition among nobles and peasants alike.
That, and the prize.
The winner of the hunt, the man or woman to capture the famed primordial stag — which is really a regular stag trained and bred to elude even the most skilled knights — would be rewarded a grand jewel from the Queen’s vault.
Gentle reader,
The famed jewel for the taking
This summer, is none other than—
“I’ve placed my bet on you,” you comment plainly with a shrug and Yuji beams.
It isn’t unlike you to root for one of Satoru’s proteges, the ones fairly skilled and new to knighthood – you’ve always found yourself cheering for the peonies in a garden full of roses — the underdogs full of potential . . .
Satoru glances over to you, and for a second you miss how his gaze lingers.
“You’re too kind, Princess…” Yuji sighs, near dreamily. “I will no doubt do well now that I have your favor on my side.”
( losing dogs, satoru wants to say. all you ever do is bet on losing dogs. )
“You have her bet, not her favor.” Satoru scoffs dramatically before you can even think to lend Yuji your well wishes. “It isn’t something given, it’s something won. And from a maiden, not a Princess consort.”
She’s spoken for, is all you hear though.
There’s an air of uncertainty that passes between you and Satoru that only thickens with your closeness.
A pale palm curls around the cross rail of the back of your chair and you lean into his touch subconsciously – it’s warm, secure – he’s saying, I have your favor, don’t I? Tell me I do.
—The champion’s jewel,
A wraith necklace fit for a Queen.
The L’Incomparable.
“Nevertheless, you have my good faith.” You interject, followed by a sharp inhale, and you stand abruptly from your seat. Satoru’s hand falls to his side. He knows what you're thinking.
Three months, thirteen days.
You’ve sat by and watched Satoru deny you marriage – his excuse, that he’s waiting for his coronation first – you’ve watched him continue to entertain the women around him like he’s done since he was merely a squire, plastering a smile on his face from this glass castle he calls home.
He’s close, but never too close. Stringing you on then letting you loose— it’s routine.
It’s eerily similar to your childhood.
“Yuji,” Satoru speaks, soft yet firm. The young boy is on his feet immediately and offers a swift bow to his majesty, handing his service in tow to the call. “Leave us.” Satoru commands, and just as swiftly as he came, Yuji is bowing to you and exiting through the study doors.
L’Incomparable.
The largest internally flawless diamond in the kingdom and the most expensive chain sitting in the Queen’s vault currently, worth eight billion dollars alone.
Allegedly, it was handcrafted as a gift from an ancient Gojo king to his mistress — whom he had knighted and sent off to fight in the war at her wishes once their affair had been brought to light and scrutinized.
A gift he only got to place on her corpse.
Even in death, he loved her. More than he loved his own wife and Queen.
And though many attempts had been made to destroy the necklace, it remains near indestructible.
“Something troubles you.” Satoru murmurs the moment the door clicks shut. His gaze remains strained forward on your form, from where you fiddle with the frayed hem of your gown, back turned to him.
“I simply think of the prospects of the hunt,” you retort. “There are many promising young competitors traveling to partake— I fear my Prince would simply be. . . thwarted, is all.”
L’Incomparable is not a jewel of love.
It's a sickening story of a woman who loved a man who could not love her back in the way she deserved.
A woman who took what she was given, secret meetings, hushed whispers and fleeting gazes.
And when he did, finally love her back wholly and ardently, unable to bury it behind a locked door in the dungeon he called a heart — she was already gone.
“You doubt me?” Satoru’s voice is closer now, and you wonder when he even stood up – if he'd been taking small steps toward you the entire time.
“No.” It leaves your mouth like a prayer, an oath, worship. Every ounce of confidence you have is in him. He has protected you, kept you, safeguarded your sanity and treated you with grace— “Never that.”
( —he is your friend. nothing more than that. )
He exhales, and you hear the faint sound of a swallow, the click of his tongue. Your ear feels hot with the proximity, yet, he inches closer still.
“Will you give this to me, then?” He whispers, faint, uncertain — almost desperate.
And you turn, faces inches apart, breath mingling. “What is it you wish of me, my Prince?” Your pupils dilate.
“Your Prince,” Satoru repeats, like it knocked the wind out of him. It's a common way to address the monarch, you’ve said it before as have others. “. . . asks for your favor in the upcoming hunt.”
He keeps his hands folded behind him, curled into fists and trembling. Your Prince. Yours. Yours.
He’s a gentleman. He was raised right.
This urge—
( you’re his friend. his advisor. his confidant. this is not what he wants. )
The urge to strip you down to nothing but your chemise, lay you on his desk and hike your legs over his hips, show you things you’ve only seen in dreams or read in books — like he’s done to so many women before — he promises himself he’s not a rake, he’s just a man, but when you look at him like that and say his title so softly—
( it will pass. )
“Then,” your breath slows as he steps forward, so easily leaving you pressed back against the hardwood desk, caged by him. “I will grant my Prince my favor.”
Satoru watches in earnest, places his hands on either side of you on the desk as you remove one of your gloves.
Pure white, pearl decor, lace trim.
He would've laughed if he wasn't so enthralled by such a simple thing. Satoru wants to pull the other glove off with his teeth.
“I’ll return it to you,” he says, a promise. He takes the glove as you hand it to him, leaning forward and chasing the remnants of your fingertips against his once you pull away. “When I win.”
( and maybe then, you’ll understand i am devoted to you, wholly and utterly, if only in these moments and never again. )
There's a knock at the door, brief and soft. A maid, come to drop off another stack of letters.
And just as quickly as Satoru had found himself against you, he’s across the room, opening the door.
As if you had never been there.
The only evidence that he had even touched you is the lace cupped in his palm, middle and index tracing over a minute pearl.
L’Incomparable is a jewel of longing.
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Morrow brings with it the beginning of joyous festivities.
You woke to another trousseau. This time, from a distant cousin in the Easternmost kingdom.
Attached was a letter of the newest development in her love life – said development being a defected knight nonetheless.
It made you giggle.
The palace corridors are bustling with life.
Servants and attendants eager to welcome early visitors who have come for the summer solstice, robust back and forth on decorations and food and gossip and many a’ things outside the realm of possibility to be discussed in one sitting.
Your lady in waiting, Areta, whom you’ve known since your youth, creeps into your room with a grin as wide as a war banner – you immediately assume the worst, mischief is your pastime but you fear the poor girl takes ‘eavesdropping on court gossip’ to another level.
“My lady, you would not believe—” Areta huffs, journeying to sit with you on the balcony, wiping an imaginary bead of sweat from her brow. “The things I’ve heard today!”
“You hear things everyday, I fear.” You indulge her, as always. And she begins to talk your ear off, all in good faith of course.
Down below in the courtyard, is the sound of smacking wood and the occasional chorus of baritone conversation.
Satoru, who should be attending treaty meetings with his father, bides his time sparring on the cobblestone with the other men of the Kingsguard – the noise wakes you most mornings.
“—talking to Julietta, you know? The girl who attends to the countess? And she said—”
You hum along to Areta’s words, eyes peering over the edge of the balcony, gaze fixed on the crown Prince.
His snowy hair is damp with sweat, Victorian style dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves, every swing of his wooden sword causes a commotion — muscles in his back flexing under the sunlight, so easily seen beneath the thin white fabric.
“—that her lady told her that she heard from a cousin-in-law who works at the docks that—”
You wonder what expression Satoru has as he pummels through his underlings playfully, hardly sparring but more play fighting. You imagine he’s grinning wide, crystalline blue eyes shimmering with glee—
“—that Prince Geto is coming for the hunt!”
You choke. Audibly.
Areta is quick to shut her mouth and lend you a concerned gaze. “Princess, are you—”
“I’m alright.” You wave a hand, catching your breath. Prince Geto. If you think about it too hard, you fear your chest might burst open and spill out your insides.
Oh, fair reader, it seems
Our dear protagonist has come upon
A treasure trove of memories.
“You were, ehem, saying?” You twirl your index finger in the air as if to prompt a rewind. “About. . .”
Areta raises an eyebrow, but nods slowly. “About Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law?” The girl questions, dim.
“No!” You interject immediately, twirling your finger in the other direction. Fast forward. “The other thing— the thing you heard!”
“Oh, about Prince Geto!”
Dearest reader,
Suguru Geto enters.
A man of great mystique,
the northern Prince.
And striking opposite of
our beloved crowned Prince Satoru.
“Yes! About him—”
Suguru Geto.
In many ways you could say he was Satoru’s best friend, his greatest rival and worst enemy all at the same time.
Through solstice events, formal gatherings and other royal duties, the same way you met Satoru, you met Suguru through him.
“Well, Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law works at the docks,” Areta begins again, regrettably. “You know? The private harbor where all the spirit and wheat shipments come in, but that's besides the point—”
( suguru was your bestfriend too. in every way it counted. )
“Areta.” You coo, coaxing her to get back to the main point. Why was Suguru coming for the summer solstice hunt? After being away in the North for so long, why now?
The only correspondence you’d had with him was a few letters years ago. And then he stopped writing.
