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#and has the same realization of oh no he still cares I don't want him to die and pushes lxc away

kitsunefyuu · 3 days

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Did you notice how some AFO fans who used to like DFO Theory started to hate it and suddenly attack the same fans? Maybe this is due to generalizing DFO as OOC? I once saw someone saying that "to respect someone else's opinion, just remember that you have also changed your opinion several times" but these people only seem to attack what they once liked for no apparent reason, other than "nooooo my beautiful AFO is not like this 😭😭"

Yes, it is a trend that I did notice when I first came into the fandom that a lot of people would say they are former DFO. Then say how they realize how 'stupid' the theory was and unrealistic. As if suddenly now they are the pinnacle of rational and totally know everything about a fictional character.

I never claim my interpretation is the canon, because I know I could end up wrong. That just how it is and I'm always willing to adjust my headcanons with the source material. But honestly I think the AFO fans that liked DFO and now hate it only changed because other people started being hostile to the theory.

Like popular writers, artist, and all kinds of people begun to sneer at that interpretation beside those in the little community. Seeing it as just trying to 'soften' AFO or as something gross to do to the MC. Or worse some people like DFO but hate AFO so when the former DFO see that they change their mind to double down on disliking DFO as they LIKE AFO. As they see it as like you said 'softening' him to make him palatable. The theory itself, however, is only parentage.

Like it still be valid to assume AFO had Izuku with Inko from a One Night stand, and Hisashi Midoriya is just the guy that stepped up for single mom Inko. We have evidence of there possibly being more aware but if don't like it then that an option too.

DFO theory is simply the theory that Izuku Midoriya is RELATED to All for One. That is the bare bones minimum, I don't care if you are OH HE LOVES HIM or HE AN EXPERIMENT or whatever you want to believe. None of that really registers much to me nor should matter, like DFO can be used in many manner of ways.

The ones that seem to hate is most... Well they tend to either want Virgin All for One (for sexual reasons) or want him to be purely asshole(for sexual or just because love assholes that can go either way) or maybe fear of being the outsider. There also many who claim that every time he does a more evil act that it PROOF he never father a child.

Like tell me you never had a mentally unstable parent that does outrageous things. Anyone can have a kid, it sure doesn't take much for a guy to one and done for various reasons. We also literally been confirmed now he can change his face, DNA, and has actually done so. Also we've seen how he is with Yoichi, literal proof of his ability to love it just dark and twisted.

It why DFO is so interesting since if is the child of AFO it an avenue to explore his character. How WOULD AFO raise a child now that we knows what happened with Yoichi? Is he aware of Izuku? Does he care? We've seen him vault family and say how precious family is.

But then, none of that matters to the former DFO fans who now are DFO hates. They just don't want to be the weirdo outsiders believing in something that isn't even 'canon' and as I've said many times. I'm not exactly going to stop writing or enjoying it even if it NOT canon.

No one can dictate what I like and enjoy. And those people projecting hatred once they loved it?

I hope they know it ok to just like different things and change your mind. They should be happy with what they like instead of just wanting to be 'right'.

#izuku midoriya #all for one mha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #dad for one bnha #Dad for One #dad for one mha #yoly's talks

27 notes · View notes

rs-wonderland · 9 hours

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Good morning! May I please request a scenario with 💗 and 💖 where Yandere!Male!Reader and Yandere!Floyd try to kidnap each other, only to realize each other's efforts, and deciding to date and occassionally let each other kidnap their lover just for funsies? Thank you. 🖤

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Floyd pov, Octavinelle:

A normal day at Octavinelle, and in Mostro Lounge the students were working well with lot of guest. What can possibely ruined this day. "Im going to get Shirmpy, don't wait for me at dinner~" Floyd said as he was walking fast with rope and- handcuffs...?

"Floyd, may i ask why are you-" Azul was cut of with Jade putting his hand on his shoulder. "Are you sure that they are ready? You know, humans are very, complicate for does things." Jade said in his usual voice, the twins were nothing a like. All tho, they must all agree, the one thing they had in common, other than there looks, was understanding desire's they had for there goals. And if Floyd wanted you, then who is Jade to stop him.

"Yeaaaa~ i think he is finally ready to live here with us. He can get some rest here, far away from others and that little cat-raccoon thing. And if he is not, well, he will be soon~!" He said in his usual cheerful tone. Azul looked at both of twins as he shifted his gaze back to his paper. "You will have to work double after your little 'love emergency' you just took, Floyd." Flyod nodded, and continue to go his way.

"You think that this is going to end bad?" Azul asked Jade. Jade simple looked at Azul and smiled softly. "We'll see, but, knowing Floyd and Y/n, i think they'll both be just fine." Azul sighed as he got annoyed, the twins relationship and there understending for one another was weird mistery to him. "I hope so, and just for a information, i am not feeding another mouth here."

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Your pov, in dorm:

Normal day for Grim, laying around and doing nothing. Until his human decited to ruin it, "Do you think Floyd would walk me back home so i can lock him in?" yea another dumb idea by him.

"How do you think to lock him? He is huge?" Grim didn't quit get the whole thing, but he didn't care he has his tuna. "Camon Grim, wouldn't it be nice to have a roommate?" Y/n was delusional by thinking Floyd was stupide but yet again who care? He has no choice after all.

Grim sighed as he sat up. "I am not sharing my tune." Y/n sighed as he looked down at Grim, while fixing his uniform. "I don't think a fish would eat, a fish Grim..." "It's Floyd, you never know."

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Floyd was walking around the school, looking for his little darling. He didn't even try to hide his ropes. Y/n was looking around trying to find him, as he spoted Flyod he sighed as he smiled warmly. "Floyd~! Hey-?" He stopped as he saw the ropes.

Floyd smiled widely as he looked down at you. "Shrimpy~!" He hugged you tightly as he put rope behined you. "Stand still~!" You looked at Flyod confusted with a biggest blush on your face. "What on earth-?" Floyd looked down at you with a smirk. "What's wrong Shrimpy?"

You couldn't believe, rope? Tight hug? He couldn't possibly have the same idea, right? "Floyd are you trying to-?" Floyd just smirked as he pulled you closer to him while wrapping whole rope around you. "My little Shrimpy~! You aren't getting away from me~" You smiled as he picked you up, carring you like a huge prize he just won. "Yes, yours only, Floyd...."

What a start to an oh so beautiful love story~♡

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gojonanami · 4 months

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❝ 𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐑𝐃 ❞

❝ EVERYONE WANTS SATORU GOJO, SO WHY ARE YOU THE ONE STUCK GUARDING HIM ? ❞

✧ pairing: rich boy! gojo x bodyguard! reader

✧ summary: after the gojo family receives threats to their lives, you're hired to protect the heir to the company, satoru gojo - you just didn't realize how charming the rich heir would be - and just how hard it would be to resist his advances.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is around the same age as gojo (both in their 20s but age is vague), virgin! gojo, switch! gojo, oral (f + m), handjob (m), dry humping, fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), depictions of violence, mentions of yakuza, dirty business dealings, gojo's made up dad and suguru make an appearance

✧ wc: 15,311 (i don't know what to say at this point)

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 1 has been sold to @forest-hashira and two anons!

“So, is this your first time?”

Satoru Gojo would be the end of you — one way or another.

One way would be you sacrificing your life to protect him — fairly run of the mill when it came to guarding someone, the risk of putting your life on the line, though the chance of death usually was fairly slim. You had only come close — twice.

You didn’t care to make it a third.

The other, increasingly more likely, way was that you would lose your mind to his incessant yammering before you even had a chance to neutralize any threat to his life.

You nearly spit out your drink at the question, wiping your mouth with a napkin, before managin to choke it down, “Excuse me?”

And his lips annoyingly curl, “Your first time guarding someone,”

The heir seemed fairly nonchalant, even after his father had sat the both of you down in a room filled with more security agents than the prime minister of Japan himself had, and had lectured him about the importance of staying with you the entire time and to respect your authority — well one out of two wasn’t bad. He’s eating a piece of cake instead of a meal, his fork digging into the back of the cake again and again, toying with his food as he did with you, “I mean, you seem fairly young, but old enough to be entrusted with my safety,”

“Well, since you insisted on going to school, your father needed someone unassuming who looked around your age,” you lean against your hand, your other drumming against the table, as your eyes scanned the area — table of frat boys, group of girls sneaking glances at Gojo, various other students, no real threats — unless you counted the girls’ death daggers towards you, “someone who wouldn’t look out of place with you, raise any suspicions, but who could still protect you,”

His lips curl, as your eyes find their way back to the young heir, “So basically, you had to look like my girlfriend — shouldn’t I hold your hand? Sell the act? All in the name of my safety,”

You jerk your head towards his group of admirers, “I think what we’re doing now is plenty — unless you’d like your guard to get mauled by a bunch of hormonal college girls,”

His eyes slid to his adoring fans, as he pities them with a wave, erupting squeals from them, “I think you could take them,”

“How flattering,” you reply drily, picking at the food in front of you, “now finish your lunch so we can get to our next class on time,”

“Are you still upset that we were late this morning?”

“No, I’m upset that we missed half the class and I had to take the fall for it,” the heir had oh so kindly told the professor that you had made them run late (even though he was the one who spent far too long in the bathroom).

And even though you wouldn’t be attending this school for long, you hoped that you wouldn’t have to make yourself look like a fool the entire time you were here — but — your eyes found Gojo’s again — sticking with Satoru Gojo almost made that a guarantee that you would look like a fool — one way or another.

And you were already the fool — for thinking that a college aged boy would have any real food in his refrigerator. Although, Satoru Gojo was a different breed — instead of alcohol and questionable containers of takeout, there was...sweets.

So. Many. Sweets.

Not just cookies and candy — but literally six different kinds of mochi (for some reason?) and almost any pastry you could possibly think of was stocked in the house. And the freezer was more of the same — seven different containers of ice cream and one aged bag of edamame stuck in the back.

“Gojo?” you stare into the open refrigerator, while Gojo lays back on his couch, scrolling on his phone mindlessly.

“Yeah?”

“Do you have any food?”

“What do you mean? The refrigerator is full of food?” and his voice is thick with genuine confusion and you’re almost wondering how this man survived to this age.

Oh yeah, he’s rich.

You sigh, closing the refrigerator doors, and striding over to him, only to snatch his phone out of his hands, “Sweets are not real food — how do you eat like this and function?”

He only shrugs, lips curled into a grin, “I’m just built different,”

“You mean like a person who won’t make it to age fifty?” you toss his phone back at him, “get up,” you grab your sweatshirt hanging by the door and throw his jacket at him. He barely catches it, as he sits up, his face displeased with your sudden need to get him up.

“Where are we going?”

“So,” Gojo says, his hands in his pockets, as you both walk the aisles of the grocery store, “why did I have to come with you?”

“Because I’m going to show you how to actually shop for groceries, so you don’t have a heart attack and die before my stint with you is up,” you grab essentials and basics — oil, rice, cereal, pasta, spices, flour, sugar (although did he really need sugar with the amount he was already consuming?), “you know it would suck if my client died before we eliminated the other threats on his life,” before you add with a smile, “though I think your eating habits are more likely to kill you,”

“You know men really hate sarcastic women,” he bites back, before something catches his eye in the aisle and he places it in the cart, “major turn off,”

“Well, mission accomplished then,” you roll your eyes, as you look back at the cart to see a box of cookies, “you know when I said you were a moron, I was half kidding, but now,” you lift up the box of cookies, “you have a million cookies at home,”

He pouts — why do you feel like a mother refusing their child their candy at checkout? — “Not these ones,” you take the box and put it back on the shelf where it belonged, and he relents.

“Did you eat like this before college?”

He shook his head, “My meals were prepared for me by the chef at my home, I never really had much of a say in what I ate, or anything really,” and you shake your head, “my father wasn’t really the type to let me handle anything on my own — thus the need for a babysitter,”

You nod, “So no one really taught you how to take care of yourself?” and he shakes his head.

“Guess not, but I guess no time like the present to learn,” he examines the box of baking powder you had just placed in the cart, “like what this is,” and you snort, taking the box from him and placing it back in the cart.

“Maybe by the end of this trip, we’ll have you making it past the age of forty,”

He raises an eyebrow, “I thought you said fifty?”

“The cookies made me lose more faith in you,”

The two of you continue to shop, as you help him pick out vegetables, meat, and other necessities for the house. You separate the things for you and for him meticulously, as the two of you head over to the checkout, and he’s placing everything on the conveyor belt together, including your own things, “No wait, those are mine—”

“Consider it payment,” he stops you, as you continue to try to argue, but he’s only blocking you from the conveyor belt with a raised arm, a real smile on his lips, “just let me do this for you,” And you can’t find any words, so your mouth shuts, and you nod — as you watch him speak with the older cashier with his patented charm.

And the cashier stops you right as you’re leaving, whispering, “That’s a good one, don’t let him go, ok?” and you pause, her words sinking in as blood rushes to your cheeks.

“We’re not—”

“I know,” the older woman chuckles far too knowingly, as she hands you the receipt, “but you never know.”

“You coming?” Gojo calls, turning to look back at you, as he pushes the cart of groceries, and you look from the cashier to him, before fleeing with a quick ‘thank you.’

And as you go home, you glance at Gojo, maybe there was more to him than you initially thought.

“This is so boooooring,” Gojo’s whining for, what you assume is, the billionth time, “I hate philosophy, moral arguments? It’s such bullshit,”

“You know philosophy is literally a subject that encompasses everything right?” you tilt your head watching him lay on the floor as the two of you sit at the table, his head right next to you, as you sit cross legged, “there’s no avoiding it in life,”

“Well can’t I avoid it in school at least? Because college feels very different from real life,” and you roll your eyes, flicking him between the eyes.

“Just write your paper, I already finished mine,” and he perks up.

And he slides his laptop over to you, “Then you can write mine,”

“That’s not happening,” and he groans again, “you know if you spent all the time that you whined working on your paper then you’d be done,”

“Were you this much of a buzzkill when you were in college?” Gojo stares at you, “what do you even do for fun?”

“Why is this relevant to you writing your paper?”

“Why is writing my paper relevant to protecting my life?” and you open and close your mouth, “c’mon give me something, anything,”

“How about this — when you finish a page, I’ll answer a question, any question,” you offer, and he grins, as he sits up and begins to type away at his laptop.

You sit back, lying back and using your phone, until about fifteen minutes later when he’s holding his laptop up, showing you that he completed a page, “That fast?” you’re skeptical, and then you grab his laptop, skimming the page, wondering if he was trying to trick you — he wasn’t. It was good, more than good — it was a wonderful discussion of deontological ethics.

“How did you finish this so fast?” you raise an eyebrow, “you complain so much, but you wrote this page far too quickly,”

He shrugs, “I’m good at everything, sweetheart,” and you roll your eyes, “jealous?”

“Totally,” you scoff, before grinning, “so get back to work,” and he gapes at you, before groaning dramatically, lying back on the floor again.

“Ugh, this is too much work,” he whines again, “I don’t know why I had to take this stupid class,” he grumbles.

“Then why did you?” you scroll through your phone, checking for any new alerts or updates from his father or any other member of the security team, “you have a choice in what classes you sign up for, don’t you?”

And for one of the first times, you saw Satoru’s playfulness ebb away, replaced with almost a bitterness — as bitter as his words were usually sweet, “Maybe most college kids do, but I don’t have a choice in most of the things I do, including the classes I pick,”

You tilt your head, “Your father?” And he nods, “did you even choose your major?”

His eyes drift to the ceiling, “Is it a choice when your father tells you you’re either being groomed to run his company when you graduate or he’s not paying for you to go to school at all?”

“No, it isn’t,” you admit, “but it could be worse, he could have stuck you with a glorified babysitter on top of it,”

He cracks a smile, “I don’t know, maybe I have a thing for babysitters,” and you roll your eyes, cracking a smile.

“Get back to work.”

“Fuck,” Satoru muttered, watching the rain come down as he waited outside the university awning of the building he had just finished his class in. You had left him to go to class by himself — you trusted him enough not to get murdered while in class and on the walk back (high praise) — and said you’d likely just meet him back at the apartment. But now, he didn’t know how he’d get home without getting soaked.

He checks his phone for any rideshares nearby, but there were none. And he would rather go drown in the rain than call his father’s driver, and guarantee a lecture about being prepared for “any given situation.”

Shit. Maybe he would just risk walking.

So he did. The rain soaked through his clothes all too quick, the wet fabric clinging to his skin, and the cold leeching the warmth from his body. And he couldn’t help but think if you were with him, you would have remembered to bring an umbrella.

Weird, when did he ever really rely on anyone else?

Yes, his father had maids, cooks, and personal shoppers when he was growing up — but they weren’t people he relied on — he did, but it was expected. It was their job. And yes, he was a job for you too — but…it was different.

Satoru didn’t know when it happened but he had gotten used to your presence in his life. Whether it was at home or in class, you were always there. And it wasn’t as annoying as he thought it would be. It was…nice to have someone there to lean on. But, as he glanced up at the storm clouds, holding a hand above his eyes — rolling dark clouds with no signs of the rain letting up — this would be his reality once the threats were a distant memory.

“Gojo!” He blinks, his eyes snapping forward, and he sees someone coming over the horizon.

It was you — umbrella in hand, as your footsteps echoed with the splashes of water from the rain that collected on the ground. And you found your way to him, holding the umbrella over his head. He stared at you as you grew closer, wondering if you were real. And he wasn’t surprised you found him —

“How did you know?” He asks when you stand, catching your breath, short pants, as your eyes flicker up to his.

“You always forget your umbrella, so I figured you needed one,” you shrugged, “plus I finished my meeting early so I came to get you,” and he only stares at you, “what?”

And he only shakes his head, as he takes the umbrella from your hand, fingers brushing, as he holds it up over the both of you, your shoulders brushing as you begin to walk home. And he found himself wishing for a split second that the threats would never stop.

“Just wondering if it’s in your job description to protect me from colds too,” and you snort, lips curling into the same smile he loved to see.

“With you? It is.”

“A party?”

“Yes, known as a gathering of people where—”

“I don’t need you to define the word,” you grit your teeth, as you watch him pull out shirts from his closet, holding them up, before shrugging, “do you know the kind of danger you could put yourself in by going?”

“I know, the party might go into a frenzy at the sight of me, think of all the students who’d glare at you then,” he grins, as he finally settles on an outfit — charcoal gray shirt and a blue button down, “might have to call another bodyguard to guard you instead, princess,”

“Aren’t you the princess if you’re the one being guarded?” you bite back, and he only laughs, hands in his pockets, “Gojo, you have serious threats that have been levied—”

“Against my father—”

“And you, the heir to your father’s company,” you cut him off, crossing your arms, “are you seriously going to risk our lives because you want to get drunk and fuck around with a bunch of idiots?”

