#he's nearly a THOUSAND years old

[rouge-the-bat]

help ever since i thought of kurama calling hiei "kitten" i havent been able to stop thinking about it. its just like, the perfect mix of teasing hiei for having so many cat-like tendencies, being a cute endearing nickname full of adoration, while also being condescending in like a loving dom kind of way, and also a side of teasing hiei for being small and comparatively much younger than kurama. it has it all. AND if it comes out as "my kitten" then it had a bonus of Possessiveness. ownership. its so so perfect. especially with hiei in a collar and leash-

#kurama #hiei #kurahi #youko kurama #shuichi minamino #yyh #yu yu hakusho #also i hc hiei to be nearly 100 but since kuramas in his thousands. hes comparatively quite young lol #actually i forget for sure if it was stated in canon if kurama is a few thousand years old or hundreds but i view him in thousands anyways #but anyways. kurama holding hiei in his lap and calling him ''my little kitten'' while tracing a thumb along hieis cheek #and smirking at him while inches from his face. do you see my vision

[spadefish]

more random rp snippets i had saved at some point

#rp shenanigans #context for that first one is that laslow is a kindred who's nearly a thousand years old #and he does not deal with humans one-on-one very often #[he works for the prince as kind of a sheriff/retainer combo] #the second one is Brand New Kindred ashe who's just remembered he doesn't need to breathe #i don't remember the context for the third one LOL #YES we run vtm lore on the D20 system. don't @ me

[draggeddowntothedark]

For being one of my oldest characters. Cicero is such a snobby brat. Like oh my god one day you're going to meet someone who can actually go toe to toe with you and will gladly turn your spine into a pretzel.

(that's going on the plot wishlist for him lmfao)

#;king of diamonds #ooc post #course finding someone who can actually stand up to a nearly two thousand year old vampire is uh. Another thing. #he's a bastard because he does have the oomph to back it up -.-

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 ❞

❝ WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU FAKE DATE SATORU GOJO WITH REAL FEELINGS? ❞

✧ pairing: satoru gojo x sorcerer!reader

✧ summary: you can't help but say yes when your longtime crush asks you to be his fake girlfriend for a year to get the gojo clan to stop arranging marriage proposals for him. but little did you know, he would be doing both of you a favor.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is the same age as gojo, set during s1 of jjk, fake dating hijinks, drunk! gojo, jealous! reader + gojo, implied satosugu (sorta, i see it more in a soulmate way, whether its platonic or romantic), switch! gojo, oral (f + m), deepthroating, handjob (m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, naoya makes an appearance, gojo clan elders suck, gojo's made up clan responsibilities,

✧ wc: 16,043

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 6 has been sold to @chuluoyi and an anon!

“C’mon, you don’t know until you try, sweetheart,” 

You run at your temples, you didn’t need to feel burgeoning ache of a headache forming to know it was coming — but you knew it would whenever you met with this blue eyed idiot, “Satoru, the last time you said that, you nearly got me killed,” you didn’t care to re-live him sending you on a mission meant for him to take a grade 1 one curse, only to end up fighting two other grade 2 curses along with it. 

You were lucky you made it by the skin of your teeth — and lucky that Shoko woke up when you showed up at her door, half dead. 

“And this time, there’s no risk of death,” he grins, stirring his sugary drink that counts more as sugar than a drink, “that shows great personal growth, don’t ya think?” 

“I think this conversation shows that just because you’re the strongest doesn’t mean you have an ounce of common sense,” you mutter, as you sip at your drink of choice, “Gojo, I can’t marry you — for one, there would be a risk of death — yours,” 

“Eh you wouldn’t be able to kill me — you’re far too—“ and you raise an eyebrow, daring him to finish that sentence, “kind,” 

You rolled your eyes, “One of the traits you’re looking for in your future partner?” 

“The thing is, you wouldn’t have to marry me at all — it would be a big sham!” He said with a thumbs up, as if that made it any better at all, “just for a couple weeks so I can fool the Gojo Clan into complacency and to stop the search for my future spouse — you’d be sparing the hundreds, no thousands, of possible candidates from facing the burden of my rejection,” 

“And I suppose the fact that the clan would get off your back is just a fringe benefit?” You sigh, “Gojo, why don’t you just tell them you don’t want to get married?” 

“I’ve tried — but the stubborn old geezers won’t budge — I’m caught between a rock and a hard place — and you know me,” his lips curl, “I’m a lover, not a fighter,” 

Yup, you have a headache now. 

“What would we have to do to convince them we were together?” 

Why were you considering this? 

“Dates, a few public outings, meeting the geezers because they would insist, and you would need to show your face around the clan compound,” he lists off, sipping at his drink, “there may be other things, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it,” You may jump off a bridge by the time this is over and done with, “what do you say?” 

“I have two questions,” and he leaned back in his chair, back and forth, impatience personified, “how long would we have to do it?” You didn’t want to be stuck in this arrangement for an undisclosed amount of time, but the second question was far more important, “ And why me?” 

“Three months, maybe longer,” you gape at him, “I can pay you?” you raise an eyebrow, “I will pay you,” you sigh, “and choosing you was easy because—“ 

“If you make some sort of joke about me being single, I don’t care if you have infinity, I’ll find a way to murder you,” you grumble. 