“So, Julietta’s lady’s cousin-in-law saw the Geto family's ship dock in the private harbor!” The girl exclaims hushedly and you hum to yourself, curious.
Rightfully, you’d hold a grudge about never hearing from Suguru.
But in this moment, you feel no resentment or hurt. Instead, excitement that you might see your old friend once more.
And maybe, you, Suguru and Satoru could spend the summer solstice together— just like old times.
( and that’d be enough to get rid of the heat in your chest when satoru gets too close to you. )
Faithful reader,
she could not have been
more wrong.
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Four days remain until the summer solstice hunt.
Satoru is scarce around the palace in preparation for his coronation coming soon and treaty arrangements.
You, on the other hand, have exhausted all your hobbies, biding your idle time helping the other ladies at court pick their gowns for tomorrow's feast — the first of seven nightly ones during the solstice.
Another trousseau is delivered to your chambers when you wake.
This time, you’re taken aback.
Instead of an elaborate stack of gifts, a box of jewelry or even a scandalous collection of seductive corsets and nightgowns to remind you of your predicament—
There's a long wooden box, coupled with a sealed parcel.
Inside the box is a beautiful gown, deep burgundy and shapely. Fitted with a low bust cut and short sleeves. It's a mouth watering dress, one you would've bought yourself if you even knew it existed.
But you've never seen a dress designed like this before, down to the intricate details of the underskirts and the hemming.
It's almost intimate.
When you finally open the parcel, you expect a note, but there's none. Instead, inside is a pair of black silk gloves, so smooth it melts in your palms – your mind immediately goes to Satoru and the glove he still holds hostage for you.
You don't think twice before telling Areta that this is what you’ll be wearing to tomorrow’s feast.
( you ought to thank satoru for this gift by wearing it, no? )
˚ ༘ *
The lights in the dining hall are dimmed perfectly to match the moonlight.
When you slip in from the adjacent corridor, greeting visiting nobles and residents of the palace court alike, a sense of nausea floods the pit of your stomach – what will Satoru say when he sees you? Will he like how the dress looks – or rather how you look in it?
Wait, why do you even care?
You’ve never really cared for these things— it must be the tea you had earlier. You nearly feel faint.
Darling reader,
it was in fact,
not the tea.
Your thoughts don't get the chance to linger very long, as the soft hum of music slows to a halt, and everyone begins journeying to their assigned seats.
Naturally, you fiddle with your gloves, not wanting to sit down at the second table yet.
One, it would be very impudent of a lady of your caliber to be seated without a proper escort by a gentleman.
And two, even though you did decline the few men who asked to escort you, you can't help the anxiety that floods your veins when you begin to realize that so many people are sitting already and you're not!
Sure, you're a Princess, but can't a girl be a little shy?
( not that you were waiting for satoru or anything of course. )
Devoted reader,
our protagonist
is in denial.
“It pains me to see such a beautiful lady left unaccompanied.” A voice flits past your ears, so close you can taste it on your tongue — incense, sandalwood.
( oh god, no. )
Your body turns in an instant, almost too quick, and your underskirts almost trip you as the weight sends you wobbling forward.
“Easy—” Suguru Geto’s arm darts out to curl around your waist, steadying you.
“You're here—” “You’re still clumsy—”
The both of you lock eyes at your shared unison of speech, then chuckle to yourselves.
You let your eyes wander over his features, how much he's grown over these past years.
He’s still as ethereal as the royal painters would describe. Prince Geto, the joy to paint, once in an era type beauty, born to be depicted in art, they’d say.
You don't doubt that.
“You look well,” you say. Suguru glances down at you and shakes his head, as if that is too much of a compliment for him to take. “No, honestly— I don't tease, you look very. . . stately.”
“Are you trying to call me old in a polite way, my lady?” He feigns offense, tilting his head to the side a little. You cover your mouth to laugh.
You don't miss the way his eyes linger on your gloves.
( oh, the gloves ! )
“Your highness,” leaves your mouth in a whisper, half teasing, half regal, and you give a brief curtsy, which he counters with a swift bow. “Would you do me the pleasure?” You grin, extending your hand to him.
Suguru — never Prince Geto, not to you at least — had been your solace, your comfort and your refuge.
The greatest friend you could have asked for in your youth.
“The pleasure is all mine.” Suguru whispers, taking your hand in earnest, escorting you over to the table and pulling your chair out for you — settling himself in the seat across from you, on the other side of the table.
( what a coincidence. )
˚ ༘ *
Time passes in waves.
People are whispering, no doubt. As they always do about you. No matter how hushed, you always hear them.
‘Look at the poor Princess consort, sitting beside an empty chair.’
‘You’d think she’d refer to herself as Lady now instead of Consort—’
‘To think even a Princess is not immune from such things. . .’
‘These things happen when you're sold off to a future King.’
“Bitter.”
Your head snaps up at the sound, dessert fork halting mid stab into your slice of cake.
Suguru’s eyes meet yours, as if he’d been looking at you the entire time, like he reads your thoughts as his own.
The people sitting at the table alongside you both fix their attention on him, the whispers halting.
“The cake,” he leans back in his chair, shrugging strands of his hair out of his face, looking down the length of the table at the spectators, nonchalant. “It's terribly bitter.”
You think you’d open your mouth to scold him a little, to not joke about what people say, royals should never engage in such petty gossip – but instead, you smile in gratitude.
( bitter. everybody's so bitter in this place. )
“That's quite unfortunate.” A familiar voice rings out, your fork sliding out of your hand to rest on the edge of your plate. “I hoped it would be rather sweet tonight.”
When you look over your shoulder, Satoru is already at your side, bending a knee and outstretching an open palm to you. “My Princess.”
He looks. . . disheveled.
Not completely out of order, it's something so small — so minute that only those who know him well would be able to point it out. From the crease of his vest to the shaky rasp in his voice—
And the woman in your peripheral stumbling back into the dining hall from the garden entrance on shaky legs. . .
( so that's what he was doing. )
“Your grace,” leaves your lips in a whisper and he kisses the back of your palm before sinking into his seat.
The way he presses his middle finger against his bottom lip like he’d been burned by the silk makes you raise an eyebrow. Does he not even have the common courtesy of pretending to like the gloves he gifted?
“I’m pleased you took time out of your busy schedule for us regular people.” Suguru chuckles, and Satoru’s mother, sitting near you all at the head table seems far from pleased.
“Well, a small act of kindness goes a long way.” Satoru parries and you force a smile, stabbing your dessert once more. “Especially for someone as regular as you, Prince Suguru.”
If you had initially thought this would be a quaint rekindling of an old childhood friendship, you never felt more wrong than in this moment — the air settles thick between you three.
“Isn't the future King Gojo just so kind?” Suguru addresses you, and you swallow, stifling your laugh.
“I pray for your marriage. . .” One of the Dukes seated at the table jests, to which you fiddle with the hem of your dress, the burgundy falling over your palms as a chorus of laughter ensues.
Marriage.
Suguru notices your gaze on him – or rather far away – and he smiles to snap you out of it. “Lady name?”
Just then Satoru’s hand reaches for yours under the table, halting your fiddling with the fabric, his grip steady and soft.
“Princess Consort.” Satoru interjects with a flat lipped smile, which could be perceived as kind, but to Suguru. . . “She changed titles.”
When was the last time someone called you by your name and not Princess consort? Always that. Not even Princess name.
“Pardon me,” you mumble beneath your breath, your grip on your dress going slack. You shrug your hand free from Satoru’s grip, abandoning your seat in an instant.
Satoru rises from his chair only four seconds afterward.
“Name—” he calls to you, following you out of the dining hall and down a vacant corridor.
Your footsteps evade him as he chases after you wide steps.
But he stops dead in his tracks when he hears you slam the door to an empty side room shut.
My dearest reader,
brace yourself for the
next publication.
Your kind author
bids you farewell.
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senjutsv · 1 year
Text
Hashirama would help Kakuzu get his wife and son to Konoha.
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arminsumi · 3 months
Text
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Warnings : mdni/18+, spanking, overstim, rough sex, some mean gojo, dirty talk, praise, creampie
You tend to forget that Gojo Satoru is the strongest, because when he's around you, he's so gentle and careful. Moving like a cautious cat, kneading your hips tenderly, scooping you into his arms like a baby. Then when the two of you are playfighting, he lets you win for only a finite amount of times because his ego kicks in — he has to remind you of how strong he is, how muscular he is, how swift he is. The fact he can catch your hand with such a speed that it makes you gasp and feel so shocked that you start giggling "That was scary..." which makes him grin down at you.
There are also times when he picks you up and throws you onto the bed for a thorough spanking — he gets jealous, and takes it out on your poor ass. He makes it sting so bad you can hardly count each slap, but he forces you to keep counting. "What number was that baby?" he asks, and if you've forgotten then it's another harsh clap to your cheek. But if you remember, then he rewards you by soothing over your ass and kissing it. If you're apologetic and a good girl, he pushes your thighs apart and eats you out until you see heaven.
But he almost never ends there. He has to pound into you until you weep, to make your pussy mold to the shape of his cock — it's a possessive thing.
"Hold onto me." he commands when he sees you grabbing the pillow instead.