The answer was yes, of course.

And now here you were, stuck babysitting this spoiled heir at a party. You hadn’t really been to any parties — hadn’t bothered to. You had gotten through college at a young age, perks of skipping a few grades, and you ended up in the family business regardless — so you didn’t bother to party much. Not when you had things to accomplish — babysitting a drunk heir wasn’t one of them.

It has started as you expected. Gojo had flitted away from your side the first moment he got, disappearing into the throng of horny and drunk college students. You wove your way through the crowd, careful not to trip over the students making out, dancing, or drinking on nearly any available surface. The smell of beer and cheap cologne wafted through this dorm. And you had almost given up on finding him when you spotted him stuck to the sides of three girls, all of them far too eager to hang off his every word.

You sighed, this was going to be a long night.

“You one of Satoru’s girlfriends?” you glance to your side and see Suguru Geto in person. You had learned all about Satoru Gojo and the people he hung around. Like those three girls — one of them had a long distance boyfriend, the other had a cheating situationship she was trying to make jealous, and the other just wanted to fuck him for the experience. Suguru Geto was one of the only friends of Gojo you had liked from what you had read about him — humble background, on scholarship at the college, but one of the best students here — and a philosophy student of all things, the very subject his best friend hated.

You want to say no, but unfortunately, you have no idea what the idiot has been saying to other people, “Something like that,” you sip at your drink to make the bitter words slide down, “why? Are you?”

A chuckle slips past his lips, as he takes a swig of his drink, “Well I already like you better than the others. You have a sense of humor and seemingly more than two brain cells,”

“Don’t give me too much credit,” you snorted, leaning against a wall, “I did end up here after all,”

“Fair enough, how’d he convince you to come?” And you shake your head — good question. What choice did you really have? You could have let him go alone, but probably not a good look

“I don’t even know honestly, feel like I’ve been dragged here to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid,” you glance at him and the gaggle of girls, “though maybe I already fucking failed at that,”

Geto shrugs, as his gaze slips from Gojo to you, “I mean until he sticks his tongue down one of their throats, I think you’re doing pretty well,”

You laugh, “Good to know,” and you both continue to chat, and unbeknowst to you, while your focus is torn away from Gojo, his attention is fully on you.

If looks could kill, Satoru imagined his crystal eyes were nothing more than daggers ready to strike, as he watches you and Suguru talk.

It was his fucking idea to come to this party, so why were you having more fun than he was?

He swirled his drink miserably — he had barely taken a sip of the beer poured for him — why would he when it tasted like piss? He didn’t understand why people liked to drink — especially when they could eat mochi instead — but now, as he stares at you and Suguru, maybe he was starting to understand.

He can’t hear what either of you are saying over the blaring music and the chatter of students surrounding him, but he can see the smile on your lips and the laugh that left them.

Why the fuck do you look so happy to talk to Suguru?

You seemed so bored when he was with you—and did you just fucking laugh again at something Suguru said?

The crinkle of plastic and the distinct feeling of a spill made his gaze snap to his hand — he just crushed his plastic drink cup. He sighed, as he simply placed it among the other abandoned drink cups on a nearby table, before wiping off his hand with a napkin.

Why did he even care? You were nothing but a nuisance anyway. All you did was follow him around, make him go to class on time, make sure he was safe, care about his well-being—

What the fuck was he thinking?

His eyes couldn’t help but slide back to you as he tried to enjoy the girls' company, their slight touches and soft pouts and sweet words not going unnoticed by him. But that was how it always was. Once people found out he was rich, people wanted to be his friend, they wanted to date him, they wanted him — but not really him, they wanted his money.

First world problems, right?

But you — you hadn’t been like that. You were irritatingly punctual, unfazed by his money, didn’t care in the slightest about his father or who he was — you just wanted to do your job. And he was your job, for the time being.

And now he got to see you smile — your lips perfectly curled in a smile that both he wanted to see all the time and grated on his nerves — but you were smiling at someone else. And Suguru no less.

“C’mon Satoru, you gonna make eyes at your boyfriend all night?” Aiko said, nudging him teasingly, her words far too slurred.

“Help us finish these shots,” Yumiko whines, as she offers him a shot, urging it into his hands.

He’s grimacing, he hates alcohol — he hates how he feels during and after; he hates the disgusting, metallic taste; and if it couldn’t get worse, he’s a lightweight. He stares at the shot.

“It’s just one shot,” Misaki grins, holding up her own, clinking hers to his, “you’re already three shots behind everyone else,”

And he’s about to open his mouth to refuse — make up an excuse of having to wake up early or stomach being unsettled — and that’s when you catch his attention. You were laughing now, a noise far too pretty for his liking, as you shoved Suguru’s chest playfully.

Fuck it.

He downs the shot, the liquid searing down his throat, dragging down until it settles in a burning pool in his stomach. Finally he tears his gaze away as the girls offer him another shot — as you grin at Suguru — this was going to be a long night.

“Hey,” Geto jerks his head, “you might want to deal with that,”

You whip your head around.

“Oh what the—“

Gojo was hanging all over the girls he was with, barely able to stand on his two feet, as he swayed from side to side — his cheeks glowed with the telltale glow that told everyone he had been drinking (if that wasn’t obvious by literally everything else).

Fuck.

You had kept an eye on him. You swore he had only taken two shots of alcohol, how was he this drunk already? You examine and sniff the two shot glasses he used — no peculiar smell or residue — you run through the gamut of tests you could do on hand and conclude two things: 1) Gojo wasn't drugged and 2) he was a lightweight.

But that didn’t stop him from acting like he wasn’t, as girls egged him on to take more shots, and from the way they were eyeing him, their intentions were anything but pure.

You sigh, walking over, slipping past a drunk couple making out, a person passed out and sleeping on the floor, and a cluster of cheering onlookers as a student chugged what you can only assume was a disgusting concoction of alcohol.

Until you finally reached his side.

“I think you’ve had enough, isn’t that right, Satoru?” And he’s blinking at you, before he’s grinning, slurring your name.

“You’re no fun,” and he’s clinging all over you, his hands curled around your waist, “such a buzzkill, don’t even like to have any fun with me,”

“Looks like you had too much fun without me,” you murmur, your arm slinks around the middle of his back, “let’s get you back to your dorm,”

“Hey he’s fine, he’s having fun with us,” Aiko glared at you, a hiccup leaving her lips, “don’t go crashing our good time because he’s not interested in you,”

“Yeah why don’t you go hang out with Geto or whatever? We’ll take good care of him. C’mon Toru, let’s go to my place in Shibuya, I have a huge house there,” Yumiko says, barely coherent, and you raise your eyebrows at the nickname, as she leans in to whisper, alcohol wafting off her breath, as she lifts up her middle finger, “fuck off,”

Honestly the only reason you can understand the gist of what she meant was because of her middle finger. Their other friend is passed out on the couch.

“I don’t think any of you can even care for yourselves,” you scoff, and Satoru is hanging all over you already, mumbling words you can’t make out in your ear, “I’m taking him home, you should take your friend home,”

“Geto, wanna help me out?” And Geto nods, trying to take Gojo other arm, but Gojo pushes him away, instead clinging to you, you stumble a moment before catching both of you, “Gojo—“

“No, wanna go home with just you,” he’s officially whining, and you’re having flashbacks to the summer you spent babysitting, but — you look at the drunk white porcupine clinging to you — somehow this idiot is worse than the kid.

You sigh, “Geto, make sure that girl gets home safe,” you gesture to the one passed out on the couch, “I’m going to deal with this one,”

Geto stares at the two of you, the far too tall Satoru hunched over onto your body, “Can you—“

But you’re already walking away, able to drag Gojo away with relative ease (it’d be far easier if he’d pull his own weight, but at least he was quiet).

That was, until you got outside. And then the whining began again.

“How can you treat me like this?” Gojo’s hands cling to your arm, his face buried in your shoulder, “you shouldn’t ignore the one you’re supposed to protect!” and he’s shaking his head like a petulant child, his bottom lip quivering.

“You’re the one who left my side, not the other way around,” you grumble, as he’s finally beginning to walk by himself but he’s still stuck to your side like an overgrown cactus, “you’re the one who wanted to go to this goddamn party,”

“Yeah but you’re the one who's supposed to protect me,” he pouts, as he stops right in front of his building, “I can’t do your job for you,” and he’s finally standing in front of you, his cheeks and nose still flushed from the alcohol, his hand still clutching at yours, “do you even know how to do your job?”

You grit your teeth. Would punching the person you’re hired to protect be a breach of contract? You rub your temples, it may come to that.

“You’re an idiot,” you jerk your hand away, shaking your head, “my job is to protect you, not to stop you from doing stupid college boy shit,”

He’s crossing his arms, “I could have been in danger — what if that alcohol was poisoned? I feel really sick,” he grips, holding his stomach with pursed lips, and you’re thoroughly unimpressed.

“I looked at it, it wasn’t poisoned,” you raise an eyebrow, before sighing, and shrugging your shoulder bag off your shoulders, rooting around in the pouch, “but if you want, I have something in my bag that will turn your stomach inside out and we’ll be sure to get the poison out,”

“Nooooo, no! I’m fine,” he’s shaking his head, his voice grows soft, “I just need to get to bed,” he mutters, and you roll your eyes, but grab him by his wrist.

“Come on, we’re going inside,” and it’s a struggle to get to his apartment — more like a luxury penthouse — on the top floor, but somehow you get him inside and shepherd into his bedroom. And he’s shrugging off his button up before pulling off the shirt underneath.

Your gaze snaps away, cheeks burning, your eyes trying to erase the glimpse of his fucking unfairly chiseled physique — complete a surprisingly broad chest and shoulders — how the fuck was that hiding under his clothes? He looked like a stick normally with his clothes on.

“See something you like?” he’s snickering, as you hear the click of his belt and the and sounds of rustling — assuredly stepping out of his jeans.

“No, just not used to clients stripping for me,” you turn your back to him, as you hear the creak of the mattress and the crinkling of his comforter and sheets.

“Am I just a client to you?” his words were still mildly slurred, and you knew he’d be pouting if he had enough brain cells to do so, “you can turn around, I’m under the covers,” he adds with a grumble.

You turn and see him curled up under his blanket and you have to bite back your smile — now he most assuredly looked like one of the kids you used to babysit.

“Well what else am I supposed to see you as, Gojo?” you cross your arms, and he’s muttering under his breath, “what?”

“That’s just it. You don’t even call me by my first name,” he’s brooding, face twisted in a scowl, “I don’t have a lot of people I trust. Most people are just after my money or my looks,” he looks at you, “you’re different. Kinda weird,”

You quirk an eyebrow, “is that a good thing?”

“Well I trust you,” he admits, and you note the tips of his ears barely visible outside the comforter are red — is it still the flush from the alcohol? “I don’t really have many of those,”

And you’re taken aback — you thought you were nothing but a nuisance to this party obsessed prince, but maybe there was more to him than you thought. You toyed the ring on your finger, maybe you had more in common than you thought.

“Thank you, I’m glad you do, because you can, trust me that is,” you say softly, “good night, Satoru.”

And he does sleep after that, as you spend the night keeping watch, half to ensure his safety and the other to make sure he slept on his side in case he threw up

(and he did, twice).

“I need to talk to you,” Suguru Geto barely looked up from his phone when he saw Satoru in front of him, his best friend looking more irritable than usual — his usually bored affect seemed to be on holiday, “Suguru?”

“I heard you the first time, what is it?” and Satoru snatches the phone from Suguru’s hands, “what the fuck—“

“What were you doing last night?” and Suguru tilts his head, before rubbing his temple.

“Give me my fucking phone—“

“What did you talk to her about?” And Suguru stares at him, his brow furrowed, smart mouth ready with a reply about a stint in a spa or a retreat was needed before his lips curl.

“Oh. Her,” and he’s leaning back, a lazy shrug, “this and that,”

“Cut the shit, Suguru, do you like her or not? Did you get her number?” And Satoru is trying to unlock Suguru’s phone, as Suguru watches with a tilt of his head and a wry grin on his lips, “huh? what is it?”

“So you like her, that much is clear,” and he’s crossing his arms, “I assume you didn’t tell her or you wouldn’t have come in swinging and stealing?”

Satoru stares at him, slack jawed and cheeks turning a deep pink that only carnations could rival, “No! She’s just a…friend of the family, and she’s not supposed to be with—“

“She told me she liked you,” his heart catches, mouth falling open, before Suguru’s lips curl, “well, she said that she was one of the many, rather,”

Satoru’s cheeks burn, “It’s not like that, she barely even fucking looks at me. Can you believe that? Me?” and he gestures up and down his body.

“I see your ego is still intact,” Suguru scoffs, shaking his head, before leaning back on his palms, “just tell her how you feel, Satoru, what’s the problem?”

“The problem is I have no idea how she feels and it’s all your fault!” And Suguru raises an eyebrow, “you charmed her and I’m sure you’re the only one she’s thinking about now,” he covers his face, “and after what I said to her last night…” he couldn’t believe he admitted that you were the one of the only ones he trusted. And he called you weird.

He honestly didn’t know what was worse.

“What did you even say?”

“Say to who?” and Satoru turns, finding you standing behind him, arms crossed.

And Satoru cuts Suguru off before he can say a thing, “Not important. What are you doing here—“ you grab him by the wrist, a wave of heat makes his nearly burn red as you begin to drag him away, “what are you—“

“Bye Geto,” you say, waving at the raven haired student, before taking Geto’s phone and tossing it back to him, “I’m taking the idiot—“

“HUH?”

“Good luck. He might need to be fed — he’s in a mood,” and he waves back, same smile on his lips.

“What did you two do, adopt me?” Satoru grumbles as you pull him away, “where the hell are you dragging me? How did you even find me?”

“The post hangover suits you well, we have to get to class, and I placed a tracker on you,” and he’s jerking his hand away, staring at you, “I have to be able to find you, don’t I?”

“Where?”

You tilt your head, “Why would I tell you? Don’t worry about, I’ll remove it after we’re done here,”

You weren’t going to budge on this — and if he argued more, you would take it up with his father. And he would like to avoid that as much as possible. He sticks his hands in his pockets, , “I’m tired, can’t you just go and take notes for me?”

“I thought you’d be more concerned about the threats against your life, instead of sending your bodyguard off to your class for you” you hiss, and he’s pouting again, unable to meet your gaze, “what’s your problem, Satoru?”

And he pauses, the retort on lips dying as his brain looped in an infinite spiral of his name on your lips, “You called me ‘Satoru,’”

You tilt your head, “you told me to last night,” and then you add with a wicked grin, “remember? When you said I was one of the only people you trusted,” you tease, but he’s too busy hearing his name repeat in his head again and again, “Satoru—“

“Better be careful, sweetheart,” his lips curl into that annoyingly charming smile, “keep calling me by my first name and I may fall for you,”

You glare at him, before rolling your eyes, “I see you’re feeling better now,” you walk forward, glancing back at him, “you coming?”

And his wrist tingles still tingle from your touch, his lips quirk into a smile, “Yeah.”

“Why did you become a bodyguard?” Satoru asks you, the movie you had haphazardly chosen still ongoing had all become background noise while you spoke, the illumination from the television screen being the only thing that kept your faces lit in the dark living room (he had insisted on shutting the lights off for an “authentic movie watching experience”).

It had been a few weeks, with no signs of the threat posed ever being eliminated — still new threats were being made, and the Gojo family was still on edge.

But you were on edge for a whole other reason.

His fingers were still shoved in the bag of kettle corn he had been snacking on this entire time, but you could feel his gaze on you, instead of the movie.

“What do you mean?” your eyes slide to him, as your phone’s ringer goes off with a spam email, and you silence it, keeping it on vibrate for emergencies, “and what’s with the sudden question?”

The two of you had settled into your routine — days spent in class, meals shared, grocery shopping, and nights spent either in or out — but again, always together. And, it wasn’t bad — some of it was fun, to the point you almost forgot you were working.

But you were working. Even now, as your legs are thrown up on the couch, crossed underneath you, your knee brushing against his thigh.

He shrugs, “You owe me a question, remember?” and he reminds you of your promise from weeks ago — you had wondered why he had never asked you anything that night, “You never talk about yourself. You implied you have your degree, but not much else. From what I’ve seen of you, you’re intelligent — you could have done anything, why this?” and his lips curl into that mischievous, “unless you just had to guard me when you found out it was me,”

You toss a throw pillow at him, but he catches it with ease, “If only your body was as bulletproof as your body,” and he huffs out a laugh, as you sigh, “why are you interested anyway?”

“Because I am,” you scoff.

“Nice reasoning,” he only grins, a thousand watt even in the dark.

“I thought so,” and he’s holding the pillow to his chest, “c’mon, can you not tell me even one thing about yourself?”

He wasn’t going to let this go was he? And you relent, chewing on your lip, “My family has been in this business for years — my grandfather, my father, my uncles, and my cousins, and I wanted to be one too. To protect people — it’s a lot more work than it seems. It’s quick thinking, critical reasoning, and analytical skills. It’s all I ever wanted to do after watching my dad do it,” you say softly, “but he didn’t think I was capable of it. He thought I was too soft. Too weak. So I decided to prove him wrong,”

“You weak? Has your father met you?” and you huff a laugh, “I’m serious,” his cerulean pools meeting yours with not a ripple of hesitancy in them, “I’ve seen you — I don’t I’ve met anyone this determined, or stubborn,” he adds with a smirk.

“I’m stubborn?” you gape at him, “this coming from the king of stubborn,”

“Only if you’ll be my queen,” and you roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn, as your gaze turns back to the movie — why did your heart catch at his words? “but trust me, I’m very flexible in other aspects,”

“Oh my god, is every other sentence that leaves your mouth a pick-up line?” and he opens his mouth, “don’t say ‘only for you,’ or I will be the only threat you have to worry about,”

“Promise?” you grab another pillow, but he catches your wrist before you can toss it. Your breath catches, and you can’t meet his gaze — you can’t, because you know if you do— but then he whispers your name.

And you can’t help it. You look at him. His eyes are so pretty. They were really the first things that struck you when you met him — that was before he opened his mouth. They looked like they contained multitudes, a far too beautiful ocean tucked behind sunglasses and an irritated scowl. But it wasn’t a secret that Satoru Gojo was attractive — especially not when every other person glared at you for simply being in his presence. But physical attractiveness meant little if a person wasn’t good — because superficiality could only take you so far.