“Because you’re a sorcerer, you’re from a minor clan — so you’re an acceptable choice, and I trust you — you’re one of my closest friends,” he adds, for once his words are deprived of any humor. 

And that answer was…almost worse than the joke. The word “friend” stuck in your side like a thorn you could never pull out, festering and growing until it had become a part of you — that ached only when you thought of it. 

Your feelings for him, they were still there? You thought you had discarded them years ago, thought it was safe for you to move back to Tokyo from Kyoto, thought you had finally left that childhood crush behind — dead and buried — but here it was, still stubbornly clinging to life. 

And now it would thrive with new roots, stems, leaves, and buds if you agreed to this. 

He said your name, “Well?” 

He remains as inscrutable as always, But you could never say no to him, could you? “Okay, fine,” it would also help you out in the form of another problem of Naoya Zenin who had been nothing but persistent since you came back…but you didn’t want to dwell on that. Your eyes find Gojo’s again — as they always did. 

It was why you had left for Kyoto in the first place. 

“Is this really necessary?” you grumbled, as the servants that served the Gojo clan fussed over your clothes — it was a traditional kimono in the colors of your clan — a deep indigo, embroidered with white koi fish that swam along the fabric, embroidered with waves. You supposed you were only grateful that Gojo didn’t leave you to get dressed yourself. 

Gojo watched as they adjusted the obi around your waist, and your eyes remained fixed ahead, but your gaze couldn’t help but wander to him. Satoru Gojo was always unfairly gorgeous — there was a reason people fawned over him even when he had just rolled out of bed without even a once over at his appearance — but those same people probably would have passed out if they saw him as he was now. 

His formal wear was a sky blue — the same as his eyes, a coat draped over his shoulders and loose trousers of snow white that was a nod to hair of the same color. His hair remained unkempt as it always was. 

“Gonna change into that but not comb your hair?” You remark, and he smirks, running a hand through his hair. 

“Well I think if I start being too well behaved, they’ll know it’s fake,” and the word sticks in your chest like a dagger between the ribs, as the servants finally finish with your clothes, and you sigh. 

You straighten yourself, looking at yourself in the mirror, “How is it only been a couple hours and I’m already exhausted?” 

“The suffocating grip of old geezers and their backwards traditions would do that to you,” but his eyes linger on you, “but lucky for you sweetheart, it seems to suit you,” 

“Do you have to call me that?” You murmur, cheeks warming, as you pretend to busy yourself with adjusting your clothes in the mirror. 

“You have to get used to it,” his footsteps draw closer, heart battering against your ribcage as he does — surely, it would break free of its bony cage by the end of this, as he slides a shiny pendant around your neck — a sliver infinity with a singular small blue gem glinting in the middle — “after all, you are mine now, aren’t you?” 

“Gojo, this is—“ 

“Satoru,” he reminds you, as his fingers brush against your neck as he clasps the necklace, “how will it look if someone overhears you calling me by my last name in private?” And your fingers brush against the necklace, toying with the pendant as you positioned it properly, “do you like it? I had it made especially,” 

Especially — the lack of ‘for you,’ stuck out to you, as you force a smile on your lips, “it’s perfect — it will definitely sell the act,” and your eyes can’t find his as he adjusts his sunglasses, “I’m surprised you’re not wearing your blindfold,” you turn to face him, “doesn’t it drain you not to wear it?” 

“I can wear sunglasses sometimes — usually I get strange looks if I wear a blindfold in normal society — and here,” he pulls off the glasses as his cerulean irises seem to pierce your very form, “it reminds these old men who holds the cards here,” it was already hard enough for you to meet Gojo’s gaze as it was, it always felt as if he could stare right through you — and now, it felt as it your entire soul was beholden to him, “and as a bonus,” he draws close again, as he holds out his hand for your own. You resist the urge to bite your lip, inside giving your hand as he wished, and he lifts to his lips, before tilting his head to press the back of his hand to your cheek, “now I can look at my beautiful girlfriend unobstructed by these pesky eye coverings,” 

You scoff, “You always have something to say, don’t you?” As you try and fail to move your hand away, “Gojo—“ 

“A good escort should never let their lady walk in without their hand being held, don’t you think?” And you sigh, as he leads you out of the frying pan and into the fire  — you only hoped you wouldn’t be burned — your eyes sliding to Gojo again, fingers toying with the fabric over your chest — in more than one way. 

“So you’ve gotten yourself a partner, eh, boy?” the elderly man sits with his eyes closed as he sips his tea, steam rolling off the surface in droves, but he seemed unbothered by the heat — perhaps because of the steam coming out of his ears, “I’m shocked,” you kept your gaze down, only had greeting him upon entering — stating your name and clan, before kneeling beside Satoru on a cushion. 

“Shocked that someone like me could ever find my match? I know I’m truly one of a kind,” lips curled in that smirk that seemed to annoy almost everyone Satoru Gojo knew — including you — but no one showed the level of irritation that this man showed. 

Gojo may be the head of the Gojo clan — but you supposed there were still people he had to answer too, if only due to age and tradition — the two very things Gojo hated the most. 