He overstimulates you so much that you squirm away and try to crawl off the edge of the bed, but his hands roughly grab your hips and he jerks you back onto the bed, shoving his cock back into you,
"Stay right there. I'm not done with you yet."
His muscular back arches and his abs tighten as he thrusts in and out, making you babble half-heartedly about how you can't take much more. Just like you, the bed can't handle the sex, either. It shudders and the springs squeak as Gojo Satoru uses just a fraction of his strength to fuck you.
When he finally stuffs you up with a creamy load, he pulls out and his cum goes everywhere. It's a big mess. He spreads your cheeks, thumbing at your pussy hole, and smirks at the gape. "I can't believe you can take so much dick..." he praises, grinning wildly, "You're my little pornstar, baby." he says and taps your sore ass to make it jiggle. But even his light taps are hard, he's just too damn strong.
Big hands massage down your thighs and make you groan in relief — he was pressing his weight onto you earlier, nearly crushing you. Satoru loves to hear you struggle and whimper and gasp under all his muscle.
But the aftercare is immaculate. He gives your body a thorough massage in the bathroom, and scurries off to get you water. Bath time is filled with tender whispers against your ear. Satoru's voice turns soft and praising.
"You're really made for me, hm?"
It's on the tip of his tongue to call you weak, to snarl about your pussy being too tight for him to fuck you. He'd love to taunt you about being weak, he'd get off to it — humiliating your pussy in bed is something he's inching closer towards doing.
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moronkombat · 6 months
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asking for a friend, can i get hcs for Bi-han, Kuai Liang, Kung Lao, Liu Kang, Kenshi, and Raiden with an s/o with big boobs? im a simp for all these men..i mean what??
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Just the very sight of you is enough to have Bi-Han collar feeling far too tight around him. His eyes watch the dips and curves of your body and his mouth is watering
In public, he remains restrained in a physical sense. But his eyes? Those eyes hunt you like a tiger that stalks it prey, waiting for that perfect moment to pounce and consume
When in private, he wants your clothes off quickly. He's pulling, he's tearing just to see more and more of you. Those hips should not be concealed. Those pillowy breasts must be held in hands most calloused
During sex his lips always find your chest. If he goes unchecked, there he will remain for hours, suckling and licking. He can't get enough of your breasts, often finding himself rather lost within them
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Someone help this man. He is sweating under his collar, practically burning up when you walk by. It's perverted, it's wretched how his eyes follow the swing of your hips. Yet, he won't look away
Try as he might to avert his gaze, there is just something about your hips that make his mind spiral. He thinks thoughts most vile and the blush on his face so evident.
When he has you alone, he is worshipping your body. Warm hands will run up your thighs before hands sink into fleshy hips. He cannot get enough of you
Prefers when you ride him so he can see your breasts move and feel your hips come colliding down on him. No thick walls in the world can conceal the moans you bring from him
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Now Kung Lao likes to talk big game act cocky but the sight of rounded hips and shapely thighs? His mouth is suddenly dry and his jaw is slack
Definitely tries to flirt with you often but gets distracted by what he's seeing and ends up turning rosy pink. So much for his expert flirting skills
You bring him the closest to heaven when you ride him. His hand covers his eyes, the mere sight of you undressed and exposed overwhelming him
He's panting, cursing, telling you how beautiful you are and how good you feel wrapped around his cock right now. Kung Lao wants to keep you there forever but he is provided no such paradise as pleasure overtakes him
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Even a god is subject to temptations and Liu Kang's temptation is you. Your curves live in his mind. The swell of your chest. They are all consuming
Glowing eyes scan you up and down and Liu Kang thinks for a moment much longer than he will admit what it would be like to bury his head between your thighs
When the two of you are alone, he does not need to wonder that anymore. That is the first place he drawn to and there he will remain
He cannot help but thrive when your thighs press against him. The God of Fire would moan low and wanting. He never wants to leave your shapely thighs
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While sight may not be his strongest sense, he still can feel you under his palms. Honestly, Kenshi prefers it that way.
Sento can provide him help to receive your imagine which Kenshi does well to remember. Though he seems to prefer tracing you likeness with you
When in bed, he wants to feel absolutely all of you and so he does. For hours he will comb your body with fingers over each and every one of your curves
Loves to take you from behind so he feel you ass clap against his hips. Kenshi is practically drunk off how your skin ripples with each thrust
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Raiden is flustered, overly so. Those hips, your breasts...would his hand even be able to encompass them. He isn't sure but his thoughts are daring him to find out
Tries not to look at your chest but they are practically staring at him. Raiden will hold eye contact with you but ever so slowly his eyes drift to your cleavage and suddenly his throat is tight
In the privacy of the bedroom, his hands are trembling, shaking when he gets to touch you for the first time. Raiden is overwhelmed with your curves and he is not sure where he should touch first
Don't worry though, he'll find his rhythm and once he does, there is no part of you left untouched. It's going to be quite the long excursion for the two of you
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Havik loves your curves. He sees them as more flesh to carve and paint with crimson
He does not hide his attraction to your hips and breasts. Havik will happily grope onto you, whispering in your ear just how much he wants you
And Havik will take you hard and unforgiving. Teeth bite into your rounded flesh again and again, covering them in bruising bite marks
You end up painted and well carved and Havik is sated but for how much longer? Well your curves are ever tempting
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Really enjoys your curves probably more than he should but who is going to stop him? Definitely not you
Takes great pride in seeing you. He proclaims to everyone how curvy and attractive you are and how you are his partner and no one else's
Loves when you ride him. It is the the best way to see all your curves and features in action. One hand is on a hip while another gropes and plays with your breast
Smirks the whole time, vocalizing just how attractive you look and all the atrocities he will commit to your body and so he does but you don't complain
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You are simply enchanting to Rain. He wishes to worship your gloriously curved body in ways that are pure sin
Can't help but stare at you when you walk by nor can he avert his gaze when speaking to you. He wants you and he will not hide that
Spends much time glorifying your body when he has you alone. You are his goddess and he is the ever devoted apostle
Loves to grip onto your rear while he lays himself into you. He wants to feel your flesh mold and move under his fingers
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kissxcore · 6 months
Text
—5:53 AM | GOJO SATORU
it's blue hour, but gojo satoru feels anything but blue.
content. slight angst but soo fluffy dw, softest gojo ive ever written + a bizarre amount of greek myth references
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“how lonely are you, ‘toru?”
your boyfriend turns his head to you, his blue eyes looking at you with wonder and confusion.
“what do you mean?” you've always found blue eyes weird-looking on others, but maybe it's because you love gojo satoru, they look beautiful on him.
“it's gotta be lonely at the top, right?” you worry about him. he spaces out for random periods of time, in the less worrying situations, it's during dates. sometimes though, it's during missions. even if date nights are mildly annoying, when his life hangs in the balance of a second and a curse eating him whole, it's so much more stressful.
you lean your head on his shoulder, and he smiles, snuggling into you. he watches as you pick at the flowers surrounding you absentmindedly, drinking in the cool air, and he laughs.
“nah.” he flicks your cheek affectionately, “i got you. i got shoko, i got kento, even little ol’ megumi is warming up to me.”
you remember the way satoru cried when he watched the spider-man movie. it was revolutionary, you remember him saying as you walked out of the theater room, picking out an overpriced spider-man keychain for him at the merch store, and a gwen stacy keychain for you. he fiddles with that spider-man keychain now, as the two of you stare at the night sky.
uncle ben said that with great power comes great responsibility, but if you could help shoulder that responsibility with satoru, you would in a heartbeat. with his broad shoulders, he carries the brunt of the world’s evil like atlas, condemned to bear the heavens with his head high and arms without ache.
and yet, in the small park near the academy, he holds you without protest.
you think it’d be too much for you to bear, but satoru never complains (unless it’s about the fact that he has to beg you to wear his sweatshirts when you cuddle up to him in his bed—for that, he will run his mouth forever).
“i mean,” your mouth is dry, “you know you can talk to me, right?”
he laughs—it's light and airy, for no other reason than to keep the mood higher than it could be. he's struggling, fighting for survival under the pressurized waves of the techniques that made him strong in the first place, you don't need to have six-eyes or be a genius to see it.
“i know.” he affirms innocently, “everything's fine, don't worry!”
you feel a lump in your throat before you nod in acceptance, going back to pick at the small daisies that litter the field you're in. you like to tie them by the stems, making crude attempts of a crown because you've never actually watched tutorials, you don't have the time.
“is it hard being with me?” he asks out of the blue. you have to pause.
“yes,” you answer quietly, “but it's worth it. you're worth it.”
he hums, staring absentmindedly at the sky that's slowly beginning to change color. gojo knows he's lucky. he'd never thought that he could ever have someone like you in his life; he's blessed with every finger that you run through his hair, blessed with each meaningful kiss you place on his face, blessed with you.
with all of his strength, you make him feel weak.
“sometimes i can imagine us married and as an old couple,” you remark offhandedly, the occasional breeze blowing through your body, “we're too young to be married, but i like to think about it.”
he laughs again, but it's throatier this time, bitter even.