And you knew what it was like to be only judged superficially — and by the way Satoru’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when these people chatted him up, he was far too used to it.

And once he did speak, you had written him off as another rich kid — you had seen them a dime a dozen throughout your schooling and from the people your family was protected to hire. But there was something about him — something you couldn’t quite shake, even though every part of you was telling to do so.

“What is it, Satoru?” And his fingers tug you a little closer, gently, his hand loose enough for you to slip away, but you don’t. Why don’t you?

“You don’t always have to have your guard up,” his voice is soft, far too soft for the far too loud heir, “it’s okay to open up,”

You shake your head, but still unable to pull away, “It’s dangerous,” and he laughs, a sound that only warms the thin icy barrier between you both, melting it to nothing.

“Isn’t danger the whole reason we met?” And now his thumb brushes up and down against your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse roaring just underneath.

You pull away again, shaking your head, as you cross your arms, trying to hold your resolve together, “I can’t do my job if I’m distracted,” and you couldn’t, even now, you weren’t evaluating any risks, you weren’t trying to find the source of the threats — no, you were too busy trying not to inch closer to your client, trying not to look at his lips, trying not to give in to what you wanted.

“And I’m a distraction?” he looks far too pleased, but a thought seems to sour his smirk, “I thought Suguru was more of one,” and his lips are caught in a slight pout.

“Geto was just keeping me company while you entertained those girls hanging on your every word,” you can’t dull the point to your words, and it replaces his pout with a grin.

“So you were jealous,”

“You’re the one who was jealous — you could have killed Suguru with your glare alone,”

“But you didn’t deny it,” and it makes you stop — why didn’t you deny it?

“I can’t do this,” and you’re pulling away, before flicking off the tv and rising from the couch your phone in hand, turning towards the hallway, “it’s late we should go to bed—“ but he’s catching your wrist again, “Gojo—“

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you hated how gentle his fingers felt around your wrist, “how are you supposed to protect me if you’re too busy running away from me?”

“I’m great at multitasking,” and he’s drawing closer to you, his soft footfalls against the carpet, even as you step away from him, “my job is to protect you, we can’t get distracted—“

“I thought you were so good at multitasking,” he chuckles, his fingers find your wrist again, slipping to intertwine with your own, fingers interlaced, and your phone falls from your fingers and onto the couch, “what I said that night when I was drunk was true — I don’t have a lot of people I trust. People don’t understand. They put me on a pedestal or they don’t want me, they want the concept of me — not the reality,”

“I’m not licensed as a therapist you know,” and he’s sighing.

“Do you always have to deflect with humor? Because if we both do that, we’ll never get through a conversation,” and he squeezes your hand, “which I guess I don’t mind if that means you’ll stay,”

“Satoru—“

“We don’t have to do anything now — we don’t have to do anything at all,” and you can feel his words warming your skin, “but don’t you feel something?”

You hesitate, and you can’t look at him, “No, I don’t,”

“You’re not a very good liar — don’t they teach you that in bodyguard academy?”

You snort, holding your head, “Is that where you imagined I got my training done?”

“Well, you don’t exactly like to share, now do you?” he’s stepping forward again, and you can’t bring yourself to run away anymore.

“I shouldn’t,” and you hear the faint sound of his breath hitching, “but I do,”

You don’t need to look at him to hear the smile on his lips, “so maybe it’s a distraction worth having,”

“But—” and he’s gently turning you to face him, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your face, heat blooming with his touch, “Satoru…”

“Why do you keep saying my name when you know I like hearing it?” he’s teasing, but you’re not shying away from his touch, as his fingers cup your chin now, upwards, so you meet his gaze, “maybe we should have had you pretend to be my girlfriend,”

You chuckle, “Oh I could see that going wrong in so many ways,” and he’s leaning even closer, as he’s left the line you’d drawn far behind, marred it with his touch, and is luring you over to stumble over the edge with him.

“Is this one of them?”

“Probably,” and his lips brush against yours — he tastes sweet, the taste of kettle corn lingers, as his fingers cup your cheek now, and find purchase on his shoulder. It’s brief, a soft press that leaves you far too breathless, as if his touch had taken the air from your lungs, only to leave heat behind, “definitely,”

“Is that a good thing or—” and your lips find his this time, a gasp you swallow with a smirk, and he melts into your touch, eager fingers grasping at the front of his shirt. And he responds in kind, his fingers tracing a path, as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand settles on the back of your neck.

His touch set every nerve ending on fire — a desperate wildfire that burned a trail across your mind and body — leaving only the crave of his touch behind, that left you wanting more, needing more.

“Was that good?” you murmur, as you take in your handiwork, his pink lips were bitten red by your kisses, his marble skin a lovely flush, and his gaze far too needy. God, it’s far too easy to get lost in him — pull your anchor from the shore and get lost in his gaze and touch, “god I shouldn’t ask that, we shouldn’t be doing this—” but your body refuses to pull away, and you don’t think by the grasp he has on you, that you’d be able to anyway.

But he only gives you the same answer to each of your statements — he kisses you again, slower and more languid this time, as the two of you walk towards the bedroom, your hands reaching for each other and the walls, as you both stumble into his bedroom.

“We don’t—” he says, between kisses, “I didn’t—”

“I didn’t either, but—” you can’t stop touching him, you don’t want to, despite the logical part of you screaming at you to leave his room, it’s overridden by just how much you want him. He’s frustrating, he’s an idiot, he’s sweet, he’s cute, and he’s a little pathetic — but you liked that in a man. Every sense of logic is screaming at you to stop — but it all turns to white noise “but I don’t want to stop.”

He’s grinning as he pulls you into another kiss, his arms wrapping around his waist, pressing you against him, “That addicted already?” lips parting as he kisses down your neck, pulse jumping under his touch.

“You’re just lucky Geto didn’t get to me first,” and he furrows his brow, before his teeth graze against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, drawing a gasp from your lips, “Satoru, what was that for—”

“So everyone knows you’re mine? Including Suguru,” he’s sucking lightly at the mark, soothing his tongue, “and I’ll make sure he knows,”

“Oh, I trust you’ll be subtle,” and he’s guiding you towards his bed, both of you falling onto it, his knee pressing your legs apart, as he hovers over you, his ocean gaze dark as a storm ridden sea.

“Oh you know me, princess,” and his knee presses against your clothed cunt, rubbing against it teasingly, “subtlety is my specialty,”

“Subtle as a truck,” you murmur, and he’s laughing as he kisses you again, making your lips curl, as his hands slide up your sides, squeezing your hips, “Satoru, please,”

“What’s the fun if I don’t get to tease you?” he’s kissing needy kisses to your neck, as his knee doesn’t relent, grinding lightly against your increasingly wet core, slick leeching through the thin material of your shorts, “gotta make sure you want it right?”

“You treat all the people you bring home this well?” and he’s pausing, lips against your neck, “I didn’t mean anything—”

“You’re the first,” you stare up at him, and he’s hesitant for once when usually he’s always barreling forward, “I’ve never brought anyone here,” and he licks his lips, a deeper flush settling over his porcelain skin, “I’ve never actually—”

And you blink, “Really?”

He huffs, “Is it that surprising—”

“I mean a little, from the way everyone acts around you, and the way you act—”

“Well, ‘act’ is the key word, now isn’t it?” he’s licking his lips as he looks down at you, “it’s easy to act when you know what they expect from you — a role to play,”

“Well, the role’s been filled, so how about you just be yourself for me?” you murmur softly, a featherlight touch as you trace the curve of his jaw, and his lips find his smile under your delicate touch, “so I can ask, is this your first time like you asked me?”

And he’s leaning up to kiss you, your hand resting against his chest, his heartbeat galloping under your touch, “And if I said yes?”

You smile, before flipping him onto his back, his gaze wide as he stares up at you, “Then we better make it memorable.”

“Please, I want to—“ his soft pants left his perfect lips, chest heaving as your fingers curled around his erection, far too hard from just what you had done. You’d stripped yourself and him bare — your inhibitions left far behind — as your lips kissed the tip of his aching cock.

“Lemme make you feel good, Satoru,” you murmur, looking up at him with fluttering eyes, your fingers smearing his pre cum along his length, and he’s pressing his head into the pillow, “s’big, can’t wait to feel you inside me,” you murmur, and you slowly pump him, drawing moan after moan from his lips.

“Won’t last long—can’t—“ he’s biting his lip, his hips thrusting into your touch, before your lips suck at his tip again, and he’s gone, cumming hard all over your face and fingers. God, it never felt that good when he touched himself. Your fingers even brushing against him made him want to cum almost instantly, your soft touch and lips were enough to send him over the edge over and over again.

He’s panting, eyes fluttering open to see you licking your lips clean with your tongue, as you meet his gaze with a grin, slowly sucking on each one of your fingers until you’ve cleaned yourself of his cum.

“Princess, fuck,” he’s lying back on the pillow, as your lips slowly kiss back up his body, your tongue dragging between the fluttering muscles of his stomach and chest.

“Already hard again?” You murmur, a smirk on your lips, “so sensitive for me,”

He’s keening at your words, a whimper leaving his lips. His eyes are blown out in pleasure as he meets your gaze, and you kiss him again, sloppy and messy, as his tongue brushes against yours, your clothed pussy grinding against his erection.

“Please,” he can’t help the words leaving his lips, “I need you,”

“Is this the first time you’ve begged for something?” You tease him, smirk on your lips as your thumb teases one of his nipples, pulling a gasp from his lips, “such a good boy,”

He hissed at your praise, “fuck—“

And you’re grinding against him, he’s already embarrassingly hard, blood rushing back to his cock as if it never left, as it drags against the all too wet fabric of your panties. And every small moan that leaves your lips leaving him needing more, his pre cum mixing with your cum that seeps through your panties, and is the second time he comes with you gonna be just grinding against each other on this bed? But he can’t help it if you keep nibbling at his neck like that, your pretty little pants in his ear, the head of his dick catching on your clit — so fucking good.

“Toru, c-close, ngh, g’nna cum—“ and he’s nodding, forcing his eyes open to watch you cum, your chest shaking, as you hover above him, your eyes squeezed shut and lips parted as you said his name.

“S’good,” he’s grunting, “Cum f’me,” and you both do, the slick and stickiness between your bodies almost unbearable, as you both pant, as you rest your head against his shoulder.

The silence sinks in for a moment, as you kiss his cheek, “we can stop here if you want,” your voice is soft, nose brushing against his neck, “don’t want to make you—“

And he’s flipping you onto your back, his fingers finding the waistband of your shorts, your breath hitching as he drags the material down your legs, and tosses it behind him, “I want this, I want you, and I won’t stop saying it until you believe it,” he leans down, breath warming your breasts through your shirt, before his lips suck at your clothed nipples, making you shiver, “you like that, huh?”

“Shut up,” your cheeks burn, but he’s only tugging your shirt over your head and off, his gaze hot as he drags his eyes down your exposed body, and it makes you squirm, “Satoru — please—“

“Now who’s the one doing the begging?” he leans down to suck on your nipple, while his fingers toy with the other between his thumb and forefinger, “I wanna learn what makes you feel good — wanna make you cum under my touch, wanna taste you,” he switches sides, his teeth grazing the skin of your breast, sucking a mark before soothing it with his tongue, “mine,”

“Satoru, fuck, I want—“ and his fingers trace down your body, making you gasp, he’s kissing down your chest and then your stomach, tongue dipping into your bellybutton, “you fucking—“

“Gotta make you feel good don’t I?” he has a shit eating grin on his lips, as he settles between your thighs, and his fingers press against the growing wet patch on your panties, “though it looks like you’re already feeling good,”

You bite back a whimper, “Are you gonna make me feel good or are you gonna keep talking—“ you moan when his thumb bears down on your needy clit, rubbing it through the nearly translucent fabric of your underwear.

“What was that, sweetheart?” And he’s snapping the waistband of your panties against your skin, “couldn’t hear you,”

“You fucker—“ and he’s kissing your clothed cunt through the wet fabric, nose brushing against your clit, making you nearly shake, as he inhales before he moans.

“So sweet, must taste even sweeter,” he murmurs before tugging your underwear down, before you’re kicking it off, making him chuckle, “so eager,” and you scowl up at him, ineffective from the way lips are parted, “you’re so cute,”

“I’m not cute,” you pout, and he’s laughing, a noise you could drown in, just as you do his eyes.

“You’re very cute, and I’ll tell you as many times as it takes you to believe it,” and his lips press soft kisses to your thighs, “my cute bodyguard, you gonna guard my heart as well as you do my body?”

And before you can reply his breath is warming your soaked cunt, his fingers parting your folds apart, your clit was puffy, your sex slick with your mixed juices, “so pretty, this all just for me?” And you hiss as he holds your outer lips apart, “so this is what your pussy looks like, huh?” And your thighs are twitching, trying to shut, but his palms hold you apart, his heated gaze meeting your shy ones, “you’re perfect, don’t hide from me, you’ve done enough of that,” and he kisses your clit, making you moan, “and I won’t have that anymore,”

“Satoru—“ and his tongue drags over the length of your dripping pussy experimentally, tip of his tongue flicking against your clit, fuck, how can he this good at this? Your toes are already curling as he groans, his fingers sliding under your thighs, and tugging you impossibly closer to his face. Your fingers weave into his white locks, “‘ngh—

“Be a good girl and take it,” he grunts against you, slurping your juices, the sounds of his tongue buried in your cunt, fucking you open, dragging across your walls, “taste s’fucking good, how’d I hold out this long without tasting you?” And your eyes flutter open at his groans, seeing him grind down on the sheets, so fucking horny from eating you out, “g’nna just cum from your taste alone, Princess,” you’re so incredibly soft, so soft, despite your walls being so tough, and it makes only eat you eat you from the inside out.

You’re so close, and all you hear is the sounds of his greedy tongue swallowing you whole, and the sound of your heartbeat and short gasps. Your walls flutter around his tongue, your thighs twitching under his touch, hips jolting forward to meet his touch, his tongue so fucking deep that you can’t see straight, “Toru, please, I’m so close—“

And you feel him groan into your pussy, redoubling his efforts before his fingers find your clit and rub at it while he sucks at your cunt. You cum hard, fingernails digging into his scalp, as your back arches as he eagerly eats you out through your orgasm. The wet squelch of your cunt and his tongue slurping against you, drinking every drop you offer him.

And then finally he’s pulling away with a pop, his chin and mouth dripping with your release and his spit, pink tongue darting out to clean up your cum from his face, wiping off the rest as he looked up at you from white lashed half lidded eyes.

And you can’t even speak, still coming down from your high, as he kisses up your body again, your thighs still shaking from your orgasm, your fingers reaching for his cheek, tracing his jaw, before cupping his cheek.

“How the fuck do you know how to do that well?” And he flashes a pretty smile, as he drags his thumb down your lips.

“I said I was a virgin, I didn’t say I didn’t know how to do some things — and as you know, I’m an excellent student,” and you huff, raising an eyebrow, “and I’m naturally good at everything,”

“And always so humble,” he laughs, before he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his sweet lips, and you’re rolling him over onto his back, his erection slick with precum, pressing against your sensitive cunt, “let me make you feel good now,” you murmur, his cock twitching against you, “wanna ride you, Toru, need you in me,”

And he’s hissing, as he moves to sit against the headboard, “You keep talking like that princess, I’m g’nna cum before you even—“ and your fingers are reaching between your bodies, and you’re stroking him, smearing his precum over the length of his shaft, making his hips jerk, “fuck—”

You’re so fucking pretty — your teeth baring down on your bottom lip, as you straddle him, hovering still, his aching tip barely brushing against your dripping cunt, “are you sure?” you murmur, eyes meeting his own, and his lips quirk into a smile.

“Never been more sure of anything,” and you sink onto him, thick length parting your folds, and he groans, as you fit him in your pussy, inch by inch, until your hips are flush. And fuck, he’s never felt anything better — pleasure runs up and down his body, as his hands find their way to your hips.

You’re tense at first, your back slightly arched, and when he shifts under you, a moan is ripped from your lips, as you begin to adjust to his size, “s’big, Toru, gonna make it hard for me to last too, feels too good,” you’re mumbling, and he’s holding his hips taut, making sure not to move — or else, he’s sure he’d cum in one stroke, “g’nna move ok?” and he’s nodding desperately, your walls already fluttering around him — slick and warm, better anything he’d ever felt.

You lift up to the tip, before beginning to rock steadily up and down, as he moans, your sweet cunt swallowing him eagerly, as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. Your chest bounces as you ride him, and he can’t resist leaning forward to take a hardened bud in his mouth, your moan making his cock twitch inside you. And he knows why people become addicted to sex — hell, he knew was an addict for it now, but only with you.

“Fuck, never felt anything this good before, sweetheart, feel s’perfect for me,” he’s grunting, the coil in his stomach growing tighter, as your pace grows more and more sloppy. He wasn’t going to last long, and neither were you from the way you were groaning his name again and again. The wet squelch and smacks of your bodies meeting again and again, only making it harder to hold back, and when he looks to see a white ring of your precum pooling around the base of his dick, he’s nearly gone, “fuck, baby, need you to cum with me,”

“It’s okay, pretty boy, cum for me,” he keens at the praise, but he’s stubborn, as you established, and he won’t cum until you do too — and so he ensures it, reaching between your bodies to rub meanly at your clit before meeting your thrusts with his own.

And his tip brushes against that spot that has your vision blurring and toes curling, “Toru, ngh, I’m—” and you’re cumming hard around him, making him spill his warm and thick seed inside your cunt, and he’s groaning you name as he does, your body slowing as you both come down from your highs, your head resting on his shoulder, as your bodies grow limp, resting, his back pressed to the headboard of his bed.

His fingers trace the curve of your back gently, as he turns his head to press soft kisses to your neck, “Am I still just a distraction?” his lips curled into a smile, and you chuckle, burying your face in his shoulder.

“Definitely,” but you lean back to cup his cheek, and look at his pretty face again, “but one worth having.”

You don’t wake from your alarm the next morning.

Instead, you wake to banging on the door. You both jolt awake, and he’s pulling you into his arms, even as you move to get up, he won’t let go, strong arms around your waist. You’re easing his arms off, trying to be gentle, “Toru, let go, and wait here, your father had a panic room installed in your closet, you hear anything, go inside—”

“No, I’m coming with you,” and you shake your head.

“I’m hired to protect you, not the other way around,” you leave his embrace, and face him, his crystal eyes blurred over with worry, “I can handle this,” you reassure him, your fingers intertwining with his, as you press a kiss to his knuckles, “I promise,”

“But—” and you kiss him gently, silencing his protests, before you slip away into the hallway.