“Why bother respecting those for aging when they haven’t done anything for me to respect?” he had said flippantly to Yaga one day during a lesson, “I rather die young than live to the age of these old coots without accomplishing a damn thing,” and then Yaga firmly smacked Gojo on the head right after, for disrespecting Gakuganji during the sister school exchange event. 

And you had a feeling this meeting was about to go as well as that class did. 

“Is this serious? Have you proposed?” and you have to keep a straight face, but your cheeks burn. 

“Now, don’t embarrass me and my girlfriend,” his fingers intertwined with yours, “but this is serious — she’s the only woman I want to marry — and I’ll do anything to accomplish that,” he leans forward with a smile, squeezing your hand, “because I love her, and I only will ever love her,” 

His gaze slides from Gojo to you, eyes boring into your skull, “and do you feel the same?” 

You never have been one for lying — lying was an uncomfortable feeling that twisted and turned in your stomach like questionable leftovers that you took a gamble on eating, ones that wanted to come out the same way it went in. But you had learned with time because sometimes it was necessary for a sorcerer to lie, and when it was between telling a lie or dying, you’re forced to become quite adept at things you hate. 

And you had learned, as you meet his hardened look, the best lies had some truth ingrained in them. 

“I do, Satoru and I went to Jujutsu Tech together, and he’s the only man I ever loved,” perhaps it was too much truth, as you forced your voice to be steady, “he’s frustrating, irritating, full of himself—“ 

“You don’t have to be that honest—“ Satoru grumbled. 

“But he’s also selfless, unendingly kind, a great teacher, and a good person, maybe even the best person I know,” you can’t bear to look at Satoru, “and he’s the only man I want to call my husband,” 

The silence lingers in the room for a moment before the old man grunts, “I’ll believe it when I see it,” 

“What kind of answer was that?” You asked as Satoru walked you back to the room, his fingers still laced with yours. 

“It means we have to make him believe it — but he’ll at least stop arranging these meetings for me with prospectives,” 

You raise an eyebrow, “and what will make him believe it?” 

He smirks, as he tugs you a little closer, fingers under your chin, “I could kiss you right now, might sell the act,” 

“No one can see us,” 

“Someone’s always watching,” he murmurs, leaning far too close as your breath catches, eyes widening before they flutter shut and you wait. But instead his lips brush your forehead, followed by a flick, “gotcha,” 

Your eyes snap open in a glare, “Gojo!” And he’s cackling. 

“Satoru,” he corrects, as his hand leaves yours as he opens the sliding door to the room, “you coming?” 

You pout, rubbing your forehead, as you brush past him — this was going to be a long few weeks. 

“Why do I even have to go to this?” You were being led through a bustling mall, his arm around your waist, as if to prevent you from escaping (good idea). Your lips twisted in a grimace, you allowed him to drag you along, knowing him, he would carry you over his shoulder without a hint of shame (you don’t think he even contained the word shame in his own vernacular), “can’t you go and wear a ring and go by yourself?” 

“A ring is not as good as having you on my arm now is it?” he bumps you with his hip, “plus, we’re not engaged yet, unless this is a proposal,” he raises an eyebrow, and your cheeks burn. 

“Shut up, I’d never propose to you,” he laughs, but it’s almost strained.

“Never propose to me like that right? Because I deserve a better proposal than that,” he sighs, leading you into a store, “come on, we have to find you a nice outfit for the wedding,” 

You glance at the store, your jaw dropping, “Gojo, this store is so expensive, I can’t afford this—“ 

He lowers his sunglasses just to show you that he’s rolling his eyes, “Who said you’re paying, Princess?” You stare at him, slack jawed, while a salesperson comes up to the two of you — though she’s clearly only interested in one of you. 

“Hi, what can I help you with finding today?” her lips curled in a smile, as she twirled a strand of her around her fingers, “I’d be more than happy to assist you,” her gaze completely fixed on Gojo, without the slightest hint of acknowledgment for you to spare. 

You bite back a scowl, plastering on a fake smile, as you lean into Gojo, “My boyfriend is looking to buy me an outfit for a wedding we’re attending — baby, could you tell her what style you want me to wear?” 

Gojo glances at you, a flicker of surprise that is quickly covered up by a smirk, his arm tightening around your waist, “Yes, I have to make sure my sweetheart is looking her best — so can you please find these styles of dresses for me?” You can’t help the smile on your lips as the salesperson shuffles away, lips a thin line rather than the grin she once had. 

“Didn’t know you were the jealous type,” Gojo chuckles, and you roll your eyes, hoping your expression didn’t give your heart away, the feelings you had stuffed into a crevice of your chest that threatened to burst. 

So you choose to turn it on him instead, as you meet his gaze with a small smirk, “I don’t like people taking what’s mine,” 

But he only takes it in stride, only as Gojo can, “I’m yours, huh?” 

You shrug, choosing to hurt yourself rather than let him do it, “at least for the next two to three months,” and your gaze snaps away and looks to the saleswoman as she comes back with a selection, “if you get to choose my dress, I get to choose a suit for you, deal?” 

Gojo raises an eyebrow, but smiles, “Anything for you, princess.” 