“bold of you to assume I'm making it past my thirties.” he tries to keep it light for you, he really does. being the strongest is a burden only he can carry; you signed up to date gojo satoru, not the honored one. you signed up to date a man who buys four boxes of häagen-dazs ice cream just because you eyed them a certain way, not a man who got harassed by the higher-ups and assassins every day.
he sometimes thinks that you deserve better than to be with him, but that's before you shut him up with a kiss and a playful pinch on the cheek (no matter how hard he tries, though, the insecurity still gnaws at his stomach).
you realize that comparing satoru to atlas was just a fleeting thought; sisyphus is a much better fit, you think. for eternity, the love of your life is cursed to push that damn boulder up a hill, only for it to roll again. it's an infinite cycle of torture that he must endure, and he alone. was it such a crime to be strong? if he's so honored by the gods, why must he be tortured the way he is?
in your heart, you know the reason: it's because gojo satoru is a good person. he could easily lie back and watch as the world gets corrupted with curses and selfish higher-ups fighting for power instead of providing support, but he doesn't. he’s everything he's too humble to admit; his strength doesn't make him satoru, his heart does.
uncle ben said that with great power comes great responsibility, but why did it have to be satoru? why couldn't it have been anyone else?
“let's get married soon, then. we can go through all that shit old couples do.” you smile, folding your fingers into his. you know there's more than a good chance satoru won't make it to a normal lifespan, but maybe, if he truly was blessed, he could try.
you like to think he'd try.
he accepts your warmth greedily, cupping his palm on yours and interlacing your fingers. he's always thought that you were made for him as he was for you, there's no way you couldn't be, not with how right it feels to be next to you all the time. not with how right it feels to be holding your hand.
he smiles sadly. “you don't need to do that for me.”
he doesn't want you to get him wrong, being married to you would singlehandedly be the greatest achievement of his life, even the ego of jason and his argonauts could compete once you had his ring on your finger and your ring on his. you were his golden fleece, you could cure his aches with a kiss, heal his wounds with your showers of love, you could mend him with a touch of your pointer finger. he can imagine it now, the domesticity he's always desired in his bones: coming home to you to ground him, even maybe starting a family.
“i want to, ‘toru.” you grasp his other hand tighter, shifting your body to lean on his chest, “let's get married and have a small wedding. let's go on vacation! i know you've always wanted to visit india!”
he does. he really does, but marriage scares him. vulnerabilities scare him. he can't imagine being married to anybody except for you, he can't imagine spending the rest of his short life with anybody else but you, nor can he can't imagine loving anybody else but you, and still, it scares him.
the last thing he'd ever want to do is tie you down. the thought of you being a widow before thirty sends spikes of fear up his spine and his eyes shift to the grass in insecurity, not to mention his duty to—
“stop thinking about other people, just do what you want to do for once.”
his mind feels twisted. just whose karma is he paying for? did strength come with the lack of feeling he feels in his soul?
he kisses you, his lips chapped and bruised, much like him but he doesn't want to think right now. he doesn't know if he can devote himself to you like the muse you are, if he can promise that he'll make it home every day, if he can love you the way you deserve, if he can't be anything less than perfect for you. he wants to be perfect for you.
so much so that it hurts him.
you shift your body again, straddling him on his lap as your hands move to cup his cheeks. he's crying, you realize, the tears hitting your thumb as you kiss his trembling lips. he hugs you tighter than he's ever hugged anyone, it's been so long since his heart has felt so full, and he's missed it. it's a bit overwhelming how much you love him and how much he loves you, but you make it hard for anything to rationally make sense with the way he's putty against your body, the way he molds his lips onto yours.
“you've done enough, ‘toru.” you whisper as you part from him, his blue eyes filled with the same soft tears that you wipe from his cheek, “i promise that no one will mind if you take a break.”
had he given enough?
hadn't he given enough?
“okay, let's get married.” he kisses you again through his watery eyes and breathless whispers, and you smile against your lips.
“and—?”
“have a big wedding.”
you wanted a small wedding, but if satoru wants a big one, you suppose it doesn't matter.
“and?”
“fucking finally go to india.” he murmurs the words in between kisses, he places each one carelessly on your mouth, your nose, your cheeks, your jaw. he doubts he can ever get enough of you.
“that's right.” you praise him, and that familiar thump of his heart beating starts again.
he kisses you like you're the psyche to his eros, because despite how hideous he feels, how he could never love the scars he bears nor the weight he carries, you do.
“it's blue hour, satoru, make a wish.”
that's the reason you were out here anyway: to finally be able to experience that special thirty minutes right before sunrise. the sun just barely peeks over the horizon, sending its light washing over the sky in a cool blue tone. there are bits of orange, red, and yellow scattered as dots and rays that toe the line, but even in blue light, satoru looks beautiful.
narcissus couldn't fucking compete even if he tried. there’s no moon to shine on his skin, no stars to sparkle as his eyes do, and barely any sun to reflect the light he radiates already, but he still looks beautiful. the air envelops him like you do.
“let's be together forever. for fucking infinity.” his fingers lace with yours again, and you feel warm again.
you smile.
“okay.”
it's blue hour, but as long as you're next to his side (and maybe if you'd put on one of his damn sweatshirts for once), gojo satoru feels anything but blue.
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back on my gojo shit ‼️ (im coping so hard)
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harmoonix · 9 months
Text
☁️Nostalgic Day Astrology Observations☁️
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~ When the heaven cries an angel dies ~
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✪ Pisces Placements/Moon are very sensitive souls, they can go through a lot of moods and they think that nobody understands them, these natives are the cutest when they are in a good mood
✪ Having a Leo moon/Moon in the 5th house makes you to be very outgoing and shinning out of your crowd, you really take life as a party and you have to live it at the fullest
✪ Air Moons [Aquarius, Gemini, Libra] have a really good connection to music and arts, they are feeling the music and breathing the music is something very hard to describe words but their feelings go insane when they listen music
✪ Your Venus return can be the most luckiest period of having luck in finding a partner, The Venus return is when Venus comes back into the sign you have it under your chart, for example you have Taurus Venus and when Venus comes back into Taurus's constellation there might be a lucky period of finding love
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✪ Venus aspecting Pluto or Saturn are devastated when they go through a breakup, these people can fall into depression or a deep mental state when they broke up but their rebith transformation is gonna be the biggest, when they heal there are no more tears to be left.
✪ The moon in your chart can repsent a drop from your past life, natives with the Moon in Scorpio or 8th house could have suffered the death loss of someone they really loved/it could be the mother or their partner
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Baby, I don't want no one, no one else
So hurry, 'cause I need some, need some, need some help
And I've been waitin' patient, patiently
'Cause I don't have you here with, here with, here with me
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
✪ Lilith - Moon aspects are classified as being the strongest aspects to find in a chart, because it can influence a lot of things both negatively and positively ways, it was a great power if you learn about them
✪ Venus is in detriment in Scorpio, so the planet of love doesn't get along very much with this sign and it can manifest though finding toxic partners or painful relationships, the lessons is to first love yourself then to love others [Vedic and Sidereal charts come in please because this applies to you very much]
✪ Mercury and Saturn aspects can have the fear to talk and can be very shy when you met them, they can be anxious about they talk thinking they have a bad voice but is not true at all, your voice is absolutely stunning no matter what other people say
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✪ Mars - Moon in harsh aspects can be pretty scary while being mad, their feelings and reactions are literally changing from hot to cold and back, they are very impulsive while being mad and can end up to scream and cry in the same time [minor Aspects applied the energy can still be felt 💁🏻‍♀️]
✪ Uranus quintile Venus can feel excited when they start to be in a relationship, is this little spark in their souls is feeling excited when they are in love and can often experience butterflies
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But at least I have the memory
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✪ Venus - Moon aspects like to listen to music and make it a part of the lives, these natives enjoy the music based on how they feel at that moment and it can be a state of soul for them but also very eliberating, music heals their soul
✪ Neptune - Mercury/Venus aspects have a really encroaching voice, like a fresh breeze of air their voices are feeling so smooth and soft is literally so angelic
✪Venus in Earth Signs and Water Signs is literally the vibe of "I give you all my heart" and is so cute is literally so romantic and passionate, it also gives Venus in the 11th house vibes they love with their souls omg
✪ Never hurt a Venusian/Cancerian Moon please [Taurus, Libra, Cancer] they like to make memories and moments with the people they love and once you hurt someone like this they will delete all the memories with you and become harsh
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✪ Juno Asteroid [3] with Pisces influence (Pisces Degrees 12°, 24° or Juno in Pisces/12th house) can have a spouse who can seek for emotional and physical touch (Everything related to Pisces is so romantic)
✪ Juno asteroid [3] with Scorpio Influence (Scorpio Degrees 8°, 20° or Juno in Scorpio/8th house) can have a very possesive spouse, someone very protective aswell but also jealous with probably jealousy issues
✪ Juno Asteroid [3] with Virgo influence (Virgo Degrees 6°, 18° or Juno in Virgo/Juno in the 6th house) can have a very admirable spouse, their spouse can be hardworking and that can give then succes, also someone with a golden heart and very gentle
✪ Juno with Libra Influence [At Libra Degrees 7°, 19° or Juno in Libra/7th house) are the people who search for a harmonious relationship and seek balance for them, they want someone who can accept them and someone very romantic/passionate
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✪ Juno - Mars aspects can have a lot of passion and romantism in their relationship while also posesivness and conflicts/they can get jealous fast and very possesive of their spouse of vice versa
✪ Venus/Mercury rulling over the 8th house can make the native to be very sensual in voice either it's body, they really know how to touch someone's heart with their words and that can make other people to simp for them,Venus and Mercury signs in the 8th house are, Libra, Taurus and Gemini with Virgo.