You enter the living room, shutting the bedroom door without a sound, stalking through the hall, as you grab a knife and pepper spray from the chest of drawers that was pressed to the wall of the hallway — you had several self defense tools hidden all over the apartment. Your heartbeat thunders in your ear, mouth dry, as you approach the door from the side.

“Who is it?”

“It’s Mr. Gojo, open this door,” and you sigh, relaxing, as you check and unlock the door for him.

Shinsaku Gojo was only a man you were able to meet once before your work for him began. And it was a privilege even to see him then. His schedule was always packed — multiple meetings, multiple clients, and multiple women, all vying for his attention. Even as you spoke with him the first time, his eyes were on his phone the entire time, except when he had warned you, not to let anything distract you from protecting his son.

And you had done just that — and even worse, his son had done the distracting, “Mr—”

“Where’s my son? He hasn’t answered his phone all morning, and neither have you—didn’t you hear from your agency?” his voice is raising, as he dials your number again, and your phone vibrates on the couch. He scoffs, disconnecting the call, as his hard gaze turned back to you, “what if there was a threat? You left your phone—”

“Dad,” Satoru emerges from the room, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, “it’s not her fault, she forgot it last night when we were watching a movie,”

“Watching a movie?” he sneers, his cerulean gaze the same as son, but without any of the warmth Satoru had — an icy tundra compared to a warm pool, “she should be watching you, that’s her job—”

“She was watching me — something you never bothered to do,” and his father’s eyes narrow, “she’s shown more concern for me than you ever had — and she only met me a few weeks ago. What’s your excuse for being a pathetic piece of—“

“Satoru,” your fingers brush his shoulder, shaking your head, “sir, I take responsibility for this lapse of judgment. Don’t blame your son,”

Satoru lowers his voice, “it’s not your fault—“

“It is. I disregarded by duty to protect you,” your cheeks burn with shame — “what if i had missed an alert you were in danger? What if I failed to protect you because I wasn’t focused? What if—“

“Nothing happened,” he says softly, and the twitch of his fingers tells you he’s gonna reach for you, but you step forward, shaking your head.

“Nothing did,” and you turn to his father, “I’ll protect Satoru until you can find a suitable replacement for me. But I compromised my mission to protect him. I would like to resign as soon as possible,”

“No! I—“

“Agreed,” his father says, “I’ll have your replacement here in an hour, make sure you’re packed up by then,” and his father leaves without another word.

You brush past him to gather your things, but he’s caught you by the wrist, “Why did you do—“

“Gojo,” and you can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes, “I can’t let my feelings get in the way of keeping you safe—“

“I don’t care—“ you cut him off.

“I do, I couldn’t stand if something happened to you because of me. What it was an emergency last night and you got hurt because of my own carelessness—“

“It wasn’t careless what happened last night—“

“It was,” you say, walking to your room, “and it won’t happen again.”

You left. You had expected a fight, an argument, a dramatic show of tears — but nothing. Satoru hadn’t even opened his door to watch you leave. The other bodyguard arrived quickly, and you left the penthouse and didn’t look back.

It was for the best.

You had a duty, a role to play, and more than that, you couldn’t let him get hurt because of your inability to compartmentalize. Even so, Satoru’s father was kind enough not to have told your father what happened — or you supposed it was pity in exchange for your quick and easy resignation.

Fuck. Why were you still thinking about this? You rolled over in bed, burying your head under your comforter. A week out, and you still couldn’t stop worrying about Satoru, about his safety, about the hurt on his face, about that night…

You had fucked everything up, and fucked Satoru up in the aftermath.

You poke your head out, and stare at your phone on your bedside table — 7:45 PM, no new messages — you had written out six different messages to him again and again, before deleting them. You wondered how many more you’d write before you finally would rid your mind of him.

Would you ever rid your mind of him?

And that’s when your phone rings. But it’s not flashing Satoru’s number — it’s his father. You scramble for the phone — why was he calling? And you can only think of one reason. You can’t say a single word when you pick up — his father already hissing his first question.

“Where is he?” your words are lodged in your throat, stuck on your heart that had leapt from your chest.

“What?”

“Where’s Satoru? He came to you didn’t he?” he growls, and you hear a slam, assumedly his fist against his desk, “he shook off his new bodyguard, and his phone is off,”

“He hasn’t — I haven’t talked to him since I left—” your mind is running a mile a minute, racking your brain, placing the call on speakerphone, as you text Satoru, where are you? “Where did the bodyguard see him last?”

“He had him at the dorms, he said he was going to see a friend, and then gave him the slip,” his father groans, “you hear anything from him, otherwise—”

“I’ll let you know,” you cut him off at the threats — you had more important things to do. You checked your messages, but your messages hadn’t gone through, and you tried calling him — but it went straight to voicemail. Satoru was upset — he could’ve blocked you or turned off his phone to piss off his father, but you didn’t see him doing that. He was an idiot, but he knew his father would lose his shit.

And then you remembered. The tracker you placed on Satoru — you never took it off. You had sewed it into the insole of his daily shoes (the man had far too many clothes and shoes, but he rarely found the energy to not wear anything besides the shoes he always wore).

You turned it on, biting your lip as you watched the tracker loaded, and his location popped up — and it wasn’t at his apartment.

It was in Shibuya — you typed in the address and he was at a house.

You furrow your brow, who did he know who lived in Shibuya? And then it clicked.

Fuck.

Those girls.

Satoru groaned, fuck, why is his head hurting so badly?

It wasn’t exactly unusual the last few days. He hadn’t been sleeping much since you left, he spent most of his nights watching TV and rotting in his bed. But everything reminded him of you — his bed, his couch, and even the shows he watched (he had continued one of the shows you both had started one late night).

His apartment was a disaster — a mess of empty soda cans, empty wrappers of candy and old takeout containers. But he couldn’t be bothered with it — to clean it up or call someone to clean it up. His bodyguard had taken up residence in your room — or rather the guest room — and hardly emerged, keeping an eye on him through cameras his father had installed around the doors and hallway.

Not that he really needed to, Satoru rarely left his apartment, even had skipped classes for a week — sending an email that he had a very contagious illness and that he’d be happy to attend class if necessary. They sent him materials to work on classwork from home, piled untouched on his kitchen counter, with a possible smudge from the hot fudge he had last night.

He had made progress — instead of staying in bed, he moved onto the couch for his afternoon nap, and he had just fallen asleep when there was a banging on his door. He groaned into the couch pillow he had just gotten comfortable on, before pulling it onto his head, trying to block out the sounds of the knocking.

“Satoru! Open up,” he hears Suguru’s voice through the door, “open the fucking door, I know you’re not sick,”

He pulls himself up, groaning, as he wipes the small amount of drool from his lips, as he meanders to the door, throwing it open.

“You look like shit,” Suguru says, brushing past him to enter.

“No ‘hello, you look like shit?’” He mumbles, still rubbing his eyes, “what are you doing here?”

“I should be asking you that,” he stands, hands in his pockets, as he takes in the mess with a wrinkled nose, “although I see you’ve decided to redecorate,”

“Hilarious,” Satoru replies, lying back on the couch, “did you come here just to hassle me?”

“I’d be lying if I didn’t say that wasn’t part of it, but the other was to see if you’re ready to pick yourself back up after your breakup—“

“It wasn’t a breakup,” Satoru snaps.

“If it wasn’t, then why does it look like you haven’t showered in several days since she left?” Suguru raises an eyebrow, and Satoru scowls.

“I’m sick,” he turns away to face the couch, “I don’t have the energy to shower,”

“But you have the energy to eat about half a dozen mochi doughnuts?” Suguru holds up an empty doughnut box, and Satoru holds a couch pillow to his chest, “Satoru, come on, it isn’t like you to wallow like this,”

“I’m not wallowing—“

“Yeah, yeah, you’re sick, right?” Suguru says sarcastically. Satoru doesn’t need to look at his best friend to know he’s rolling his eyes, “well you don’t seem like you’re sneezing or coughing so go take a shower or something,” Satoru gives a weak fake cough, and he could feel Suguru’s glare, “fine, rot in bed, but you have to get up sometime, just text me when you’re ready to,”

And Satoru hears Suguru’s footsteps recede to the door, swinging shut with a click behind him. He buries his face in the pillow. It wasn’t a break up. How could it be when you didn’t even have a relationship to begin with? You had made that clear enough when you left without another word to him. He didn’t leave his room until he heard the door shut behind you, and he made his way out to watch you leave out the front door of the apartment. And you didn’t even look back. But you weren’t the type to.

He felt like he was always looking back — one way or another.

And even now, as he came to — he was trying to remember what he had done after Suguru left. Someone else had shown up — knocked at his door. Offered to get him out of the house — offered him free alcohol and a distraction.

And he had agreed — if only to forget about you for a moment. Drinking was the only thing that made him forget — if he only could somehow forget how terrible alcohol tasted.

His head spun, so was this a hangover? It’s certainly worse than the one he had before — the last one felt like his brain was fuzzy and nausea clawed at his stomach — this time, it felt more akin to someone taking a blender to both of those organs. And his neck, he stretched it both ways. How had he fallen asleep?

And then he tried to lift up his hand to rub his eyes, and he couldn't, wrist straining against something — his brow furrowed, what was arm caught on — and his eyes fluttered open. It was dark — the only light came from another room, peeking through the crack at the bottom of, what he assumed was, a door. And then as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he looked at his arms.

Ropes. Twisted around both his arms, binding his wrists and forearms to the arms of a chair, and his vision blurs — what? His legs jerk instinctively, but ropes dig into the flesh of his ankles, and he glanced down only to find what he expected.

“You’re awake,” the light flicks on, he lifts his head, blinking away the fog in his head and the burning tears slipping from his eyes, “didn’t realize the drug would knock you out for that long,”

He blinks again and again, light flooding his eyes, until he can see and sees a familiar face — “Misaki?” the light sends a piercing jolt through his head, “or is it Yumiko?”

“Well that’s flattering, you can’t even remember my name?” she sighs, crossing her arms, “well I unfortunately don’t have the same luxury,” and then she adds with a quirk of her lips, “it is Yumiko,” and she steps forward, as his eyes squeeze shut, his head still banging, “sorry what I gave you to knock you out can cause some light sensitivity,”

It’s slowly sinking in, “I don’t know what kind of weird kink you have, but I’m not interested,” and she scoffs, pressing her knuckles to her chin, “where am I?”

“Do you think I’m really going to tell you that?” she raises an eyebrow, “I did send you threats after all, you don’t think I’d be that stupid to tell you where I am,”

He needed to buy time, he needed to find a way to get out of here, and to do that, he needed time, “What? Are you obsessed with me or something? Do you want my body?”

“I’m going to stop your overinflated ego there,” she sighs, leaning against a table that was behind her, “I have a debt to pay and you’re the price,”

“Debt?” he repeats, “is this where you explain your whole plan? And villain speech? Because I usually I could care less, but I’m feeling a little generous with my time, as I’m a little tied up at the moment, so—”

“Do you ever shut up?”

“It’s known to happen on occasion,” she rubs her temples, and then something occurs to him, “how did you get my address? You showed up and invited me,”

She shakes his head, “You think I couldn’t find out your address after sending you threats?” and she sighs, “You know this is why I tried to do this at the first party — get it over with so I wouldn’t have to deal with this. But then you crushed your beer cup, your little girlfriend got in the way, and that idiot Misaki accidentally switched her shot glass with yours, so I couldn’t get you dosed,” she grits her teeth, “and then the rest of the semester, your girlfriend was up your ass the entire time — but she wasn’t your girlfriend was she? She was your bodyguard,” he says nothing, “you don’t need to confirm it for me, I already found her information, her name, her address—”

“What do you want? Money? My father will pay anything to get me back. Tell me who you need to repay and he’ll do it,” and her lips curl.

“So serious now — and so cooperative, maybe I should have kidnapped her too while I was at it,” she shrugs, while she grabs her phone from the table — a burner — “my father will be here to escort you to where you need to go. The yakuza will take it from there,” his blood runs cold, “Don’t cause a fuss and i can promise your girlfriend will stay safe,”

He grits his teeth — he was so stupid. This was exactly the kind of shit you were trying to protect him from. And it was the thing he landed himself in the moment you left. But he didn’t care — because it was better this way, because you were safe this way.

“Wow, you’re pretty cute when you’re all quiet,” and she’s walking over, and he’s flinching as she drags a manicured nail down his cheek, before tilting it up, “it’s just that mouth that’s a problem,” and her thumb brushes down his lips, “don’t bite, or we might have a problem,”

And he doesn’t, but then he smiles back, “you might like it when I bite,” he smirks, “why don’t you come here and find out?” And she raises her eyebrows, leaning closer, and he smashes his forehead into hers, “fuck off,”

She stumbles back, losing her balance, and leaning against the table as she clutches at her forehead. Satoru watches her, trying to wriggle out of his constraints, rope chafing against his skin, red welts rising on his skin, but he only manages to get one hand free before she’s starting to get her bearings, and then he’s trying to free himself, his chair tipping over. And now he’s lying helplessly as she stumbles forward over to him, clutching a knife she grabbed off the table.

“I have to hand you over to the yakuza, but they didn’t say you had to be completely unharmed,” she presses the tip of the knife to his cheek, “maybe we’ll do something to that pretty face of yours,” he grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut.

CRACK.

He hears a body slump over, and the clatter of the knife against the cement floor, and his eyes open to find you kneeling beside him. He’s blinking, murmuring your name, “What are you—”

“Well I never did remove that tracker did I?” You’re cutting the ropes on his wrists and ankles with the knife, “and I’m lucky you wear the same damn shoes everyday,”

“Why did you come for me?” he says, as you finally free him his restraints, your fingers gentle as they examine the welts and bruises left on his skin, “you could have just told my father where I was or the police,”

“I could’ve. I saw where you were and I figured it out—“ and your voice wavers, “but all I could think was that I wanted to find you. And I didn’t wanna wait for anyone else. I didn’t want something to happen just because someone else was too slow,” the lump in your throat grows only larger, as you sit, “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you,”

“Why?” he asks softly, his fingers brush against your cheek, and he knows why — he does, but he needs to hear it.

“Because I just want…to be the one to protect you,” you admit, tears burning at your eyes, as your thumb traces over his rope burns and bruises, “I wish that I could have,”

“You did a pretty good job, considering I almost was about to get my face cut up,” and he gently wipes your tears away, “imagine what a tragedy that would be,”

You give a watery chuckle, cupping his cheeks, “I’m sorry,” and he opens his mouth, “no i really am. I shouldn’t have slept with you, only to cut and run after. I thought…I thought I was doing you a favor,”

“How?” And you sigh, blinking away your tears.

“I put your life in danger by doing that. I couldn’t do that. I knew the only way you’d let me go is…if I lied to you and said I didn’t care about you,” you bite your bottom lip, “and I’m sorry because I only hurt you more in the end,”

He kisses your lips gently, chastely, his breath warming your lips as he parts from them, “you did,” and you scoff, pushing him playfully, “but as long as you promise not to do it again, I think I can find it in my incredibly generous heart to forgive you,”

You kiss him again, softly, your fingers sliding to the back his neck, into his undercut, “I promise,” and he grins, before leaning back to kiss you again, when a cough behind you catches your attention.

“My father will be getting here shortly you idiots, while you gaze fucking stupidly into each other’s eyes,” she sneers, and you raise an eyebrow.

“You think I’d come here without calling the police? They already have picked up your father — and they should be almost here—“ and the sounds of an ambulance and police sirens come into earshot.

“Good timing,” Satoru mutters, as Yumiko tries and fails to stumble to her feet, and you get up and pin her to the ground. Satoru raises an eyebrow, and watches, as you glance back at him, tilting your head in question, “nothing, it’s just…hot to see you in action,”

You laugh, “Did she hit your head too?” And he shrugs, as he gets onto this feet with shaky legs, “Satoru—“

And he sits next to you, leaning on your shoulder, “just let me rest here for a minute,” he mumbles.

For the first time since you left, Satoru felt like he could finally rest.

And Satoru did rest, he realized as he blinked awake to the ambient sounds of the hospital room, the distinct beep of the heartbeat monitor, the dim light of the moon filtering through the shades, and the distant sounds of people walking through the hall. He hears the sounds of sheets rustling, and his gaze snaps over to his left.

His gaze softens. You were fast asleep beside him, your arms tucked under your head, your breaths were soft, as they were the night you two had spent together. He sat himself up — fingers running through your hair gently. You had fallen asleep before him that night, face buried in the crook of his neck, and your legs entangled with his. And now you slept beside him on a chair, leaning on his bedside.

His fingers carded through your hair again, and you stirred, as he swore under his breath, your eyes fluttered open, “Toru?” you mumbled, still half asleep, and he hummed.

“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he sighed softly, “why are you sleeping here? You should have gone home,” you sit up, stretching, as you furrow your brow, eyes scanning him for any sign of an injury or distress.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay — you were unconscious, but no concussion thankfully. I tried to wake you up but you wouldn’t wake,” you sigh, words tumbling out almost faster than you can think of them, “they mostly kept you for observation, but are you feeling okay? Should I get the nurse—“

And he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you, as he sighs, burying his face in your neck, “I just want to stay like this for a while,” he murmurs, “I got everything I need right here, got it?” He feels you nod, and he feels the hint of your tears on his skin, but says nothing, only his lips quirk, “you did mean your promise?”

“I did, I won’t leave like that again,” and he’s leaning back, head tilted, and you chuckle, “I mean I won’t leave you at all, how’s that?”

“Good girl,” he murmurs, leaning closer, and his heart squeezes when he hears your breath hitch as he does. His eyes flicker to your lips and back, “can I kiss—“

But you kiss him first, softly, your fingers brushing his cheek, and god, why was it that a single touch from you melted him away to nothing? Whittled his world view to a pin where all he could feel, all he could see, was you.

And then you kiss his cheeks, his chin, his jaw, and then your teeth graze the soft part of his neck, drawing a pretty gasp from his lips, as you suck lightly on his skin.

He’s whispering your name, breath sucked from his lungs as if your teeth had pierced through his throat instead of just his skin, “what was that for?”

And you smile, “so everyone knows you’re mine.”

“You’re changing your major?” Suguru raises his eyebrow, as he lounges on Satoru’s couch, holding his head up with his elbow propped against the top of the couch, “your father must’ve been thrilled about that,”

“He lost his shit, but that geezer can fuck off,” Satoru shrugs, “he threatened to not pay my tuition, but once I threatened to go public with his dealings with the yakuza, he saw it my way,”

Suguru tilts his head, “His what?”