“You just wanted to see me model for you, didn’t you?” Gojo emerges from the changing room in a black button down and white suit coat with a matching white tie — as he tilts his head, “I would say my best suit is my birthday suit,” and you grimace, “oh c’mon, it was a good joke, although—“ 

“Don’t say it’s true,” you lean back, phone in hand as you snap a picture as you did for the last three, “I love to see that self confidence of yours has grown into full blown arrogance,” 

“How can I not be arrogant when I see you snapping pictures of me?” He crosses his arms, the fabric taut and straining over his chest, the top button undone, showing off the adam’s apple that bobs in his throat, “it’s definitely a step up from when you ignored me,” 

You snap from your thoughts, “When did I ignore you?” 

“When we graduated Jujutsu Tech, you’d spend time with Nanami or spend a weekend with Shoko, but whenever I was around, you wouldn’t even reply to a text,” your eyes fall to the floor, chewing your lip, “it wasn’t always like that — I thought we were close,”

It was true — but it wasn’t because you hated him. It was the opposite. You had tried to be his friend, but the more you were his friend, the more it hurt — hurt to see him smile at you like everyone else, hurt to see him with his eyes on the one he wanted, and with his arm around Suguru. 

And you really didn’t hate Suguru —  it was the opposite really — you thought they were perfect, a person who grounded him, made him a better person, and with a much tighter grip on reality than Gojo did — perhaps too tight. Too tight that it shattered apart in his hands, the pieces too far gone to pick out — and too far gone to save him. 

You tried to be there for him — knock on his door when you knew he was home and force him to shower while you and Shoko cleaned up his room. You stayed even when Shoko had long left, holding his hand as he hid his tears from you with his back turned, and you didn’t admit you could hear his nearly silent tears. But eventually, it turned into movie nights, meals shared, and even grocery runs. 

And it became harder and harder to hide how you felt — each minute spent with him was another drop in a bucket that was already overflowing to begin with. At first it had been a crush — an unattainable crush that you were happy to leave at just that. But eventually, it became so much more — you had fallen in love with him, when you really shouldn’t have. Because he didn’t need a partner — he needed a friend. 

“Gojo, I didn’t ignore you—“ 

“I’ve called you sweetheart, did your number change and then magically change back when you came back to Tokyo?” 

But once he had pulled himself together, you were graduating and you requested to be put in Kyoto — your excuse being you were tired being in the city — but to Satoru, you gave no excuse, you quietly left without a word. Because you were really tired of having your heart broken — so you needed space, and you were willing to do anything to get it. 

“Gojo, I didn’t really talk much to Nanami or Shoko when I left either, I just needed space—“ 

“Space from what?” You sighed, parting your lips when his phone rings. He checks it before taking it, “another mission? Yeah, I can leave tonight,” you bit your lip, “send Ijichi to take me to the airport. Yeah, ok,” and he hangs up, “we’ll have to cut this short. I have to go overseas,” 

“How long will you be gone?” 

“Probably just a few days. I’ll be back soon,” you bite your lip, and he tilts his head, “you worried about me, Princess?” 

You flush, opening and closing your mouth, “I am,” and he blinks, seemingly surprised, “come back safe. Text me to let me know when you land,” 

His lips curl, as he ruffles your hair, “I will — and I’ll be back soon enough. Promise,” and he pauses, “you want a souvenir?” 

“You don’t have to—“ 

“I want to,” he cuts you off, and your cheeks warm. 

And just then, he gets a text, “Ijichi Is almost here. I’ll have him drop you back first,” and he turns to change out of his clothes.

“Satoru,” you catch him by the sleeve, and he pauses, “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you after all of that. It had nothing to do with you, there was just a lot going on—“ he says your name, but you shake your head, “but it won’t happen again, I promise,”

“Good,” he steps back into the changing room, a grin on his lips, “I wouldn’t let you get away this time anyway, sweetheart.” 

“Gojo?” You say again, and he tilts his head, “get the indigo suit,” 

He grins, “and you have good taste, well, of course you do,” he holds the door open, “I am your boyfriend after all.” 

And the door of the fitting room swings shut, and you hope he’s not looking at you, as your cheeks burn, your heart squeezing in spite of every thought of your mind telling not to go there — not to go down that road, but you should have known, the moment you said yes to this plan—

You were already there. 

You had never known that the buzz of your phone could make you more happy — or anxious. 

But it had been over the course of the last few days. Because you’re probably an idiot, but that wasn’t the point. 

how bad of an idea would it be for me to try this Karanga and Chapati place that Yuta recommended? 

You snorted, Satoru, the last time you had curry — that wasn’t even that spicy, you couldn’t taste anything for a week.

Another buzz, But Yuta said it’s not so bad

You roll your eyes, imagining the pout he undoubtedly has on his lips — Yuta has never seen you cry over a bowl of curry — stick with your desserts, and you chuckle as you add: you may be the strongest but you have the weakest taste buds 

It takes some time for another response to come — and when it does, you realize a grave error on your part was made: never point out any flaw to this idiot because he will take it as a challenge. 

This is Yuta — Gojo-sensei tried it and he’s now in the bathroom. He told me to tell you he’d text you later. 

This was how the last few days flew by — texts with updates about his mission, his work, and his check-ins with Yuta. And the night before he was flying back, just as you were cooking dinner, he called you— 

“Gojo? Isn’t it 2:00 AM there right now?” 