✪ Venus in Fire signs [Aries, Sagittarius, Leo] fall to fast in love, for real they are like seeing someone and the next minute can end up crushing over that person but if they are ending up hurt in this process they are healing kinda slow
✪ In my opinion Lilith is the side of us who is sensual showing to people but True Lilith is our inner sensuality who only few can see or show
🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤
☁️ The weather is so chill today I like it so much in here, it reminded me of some nostalgia and had to make a post about this theme ☁️
💕 Hope everyone reading my notes has a good day full of light and good energy 💕
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daddyricsdoll · 29 days
Note
hey! first, congrats on 1k followers! 🩵 “Let me take your innocence.” would be so coold with danny 🥺
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
I knew that loving him wasn’t how the end would go. Because I loved him from the second he shone his smile to me, with such dreamy brown eyes I could think of fresh trees and the bark they grew on.
But that love was the first one, the first step before it changed. I fell in love with him again, because of when he couldn’t smile and I got to hold him in my arms, when his eyes were glassy and I held his face. Littering it in endless kisses and “I love you’s”.
Making this night one of the strongest, yet I felt so vulnerable. Easy to his touch. My lips couldn’t leave his and as I straddled him to be closer, my hips would involuntarily rub against his. Daniel groaned into my mouth and he pulled away.
“I-I can’t-“
“I want to…” I watch the way his face changes, eyes softening and lips parting.
“What do you want?” He asks me, hands holding my hips.
“I-want you.” I try to subtly grind against him, keeping eye contact but letting him know exactly what I mean. His eyes ask me again for reassurance, and I nod. My trust for him exuded off of me and bled through each crack that hasn’t been filled.
Daniel pushes my body to the side, laying me on my back against the soft duvet. “Let me take your innocence.” He whispers into my ear, slowly crawling down my body and taking his time to peel each article of my clothing off. My short skirt and then my panties. Spreading my legs and letting the warm air from the room brush past my core.
“Daniel… I don’t want you to go soft. I want you to really take my innocence.”
“Fuck. But if anything… just tell me to stop.” He crawls off my body toward the side table. “I’m safe.”
“Are you sure?”
“Always.” He bites his lip at my answer. Not taking his time at all, nearly ripping the rest of my clothing off while he straddles my hips. “Fuck, you’re even better with nothing on.” Daniel leans down, sucking me into a ravenous kiss while he keeps himself up by holding the headboard.
We have to force our lips away from each other as Daniel gets off my body and takes his pants off, his shirt already discarded. I’ve always assumed his size as it presses against me with every bulge he gets. But once I actually laid eyes on it, I knew I deceived myself. Having to shut my legs as I knew I had to be dripping now.
“Oh, don’t do that.” Daniel gets back on the bed, opening my legs again and reaching for a pillow behind my head. Lifting my hips and placing it under my lower back. He holds each of my thighs and pulls my body closer to his. Aligning his dick to my entrance before finally pushing it in. Tears sting my eyes and I moan at the pain that only brings me pleasure. Both of his hands beside each side of my head, clenching the duvet in his fists.
I couldn’t help but grab one of his wrists, tugging it and wrapping it around my throat. Watching his lips curl and a moan ultimately escaping his heart shaped lips. Daniel squeezes my throat, and then pounds into me carelessly. Continuing again and again, even as I move my legs, lifting them and managing to get Daniel even deeper inside of me. My g-spot being a target, and Daniel always getting a bullseye. Such sounds I’d never think would come out of my mouth just fled it. Endlessly leaving my lips like a waterfall.
And just as I thought it was enough, Daniel latches his mouth around my nipple. Enveloping it with his lips and licking and sucking it like a starved man.
I felt every part of him as he rammed in and out, my whole body moving with his. The large vein that ran along his length felt like heaven inside of my core. And just thinking about how Daniel Ricciardo would ruin me with his dick in just one night.
His thumb flicked my clit up and down. A scream leaving my mouth, expressing a small fraction of the words I’d wished to have said.
Releasing around his dick and just as I squeezed my walls, Daniel twitched inside of me. Coming and being the first man to fill me up.
Just as I came down from my high I sighed, taking a deep breath. But just when I’d expect Daniel to pull out, he started thrusting in again repeatedly. His pelvis slamming against my ass as my legs were in the air. Daniel grabs my hands. Intertwining our fingers together as he lifts them to rest beside my head.
Each thrust felt like he was getting deeper and my stomach did more than a few backflips at his whole length splitting me.
My innocence had left the second I imagined him doing this to me. So now that it’s happening I can say Daniel beats every piece of imagination I’ve drenched myself in.
Only ever loving the unimaginable with him. Just like the way he rams the thought out of me. Filling me with his cock and nearly feeling it in my throat. His name leaves my lips an infinite amount of times I’d wish to be like this for eternity. Remembering each inch of him as it leaves them enters me all at once. Making my feeble legs quiver as I reach my climax again. Writhing my hips again and involuntarily helping Daniel release right after me just like the first time.
Tears dried on the side of my face, as the last few fell. My hands still tightly tangled with Daniel’s and his deep eyes melted me. Already weak physically, while his eyes made every other part of me weak that his dick couldn’t.
“You’re fucking pretty when you cry. Let me take your innocence again and I’ll make you wail.”
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thegnomelord · 3 months
Note
aaaaomg... the response to my ask (i was the shark person lad) is so good :DD it got my brain bouncing around in my skull like a bouncy ball cause i love sharks and the 141 monster au
imagine an oceanic whitetip shark merman (i did mention whitetips a few times in my past ask, they're one of my favorite sharks) being in tf141 with the boys. whitetips are known for being one of the more aggressive sharks and some of the strongest in the ocean. like dragons, whitetips are prideful and stubborn in nature. they also tend to be on the larger end of merfolk, having muscular and tanky bodies to support their natural aggression. whitetips tails especially are strong so they can swim fast enough to keep up with prey - so their legs are naturally stronger to keep up with the weight of their powerful shark tail.
whitetips tend to be picky with their mates - like most of the larger shark merfolk, i imagine they'd want someone who can match their strength, and well after sparring with any four of the boys they'd definitely realize that "oh damn. maybe he is suitable" then go through the strange process of trying to court whoever they sparred with. it would involve a lot of nibbling and following them around to really determine if he's right, along with a few lost teeth that soooomehow end up on the desk of who they're courting.
ahem also dragon price and mershark reader makes me think. just a small note
but yeah that's all :) thank you for making my brain turn into a bouncy ball over my obsession with sharks and monsterfucking LMAO
Oh oh oh what if sharkmer are polygamous? Like it's so rare to find another of their kin so any time they find someone and they're compatible they end up joining/creating a polycule where everyone's fucking everyone?
So like, pre-existing poly141 with a new member reader, and at first you don't think too highly of them. But them you start sparring with them, get your ass handed as often as you hand it out, and yeah. . . you're smitten.
Soap fucking loves your little habit of nibbling on him, you two winding up on the couch somewhere with you nibbling on his pecs while he does the some to your tail, Price having a good laugh when he finds you two purring while you do it.
Gaz just likes your bulk, the fact you're so much wider and bigger than him, dwarfing him in size. I hc harpies have this old instinct to rest/nest in like caves or something, so when you wrap your strong arms around you it just makes him feel so safe, especially if you then tuck his head into your neck and he can't see and it's like he's surrounded by heaven, calm and relaxed in the same way raptors are calm when they got that hood on their head.
Ghost likes the fact you're generally quiet, likes the fact you can keep up with him and even pin him down (as well as a wraith can be pinned down). Likes being forced to submit under you, both of you tumbling around on the ground in an attempt to defeat the other until your thick tail is sweeping him out from under his feet and you're nibbling on his neck.
Price takes the longest to come around with you, mostly because he's so possessive and protective of what's his. But he sees you take care of his hoard, take care of him, and the next time you return from a mission, still wet from the swimming you'd had to do, Price pulls you into his office, a deep rumble in his throat. "Did well back there." He says as he takes your hand and bites it, keeping eye contact with you so you know he knows what he's doing, and suddenly you're lunging at him with the intent to mate.
And also sharks have 2 dicks soooo👀
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tulipsbymybed · 6 months
Text
werewolf!konig x human!fem!reader pt3
part 1 & 2/masterlist
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18+ minors dni!!!!
parrrrrt 3 lads and ladies!! hope y'all like it! abt 3.6k ish!!