You bring over tea from the kitchen, placing it on the table, “After what Satoru found out from Yumiko and her father, their debt to the yakuza would have been paid off by kidnapping one of Satoru’s father’s close relatives, but I was wondering why was the yakuza so eager to do so?”

“Apparently my old man had the brilliant idea of entertaining the yakuza on some deal he was making,” Satoru explains, leaning back on the couch, as you sit against his legs, “and when he backed out, the yakuza wanted to push it through anyway — and well, thus their blackmail of Yumiko’s father, once they found out his daughter went to school with me.”

“Yeah, turns out her father had gambling debts owed to the yakuza,” you sighed, “she got caught in the crossfire — I almost feel bad,”

“Speak for yourself, she drugged me, tied me to a chair, and held a knife to my face,” Satoru scoffs, sipping his tea that he had you drown in sugar.

“Well you didn’t complain when I did that last night,” you reply, making both Satoru and Suguru choke, and you laughed, squealing when Satoru lifts you into his lap to bury his face into your back.

“You two are officially sickening to be around,” Suguru grimaces, still coughing from choking down his tea, “I think I liked it better when he was wasting away in his apartment,”

“You wasted away after I left?” You turn to look at Satoru, who shoots a glare at Suguru, “sorry Geto, that’s not happening again,” and Satoru softens his gaze, pressing a kiss to your head.

“Alright, that’s it, I’m leaving,” Suguru gets to his feet, as he glances back at you two, “don’t rush to get up, I’ll see myself out,” he rolls his eyes.

“Don’t worry we weren’t going to,” Satoru pulls you closer, and Suguru narrows his eyes, before his lips curl into a grin.

“Just for that, I’m sending your girlfriend a picture of the mess you looked like when she left,” Satoru gapes at him, while you bite back a laugh.

“Suguru!” Satoru calls, but the door’s shut, and you’re starting to giggle. He’s pouting now, “so my girlfriend thinks it's funny to see me in the pathetic state she left me in?”

“Oh your girlfriend finds it very funny, and she might even make it her boyfriend’s contact picture,” you smirk, and he’s biting back a smile, “What?”

“This is just the first time we called each other that,” he mumbles, a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks, “it’s nice,” he admits.

“Well, I am yours, aren’t I?” you smile, and he presses a kiss to your lips, as he would again and again.

“My one and only.”

✧ a/n: so this fic was so freaking long. i'm sorry it took so long to post this - i got a little sidetracked by prof geto haha. but i'm hoping to start on the next one soon :). i think i'll put a poll up on which one i should write next! edit: forgot to tag the people who requested this, its now added in T_T

✧ taglist: @teatreeoilll, @intrxspectiv, @marvel-fanaticz, @ilovemybabes, @lwustyz, @jayathelostdragon, @vampzys, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @soilmayo, @iwassentfromhell, @lobotomy-kaisen, @gojoallmine, @forest-hashira, @h3artpiecexx, @lailarratx, @gummibat, @hanlay, @ilovewoo9, @nvmlolo, @h6avenly, @eriyvesa, @alexandraioann4, @eclipsephase, @sokkasmoon, @aizzon, @makotome9, @daddytojji, @fluffy-pancakes01, @imjustmememe, @spookyy-gracee, @forest-fruits-jam, @that-goth-bisexual, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @lookinreality,

#sab [mlist]#satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader smut #satoru gojo fanfiction #jjk x reader #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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ladysharmaa · 13 days

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Why don't you love me?

Anthony Bridgerton x reader

Summary: Y/n and Anthony are in an arranged marriage. When she stops trying to make the relationship work and be the perfect wife, Anthony realizes what he's lost. Will he be able to get her back?

(gift is not mine)

It wasn't the marriage she wanted. And it wasn't what he wanted, because, in fact, he didn't even want to be married. And he didn't mind showing it. But for Y/n, she tried to make the best of their unfortunate situation.

It all started at the beginning of the season when Violet Bridgerton decided that her firstborn had been single for too long. So, she spoke to Y/n's parents, who were good friends of hers, and they both decided that a marriage between the two would be beneficial to both families. Anthony was going to have the support of someone who would take Violet's place as Viscountess and Lady Bridgerton. For Y/n's life, in this society, having a husband was essential and this marriage would allow social advancement.

Thus, Anthony and Y/n agreed with this decision. The preparation for the wedding was carried out quickly and this event was the biggest news for days. Lady Whistledown didn't help matters either by immediately releasing an advert showing her doubts about Anthony having a wife.

This only worsened Y/n's mood, who already feared being married to Viscount Bridgerton, as she was now doubting all the lovers Anthony could take to their bed. Would he not respect their marriage? Did she just want an heir and take care of the children? With these doubts, she said the "I do" in front of hundreds of people watching the ceremony, and allowed just one tear to fall.

From the beginning, Anthony made a point of making it clear that their marriage was purely a compromise, and that he would never truly love her. He was going to fulfill his role and try to have an heir and outside the house, they would act like a happy couple, but it wouldn't go beyond that. In silence, Y/n just offered him a nod, showing that she understood.

However, since then, nothing has happened between them. Anthony allowed her to have her own room, something Y/n was more than grateful for. Having to look at the face of her husband who would never love her every time she fell asleep would be too painful.

She was expecting that on some nights he would enter her room to try to get her with child. But none of that happened, which only confused Y/n more. Was he so disgusted by the idea of being married to her that he didn't even want to have pleasure with her?

So she tried to distract herself with tasks that could take some of the work off Anthony's shoulders and try to be the perfect wife. But Anthony still refused to spend more than five minutes alone with her. At breakfast, he was already at the office when Y/n woke up to go eat, at night he preferred to spend time with his brothers instead of returning home. He was making everyone's life difficult and Y/n was starting to get more and more sad. Would this be her routine until the end of her life? Trying to please a husband who didn't want her?

It was on a summer afternoon that Y/n, upon returning from a social gathering with Anthony's mother and sister, realized how hot the mansion was. She quickly remembered how Viscount's office, the few times she had been there, was directly in the sun which made it even hotter. So she decided to be brave and try to have at least a friendly relationship with her husband, so she went to the kitchen to get a glass of water.

With growing nerves, Y/n went to Anthony's office door and knocked on the wood. After hearing Anthony's voice, she opened the door, finding him plus Benedict, who had become good friends with Y/n.

"Oh, I apologize if I am interrupting." she said shyly, keeping to the doorway.

"You are." Anthony immediately agreed in a deep voice, not paying attention to her and turning his attention back to the papers.

At the same time, his brother hurried to assure Y/n, "You're not interrupting anything. You even saved me from Anthony's boring lecture here."

The woman smiled uncomfortably. "Right. I just came to bring you a cup of water. It's so warm outside. I wasn't aware you were here, Mr. Bridgerton, but I can go and also bring you some water."

"Thank you, Y/n, I would—"

However, he couldn't finish his sentence as Anthony hit the table, causing his wife to jump in fright and immediately take a step back. Her reaction made Anthony's expression show some regret, but he quickly hid it. A silence fell between the three.

"I'm fed up, Y/n! Can't you understand that men are trying to work?! Go back to your life of looking at flowers and walking around without having to do anything and leave!"

Y/n's mouth opened and closed several times, trying to understand what had just happened. Finally, she pursed her lips and her eyes turned cold. "I apologize, Lord Bridgerton. It won't happen again. If you'll excuse me."

When she left the room, Benedict looked at his brother in shock. "That was so harsh. The poor girl was trying to be nice and cared enough to bring you a glass of water. If you don't want it, I'll have it. I'm talking about the glass and her."

"Don't you dare." he muttered with a clenched jaw, glaring furiously at Benedict. Where did this anger come from just thinking about Y/n with another man? "Now, let's go back to discuss how you spent money on a bet."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Y/n's behavior with Anthony changed completely. Everyone noticed that the Viscountess finally reached her limit, and stopped being the friendly wife, now looking coldly at her husband whenever they passed each other in the mansion. However, as a couple and heads of the family, they still had obligations to fulfill together.

Public appearances were more tense, but they still managed to keep a smile on their faces and talk to all the ladies who asked about their marriage and when they would have children, giving short answers so that nothing would end up in Lady Whistledown's hands. They also attended a horse race, even betting on different horses that would win. Y/n ended up winning the bet, and her smug look irritated Anthony for the rest of the day, something his brothers were quick to tease him about.

But despite not liking Anthony after his cruel words, which Y/n still thought about constantly, she adored his sisters and mother. They had accepted Y/n into the family, including her in their gatherings and even being a should to cry on. Daphne had already said more than once that she would have no problem going to Anthony and try to talk some sense into him, but Y/n refused. Anthony already didn't like her, if he thought she was turning his family against him he would hate her even more. And she didn't need to make her life worse than it already was.

One day, when she went with Anthony to the Bridgerton mansion to drop off some documents, Hyacinth, Anthony's younger sister, took her aside. Y/n followed the girl to the bathroom where she, with teary eyes and trembling lips, asked her if she was going to die when she started bleeding from her lady parts. Hyacinth also revealed to her that she wanted to go to her mother, but she had gone shopping with Francesca and was alone at home with just Collin. Y/n, very calmly and gently, assured her that it was a normal thing and that all women went through this, explaining what she should do.

It was no secret that Y/n was happy that Hyacinth trusted her with this scary situation and that she was able to help the girl. Despite all the problems in her marriage, she now had a role in helping Anthony's sisters and she never wanted to fail in that.

To Y/n's surprise, Hyacinth ended up giving her a big hug, remaining attached to her for the rest of the afternoon. Her period was making her so affectionate, more than she already was, that Y/n couldn't stop a big smile from appearing on her face at receiving so much affection.

Anthony, when he finally finished talking to Collin about the documents he brought, I was surprised to see his sister on the couch hugging Y/n. "Hyacinth, what are you doing?"

"Hugging my sister-in-law, brother. But you don't know what that is, do you?" she snapped. The girl's change in mood made Y/n have to put a hand over her mouth to keep Anthony from hearing the laughter that escaped her.

The shock on Anthony's face was comical. His little sister was basically choosing Y/n over him. And in truth, he didn't judge her because his wife was, without a doubt, better than him. And she deserved so much better.

On the other hand, his heart warmed when he saw the bond that the two had created. It was clear that Y/n felt great affection for his family. Could it be that if he had accepted this marriage from the beginning, they would now be a happy family? That they would spend afternoons together, cuddling on the couch and talking to his siblings? All these thoughts were racing through his mind, and the guilt was growing so much that he felt like he was going to vomit.

"Lord Bridgerton?" that sweet voice he had come to adore brought him out of his thoughts. He hated that since he snapped at her, she never called him by his first name again.

"What?" he asked, still disoriented.

Y/n was looking at him like he was stupid. "I asked if you were ready to leave. Hyacinth already went to her room to rest. I would like to do the same. So you must make haste."

Her bossy tone almost made his lips curl into a smile, but he controlled himself in time. "Of course, wife. We shall leave now. But I have to ask, what happened between you and my sister?"

"All you need to know is that she's fine and she's a woman now. But don't worry, as your wife, I'll handle these situations. Unless you prefer me to go look at the flowers, take a walk, and do nothing?"

The hint, which was delivered with great anger, caused the man to blush in shame and lower his head. Y/n didn't wait for his answer, taking her coat from a maid and walking to the carriage. He had screwed everything up.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A few more days had passed and the situation between Y/n and Anthony had only gotten stranger. The day after the situation with Hyacinth, Y/n was coming down from her room to go get breakfast, as she always did, when she came across Anthony at the table, appearing to be waiting for her to eat.

Y/n stopped abruptly, looking at him in shock. "What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for you so we can have breakfast. I have to go see my brothers again today to talk business, so I was thinking you could come with me and spend some time with my sisters. My mother She's also been saying how she hasn't seen you in a while. That is, only if you want to go. If not, I'll just go… Or I'll stay here to keep you company, whatever you want." he choked up, finishing his speech by drinking some milk, perhaps to calm his nerves.

Y/n remained in place without moving. She looked at Anthony strangely, as if doubting that those words had even come out of his mouth.

"It was silly of me to ask—"

"No," she interrupted him. "It's fine. I would actually like to go and spend time with your sisters. They are lovely. I shall go get ready then."

"Aren't you going to have breakfast with me first?"

"Lord Bridgerton, I've been eating breakfast alone since we got married and I came to live with you. I think you can handle doing the same for a day. Excuse me." she said with an exaggerated smile, turning her back on him and starting to go back to her room. However, she turned back to go get a cake that was on the table. "But I'm hungry so I will eat this in my chambers."

"Call me Anthony!" he exclaimed before she was completely gone. He had a desperate look, almost looking like he needed to hear his name come out of her lips.

"No."

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Like every year, the Queen decided to throw a ball to celebrate the Diamond of the Season. The most eligible maiden on the marriage market. Y/n still remembers the first ball she attended — Daphne was the diamond of the season, but Y/n also managed to dance with a few suitors. Of course, in the end, she didn't end up marrying any of them. However, the nerves she felt at that ball were equal to or less than what she felt today: her first ball married to Anthony.

The Viscount and Viscountess had entered together, her hand resting on his arm, followed by Violet and the rest of his siblings. Tonight they would have to be on the lookout for suitors who might want to dance with Francesca, the diamond of the season.

Anthony quietly appreciated his wife. She looked breathtaking in her dress, her hair neatly tied back that showed off her majestic earrings, given by Anthony on their wedding day. He was proud to have a wife like Y/n, and he regreted that he hadn't shown it since day one.

While the Bridgertons started to go their own way, interacting with other people and dancing, Y/n preferred to stay in the corner watching the couples dancing. She longed to experience that with Anthony, but not in a forced way like some were. No, she wanted it to be felt, for them to dance to the music and really appreciate that moment.

But instead of her husband approaching her, it was another man, Earl Cavendish. Y/n remembered some moments when she had already seen him, as he was looking to get married this season. As she approached her, with a confident air, Y/n lowered her head to compliment him, "Good afternoon, Earl Cavendish."

"Lady Bridgerton, a pleasure to meet you. I must say, you look flawless. Would you give me the pleasure of dancing with me?" he extended his hand.

Y/n's eyes widened, not knowing what to do. People had already started looking at them, whispering among themselves. However, she didn't have to respond to the invitation as she felt an arm wrap around her waist and bring her closer to him.

"Excuse me, Earl Cavendish, but I want to have the pleasure of dancing with my beautiful wife first." Anthony said with his jaw clenched, looking him up and down menacingly. "I'm sure you will be able to find other ladies to dance with tonight. Just not my wife."

The two men looked at each other for a few seconds, neither of them wanting to back down. Anthony grew more and more furious, her wrists clenching and bringing Y/n even closer to him, but careful not to hurt her.

"Very well. I shall leave. I hope to see you again someday, Lady Bridgerton."

"I will —" Anthony began by exclaiming in anger as the Earl walked towards another woman, not having liked the way he looked at what was his.

"You will do nothing." the Viscountess snapped coldly. "I can't understand you, you ignore me, you treat me badly, and then you act protective when another man shows interest in me? I never said anything about you having lovers, even though I didn't like that in our marriage."

"What? I've never disrespected our marriage like that, Y/n. In the past I've done a lot of things, but since we got married the only woman I'll look at and touch is you. I don't want anyone else."

"You have a funny way of showing it." she laughed sarcastically, feeling increasingly emotional. "I have to go get some air. You should go check on Francesca again."

Feeling the cold night air, Y/n's heart began to calm down. It was so difficult having to deal with Anthony's changes of attitude, she couldn't understand him. She just wanted to be loved, and since that wasn't possible, she preferred that they stay as far away from each other as possible since being friends didn't seem to be an option either.

"I'm sorry." the voice she had come to know so well whispered behind her. Y/n refused to turn around, leaning against the balcony and taking deep breaths to control her emotions. "I shouldn't have acted the way I did. I know that marrying me shouldn't have been your choice either, but I was scared. I was scared to have a wife, because that meant I had another person in my life that I could lose ."

She finally had the courage to turn around and look into Anthony's brown eyes. They held back tears and showed the sadness, regret and anger that Anthony felt.

"I'm so angry with myself for the way I treated you. You deserve so much better than this. And I'm sorry I couldn't give you that. The cruel words I said to you but didn't mean. I was scared to let you in. in my heart, so I tried to push you away. Believe that all I want is to have you in my arms. To love you. To start a family with you. Please, I promise I will do better. And every day I will try to reward you for what you do.

"Lord Bridgerton—"

"Please, call me Anthony. It pains me when you call me like that. Reminds me that I was… Am so close to losing the best thing of my life. I will kneel before you and beg for forgiveness if that's what you want." he murmured with a hand over his heart, beginning to kneel on the ground without hesitation.

"There is no need for that… Anthony." she enjoyed seeing the relief and happiness that spread across his face upon hearing his first name. "I just don't understand why you didn't love me? And now you want to try to make our marriage work?"

"That's the thing, I have always loved you. I love you. My whole body, my heart, feels love for you. That has never changed." he revealed desperately. "I was a coward and didn't know how to deal with my feelings. Because they are so strong that my heart feels like it's going to come out of my chest. Please, give me another chance."

"Hmm, I don't now." The look of disappointment was so marked on Anthony's face, almost looking like he was ready to burst into tears, that Y/n stopped his suffering and showed him an amused smile, making him understand that she was joking. "I think I want you to suffer a little more to get my forgiveness."

"I will do anything for you, Y/n. Ask me the world and I will give it to you."

"Such a romantic now, aren't you?" she whispered, admiring his features.

She didn't realize their faces were so close until she felt his nose trace the delicate skin of her cheek. A gasp escaped her mouth, and Anthony took the opportunity to connect their lips in an unforgettable kiss.

Anthony pulled away quicker than he wanted, but he needed to make sure this was really what his wife wanted. "I love you."

"Kiss me again, and maybe I will also tell you that."

And what his wife wanted, he did. The two remained on the balcony, enjoying the comfort the other gave them. They still had a long way to go, but they knew that from that moment on, their lives would change drastically for the better. They had each other.

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton #anthony bridgerton x you #collin bridgerton #daphne bridgerton #eloise bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x female reader #anthony bridgerton x y/n

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lowkeyremi · 5 months

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jjk men and aftercare ft. Gojo, Choso, Nanami, Toji, and Geto.

a/n: I saw something like this awhile ago and forgot to write abt it but here I am now babyyyy (there is already a part 2 in progress bc i wanna do 10 characters lmaoo) also not proofread bc im tired :P

cw: really suggestive, established relationships, how they are after sex basically :)

Gojo Satoru

When you two first started hitting third base Gojo was all about himself and about how he felt. When you had cleaned yourself up and prepared for bed that night Satoru finally realized something was wrong.