“You learned the time difference for me?” you heard his words slur over the other line, “Sweethearttttt,” I went out with Yuta and Miguel, and I may have gotten a littttttle tipsy,” 

“Isn’t it like 2:00 AM there?” 

He clicks his tongue, “Miguel challenged me to a drinking contest,” and you groan, rubbing a hand down your face, “but they got me back into my hotel room, even though I’m not tired,” he mumbles, as you hear the crinkle of his bedsheets and the rustling of his comforter. 

“Have you drank water? How much alcohol did you have?” 

“Are you worried about me?” he giggles, before sighing, “I’m glad,” 

“Why are you glad?” You hold the phone between your cheek and shoulder as you stir the pan with your dinner currently in it. 

“Because it means you care about me,” he murmurs, “everyone who cares about me always leaves,” he gives a small bitter chuckle, “maybe it’s better for you not to care about me. It’s dangerous to care about someone like me — the type to die young or live far too long,” 

“Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he mutters, voice growing thick with sleep, “call me Satoru,” and his soft snores fill your ear as he falls into the sandman’s grasp — a small reprieve from his feelings — while you were left to dwell in them. 

All this time you had been thinking how you felt, what you were dealing with, what you wanted — and all these years and you hadn’t thought about how your actions made him felt. You thought he was beyond any hurt you could possibly inflict — his infinity meant that he was leagues above anywhere you could possibly reach — but it didn’t. 

He wasn’t. He was a person — and when had you stopped treating him as one? 

You texted Yuta: make sure your sensei is lying on his side and make him drink some water. And don’t let Miguel goad him into drinking ever again. 

Yuta: got it. sorry about that sensei — gojo wouldn’t listen

You scoffed, chuckling at how Yuta called you sensei but did not afford Gojo the same courtesy. 

You stayed on the phone with Gojo, hearing Yuta come in and persuading him to drink some water, before he fell back asleep, but even in his drunken state, he wouldn’t give up his phone — Yuta snapping a picture and sending it to you. You laughed when you saw it — loml with a dozen hearts and a picture of you in your obi, clearly taken when you weren’t looking, but it wasn’t those things that made you laugh — it was the way Gojo clung to his phone, fingers wrapped around it desperately, as he slept. 

You stayed on the phone with him all night, even when you went to bed — of course just to make sure he’s fine — the call waking you when it disconnected after reaching the max call time. Your eyes flutter open, glancing at the time — 5:00 AM. And almost like clockwork, your phone rings again, Gojo’s number flashing on your screen. 

You pick up, “Mm, hello?” you yawn, “finally awake sleeping beauty?” 

“Glad you finally decided to acknowledge my beauty,” his voice is gravelly, thick with sleep, and god, you can’t help but imagine waking to this voice every day — “ugh I have a headache,” he murmurs, the crumple you hear must be him burying his face in his pillow because the next question he asks is muffled, “why were we on the phone?” 

“You called me last night after drinking, and refused to hang up after Yuta helped you get settled,” you chuckle, as you hear his groan over the phone, “I got a new contact picture for you out of it, love of my life,” 

“Glad you’re finally on board,” he mutters, growing quiet, “why didn’t you hang up?” 

You pause, “what do you mean?” You ask slowly. 

“You could’ve hung up at any time, but you stayed on the phone, even when you fell asleep,” his voice was soft, “why?” 

“I just,” you bit your lip, you couldn’t lie to him, at least not completely, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay, and you didn’t want to hang up — so I didn’t,” 

He’s silent for a moment, and you almost wish you could sink into the Earth — but he only says, “okay, now what’s the plan for the day, Princess?” 

Your lips curl, “Well my day has not really began yet since it’s 5:00 AM here, so I’m probably going to sleep for several hours and wake up at an hour that is not bereft of god,” 

“You really couldn’t just say ‘ungodly?’” He snorts. 

“Well, 5:00 AM makes me wax poetic, what can I say?” Another yawn parts your lips, “I’m going to sleep,” 

But he doesn’t hang up, “I’ll be here, sweetheart.”  

You glanced at the time, he’s late. 

Well, he wouldn’t be Gojo if he didn’t make an entrance. You slumped on the couch — even if he was getting home from his mission, there was no guarantee he’d stop by your place to see you. He might want to just go home — or stop by Jujutsu Tech, or be anywhere else. You couldn’t have expectations — expectations were only a  way to be disappointed, a drop from soaring that would only be met with the impact of the cold, unforgiving ground. 

Especially expectations from a fake relationship. You lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling — why were being such an idiot about this? The TV drones on in the background, illuminating the dark of the living room, as you sit barely paying attention to a random rom com you had picked. 

Maybe it was because Satoru had spent the rest of today on the phone with you, even through a security check (warning the security officers not to hang up his call) and at the gate. And then every day after that, he had called and texted you like clockwork — stupid things— good morning and good night, random memes that made him think of you, pictures of his day (including ones of him messing with his students), questions of what sweet you wanted from the shop he had decided to frequent, calls about your day and his own, and hours long conversations about nothing at all. Maybe because you could hear the smile in his voice as he spoke to you — or maybe it was because you were just down bad. 

It was probably the latter. 

You take a throw pillow and pull it over your face. What were you thinking? Falling for your old crush and fake boyfriend a night before a wedding was a trope in a bad rom com that you spent your weekend night watching — it shouldn’t be how you feel. 