-a few weeks go by in pretty much the same manner, you show up at the cottage and spend a number of hours sat in the garden with konig, with him asking about your childhood and your friends and your family and where you live and your hobbies and...any males in your life..
-you raise your eyebrows at that, and konig flushes when he realises that question hasn't quite melted in with the others, it is certainly not as innocent as he tries to make it sound
-he's been trying to fight off all the instincts that price had said humans didn't feel or possess as strongly, he's been trying to be more of a human partner for you-but not knowing about any other men in your life is slowly driving him insane
-the more he thinks about it the worse he gets, wondering if you haven't made a move even though you're clearly aroused around him sometimes because you have a man at home (konig is repulsed by the idea that neither him or the cottage are considered your home but moves past it, barely), some guy waiting for you and who will get to experience the absolute heaven of your touch instead of him-
-maybe there's a man you go to when you feel like that, someone else who could never appreciate you as much as konig would, as much as he already does, someone who won't realise how special they are if you allow them to even look at your naked body, let alone touch it or taste it
-the thought of another man tasting you when konig can't drives him into a painful transformation one night, bones cracking and splintering as his body grows and changes into a beast, slightly larger than his normal wolf form, more animalistic, howling at the sky and standing guard at your cottage for you
-his mind becomes more one-track on these rare transformations, only able to think of someone else touching his mate and nothing else, he stands guard outside the front door and snarls and growls all night, warning off any potential predators, spit dripping from his elongated and sharpened canines as he claws the ground
-when the moon had dips and the morning comes, he shifts back into human form, but stays in front of the door all day, watching and waiting for anyone possibly coming for you
-eventually, the fog on his mind recedes and he calms, mostly, promising himself-and you-that he will be the best mate, the most impressive wolf and partner so that you will see how much he loves you, how much he dotes on you
-with any luck, you'll let him adore you and please you, let him taste you until you're satisfied and spent under his tongue, happy because of him
-though konig tries not to encroach on your space, and stay within your boundaries, his wolf has been howling and screaming at him, needing to reassure itself that you're truly mates and that you really do exist, konig has a mate and she's pretty and smells good and her touch feels heavenly-
-he hesitantly goes into the cottage, following his nose until he finds where your scent was strongest, just by a window upstairs, looking out into the back garden where you must have stopped to lean out and watch the view
-konig stands there and let his eyes close, inhaling and filling himself with your scent, pacifying his wolf and calming him slowly
-when you show up two days later to spend the day with him, konig tentatively draws you into a hug, praying you won't reject him and that you know each other enough by now that you'll find this acceptable-in human terms you hopefully think of you as 'friends' anyway, though that term makes his tail flick in displeasure
-though he tries to restrain himself, his grip is tight on you, pulling your head to rest against his bare chest so he can lean his forehead down on you, one hand cradling the back of your head and his other pushing gently on your lower back, securing your body to his
-(while the movement surprises you a little when you arrive, as konig seems to want to touch you, but hold himself back for your sake, you couldn't deny this was something you've been craving every week)
-konig, meanwhile, is desperately trying to fight his body’s reaction. he sort of knew it would happen, he has his mate pressed against him of course he’ll get hard, but he hopes you don't realise
-the scent of you surrounds him, filling his nostrils and making him growl quietly and hold you tighter
-when you relax fully into it and your arms come up to wrap around his torso, he swears he's floating
-this is unimaginably better than you touching his tail or stroking his fur, the feeling of your warm hands against his bare skin, thumbs ever so slightly brushing up and down
-he couldn't stop himself if he tried, and he doesn't want to stop himself so he shifts slightly, pressing his lips against the crown of your head and breathing you in again
-his cock sits heavy against his thigh in his sweatpants but he ignores it, pretending like you softly nuzzling your cheek further into his chest isn't making a steady drip of precum pulse out of his cock
-this is enough for him, just being able to hold you and embrace you for a little bit
-as his lips leave to the crown of your head, he can't resist stooping his head down just a bit, until he can sort of push his nose behind your ear, into your hair and where your scent is so fucking strong. it spreads a warm feeling through his chest, and he feels so calm and at peace like this, like you should always be in his arms, like everything in his life has only been leading to this point
-after a little bit, you pull back ever so slightly but keep looking away from him, and you hesitantly apologise to him, telling him that you can uh, you can feel what you're doing to him, but you're just not ready yet if that's alright-
-konig feels cold at you asking him if it's alright, as if he would force you, as though you've had experience in the past with it not being alright with someone-
-he assures you that it's okay, of course it's okay, you don't have to do anything he doesn't expect anything from you. this isn't an exchange, he would just like to do some nice things for you and make sure you are happy, he doesn't expect anything intimate in return
-secretly though, he's glad you pulled away a little bit because with any luck you didn't feel his cock jerking through his sweatpants, as he realises you said you're not ready yet
-yet, so maybe one day you would like to be with him. maybe one day you'll let him please you, make you feel good and happy and content and satisfied
-when you fully pull away, you start toward the cottage and tell him you just want to quickly look at one of the rooms, to check if your plan for it would work, and he's glad you don't look back as you go, because there's no way you could miss the little wet patch on his briefs just over the head of his cock-konig curses himself for foregoing briefs today
-a few more surveyors come to the cottage as well, and konig obediently stays out of the way, skulking through the trees instead of scaring them off like he wants to
-it's worth it, because a few days later you come jogging into the glade and throw your arms around his torso, making his mind go blank, while excitedly telling him all about how apparently it's structurally sound and everything so you don't have to part with most of your savings, plus most of your belongings will fit in the cottage anyway so all you need to do is decorate it how you want!!
-he's only half listening though, because pretty much all of his brain is taken up by the fact that you initiated this you hugged him you started it you're hugging him and pressing your face into his chest and your hands into his back and you want to hug him and-
-your words are cut off when he suddenly reciprocates, taking a step forward and crowding you as his arms surround you and hold you quite tightly, face shoved into your hair and keeping you against him
-konig quickly believes he won't be able to go without your touch for much longer, that he won't be able to last an entire week before he sees you soon enough
-he also swears he's on the verge of a heart attack and when you lean away but take his hand, pulling him toward the cottage. to go inside. with you.
-konig's eyes go wide when he realises this, heart speeding up at the thought of going inside your home, being welcomed into your home by you, being in your space because you want him there
-you take him through room after room, pointing things out and describing what you're going to do, how the window in the kitchen lets the perfect amount of light in, the way you're going to rearrange the living room
-your hand stays in his the entire time and he finds it extremely hard to focus on anything else if he's honest, fingers flexing lightly against yours and body warming at your touch
-when you lead him toward the stairs though, excited to show him what you're going to do upstairs, he stops. he pulls back and stares at you in wonder, rooted to the spot as he tells you that he won't intrude on your space like that, he won't go into your nest so casually. it's yours, your safe space, and he wants to wait until you're completely sure and inviting him knowingly to be there (until you're his mate and you know you belong together basically, but he doesn't want to scare you off)
-he worries he’s made the wrong choice possibly when you just stand there for a minute, staring at him neither annoyed or angry or anything, but then you step closer to him and his breath hitches
-his eyes go a little wide, subconsciously trying not to blink in case you disappear
-and then holy fuck, you lean in and up, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek, and konig thinks he’s floating
-he knows you smile and say something after that, but he can’t hear a thing. his ears are buzzing and he feels so warm, barely able to believe you actually did that
-his mate just kissed him
-on the cheek but yeah whatever
-when your hand slips out of his and you head upstairs to check something out, he’s still rooted to the spot. he licks his lips and breathes heavily, staring at the spot you were standing in
-while he was thinking about how lucky he is and how warm you felt and how lovely your hand fits in his, his thoughts turn dirty very quickly
-before long he’s thinking about your soft lips pressing the same kiss over his jaw and his neck, he lets his eyes close and can almost feel the light pressure on his throat, how you might lick against his collarbone and down to his pecs, swirling your tongue over his nipples to make him whimper and clutch your hair
-he's thinking about licking into your mouth before making his way down your body, feeling your hands roaming over his body as he shoves his face between your thighs, holding your legs over his shoulders and tight around his ears as his eyes close and he moans into you
-before he knows it he's salivating, licking his lips and almost following you up the stairs, mind clouded with the thought of tasting more than just your scent in the air, the thought of finally being able to lap at your cunt and pleasure you
-he mostly manages to calm himself down by the time you come back-as in, he's always semi hard around you but he's not tenting his sweats anymore thank god, he doesn't want to scare you off or make you think he's hinting at it
-until you leave, and press another quick kiss to his cheek before walking back to your life and he's grinning toothily, cheeks warm and pink as he stares after you, cock hardening and pulse speeding up
-since you're gone and there's no one else or no other wolves around, he gives in this time
-he leans back against the wall of the cottage, your cottage, and pulls at his sweatpants, tugging them down and bunching them up just under his heavy balls
-it's nowhere near as good as it would be with you, as even just having you near him is, but the thought of you, and your scent, is enough right now