"What's wrong, babe? I thought you liked it??" He asks, worried about his performance in bed. Your silence prompts him to try and figure out what he had done wrong, and honestly he couldn't even think of anything.

"Pleaseeee tell me. I won't know if you don't say anything." Those invasive thoughts that tell you, "you don't matter to him." start to attack your brain once again. He's way out of your league you start to think.

"Aftercare. You didn't even offer to help me clean up, Satoru." Saying it out loud makes you sound kind of petty in your opinion but it does matter.

"OH. Shit baby I'm so so so so sorry!!!!! I- It's just-" He cuts himself off and tries to reword his sentence, "Well, back then I.. I was sleeping around so my pleasure was the only thing that mattered to me. It's different.. you know? Dating. I'm still working out everything. I won't forget next time I promise."

He'd been telling the truth because from then on he always went all out with aftercare. He would run you a bath with your favorite salts and oils, he'd make you your favorite snacks, he'd even cuddle you afterwards until you fell asleep. (rich boyfriend privileges)

Choso Kamo

He'd been waiting so long to finally sleep with you for the first time so he had done all his research prior to the day. He was looking at your dilated pupils, messy hair, and the cum that sat on your stomach.

"Okay so, according to the article I read, I should run you a hot bath, yeah?" He asks nervously.

A small smile braces your lips. In all honesty you probably should have expected this much from Choso. He wants to make sure everything is perfect.

"You looked up aftercare???" You sit up on the bed and a back cramp decides to hit right then and there. As soon as he hears your groan he sprints the the kitchen, only to return with a heat pad.

"Heat pad for cramps?" He's truly nervous, and eager to please you, the love of his life.

"Thank you, Cho. I'll take you up on that bath."

"Of course, I'll get in with you if that's okay." The smile on your face is enough of an answer.

Nanami Kento

YOU ARE WINNING!!!!

Massages, baths, homemade snacks, you name and he'll do it for you. In his mind it's the least he can do for you, because you treat him so well and give him that pretty pussy he loves so much.

"Right here?" He's currently working those skilled fingers into your tight muscles after bending you every which way.

"Ohhh... yes right there, baby. Hurts so muchhhh." You whine and moan at the same time. At this point you two have already bathed and he's made sure to moisturize your body leaving you clean and refreshed.

He seemed to notice the way you limped and asked if you need anything. The sex was good really, but you didn't want to tell him that folding you in half wasn't the best idea. Oh, but he's persistent would not leave you alone until you told him what was wrong.

Once you told him he had immediately sat you down, picked up your favorite lotion and started to work out the kinks in your body.

"I'm so sorry, again." He mumbles quietly.

"Stop apologizing, Kento. These things happen. At least I know to stretch before hand next time." His face softens at your giggles and he presses a small kiss to your thigh.

"Oh do not get me started." A smile creeps up his face, while blush slowly spreads across yours.

Toji Fushiguro

BOOOOOO no aftercare. well maybe not much at least.

Has not properly cared for a woman since his late wife but he realizes if he wants you to stay he'll have to fix that.

At first he would throw a wet rag at you and give a simple, "here clean up." When he got out the shower he was genuinely confused why you were no longer at his apartment.

As soon as you picked up he could tell you were pissed, "What do you want, Fushiguro."

He's a little shocked, did not expect that from you, "I'm your boyfriend so it's Toji and not Fushiguro. The hell is your problem??"

The silence is so loud. For a second he thought you'd hung up on him. "Hello??"

"I'm giving you some time to think about that dumbass question and figure out why I'm mad at you." He clicks his tongue and rolls his eyes too. He's lucky you can't see it.

"Ugh, I don't have time to play the damn guessing game. You're always mad about the little things.. what is it?" He's running through anything he could have possibly done wrong recently.

"Toji, you threw a fucking wet washcloth at me and told me to clean myself up. I'm your girlfriend, not one of your one night stands!" There it is, and the bad part is he doesn't even see what's wrong with that. (at first)

"I don't even give them something to clean up with, I just leave. But damn if you want me to get all fancy and shit I'll try." He scratches his head and begins to wonder why women are so hard to please.

Let me tell you he's no Nanami, but it's getting better. Still falls asleep afterward most times tho :/

Geto Suguru

You do it yourself for the most part, and here's why.

He's over here washing you up in the tub and he can't stop staring at your soapy titties and it just leads to more sex.

It's never just aftercare with him. He's always chasing more. Like that time you asked him to massage your legs after you two had finished fucking in the tub.

"Yeah shit why not? Lotion or oil??" He asks looking through your products.

"Uhhh lotion's fine." You'd grabbed your phone to see if your mother left you a voicemail which she did. She talked about how you need to pick up the phone or at least text her your alive if you're not gonna pick up. You were NOT going to pick up earlier though. Suguru likes to tease and you learned that the hard way when he was eating you out while you were discussing group bonding dinner ideas with your boss over the phone.

Anyway, he made his way to the bed with your lotion and all things went to hell. It was slow at first, nothing too sensual, then of course he had to slip a finger in your pussy and you sat there and stared.

"We are not doing this, we just got out of the bath." You were so serious, but so was he. (you were also aroused so)

"Another bath never hurt anybody, 'fraid of a little water baby??"

(such an annoying whore)

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lunarmoves · 5 months

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"can i have a kiss?"

you abruptly choke on the sip of water you'd been taking, your free hand coming up to cover your mouth as you cough roughly and loudly into your palm. it's enough to make your throat ache, and you barely register a large hand patting you on your back as you do your best to clear your windpipe.

"pardon?" you eventually force out, voice scratchy as you look up at sun through watering eyes. "what did you say?"

sun's head tilts to the side slightly. it's difficult to parse out what he's thinking with those blank eyes of his. "can i have a kiss?" he repeats for you in the same tone and inflection—light and casual like he's simply asking about the weather.

you blink owlishly at him, then glance around the empty daycare. maybe as an excuse to not look at him. everything was cleaned swiftly today, leaving you with some free time before you had to clock out. you just hadn't expected it to be spent like this, however. you clear your throat and look back at sun. his fingers curl and uncurl at his sides, barely noticeable had he not been standing stock still.

"...what's brought this on?" you ask after a short moment of silence. you're stalling, you know, but you're genuinely curious.

his head tilts the other way, a quiet click coming from his face plate. and then—like he hadn't just been standing before you, still as a statue—he jolts back into an amiable sway.

"oh, you know!" he gushes out, clasping his hands together and making the bells attached to his ribbons jingle with the motion. "we just see the way parents kiss their children at the door! and, well, those kids love to play house a lot too, you see. it's difficult not to notice it when it happens all the time! we are simply..." he trails off, as though searching for the right word. "...intrigued."

"right..." you're not quite buying what he's trying to say. hell, your ears are likely still tinged red from the initial embarrassment of his question. "you give kisses to the kids all the time, though," you point out. they aren't kisses so much as they are little taps of his static smile to their boo-boos or foreheads when they ask. you only know they're intended as kisses because sun lets out an exaggerated mwah every time.

sun only looks at you, something tense along the line of his thin shoulders. you wait, in the silence of the too large daycare, as he seems to ruminate upon something. and when he speaks, it makes something curl tightly in the deepest pit of your stomach.

"that's different," he replies quietly. a pin drops in the far distance.

your tongue suddenly feels too thick for your mouth and you swallow before you reply. "how so?" you find yourself asking. you... you don't quite understand. or maybe you don't want to. maybe you're looking for an answer you're not quite prepared to hear yet. maybe you are ready and you just don't realize it yet.

"they're not you." it's said simply—like saying the sky is blue or grass is green. your lips purse together. you refuse to admit how that makes you feel—how it makes something hot flood throughout your body.

"...there are cameras," you say weakly, trying to fight down the flush crawling up your neck and into your cheeks. was this really happening? was he really asking you this? it's just a kiss, you scold yourself. you're overreacting. he's a robot—it's not like it means anything to him. right? "i'm on shift. i could get fired." it doesn't matter if it's a friendly little peck—anything seen like that with a robot on cameras after the daycare has closed will be detrimental to your career.

"don't you worry your silly little head about that!" sun waves a hand in dismissal, his eyes upturned slightly into white crescents. there's a curve to his smile that you're only minutely wary of. "we've taken care of it!" ...whatever that means. you eye one of the cameras positioned near the ceiling of the daycare, the small red light on it frozen. you... aren't going to question that. you internally sigh.

sun's always curious—always pushing boundaries. always seeing how far he can go with you before you take a step back.

it seems like you'd taken too long to respond. sun closes the small distance between the two of you with a single, long stride, standing before you in a way that makes you crane your head up. your personal space is wiped out in an instant. he bends down until his face is mere inches above yours. and then he waits.

"don't be shy!" he tells you brightly, fingers flexing by his sides. one of his rays twitches atomically. "put 'er right here!" his face plate spins slightly as an indicator.

he's really not leaving you much room for choice here. you huff at his persistence, giving him a small roll of your eyes. and with a deep breath to help ground yourself—keep your head clear and look at this all from an objective standpoint (robot, he's a robot, he's curious, it doesn't mean anything)—you eventually raise yourself up on your tippy toes.

a kiss—as small and feathery as a wisp of wind on a cool, fall day—is pressed delicately to the plating of his forehead. the metal is cool under your touch, a contrast against the warmth of your skin. you don't let yourself linger, dropping back down onto your heels as you clear your throat and force yourself to look at him. he's still watching you—with that too large smile and too squinted eyes.

"there you go," you force out as casually as you can. there's something swarming in your gut and you're not sure if it's a good thing or not. "happy?"

sun's rays spin around once, but he doesn't move away. his smile stretches wider—thinner like a blade. and when he speaks, there's a faint depth to his voice that makes you think of the way moon speaks.

"you missed." he bends down closer to you, the shadows of his lithe form casting themselves across your face. he lifts a hand to tap once against the metal of his smile and the sound seems to echo through the daycare. you stare up at him with wide eyes, a cool prickle making its way down your spine. sun's face plate makes another sharp click. "do it again."

you mouth opens, then closes, until you finally muster up the will to let out a little laugh—albeit a slightly shaky one.

"c'mon, dude, i gave you a kiss." you let out another chuckle and find yourself leaning back just a tad. "i should head out now anyways, it's getting lat—"

before you can even finish your sentence, sun's hands dart out to grip you tightly on your upper arms. trapping you within his hold as he draws you closer. you're forced to look up at him, all tense lines and twitching metallic parts.

"you misunderstand, friend." sun grins wider, the gleam of his teeth sharp in the daycare's lighting. you take the smallest step back. "i wasn't asking."

moon

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shotmrmiller · 3 months

Note

09 wife jealous of how obsessed Johnny is with his girl, takes it out on 22 Ghosts and he fucks the attitude out of herrrrr and throws in one I love you that holds her off for the next hundred years

my.

god.

yesysyeesyeyseyes

ok ok. can this just be multiverse ch 4? im feeling inspired. ch4 everyone i like this.

You are so happy for your friend, truly. But goddamn, if it doesn't sting seeing Johnny just embrace her, accept her love for what it is when Simon has been fighting you tooth and nail over your feelings.

It comes to head when everyone's in the lounge and Johnny looks at his wife with so much adoration in his eyes, and he plants a kiss on the corner of his wife's mouth.

You're lurching out of your chair so fast it tips over behind you— almost jogging back to your shared quarters with Ghost.

A couple of minutes later, there's a knock on the door.

Damn. It must be Soap's wife.

You're opening the door with an apology already on your lips when you realize it is definitely not her.

"Why are you knocking?" you sneer. "It doesn't matter, what're you doing here?"

Simon just stares at you, and you bite your lip to prevent yourself from saying something you might regret.

"Let me in, pet."

Oh, so he can speak in a neutral tone.

With an aggravated sigh, you step aside and turn around, giving him your back. You won't cry again. Or at least try your best to not cry again.

The door softly clicks shut and you begin to feel like he's just pushed you into a corner.

"Look at me," he mutters.

He's definitely cornered you.

You don't turn around as you answer him. "Why, Simon? So you can continue to look at me like I'm worth nothing? Like I'm—" Your words turn to ash on your tongue because Simon's suddenly standing behind you, encircling his arms around your waist.

That starts the waterworks.

You spin to face him, returning his embrace. "Why do you hate me? I didn't choose to be here. I've never wanted to be a burden to you." Simon tightens his hold on you, pressing his cheek on the top of your head.

"I've never hated you."

"Well, that's news to me, isn't it?" you shakily snarked. You couldn't help it; your heart had taken enough of a beating.

He tips your head up with his hand under your chin, and you take in a sharp breath. He took his mask off.

Simon's as handsome as you remember. His lips are a soft, rosy pink. The bisected left eyebrow, the silverly long, thin scar on his upper lip, the crooked nose, even the bloody stubble— all of it the same.

And his cheeks are flush, with life.

"I don't hate you, love. How could I when you're my wife?" he breathed.

His wife. He called you his wife. His wife.

Simon gently lowers his head, and you rise to your toes, and when your lips meet, there's a switch in you that's flipped. The kiss turns hungry almost instantly, and you're moaning embarrassingly into his mouth, but you don't care. You don't fucking care.

He tastes the same, he even sounds the same when you suck on his tongue lightly. He's gruffer here, but he's still yours. And now you're going to take what's yours.

You start to fumble at his clothes, because why won't they just come off fast enough? Simon chuckles into the kiss and with his help, you're both swiftly naked.

His body is radiating heat, scalding under your touch. When you wrap your hand around his heavy cock, the groan you swallow is so lewd that it has you squeezing your thighs together in anticipation.

Breaking away, you roam your eyes over his bare body before pushing him back with a hand on his chest. He lays back on his mattress, and you waste no time in straddling his hips and lining him up with your slit.

Simon's hands up to grab your waist, and chokes out, "Wait, you don't need me to—" and he doesn't get to finish because you've got the tip of his head in you already.

"Another time, tomorrow, yesterday, whenever you want just not right now. I need to feel you inside of me." That's the only warning he gets before you slowly start to sink down onto him, slick cunt spreading open for him beautifully— moaning loudly when his head kisses the entrance of your womb.

Oh, you've missed this. Yeah, you've missed Simon too but this... he slots himself where only he could ever fit— like it was made for him. And you have no doubt in your mind that you were, in fact, made for him.

You place your hands on his chest and start to ride him, keeping it slow because you want to savor every second, memorize how he looks like in bliss. Your pace stays the same, a gentle up-down when you feel his grip tighten around your waist. Simon's biting his bottom lip, his molten eyes are locked onto where you take him in, and he's starting to tremble.

He's about to come.

You quickly rearrange yourself to be on your feet and start to fuck yourself onto his twitching cock. Now he's groaning loudly, sonorous noise from deep within his chest, and you angle your hips forward slightly— taking him even deeper.

Your body is slick with sweat, hair matted on your forehead from the exercise, and Simon starts to thrust himself up into you as you come down— now fucking you in turn.

His fingers are painfully digging into your soft flesh, when he looks up into your eyes, mumbling, "Kiss me, oh god, f-fuck, kiss me please."

How could you say no to that?

You rearrange your feet at his sides and lean down to slant your lips over his, but he gets impatient, pulling you down strongly— teeth clacking against his, but the slight pain is overridden when his thrusts start to turn choppy, brutal. It's so familiar that you pull away, your words spill from your lips unbidden.

"I love you."

He grunts as he comes inside of you, coating your slick walls with his essence, and you kiss him again, languidly this time.

Simon's head falls back onto his pillow, and he rubs your waist as he tries to catch his breath. You try to rest your head on his chest when he stops you with a hand to your sternum.

"You didn't finish," he asserts.

Of all the things... "No, Simon, I'm more than satisfied with..." you quietly moan when he begins to lower his hand until he's at your mons and uses his own cum to make the pad of his thumb slippery— rubbing tight, precise circles on your neglected clit.

He plays you like an instrument, and your walls are fluttering around his softening cock in minutes.

When your thighs begin to shake around him, he pulls you down with a hand to the back of your head and whispers against your lips what you've been waiting to hear all this time.

You climax to his words.

"I love you too."

Johnny gapes at Simon the next day, because his demeanor is vastly different to the usual surly.

"Ye slept with her, didn't ye?"

A tsk. "None of your business, Johnny."

"Ye did! About damn time, if ye ask me."

Simon doesn't rebuke that. You were another's' but now you're his. Only his.

And he's never letting you go.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x f reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #multiverse cod #simon riley x reader #cod mwii #simon riley x you #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley x you

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oikasugayama · 4 months

Text

YOU CATCH HIM M@STURBAT!NG

NSFW, for adults ONLY, MDNI or I'll block you. No idea how many parts this will be. Let me know which BSD men you want to see ;)

pt. 1 Fyodor, Poe, Chuuya | pt. 2 Fukuzawa, Kunikida, Dazai | pt. 3 Ranpo, Akutagawa, Ango | pt. 4 Sigma, Mori, Tetcho | pt. 5 (finale) Atsushi, Nikolai

Fyodor

Walking in on him touching himself is REALLY surprising because he doesn't seem the type to masturbate, in your mind. You straight up couldn't imagine him touching himself until the very second you walked into his office and saw his bottoms around his ankles, his top hiked up around his chest, and his hand furiously pumping over his pale dick.

His head is thrown back, eyes closed, mouth lazily hanging open. You've never seen so much skin on him before. He's PALE pale which makes the brightness of his mouth and tongue and the tip of his cock seem so much brighter.

"oh love, yes, yesss" he moans, and your whole body flushes red with embarrassment and arousal at the same time. You shouldn't be seeing this but you're having a hell of a time turning away from him. You need to leave the room. You need to go. You need to turn around.

"y/n," he purrs, tilting his head and opening his eyes half-way, looking so fucked out and erotic. "do you like what you see?"

You can't formulate an answer, you're standing in the doorway short circuiting, trying to make words but only noises come out

"since you're standing there I thought you might be interested," he says as slow and calm as ever. Even jerking himself off his voice doesn't hitch or raise or speed up and it's honestly really hot right now. "Care to join me?"

"i-i, um... I'm really s-sorry, f...fyodor."

He moans softly biting his lip while still staring straight at you.

"say it again," he purrs. "say my name."

"fyodor..."

"again," he moans, hand working faster.

"Fyodor."

you walk in and close the door behind you.