“That’s a nice look,” you jump, pulling the pillow away, to be met with Gojo’s gaze hidden behind another pair of sunglasses, “honey, I’m home,” 

You bite back your smile, “one, this isn’t your home, and two, how did you get inside?” 

“It’s pretty easy when you can teleport, you should try it sometime,” he sits beside you, more like collapses as he falls into the couch, his head resting against the top, “although if someone moved in with me, it’d be much easier,” and you laugh. 

“Shouldn’t you ask a girl out before you ask her to move in?” he shrugs, his arm resting across the top of the couch. 

“I’m anything but traditional,” he sighs, glancing at the TV, “what are we watching?” 

“A bad rom com,” 

He snorts, “watching it to mercilessly pick it apart?” And you raise an eyebrow, “what? I did stay awake for some of those movies— it was some of my favorite memories during that time and some of the only times I could actually sleep,” 

“Yeah, it was a nice way for both of us to turn our brains off for a bit,” you glanced at him, “thought it’d be nice for us too,” his gaze slides to you curiously, “I know there’s been a lot on your mind — with itadori and the special grades,” 

He sighs, running fingers through his hair,  “Yeah, old geezers seem to cause problems in all parts of my life,” you snort, “can’t believe they’d try to do away with Itadori while I was gone,” 

“They don’t see anyone as innocent — they see whether you’re an asset or a threat, unfortunately, they see Itadori not as the former,” you shake your head, as your eyes stare at the movie flashing on the screen, but you don’t really watch, “they’re too far gone to see the innocence of children,” 

“You sound like Kento,” and your eyes meet his, his cerulean gaze already on you, his sunglasses discarded on your coffee table. 

“Funny, thought I sounded like you,” he blinks a moment, “Satoru, you’re all about preserving the youth of children — that’s why you saved Megumi, Yuta, and Yuji — even when you had every reason not to,” 

“How could I not? Youth belongs to the young after all,” a wistful smile on his lips, “i don’t want the same to happen to them that happened to us,” 

“To us,” you repeat, a sharp pain sticks between your ribs at the flash of Haibara’s smile and the whisper of Suguru’s laugh, “more like to them,” 

“Yeah,” a silence falling over the two of you as the white noise of the TV filled the quiet, “but sometimes I think we went down along with them,” 

You shake your head, “I think a part of us did — a part of us will stay there—“ frozen in time and seeping like poison in our bones, “but we’re still here,” you risk to toe the line you’d never cross, your fingers brushing his, “and it’s not over for us,” 

And his eyes flicker to your fingers threaded with his, as his fingers squeeze yours slowly, the corner of his lips quirk upwards, as you stretch and sit up, fingers falling away from his, a yawn on your lips, “should we get some sleep?” 

“Come on, let’s finish the movie,” he murmurs, even though sleep seems to weigh heavily on his body, eyelids fluttering shut as he turns to you, cheek pressed against the couch, “hey,” he murmurs, “it wasn’t the movies that let me relax,” and you can hear the unspoken meaning in those words — but that was the problem. 

It was unspoken. 

Your fingers twitch, wanting nothing more than to brush your fingers against his cheek — but you can’t. 

You’d allowed yourself to toe the line you’d long drawn in the sand that you’d built into a wall — you had even allowed yourself to stir a few bricks from its place, but you couldn’t cross it. Not now. 

Your eyes are growing heavy. Maybe not ever. 

Your neck hurts. 

The first thought you have as you rouse into aching consciousness. Why was it so bright? Did you forget to draw your curtains? You draw an arm over your face, already dreading the waking hours, until you realize it’s your day off, and you sigh, relaxing into your bed. 

Or what you thought was your bed. 

Except your bed couldn’t move, nor could it pull you closer. But now something or someone was, an arm around your waist with movement behind you that made breath warm your ear. And you probably would have screamed, if you hadn’t heard the familiar voice whisper your name in your ear. 

Gojo. 

Gojo??? 

Your head slowly turned to be met with the strongest sorcerer very much passed out, half behind you, half on top of you — his blue eyes hidden under his eyelids for once instead of any covering that he used to protect himself. His snowy white locks brushed against your skin, the close proximity doing nothing to alleviate your feelings — you had only hoped you could see one flaw, one ick, and maybe you’d be done. But on Satoru Gojo? The man born to be perfect — the same one who sang karaoke for the first time as a teen only to be so incredible that it moved your server to tears? 

You really should have fucking known better. 

Your breath caught, and you wondered if it was possible to die from embarrassment—if no one had, you would surely be the first case. You were always a trail blazer. 

And you tried to shift again, if only to maneuver yourself out of this situation, but he moved along with you, seeking out the contact he was losing. And this only ended with him lying on top of you, his head buried in the crook of your neck, and his legs straddling one of your legs— and then you felt it — a very distinct bulge pressed against your thigh. 

Fuck. Your. Life. 

He mumbled in his sleep, nose brushing against the hollow of your neck, drawing another shiver from your body. You had a rare opportunity to touch him — didn’t you, no infinity between the two of you — just him and you. You were in a position probably many desired to be in — admirers and enemies alike (neither category being mutually exclusive). You supposed old habits die hard — and so did old crushes. 