-your scent is stronger given that you've only just left, and he finds himself turning his head to try and catch where it's heaviest, tightening his hand around his shaft and stroking it quickly, desperate to get off after being around you for so many hours
-he promises himself, vows that when you're mates and you're living together, near each other and mixing scents constantly, he won't let you go a day without being knotted
-a few hours, if you're on board, to be honest
-he moves his hand faster, rutting up into it and almost fucking his fist, thinking about convincing you to stop wearing clothes, making sure you wander around your shared home bare and naked and ready for him to please and take whenever he wants to
-konig can feel his knot swelling as he thinks about you doing the same, about you loving him so much and wanting him just as badly as he wants you, about you pushing him into the bedroom and onto the bed so you can take whatever you want from him
-it's almost unsatisfying, given that it's not you, but he grips one hand tightly around his knot and keeps thrusting into the other, trying to simulate how tight you would be around the swell
-it's too dry and not hot enough, not tight enough and not you, but it's still the hardest he's ever come, fantasising about laying you down on sheets you've chosen for your home, wrapping your legs around his waist and pushing his nose against your neck to scent you as his knot finally pops into your cunt wetly, snug inside your walls
-he comes in long ropes half over his knuckles and half on the grass in front of him, and even though he's so sensitive he spreads the pearly fluid over his length, coating it from base to tip and lubricating the glide of his hand as he jerks himself for a few more minutes, hips bucking up into his fist as he whimpers from the overstimulation
-he feels a little bad but he cleans himself off int he bathroom of the little cottage, washing his hands and wiping himself down carefully so you won't know what happened. it's a struggle to be somewhere filled with so much of your scent from today, but he manages to mostly ignore it, focusing on cleaning himself up rather than getting hard again
-when he goes back outside though, he's hit with his scent mingled with yours, and his nostrils flare, eyes darkening and his chest rumbling
-he's never been a particularly possessive wolf, though he supposes he's never had much to be possessive of, but now? with his release on the ground near your home? where your scent is strongest? no wolf could doubt who's mate you are if they happened to come across this place
-he knows you won't have a clue when you come back, you'll have no idea what happened or what he did, that he's practically marked his territory like this and showed everyone that you're his, even though he can't fully claim or mate you yet
-the next few weeks are pretty much the same, konig begs you to tell him more about your life, he tries his hardest not to pull you into his embrace and restricts himself to just touching your arm or your leg, possibly your hair or cheek if he's feeling brave and controlled enough
-aaaand every week ends with a kiss on his cheek
-you seem to be getting a little more confident as well, a little bit bolder with him and konig thinks he's slowly going insane if he's honest
-unlike the first couple of times, you seem to be making it longer. he can hear your heart tick a little faster when you lean in to him these days, when your soft lips press against his cheek and hover for a moment before pulling back gently
-he's become a lot better at hiding his body's reactions, though he can't stop them
-as soon as your lips touch his skin he can feel the telltale throb in his sweats, attempting to ignore the way his cock jerks and flexes, brushing against the material and making him all the more sensitive
-he's started having to either remind you that you have somewhere to be or that you wanted to measure the wall in the living room now, just so you can wander off for a little bit and he can try and calm his body down, see if he can tamper down his normal reaction
-and then one day you change it up again, and he is not prepared
-it's only a little thing, a simple little thing, just you reaching a hand up to cup his cheek as you press your lips to the other-but jesus christ konig is fighting a losing battle
-he can smell the heady scent of your arousal flowing from you, he can hear your heartrate pick up when you lean in, feel your hand on him and your lips on his cheek and fuck
-he's losing it, actually losing it, he thinks
-he can't help himself that day either, when you do that and wander back through the forest, as he watches your hips move and sway and beg to be gripped, he just has to touch himself here again
-when he's in his wolf form it's not so much of a problem, and the pack is pretty accepting of things like this, they're all sleeping and sharing the same space after all, everyone does it so it's whatever
-but in human form? he'll get some odd and annoyed looks if he goes strutting back into the den with a raging hard on tenting his sweats or bobbing as he walks
-so if the need arises when he's in human form he tends to transform, hoping he can will it away but aware the other wolves won't really bat an eye if he slinks off to a dark corner
-but fuck, this time? he can't stop himself, he can't make himself do anything else in this moment apart from kneel in the garden of the cottage, hand pushing into the front of his sweats and closing around his length tightly
-he moans unabashedly loud, unashamed and only thinking about your smaller hand on his cheek, how he'd like to feel it in his much larger ones, how his hands would paw at your waist and hips as he pounded into you, gripping you and spreading you open for his hungry gaze
-he's falling over the edge before long, not needing much after being so pent up and around you all day, surrounded by your scent
-before he can stop himself or think through it, he's shoving down his sweats past his cock, bunching the fabric under his balls again and whimpering at how full they feel, wrapping a hand around his swelling knot and fucking into his fist again
-his mind goes blank as he comes, not able to think of anything besides marking you as his and claiming you, marking his territory and mixing his scent with yours
-the next week, he thinks he's got a handle on himself. a little bit. sort of. more than before, anyway
-he readies himself for your kiss on the cheek, steels himself and resolutely promises himself that he won't react to it like he did last week, he won't be so animalistic this time
-and then
-and then you take a step forward, and his breath hitches. down at the first hurdle, but he's confident he can recover himself-until you cup his cheek again, and lean the other hand on his chest, just over his heart
-his eyes go wide and he can't breathe for a second, and as you lean in to kiss his cheek he's powerless to stop himself from turning his head and capturing your lips with his, softly
-there's a couple of second of utter bliss for konig, where nothing else matters and he just wants to feel this every moment from now until forever. when he'd seen humans do it he hadn't know it could feel this fucking good, that it's addictive and all consuming and he doesn't want to stop, ever
-but after the couple of seconds, he registers your heart kicking up and you make the most minute sound of surprise against his lips that he manages to pick up, and it shocks him into pulling back, realising what he's just done
-realising that you're probably mad at him now, you didn't want that, you were only trying to kiss him on the cheek and now he's ruined it, he's gone too fast and taken more than you're willing to give
-then your thumb brushes over his cheekbone and you smile softly at him, and his heart flutters
part 4
tags:
@mehidontknkw @0-ramen-0 @divine--serenity @oobeesstuff @beeding @radiorainy @jasmineandmatcha @traurig-maus @potatoknight @ilivefircidmen @ang3lsp0re @ultrahugakitten @jinuaei @poohkie90 @barbiepink6 @skelletonscloset @spookiedghoul @lantanaaa @purpleflamebluesparkles @bookobsessedram @lungrot @bewitching-lavender @soft-pwincess @tunnel-snakesss-rule @deatoldstar @gummyfang @millersdjarin @paranoid-borderline-insane @cassiecasluciluce @cumikering @kenz-ee
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"Is it over now?" - Luke x Izzie AU
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Summary: In which Luke fucks up.
Part 2
AU Masterlist Notes: This happens in like a month or so ish from now, and also, I'm sorry please please please please don't hate me<3 idk if I'm completely happy with this but Tumblr deleted the original draft and I tried my best to recreate it.
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Luke is wondering if he's died and gone to heaven. But then again, he'd much rather have this be real life, which it is, luckily for him. He's pretty grateful for that. Pretty grateful to have Izzie straddling his lap like this, pressing gentle, wet kisses to his neck, careful not to leave any marks on the skin that wouldn't be covered by his jersey.
He tilts his head back against the armrest of the couch, allowing her better access and simultaneously letting his hands wander up her pink sleep shorts. Her skin is soft, but as his hands move up up up they leave goosebumps in their wake, reminding him that he affects her too. Luke can barely keep his groan inside when she rolls her hips against his, eyes rolling into the back of his skull and thinking he could stay like that forever.
He's about to voice that exact thought when one of their phones lights up, vibrating on the wooden coffee table. Eyes snatching onto the numbers displayed on top of the picture of Izzie and him kissing, panic fills Luke's body.
"Fuck, fuck!" He exclaims before he can help himself, moving Izzie's body off of his own in one swift motion before rising from the couch. 
Izzie sits back dumbfounded, and he almost feels bad when he can see the confusion and hints of rejection lacing her expression, but he can't think about that right now.
"What's wrong?" her voice is honey, careful, trying not to upset him further than he clearly already is. "You said only five minutes," Luke grumbles, fumbling around his apartment trying to gather his belongings. "What?"
Snatching his keys from the kitchen counter and stuffing them in the pocket of his grey sweats, Luke then hurriedly tries to step into his shoes and- fuck where did he leave his phone? "You said only five minutes, now it's a quarter to two and I'm fucking late," Luke barks out as he passes by her on the couch, ripping his phone out of her grip when she tries to be helpful, holding it out for him. It's not the first time this has happened, Luke getting a little too lost in the world of Izzie, but he also has a time management issue in general and arriving on time for practice has never been his strongest suit. Something his coach has made sure to mention a multitude of times. Fuck, he was so fucked.
"I'm sorry?" she sounds like she's not, not really, more like she's getting annoyed with him, Luke thinks, and that, in turn, makes his temper flare as well. "Drop the attitude," he scoffs, words somewhat muffled by the action of pulling on his hoodie. "Could you lose whatever that is then?" Izzie is quick to fire back, not quite understanding what's gotten into him. Her knees are drawn up under her, fingers picking on a stray thread in her socks and her jaw set in such a way that Luke knows she's either close to tears or snapping at him. Then he sees the fire in her eyes, though, and decides he doesn't have time to deal with it in the present. 