Poe

You two scheduled a hang-out at his place but despite how many times you knocked on the door, he wouldn't answer...so you try the doorknob, and hey, it's unlocked! You've been to his place many times, you don't mind letting yourself in and don't suspect he'll mind either.

After you put your stuff down and take off your shoes, you register a quiet noise coming from a different room. you sneak closer and realize two things: it's crying, and it's coming from poe's bedroom

you open the door and rush in without thinking. "poe! what's wrong, why are you-- OH FUCK"

you rushed right into him kneeling at the edge of his bed, bouncing on a dildo and not crying, whimpering, moaning.

he calls your name and you can't tell if he meant to moan it but he absolutely moans it and he sounds like a wreck and he looks pathetic and fucked out, and you feel it when he says your name.

"I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have been this, I'm gonna go home--" you say, turning and rushing out of his room. he calls your name after you, multiple times, moaning and moaning and moaning--

you sink down against his front door, still slightly able to hear the sounds of him moaning and whining from his room. you're so horny now, absolutely drenched through your panties/rock hard in your pants. You know you should leave, you know you shouldn't still be here, but he never told you to go, he just kept saying your name...

a few minutes later, after the noises have subsided and the apartment has gotten deadly quiet, his bedroom door creaks open and he slowly peeks his head out. he must be crawling still because he's near the floor.

"[y/n]," he sighs, "I didn't want you to find out like this."

it takes you a second to collect yourself, but you manage to ask "find what out?"

"that i... i think about you... a lot..."

Chuuya

you're on a PM mission with chuuya and several other PM members. you've got to share a room with chuuya, but at least you have separate beds. it's fine. it's whatever. until.

until you wake up one morning--the clock on the bedside table saying it's only 6:23 a.m.--to the sound of a rhythmic slapping, some occasional huffs, a-- a moan?

you sit upright in bed quickly, your head turning toward chuuya's bed.

"are you fucking serious?"

"what" he huffs, and through the tiny bit of daylight creeping through the curtains you can see movement beneath his sheets.

"are you jerking off right now? dude we're sharing a fucking room."

"you were asleep," he says defensively. "not like you noticed yesterday."

"dude!!!"

"get over it, it's fuckin' natural," he says and his voice is getting tight and higher almost like he's biting back a moan or getting close to cumming.

"it's disrespectful when you have someone in the same room, chuuya," you say softer, subconsciously still trying to hear the sounds he's making. you're embarrassed at how intrigued you are

"i'm not stopping you," he says. "you can jerk it too for all i care."

"to what... to you jerking it?"

you can almost hear the smirk in his voice when he says "I never said anything about that, so you thought that up all on your own. is that what you're into, pet?"

#bsd smut #bsd x reader #bsd headcanons #chuuya smut #chuuya x reader #chuuya headcanons #fyodor smut #fyodor x reader #fyodor headcanons #poe x reader #poe smut #poe headcanons #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs headcanons #bungo stray dogs smut

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arminsumi · 6 months

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Hi! I hope ur having a good time. Sorry, for the phrasing, English is not my first language hehe (｡>\\<) btw i really like ur writing! u keep them in character and also ur amazing at writing fluff ♡(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ can I please ask for a gojo fluff where he realizes reader always wanted to have a small boyfriend to like call him baby boy to sit on her lap and spoil him and stuff and then gojo goes apeshit like trying to sit on her with his long ass limbs trying to be a babyboy idk hehehe anyways tysm

"I'm your baby boy, right?"

GOJO さとる + fem!reader

Satoru thinks he's smaller than he actually is, and tries curl up on you like a cat.

Note : hey hey! srry i took so long to write this omggg it got lost in my drafts. but!! it's such a sweet idea thank u for sending it in!! big beefy satoru trying to make himself ur small boy is a thought that gave me life 💗😖 and thank u so much for ur kind words it means a lot!!

Satoru tries to curl up on you as if he's a little cat.

But he's not.

Ah, but he really thinks he is sometimes.

And he wants to be a little cat to you, not a big burly man or a strong intimidating menace but just a small, soft, delicate thing to be held and touched and pampered with love and care.

It makes you laugh, as you listen to him grunting and struggling to position himself on your lap and get those long limbs in order — it's one of the funniest sights; a big boy trying to box himself up like he's not 6'3 with broad-shoulders 'n thick arms 'n long spider-like legs.

"Do you think you're a cat or something?"

"Yes." he grins dumbly, balancing precariously on you as you sit. Then he sees your smile and slips off. "—oopsfuck!" he falls, gets up, acts it off, then tries again.

In bed, he wiggles down the sheets so his head is level with your chest. He wraps his arms around your middle, arches his back, and encases you between his legs. He clings to your body on his side like that, and snuggles his cheek on your chest as if it's his rightful pillow, the place where he belongs.

"Play with my hair, please?" he mumbles with pouty lips.

He smiles to himself when you fulfil his request.

Feeling both your warmth and your fingers stroking lovingly through his hair makes him drowsy. And when he's drowsy, he mumbles mental notes like "we need to buy orange juice tomorrow..." as he falls asleep.

His grip slackens as he falls asleep. In the middle of the night, he'll wake up and look at you with that puffy pouty sleepy face of his and stare for a moment, appreciating you, before tightening his embrace on your body and returning to slumber.

When he wakes up the next morning with you, he makes the same request; "Play with my hair." but with a raspy voice.

While you do so, he groaningly complains about having had nightmares all night.

"I keep dreamin' about saving the world 'n failing... but it's fine. I wake up and you're right here. So nothin' to worry about. Doesn't matter if I fail if I still have you."

He's so happy to be getting spoiled and pampered by you while curling his body up as small as possible. Happy that he has someone he doesn't have to be big and strong around. Someone who he can be a baby boy around.

Sometimes he's resting on your chest in the mornings in silence, when suddenly he rears his head up and asks "I'm your baby boy, right? Say it, please."

"Mhm. You're my baby boy, Satoru. Don't worry."

"Mm yay." he smiles to himself and resumes resting on you, his white hair tickling under your chin. "Say it again, please. Just keep saying it."

So you do, you say it repeatedly and it sounds like a soft lullaby to him. He falls back asleep with his ear pressed to your heartbeat, and feels a safe warmness in his chest.

"Oh." he startles out of his shallow sleep, "We need to buy orange juice, don't we?"

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

#fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #gojo #gojo x reader #x reader #jjk fluff #gojo x reader fluff #gojo satoru fluff #jjk gojo #jjk x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen #gojo saturo #gojo x you #satoru #satoru x reader #satoru fluff #gojo satoru x reader

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eternally-racing · 2 months

Text

kiss it better | lance stroll

pairing: lance stroll x reader

genre: fluff, smut (minors DNI)

warning: oral sex (m! receiving)

wc: 1.3k

summary: When you’re taking care of Lance after his biking injuries there’s a special place where he really wants you to kiss it better.

author’s note: yes, this is 100% inspired from me watching DTS and Lance’s scene with Lando LOL

- - -

The last 2 weeks had been an insane rollercoaster for you and Lance. What had started off as a fun experience biking with friends in Spain had turned into a nightmare as you and Lance spent the rest of your trip in the hospital.

You had been Lance’s angel throughout all of the recovery from his wrist injuries. Never before had either of you really thought about how much you do with your hands and feet, until you realized that it meant that Lance couldn't really do anything until the doctors had determined that he was recovered enough. “It would take more than a lifetime for me to repay you for this, baby” Lance always says as you help him out around the house. You truly didn’t mind it - doing the laundry, the grocery shopping, the cooking, the cleaning. “We do it for the people we love” you would always say. It’s because you knew that if the tables were turned that Lance would do the exact same for you, taking care of you 24/7 until you felt better.

Your generosity is what makes Lance feel especially guilty. In the last 2 weeks he had been nothing more than a couch potato while you seemed to balance ten thousand responsibilities. You were already doing so much for him, how could you possibly ask for more? But you were walking around the house in the tiniest little shorts and a bralette that really felt like it barely counted as actually covering your chest. Lance definitely wasn’t complaining but looking at you was weakening his resolve with every passing day. Today you had taken to putting away the laundry, and with every time you bent over he could feel his boxers start to tighten. It was getting unbearable really, and the horniness in Lance’s brain was making it short circuit.

“Y/N baby, can I get your help with something?”

It feels like you’re there at his bedside before he can even blink. Your doe eyes are looking at him in a way that makes him want to give you the whole universe and it’s enough to make Lance want to bail on his request.

“No, actually I changed my mind I don't need - “

“Baby, please - I’m here to help you. What do you need?” You perch yourself on the edge of his bed, busying yourself but organizing some things on the nightstand. Lance’s cheeks are bright red but now he can barely look you in the eye.

“It’s just been a really long time since I… yknow.” Lance glances down only slightly but it’s enough to give you an idea of what’s going on.

“Oh?”

“Oh.”

“Well, I think there’s something that I could do about that.” you smirk slightly.

Your hand slowly creeps towards where you know his cock lies under the bedsheets, and you gasp when you feel how hard it already is in your hands. You lean further down, laying your head so close, but still so far from where Lance wants you to be.

“No teasing baby” he mutters as he has to resist running a hand through your hair himself. The casts covering both his hands serve as a stark reminder of why he can’t do so even though he so badly wants to. You’re placing soft little kisses over top of the blanket, leaving the layers between you two as you creep closer towards his hardened length.

“I’m surprised I didn’t think of this before honestly. Like what were you going to do - suck your dick yourself?”

You have your hands laid across Lance’s thighs and you feel them clench at the statement, which makes your jaw drop in response.

“Oh my god, you’ve totally tried to suck your own dick before. This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard of. If I wasn’t so horny right now I would make you tell me the story right now, but I definitely want to hear all about this later.” you laugh while still continuing your ministrations.

Your monologue gets a little long and Lance throws his head back and whines. When you pull back the covers and his boxers, Lance’s cock is the hardest you’ve ever seen it - the precum that sneaks out of the head only adds to your arousal as you lick your lips in anticipation . When you run your fingers over it gently it’s enough to make the Canadian boy shudder. You take your time as you kiss up and down the inside of his thighs, running your tongue over everywhere except where he needs you most.

“Please Y/N - I’ll beg, I’ll do anything. I’m just a guy who hasn’t cum in over 2 weeks and has the most beautiful girl in the world on his knees in front of him - I might just cum the minute you touch me.”

It’s music to your ears when you hear Lance moan as you lower your mouth onto his cock. You know his body so well that you know exactly what to do to have him seeing stars. His cock is hitting the back of your throat already and Lance can’t help the way his hips buck his cock further into you. Your hands come around to cover up the part of his length that you can’t fit in your mouth, working in tandem to make sure that you’re covering every single inch.

“You’re taking me so well princess, feels so fucking good.” Lance is filled with nothing but praise for you as your head bobs up and down on his length.

You’re gasping for air as you finally lift your head off Lance’s dick. You take it in your hands and slap your cheek a couple of times, enjoying the feeling of it against your skin. It’s when you reach to cup his balls in your hand that Lance truly feels like he’s in heaven, and he says exactly that. Even in your hands they feel full, so full of cum, and you can’t help but let out a moan yourself at the feeling. You give them each the attention they deserve before Lance begs for you to go back to his cock.

You can feel Lance’s hips start to stutter underneath you as he starts to lose control.

“Oh god Y/N I’m gonna cum, fucking hell.” Lance tries to lift your mouth off of him, telling you that he’ll cum wherever you’d like. There was no surprise that Lance was a tits man through and through and loved seeing thick ropes of his cum over your breasts. Sometimes you’d want it on your face, sticking your tongue out the catch as much cum as you can. But today you kept your head down, ignoring Lance’s warnings as you kept your nose buried firmly towards his pubic bone.

“Princess I’m really gonna - fuck, fuck, fuck” Lance keeps chanting your name as he cums.

There’s so much cum that you can’t keep it all in your mouth. It drips out of the corner of your mouth and down your chin which looks absolutely sinful. Lance wishes he could take a real photo but instead resolves to committing it to memory himself. As if that wasn’t enough, Lance moans watches you swallow, proudly showing off your clean tongue to him after the fact.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the most amazing girl in the entire world?” Lance says as he pulls you into a kiss.

“Maybe a couple times, but I could hear it again.” Even though Lance is always a charmer, his words still make you blush every time.

“How about I show you instead?” Lance gets you to lay on your back, switch your positions as he starts to nestle his face in between your thighs.

“Wait baby, I don’t want to hurt you - you’re still recovering.” The worry is evident in your voice as you stop him from diving in further.

“My wrists may be broken but my tongue works just fine, princess.” Lance says as he uses his teeth to pull down your panties.

— – – – —

author’s note: that scene in dts was so iconic that i just had to capture it in a fic! hope u all enjoyed it :) Until next time! - Em 🩷

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beowlet · 7 months

Text

HOUSEWARDENS WITH A S/O WHO LIKES TO BITE THEM

Headcannons

cw: nothing much other than fluff, Gn!Reader, usage of "You" instead of pronouns. NOT proofread.

part 1 part 2 part 3

R. Rosehearts

His love language is probably Quality Time and Acts of service but he definitely enjoys physical affection in private. However, he is definitely still a little shy. Just give the poor boy a little more time and he'll get used to it.

Probably has a hard time adjusting to physical contact at the start of the relationship. I'm skipping hand-holding stage because this guy can't even bring himself to touch you anywhere. Literally.

Let us jump to a few months into your relationship. Can finally hold your hand without a problem and he even sometimes hugs you! Isn't that cute-

Well, he has gotten used to hugs yes! But he didn't expect you to just bite his shoulder out of nowhere while hugging you?? What are you even doing?? THIS IS HIGHLY INAPPROPRIATE!!

*attempts to collar you immediately*

Wasn't expecting it at all?? Why would you even bite him?? Did he manage to annoy you somehow..?- He is sure he didn't squeeze you too tight or anything... Did he say something without realizing it??

Please tell this boy that's how you show affection right after otherwise he'll overthink it all week.

Probably doesn't understand anything at all confused about how biting someone could be a way of showing affection. But he doesn't mind if you do it in private.

Always flushes red whenever you do it, Riddle tomato kinnie<3

L. Kingscholar

Good for you can you guys go back to your nap now?

Probably doesn't care all that much. I think Leona would be a Physical Touch and words of affirmation kinda guy so he really doesn't mind your biting habit just don't bite too hard and wake him up.

First time you did it I don't even think you guys would be dating.

This man drags you into the botanical garden every single day at the exact same time in lunch break JUST to cuddle with you. Doesn't give a fuck if you're dating or not.

It would be a day where you just wanted to watch the lion beastman sleep instead of resting with him because you had too much energy. Your eyes scanning the gorgeous man sleep watching his chest rise and fall... until you notice his exposed neck.

oh no

This is the perfect momment. How can you resist to urge to bite him?? Just a gentle little nibble on his arm-

Chomp

Wakes up immediately and pushes you back in reflex he is staring at you like (•ー•)

Why?

He doesn't mind it but why bite him exactly?

He just sighs and goes back to sleep almost instantly. Probably too tired to deal with your bullshit

But to your suprise he won't push you away anymore when you try to do another small nibble on his arm

Don't expect him to not bite back to tease you though. Bite you where you ask? Don't worry about it.

A. Ashengrotto

His love language is DEFINETLY Gift giving and Quality time nobody can prove me wrong nor will anybody try to because they know I'm right ☆o☆

The first stages of your relationship I would imagine it to be a bit rocky because Azul would still have a hard time relaxing around you and would be uncomfortable with the idea of physical touch at first.

At FIRST.

Once he is comfortable this boy is all over you, hugging and cuddling and kissing and EVERYTHING. He is all. in.

First time you bit him it was probably you two cuddling. Out of nowhere you just casually bit into his shoulder.

My guy YELPS

He is staring at you in shock because why?? Just why?? He doesn't need another Floyd! Why are you biting him??

Is all pouty when you say you do it to show your love.

Out of 7 love languages you chose one THAT DOESN'T EVEN EXIST??? BITING? WHY???

Eventually gets used to it and (kinda) starts liking it.

The sensations when you bite his neck while cuddling starts to feel comforting. It doesn't even feel sexual.

He only lets you bite him in private. Nothing on this planet could never and I mean NEVER EVER make this boy let you bite him in public. Arm, hand OR LITERALLY ANYWHERE. No. If you do you're getting the silent treatment.

K. Al-asim

Kalim's love language is definetly Gift giving and Physical touch. He can't help but want to shower you with gifts and cling to you whenever it's possible.

Imagining he's already very friendly I don't think he would even try to tone down the affection at the beginning of your relationship. Hugs, kisses (not on the lips he wants to save that for a special time), hand holding. He doesn't think much of it!

Doesn't mind PDA, would hug and kiss you anywhere with anyone present.

I imagine this would happen early on your relationship too, maybe when you two are studying together.

I imagine Kalim as someone who would boop his lover's nose. Do you people see where I'm going with this?

You two would be in his room, studying peacefully. Before of course Kalim gets bored and starts doing random stuff. Playing with your hair or clothes, and eventually he goes to boop your nose.

You, out of reflex, lean in to gently hold his finger with your teeth. Not biting down.

I don't think Kalim would be too suprised, probably just giggle and kiss your cheek.

So yeah! Doesn't mind it! Don't do it in public or leave marks or Jamil will be on your ass.

V. Schoenheit

Vil's love language I think would be Quality time and Gift giving I don't know might be wrong on that one I'm not too sure.

Not too big on physical touch but if you wanna hug him for a short while he wouldn't mind. Definetly tries to keep it low in public. In private I feel like he would drown you in kisses.

Imagining you tried sneaking in a bite in public, this man is gonna push you away and spray water on you like you're some damn cat.

No.

Just no.

You can't leave marks on him or do something as stupid as that in public. Will give you a full 2 hour long scolding.

Would he like it? Maybe. But has a reputation to keep. He wears many outfits for photoshoots, ones that are skin showing and ones that cover his body. But he can't exactly always wear clothes that cover his neck or shoulders.

If you wanna do it you will have to do it somewhere that wouldn't be visible. Otherwise you're getting the water spray.

I. Shroud

Oh this man is def a Quality time and Acts of Service guy. Not saying he wouldn't like physical affection but would probably not be the most comfortable with it. He needs time to get comfortable yanno?

There is no way you are gonna be able to bite this man pre-relationship. No. He isn't even out of his room most of the time how did you bag him? How??

Would have to do it while he's gaming. Maybe playing a pvp game with you or something. If you wanna win you have to distract this man a little bit...

Seated infront of a screen, both of you with controllers in hand... possibly about to break it with how much of a try hard you two are being just to win. And suddenly... an idea strikes you!