Could you let yourself enjoy this for a moment? Enjoy the feeling, no matter how real it never would be? Maybe it was wrong, but — your eyes fluttered shut as your arm wrapped loosely around Gojo — you certainly didn’t want to be the one to wake up first. 

And you weren’t — your eyes flutter open to movement, and your eyes meet cerulean eyes, lips parted in surprise, “Morning,” he manages, a flush of pink coloring his cheeks, “did we fall asleep?” 

“I guess we did,” you bite your lip, “are you going to—” 

And he blinks, before scrambling off of you, “Sorry,” he mumbles, as he turns away to fidget with his phone. 

“Guess that was one very boring movie,” you murmur. 

“Or I was in a very comfortable bed,” he replies with a smirk that turns to a grimace. 

“What is it?” 

“Naoya Zenin is making an appearance at the wedding we’re attending tomorrow,” and you groan, as he raises an eyebrow, “how many proposals had he made you?” 

You scoff, “Proposals? More like propositions,” you shake your head, already aching from the sleep you had barely shaken off and now it had graduated to a shooting pain that made your eye twitch at the thought of that man, “he’s offered to do me the ‘honor’ of being the next heir’s husband half a dozen times. If he ever becomes the head of the Zenin clan, I may help Maki annihilate them myself,” 

Naoya Zenin — the most pretentious and egocentric man you had the displeasure of meeting. Even his pretty face could do nothing to fix his hideous personality ridden with misogyny, hatred, and spite. And you’d been offered his hand in marriage half a dozen times due to your lineage in a lesser known clan family with a unique cursed energy. It was a strategic move to try and secure his place — as was every move he made — he had no room for anyone he deemed useless to his plan. 

Unfortunately, you did not fall into that special category.

“That won’t happen,” Gojo replies, texting on his phone, “plus, he’s too weak to force that to happen — not to mention he’s a first class prick,” 

“You say that, but you basically propositioned me,” you teased, as his eyes flit up from his phone, as you rise from the couch, “quite the proposal you came to me with,” 

He pauses a moment, a small smile on his lips, “one, i don’t recall proposing, and trust me that’s something I’d remember,” and you roll your eyes, “and two, aren’t you just as bad, since you said yes, sweetheart?” 

“Can you blame a girl wanting a little extra money?” And he locks his phone, drawing close, your breath catching as he lets himself linger for a second too long. 

“Can you blame a man for wanting a beautiful and intelligent woman?” And he’s leaning close, but he leans back, only grabbing his coat from the couch, still slung over as it had been. He spares you a smirk at your bewildered expression, “close your mouth, you’ll catch flies, princess, and what a shame that would be,” you scowl, and he laughs as he heads to the door, slipping on his shoes, with a final glance and grin thrown over his shoulder as he opened your door, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.” 

Right. Tomorrow. The wedding. 

Fuck. You were so screwed. 

KNOCK. KNOCK. 

Fuck. You scrambled from your vanity as you finished putting the finishing touches on your look for tonight. You didn’t think Satoru Gojo of all people could ever be on time, but you supposed there was a first time for everything. 

You slipped the dress over your head, careful not to smear your makeup or mess up your hair. You were starting to regret not having the Gojo family’s attendants get you ready for this event, if only so you could have turned your mind off for this time. But you knew all too well that your mind could never give you a break — with all of that free time came free real estate for your anxiety to set up camp and put down roots for all the things that could possibly go wrong. So it was better this way, as you reach for the ties on the back of your dress — of course, maybe if you had let yourself be helped, you could actually have someone to tie your corset back on this dress. 

Another knock. 

“Sweetheart?” You hear Gojo’s muffled voice through the door, “you’re not planning on standing me up are you?” 

You stumble your way to the door, clutching the back of your dress, as you take a breath and throw it open, “Can you tie the back of my dress?” 

Fuck. He looked gorgeous. His hair was parted and combed off to the side, a deep blue suit coat and a crisp white collared shirt tucked into a matching suit pant. A pair of sunglasses were tucked into the chest pocket of his jacket in front of a white pocket square. 

“No hello, ‘can you tie my dress?’” Gojo tilts his head, his eyes graze over your appearance, as he steps inside and closes the door behind him, “turn around,” And you do, fingers still clutching at the fabric at the back of your dress, cheeks burning as you do, “gonna have to let go, and let me help you, sweetheart,” 

You slowly let go, but his warm fingers brush against the skin of your bare back as he holds the dress up from slipping, carefully lacing the corset, “I was right, blue is your color,” he murmurs, as he tugs lightly at the strings, “let me know when it’s tight enough,” 

“It’s good now,” you sigh — though the corset wasn’t as tight as your chest now, you face him now, trying to adjust your hair. 

“Let me,” one hand cups your chin gently, your breath catching and you can only hope he can’t feel your pulse through your skin. His fingers run through your soft tresses, your eyes unable to meet his — but you wonder if he can see right through you anyway — “you’ve never been good at asking for help,” 

“Look who’s talking,” you glare at him, as he chuckles, “well, I asked you didn’t I?” 

“Why did you ask me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I’m sure you could have asked anyone,” 

“Well, I didn’t want just anyone,” he murmurs, fingers tracing the blush you had lined your cheeks with, “I wanted you,” 

“Why?” And he parts his lips, a soft smile that pulls at his features — was it a hint of pink across his cheeks. 