It can wait, she'll be here when I get back, he reasons. He's late and it's his job and she isn't working today and he knows there will be consequences if he doesn't leave within the next thirty seconds. So, he mumbles a bye as the door slams behind him, praying to whoever that practice will be fine.
As it turns out, practice wasn't fine. In fact, practice sucked so much that Luke found himself wishing he hadn't shown up at all. First, coach had spent a good five minutes tearing him a new one for this being the fifth consecutive practice he's been late to. Then, during the actual practice, he'd sucked. Big time. His head was filled with images of Izzie's wounded expression and he felt bad for snapping at her. He'd fallen more times than he could count on two hands and his puck management had been all over the place. Coach had torn him a new one for that too, albeit a bit more professionally, but still, he felt like he was back in college. He felt like shit, really.
Opening the apartment door, his movements are sluggish and slow as he removes his shoes, using the wall for support. He's a little grateful Jack is staying with Vivian tonight, not needing his brother's pitying looks over the way practice went.
"Hey, I've started on dinner." 
Her voice startles him, having forgotten that he had left Izzie in the apartment. She's standing by the stove, stirring some kind of sauce and the whole apartment smells of her mom's bolognese. Normally, he'd be ecstatic, but the practice has taken its toll on him and the thought of having to sit down for a meal is already exhausting him.
"You're still here," he states, voice flat, his surprise coming out slightly off, not like he means to but by the time the words are out it's too late. Hurt flickers across her face for the briefest of seconds before she catches herself, calmly placing the wooden spoon on the counter. "Did you not want me to be?" 
"Just didn't expect you to," he answers, doesn't really know why he says it. "Right. Do you want me to leave?" Face blank, tone cold, Izzie is only responding to the way he's acting and he knows it, deep down somewhere. But the stress of the day is clouding the rational part of his brain and he's not thinking straight. Dropping his phone and keys on the dinner table with a harsh noise, he lets out a deep sigh and runs his hand down his face. Without looking at her face, he knows she's silently wincing at the way he's being so harsh on his skin.
Pulling out one of their chairs, some fancy designer shit Jack bought one time he was hammered, he lets himself slump down onto it, suddenly finding himself very interested in the lines of the table. If he reached out his finger an inch or two, he could trace the wood, maybe even all the way back to when this conversation went sideways.
"I'm sure you could find somewhere else to be," he mumbles, giving in to his urge to run his pinky along the ridges and cracks. Frankly, he's not sure why he's picking a fight, but it feels like it's the only thing he can do to channel his frustrations somewhere.
At his words, Izzie slowly tilts her head and turns off the stove, moves calculated, almost like a killer stalking its prey. She rounds the kitchen island and stops halfway to him, crossing her arms to form a protective barrier between them.
"So you don't want my company?" She asks, setting up a trap he should be careful not to fall into. It's covered with leaves, though, and Luke isn't paying attention to his surroundings, too caught up in the way his head feels like it's about to explode. He digs his finger into a rough edge, praying it will ground him. All it does is send a sharp sting down his hand.
"God, Izzie, I don't know, all your company has done lately is make me late and unfocused."
Silence. A click of her tongue. She's not sure what to say. He feels the need to elaborate and ends up choosing the wrong words. On purpose? Maybe so.
"This is why I didn't want a girlfriend my first year! You're taking up all the space in my head when it should be filled with hockey!"
"You were the one who asked me to be your girlfriend, Luke!" Hands going towards the sky, tone no longer casual, Izzie stares him down, unwilling to back away, unwilling to let him do this to them. She's been keeping her own emotions in check, but he's making it harder by the second. Closing her eyes, she wishes she could turn back time to a few hours ago when they were making out like two lovesick teenagers on the couch. Then, the apartment had felt warm, and inviting and she could feel his love covering her like a cocoon. Now, it felt like the Arctic.
"Yeah, maybe that was my first mistake"
Her eyes snap open, hurt and disbelief and tears flooding them all at once, and Luke doesn't even seem to notice. He's too caught up in the way his chest is heaving and he thinks he might be having a panic attack, or getting close to one. She isn't going to stand and take this, though, no matter how much she wants to stay for him, can tell something isn't right in his mind at this moment. But she doesn't want him to think he can talk to her like that, seemingly only being able to spew out hurtful words. A nasty part of her wants to turn the knife he's digging into her heart and point it towards him instead.
"You're right. Saying yes was mine."
It's like he's been standing in a daze, her words snapping him back into reality, reminding him who he's standing in front of, who he should be fighting for, with, not against. 
The love of his life is no longer standing in the kitchen, instead walking with hurried steps towards the front door, and his body springs into action, heart beating as if he'd just completed a long shift on the ice.
"Wait, what- Izzie?" In two steps he's in front of her, reaching out for her hand, desperately searching for words to fix this mess. That you got yourself into, his own personal critic reminds him. At his touch, she reels back as if he's burned her, an action she would otherwise never do. That's how Luke gets an inkling he's fucked up more than he thought. Her next words confirm it.
"I hope there's space for hockey now that you're single."
She's gone before he can call for her. Fuck.
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kentoavenue · 6 months
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grateful - gojo satoru
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"whatever you're thinking of, save it for tomorrow. go to sleep."
you release a heavy exhale, before pulling your arm from under your pillow and flipping over, eyes meeting stark blue ones.
you've always been mesmerized by how sky-like his eyes are, but even more so when even with the lights off, they still manage to glow. as if heaven itself lied behind those orbs.
satoru is blessed, you think. but you feel even more blessed than him for being the only one who gets to see him like this—so at peace and laid bare for you.
"you're not asleep either," you reply with half-lidded eyes.
you're tired, sure, but there was no way you'd find sleep anytime soon. not with the war waging in your head right now.
"tell me what's going on in that beautiful head of yours," satoru says, bringing his hand up to tuck back a lock of hair behind your ear. he rests his hand there, too.
you suck in a quiet breath, not sure how to proceed.
ever since he came back, you've been holding him more dear than usual, afraid he'd slip past your fingers again. you don't tell him that, though. sure, he knows it anyway, but saying it out loud seems like it'd jinx everything to hell again.
"i'm thinking of you."
he blinks up at you, silver eyelashes fluttering against his eyelid. god, he's beautiful.
"what about me?"
you should be grateful.
grateful that you have the strongest as your other half. grateful that he doesn't need to look over his shoulder. grateful that you never had to truly worry if satoru was going to make it home some nights.
grateful that unlike most other sorcerers, satoru never had to walk hand-in-hand with death. grateful that death hasn't knocked on his door even when the world fell to chaos. grateful that he's still here with you, breathing and warm and alive.
but you're not grateful tonight. not with the battle he's announced in several hours.
you don't want to say it, but you say it anyway, "don't be a hero."
a silent pause, before, "baby, you—"
"no, let me say it, satoru. i have to say it out loud," you whisper.
his hand leaves your cheek and slides down to rest above your waist. you relish the feeling as much as you can, commiting to memory the weight and warmth of it. you wish you two could stay like this forever.
"okay," he nods, shifting closer.
it's quiet enough that you can hear your own heartbeat, maybe even his, and you hope he can hear them too.
"i would never tell you not to go and save megumi," you start. you hesitate for a moment, but continue, voice quivering ever so slightly. "but you have to remember your life means just as much."
satoru's listening, but doesn't say anything. instead, his hand finds yours and he brings the back of your hand towards his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles.
"thank you for worrying about me, but you can stop now."
"are you hearing me, satoru?" your fingers grasp his tighter, a silent demand for his full attention. he gives it to you. "i'm asking you to please come home tomorrow night."
"i will, baby." he plants a quick kiss on your nose. "i'm the strongest, or have you forgotten?"
you clench your jaw slightly, wondering if you believe him or not.
you decide you don't. not enough.
but you're not going to ask him to promise you anything either. not when he already carries so much burden alone. not when you know how easily promises get broken as of late.
"i just—." you pause to look at him, really look at him. and you pray to god that you remember each and every delicate feature of his. every flaw, every dip, every scar. "i just want you to remember that i love you, always. and i won't make you promise it, but i hope with every piece of my soul that i see you tomorrow. and the day after. and the day after that, too."
satoru huffs out a short laugh, lips pulling apart to form a smile.
"you underestimate me, again." he plants another kiss, to your forehead, now.
"i'm not," you murmur.
"yeah, you are." he raises both your hands, fingers intertwining in the air. "you're underestimating my abilities, you're underestimating how much i love you, and most of all, you're underestimating the lengths i'd go to just to come back home to you."
it's not often that the satoru gojo shows raw emotion, but... here he right now doing so. he's offering you his still beating heart in his hands—and you take it. you swear you'll keep it safe with you forever.
"just—when you're out there, remember i love you, more than anything."
you're holding satoru's gaze intently, before his' drop to your lips, then back up again.
"and i love you even more than that, my girl." satoru presses one last kiss, to your lips this time. “i’ll make it home to you, i swear it.”
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