Biting Idia!

It definetly worked because my guy jumps back so hard he probably hits something. But hey! You won! Just don't do that ever again.

Just no.

Okay maybe.

Just not out of nowhere like that.

Please do it again.

NOT IN A WEIRD WAY THOUGH.

...He finds it weirdly comforting...

M. Draconia

I like to think Malleus' love language is physical touch and gift giving. He would probably buy you flowers out of nowhere. I feel like he'd bring you rocks he finds pretty too idk... maybe only I think that way...

I feel like the momment you show this man any physical affection that would be considered even a little more than friendly he would assume you two were in a relationship.

So no, once again. After you two got together.

You could do it at anytime and anywhere, but for the sake of your ear drums not being busted by Sebek's screeching voice yelling about his devotion to Malleus and how disrespectful what you just did was, let's say it was in private.

He would be suprised but probably would allow it without question. Would bring your hand up to his mouth and hold your finger with his teeth while having an expression that said "am I doing this right...?"

In conclusion he doesn't care. Do it. Bite this man anywhere you want. He likes it. Probably comforting in a way.

♡. Requested by beloved @identity-theft-101

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murdrdocs · 1 month

Text

implied skinny dipping; slightly suggestive content W/ LUKE CASTELLAN

thinking about luke, dragging you down to the lake for your usual stargazing, and then he 'subtly' suggests you go skinny dipping.

he speaks through a yawn, as if his words are the most casual as ever. as if he's only talking about the weather. "it was hot today, right? the water looks nice. should we go in?"

“is this your way of trying to see me naked?” you hope the suspicion in your tone hides your nerves.

luke laughs a bit in his reply. “i’m not trying to see you naked. swear.” he holds his hands up to either side of him, palms facing you. "scouts honor." he displays only three fingers on his right hand.

you avoid mentioning how he was never a boy scout as you squint at him, a small smile on your lips. one that exists up until luke uses his hands to lift his shirt over his head.

you allow yourself to stare when the orange is covering his face. but as soon as you see those plush lips and the bottom of his scar, you pretend you’ve been watching the stars the entire time.

luke scoffs and you assume his shirt is completely off of him by now. you keep your eyes directed up.“oh, come on. you can look at me, you know? i’m not showing any of the scary parts.”

his dick. the scary parts are his dick and that's all you can think about. you tell him as such.

“it’s all scary parts, idiot.”

he chuckles and then you hear the sound of his belt clinking. your body starts to warm and the idea of sinking into the cool water appeals more and more to you.

luke calls your name, soft and firm.

you hum.

“look at me.”

it takes you a second to do as told, but when you do, you’re glad to see that luke still has his pants pulled up. his hands are on either side of his undone belt, but the clasp of his jeans is still done.

“if you don’t want to, i won’t make you.”

he’s serious now, and him caring about you has always made you feel a certain way.

“i know.”

he lifts his eyebrows, waiting for a reply.

you give it to him by lifting your shirt off of your body.

luke whoops, a little too loud and you fear a wood nymph—or worse—a camper will find you.

you shush him between giggles. as you shimmy out of your pants. luke mirrors you, and when you stand up and begin to perceive luke's half-nude body, your skin burns. when you realize luke is doing the same for you, eyeing your body, your tummy stirs.

you've seen luke half-naked, of course you have, you two are best friends. but then he was wearing swim trunks and not the tightly fitting black boxer briefs that he's wearing now.

you've always known that luke was fit, you've seen him putting in the work to get to this point. but the low lighting accentuates his abdominal muscles. the situation makes him appear more appealing than a best friend. you being naked makes you want him more than a best friend should.

you don't realize just how hard you're staring until luke grins. "do you wanna get in the water or would you prefer staring at me?"

your eyes immediately snap to luke's face but he's already laughing at you. definitely not with.

"no, no, don't stop on my accord. keep looking if you want." he throws his arms out, holding them there as he spins in a circle.

"stop being an asshole." you try to be nonchalant, but you definitely did look at his ass when he turned around. just as fit as the rest of his body but you definitely don't care about that. nor did you really notice. (lying to yourself will only work for so long)

"hey, i'm not judging." he's turned back around to face you again and it's only then that you realize luke is perceiving you just as hard as you're perceiving him.

"perv," you throw the insult at him.

"guilty," he throws the response back.

eventually, you're both going to have to stop denying this thing between you both.

#this is more dialogue work than anything else #lukesworld!#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you

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osaemu · 2 months

Text

SHARING IS (NOT) CARING: PROFESSOR!DAZAI

✩ ‧ ˚. synopsis: he has to teach your class for the day, but there's no way either of you will be able to focus with you sitting in the front row.

contents: fem!reader. college AU. professor x student. not proofread and written in under five minutes. i forgot how to write dazai, whoops. i'll probably write more in this AU later on bc i think it has potential. -1K words.

professor!dazai is well aware that he shouldn't be romantically involved with a student, but justifies it to himself by reasoning that you're not in his class, so it should be okay. even though your university's policy allows teacher-student relationships if they aren't in the same field, he still tries to keep it mostly a secret—after all, he wouldn't want to risk anything on your part.

but one day, your professor's absent, and luckily (or not), dazai's the only one available to step in for the day. imagine his surprise when he realizes that the class he hesitantly agreed to sub for today was your class, and as luck would have it, you sit in the front row.

"alright, class, i don't really know what you're supposed to be doing, but—"

"there should be an outline on the desk, sir," the girl next to you pipes up, smiling bashfully at dazai. he pauses and nods at her gratefully, doing his best to not make eye contact with you as he skims over the outline. you're equally as unsure as he is, because you never expected to be in this situation: with your boyfriend as your actual professor, even if it was just for a day.

"oh, great, i have to give a lecture," dazai grumbles, holding the papers in the same hand that's also holding a cup of steaming hot coffee. he sighs, eyes professionally surveying the room before finally settling on you. "would you mind giving me a quick summary of whatever you're supposed to be learning today?" he asks, hiding his little smile behind the cup of coffee he presses to his lips.

you nod, but right before you open your mouth, the girl next to you speaks up again. "i can do it, professor," she offers, beaming at dazai as if she's the personification of joy and happiness. and it's almost comical, the way dazai barely spares her a glance before returning his attention to you.

so you give him a brief summary of what your actual professor had said your class would be covering today, and dazai nods along, eyes focused intently on the outline in his hand. when you finish speaking, he stays quiet for another second before shrugging and sitting down at the teacher's desk. "i'll just find a video on it, 'cause i don't know enough to teach the subject. and honestly, i don't want to, either."

as expected.

twenty minutes go by with some youtuber's monotone voice droning on in the background, but instead of studiously taking notes (like you should be doing), you find yourself staring at dazai instead. his eyes are fixed on his phone, and it's a mystery to everyone in the room as to what he's doing. it's only when you pick up your own phone to check the time do you see a bunch of missed messages from him:

osamu: this class is so boring

osamu: how do u sit through this every. day.

osamu: i'm already falling asleep wtf

osamu: babe answer me :(

osamu: do you hate me :( if not answer me :(

you bite your lip in a futile effort to hide the smile that's threatening to grow on your lips, which would be suspicious, considering that there's practically nothing to smile about in this dull lecture hall.

you: shut up i'm trying to focus

dazai shoots you a subtle grin from his spot up front and replies quickly enough to make you wonder if all this time, he's just been staring at your name on his phone.

osamu: ik you're not paying attention

osamu: play me in 8 ball

you: no

"you in the front," dazai calls from his desk, clearly directing his voice towards you. he raises an eyebrow coyly, and continues, "shouldn't you be taking notes?"

the girl next to you snickers, not seeming to catch the look you give her. dazai clears his throat and looks at you pointedly, obviously trying not to show his amusement.

"okay," you mutter, shooting dazai a vicious death glare. he winks back at you, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"what was that?" he asks in response, pretending not to have heard you. it's embarrassingly obvious that he's just messing with you, and you wonder why you ever agreed to date this man in the first place—of course he'd pull something like this the one day he gets to have authority over you.

"yes, professor," you say with a witheringly forced smile. dazai's smile turns uncertain as he dips his head in reply and instantly picks up his phone.

osamu: i'm sorry pls don't make me sleep on the couch

you: i won't :)

you: you'll be out on the porch tonight :)

osamu: wait no

osamu: i love u

osamu: pls don't do this to me ilysm

"hey," the girl next to you whispers, drawing your attention away from your phone and to her uncomfortably close voice. "isn't professor dazai hot?"

she's not a quiet whisperer, and something about dazai's forcibly calm expression makes you certain that he can hear every word. "i guess," you answer noncommittally. hopefully, your tone doesn't betray how close you are to clawing out your eyes.

"do you think he's single?"

"no. and even if he was, i doubt you'd be his type," you reply with a sickeningly sweet smile. dazai coughs into his arm, obviously trying to hide the laugh he had just choked out. the girl's eye twitches, and you hold your smile until she rolls her eyes and looks away.

osamu: ur so funny i'll kms

you: ur still sleeping on the porch.

osamu: babe :(

#osaemu #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #bsd x reader #bsd x you #bsd x y/n #dazai osamu x reader #osamu dazai x reader #dazai osamu x you #osamu dazai x you #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bungo stray dogs x y/n #dazai fluff #bsd fluff #dazai drabbles #bsd drabbles

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damnelva · 3 months

Text

☆°•LUCIFER/READER HEADCANONS•°☆

You're a tall woman, cause let's be honest he has a thing for tall and powerful woman

☆ I feel like you need to be a little different than Lilith to make Lucifer love you

☆ He's WAY more touch-craving now after all these years without any affection even from his own daughter. You have to be more open, affectionate and loving than Lilith ever was

☆ He's more insecure after Lilith, so you have to be able to show him your love towards him anytime or he's gonna go crazy duo to his overthinking

☆ And if you are loving, affectionate and caring in a way that showes him it, he's gonna be SO GRATEFUL

☆ That man was left with no care and love for so many years and now having someone like you that expresses it so easily and openly is like a blessing for him!

☆ The way you hold his hand so gently, or how you smile or tell him how good he's at his job or whatever he's doing- He's gonna cry!

☆ He loves you for loving his obsession with ducks. He kinda felt like it was weird and stupid for the king of hell to like such animal as a duck (it is kinda), but you also love them!? And you don't judge him for that, even the opposite, you think it's cute!? Oh, he's going to go insane with you..

☆ Lucifer's melts at the sight of you having a good relationship with his daughter. He'll be the happiest demon alive if Charlie sees you as a mother-figure! His two most important people get along with each other? Another reason to tell depression to go fuck itself

☆ About depression.. You can't imagine how his life got better after you entered it. Your love and care, it's just so much in a good way that it makes him even think if he still has depression (he does)

☆ He loves to wake up and see you laying next to him. Oh, the way your arms are wrapped around him and the way your embrace is so gentle but at the same time firm.. Like I said, it makes him sob

☆ Adores when you give him petnames like: Luci, dear or love. If you call him by a nickname, he will turn into crying & blushing mess

☆ He loves to give you nicknames like: Apple, Apple pie, Angel. BTW, for an unknown reason he feels naughty whenever he calls you ma'am or madam. Doesn't mean he won't call you that though

☆ Even though he's all sweet, cute and basically a cutie, he's still Lucifer the king of hell. He's hella strong and possessive. Like I said, he's insecure so whenever someone's flirting with you or being way too nice he gets jealous and mad

☆ Like, how dare you try to take away something I'm shocked I have!?

☆ Otherwise, no one approaches you in this kind of way, knowing who your lover is

☆ Please, marry him

☆ He wants it so bad! It already makes him blush whenever he realizes he can call you his lover, but being able to call you his WIFE!? Just the thought makes him blush, giggle and kick his feet

☆ This man is so maldy in love with you, it's crazy

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel lucifer #romance #hazbin hotel lucifer x reader #lucifer x reader #madly in love

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goresuki · 3 months

Text

my thoughts on Charlastor and Alastor calling Charlie "the daughter he never had"

this will be a very long rant/vent/whatever. also, a kind of... agressive one. if u wanna read, read it, if u don't, don't, idc and idm. I don't know if some antis take things for convenience (that way) or if they really are naive, because the fact that a manipulative guy like Alastor, whose intentions are unknown, tells Charlie that he sees her as "the daughter he never had" DOES NOT SOUND as CUTE to me as many DO seem to think it does.

I don't know if they don't realize the relationship Charlie has with her parents and how Alastor seems to take advantage of her.

From the pilot we realize that Charlie has no contact with her mother. In the series it is established that they have not seen each other for 7 years.

The first episode JUST talks about Charlie having so called "daddy issues" as her father, Lucifer, is an absentee father.

Charlie appears to NOT have had a close relationship with ANY of the two for some time (or quite some time).

The only person Charlie has is Vaggie, to protect and care for her (here's why Vaggie is so "boring", as some people call her, as she is acting as a guide/parental figure for Charlie, even though their relationship is romantic).

Where am I going with these points? That I think it's complete nonsense for people to take super-literally what Alastor has said: "you're like the daughter I always wanted to have".

Isn't it convenient for the most feared overlord (not the strongest) to approach Charlie and find that she's not as vulnerable as he thought (because Vaggie is there)? Isn't it convenient for Alastor to make a very absolute polarity between Vaggie and him in the pilot, where Vaggie comes off as the "bitter one" and he as the "fun guy"? Isn't it convenient for Alastor to PROVE to Charlie over and over again that HE knows what SHE NEEDS by pulling his tricks? And, oh, surprise… Isn't it even more convenient that when Lucifer arrives, who has a lousy relationship with his daughter, Charlie, Alastor rubs it in his face that he is doing everything that he (Lucifer) is responsible for, and furthermore, hits him right where it hurts, manipulating Charlie so that she seriously BELIEVES that Alastor REALLY sees her that way, and thus making her STILL not have a GUIDE other than HIMSELF?

I'll make it simple for you. You know how narcissists work? They will make you believe that YOU are special, and at the same time, they will ALIENATE you from your loved ones to keep gaining whatever they need from you. Charlie is, literally, his supply.

Alastor is a psychopath and narcissist. Do you really think that someone who can't genuinely empathize and love is literally going to feel affection for a grown woman who is very naive and doesn't even have power over her kingdom because she is so immature? Don't you think it is VERY OBVIOUS that he has literally said to her face: "I'm going to manipulate you in my favor because thanks to me you have all these upgrades in your stupid hotel"?

Alastor hasn't as such made a deal with Charlie, but he's winning her over in HIS way.

And I don't know who's crazier: charlastor shippers like me, who don't give a damn about canon and want to enjoy shipping WITHOUT bothering ANYONE (and don't come out with the stupidity that it's a "proship". Proshipper doesn't even mean "problematic ship", it means that you are FOR shipping whatever you want, living and letting live, without HARASSING others. Let's remember that Hazbin Hotel characters DON'T. FUCKING. EXIST. Alastor is not going to come out of the screen to say: "omg, user, thanks for defending me from those evil shippers uwu", or Charlie to say: "thanks for defending me, you're so good, user…. You're such a good person". Pro: "in favor of", shipper: "shipper, ship", however you want to call it. Don't modify terms to suit yourselves because you can tell that many don't even know how suffixes and prefixes work in words. Neither Charlie nor Alastor are going to die because someone shipped them. They are FICTITIOUS characters. The FANON is not going to change the CANON. Learn to sepparate stuff, ffs. Go out and touch grass once in a while) or antis who put on a pedestal what Alastor said, believing it as a justification to ATTACK people in the fandom who shipped something different, according to them, "problematic".

There they do forget that Alastor is a manipulator, that he is a person with a LOT of arsenal to get his way. There they forget that he IS a guy Charlie should NOT trust. There it DOES count because IT CONVENIENTS THEM. That's when the canon MATTERS to them. There it COUNTS. It doesn't matter if Charlie gets hurt because of trusting Alastor, they only see what they want to see. If you guys are going to humanize this fucking characters, at least be a little bit logical. Got me? Remember what Viv said?: "ship whatever you want, JUST DON'T HARASS ANYONE". These people say: "fuck what Viv says", but on this occasion, since she DID say something convenient for them, it DOES matter what Viv says now, doesn't it? Hypocrites.

Charlie has no one beyond Alastor, and I don't remember where I read that theory, whether it was here or elsewhere, where they talked about Alastor looking for a way to alienate the hotel itself in one way or another. That's why he doesn't use very flashy technology (Vox can travel through the latest electronics, and the hotel has an old box TV), nor does he go out of his way to provide anything of good quality (like the video camera). The hotel has its own power supply (we see this when the blackout occurs during the song between Alastor and Vox).

Alastor DOES NOT WANT Charlie as his daughter, he's just taking advantage of her to get whatever he needs to get out of her.

Charlie doesn't even seem to know exactly how her powers work, and the only person who can teach her is Lucifer, her father. And if Lucifer is out of the equation, Alastor can do whatever he wants.

He's hit Lucifer right in the jugular, and Lucifer knows that all the power in the world can't make up for the wrong he did to Charlie.

Anyway, if a real anti thinks Charlastor is problematic because "AlASTor AlreADy SaiD hE sEES hEr As a DauGhtER," I remind them that they are not dealing with a character who cares about others beyond maintaining his own status, and ffs... they're not even real. KEEP SHIPPING. KEEP DRAWING. KEEP MAKING FANFICS. FUCK THESE PEOPLE THAT TRY TO HARASS YOU, FUCK THESE PEOPLE THAT TRY TO MAKE EVERYTHING "PURE" ON A SHOW ABOUT DEMONS AND HELL. FUCK THESE PEOPLE TRYING TO MAKE A FANDOM THEIR OWN FUCKING WAY BECAUSE THEY CAN'T HANDLE THERE'S A LOT OF DIFFERENT VIEWS. FUCK THEIR SAVIOR COMPLEX, JUST COMING AROUND WHEN IT'S ALL ABOUT CHARACTERS THAT DON'T EXIST, FEEL, OR THINK FOR THEMSELVES, BUT DISAPPEARS ANYTIME SOMEONE REAL COMES, HARASSING AND SENDING DEATH THREATS TO THEM. FUCK THESE PEOPLE, GIVING PSYCHOLOGICAL DIAGNOSES OVER A FUCKING TIKTOK VIDEO OTHER ANTI MADE JUST BASING THEIR THEORIES ON THEIR FIST RESULT ON GOOGLE. FUCK YALL, CAUSE YOU'RE THE REASON YOU WHINE ABOUT THIS FANDOM. JUST AS WE SAY IN SPANISH: O LA BEBES, O LA DERRAMAS.

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