“Because—“ and your phone goes off — a reminder with the time of the wedding. And the moment’s broken, as reality settles over you again, “We’ll be late,” 

“I don’t mind being late,” and a heat burns from his touch, from the tips of your fingers to the his fingers leave your cheek, warmth fading as quickly as it came, but he offers his hand, “but if it’s for you, I can be on time,” and your fingers find his, interlacing, before he tugs you close, his arm around your waist, “as long as you stay by my side.”

You never were one for weddings. At least not one like this. 

A stuffy event held in an extravagant manner — a large banquet hall for the reception, but now the guests roamed the gardens the hall opened out into — lush greenery serving as a perfect backdrop for this wedding — a distant branch of the Zenin family was marrying, which meant all of the main clans were invited to attend. Including several elders of the Gojo clan. 

And now you were being subjected to this as well — several dozen eyes on you — all due to the man whose arm you were on. His arm wrapped almost protectively around your waist, his lips nearly brushed against your ear when he whispered in it, letting you know just exactly who was coming over. 

“I didn’t think you were one to care for remembering these things,” you wave at the couple that just left the two of you, his fingers grazing the skin behind your ear as he tucked a stray strand behind it. 

“I usually don’t care, but I know it’d make you uncomfortable otherwise, especially among all these people,” he smirks, his fingers finding yours, and squeezing, “plus, we need to make a good impression, don’t we?” 

“I think we’re making an impression just by being together,” you murmur, and he raises an eyebrow, “everyone’s staring — didn’t you notice?” and he shrugs, a sly smile on his lips. 

“Didn’t notice,” he tilts his head, his eyes fixed on you, “I was too busy looking elsewhere, I guess,” 

Your cheeks burn, but as your lips part to respond, you see him walking over to the discreet corner you had parked yourselves in,  “Fuck,” you mutter under your breath, your fingers tightening around his. 

Naoya Zenin strides over in a black yukata kimono, his silver hair pushed back, his lips twisted in a slimy smile that made your skin crawl, your name leaving his lips, “it’s been far too long, you’re looking lovely,” his eyes raked over you like hot coals, “though the company you keep—” 

“Has improved markedly,” Satoru’s lips curl in a grin, “do you have business with my girlfriend?” 

Naoya raises an eyebrow, “Girlfriend?” 

Satoru’s arm tightens around your waist, “I didn’t realize you went hard of hearing — I know your hair had started to go, but your hearing too—” you hid your snort poorly, Naoya’s sharp gaze flickering between the two of you. 

“I’m younger than you are, and my hair is bleached,” he snaps, “or are those six eyes not sharp enough to see that as well? They certainly aren’t enough for you to have found Suguru Geto before he caused a war,” 

And Satoru’s hurt is imperceptible — a hint of hurt that only shows in the tightness of his jaw for a millisecond, before he’s only giving another laugh. 

“At least I am already the head of my clan, because even if I were without my six eyes,” he smirks, but a certain meanness pulls at his features, “I’m still not as weak as you are—”

Naoya’s expression sours, curdled into a foul scowl, “What did you—” 

“Alright,” you hold up your hands, “Let’s save the dick measuring contest for later, okay? This is a wedding, let’s not cause a scene, ok?” you glance between the two of them, and Satoru pouts — while Naoya seems all too pleased, a grin broken across his lips. 

“This is why you’re the perfect woman — you know how to mediate between men’s egos, and—” 

“Naoya, I said let’s not cause a scene, and you’re two steps away from me causing one right now,” you snap, “I wasn’t interested the first dozen times you asked me when I was single, so why would you think I’d be interested now, when I have a boyfriend?” 

His face flushes red, and you’re not sure whether it’s in anger or embarrassment, “I doubt you’re even really a couple,” he hisses, “I know all about the proposals that this idiot has been getting and the pressure to marry,” he runs his fingers through his hair, “I’m sure you’ll come running to me once he’s done using you—“ 

Satoru surges forward, but you press a hand against his chest, “We don’t need to justify our relationship to you, so think what you want — but even if Satoru and I break up, I rather die single than ever spend a minute with you,” and you look at Satoru, your gaze softening, “and I rather spend be single for the rest of my life than spend another minute without him,” and you slide your eyes back to Naoya, his fists clenched, as you lean in, “so fuck off.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but the staff begin to wave everyone into their seats, and the wedding begins. The two of you sit, a silence falling over as others take their seats beside you. A subtle tension as music filled the air and the wedding proceedings began—but you could have cared less— god what the fuck had you said to Naoya? How had Gojo taken it? Does he know how you feel? Does he think it’s an act? 

Then his fingers find yours, “Thank you,” he whispers softly, managing only those two words before the wedding begins. 

And it dawns on you — it wasn’t what you said, it was the fact you had defended him, your heart aches, it was the fact you had defended him when Naoya insulted Suguru. 

Your eyes stay fixed forward as the ceremony begins — it was never about you — as you pulled your fingers away from him. 

Like it always never was. 

The wedding ceremony goes by — as does the reception, without much to-do. The only silver lining is that there’s far too much small talk for the two of you to have a moment to talk alone, especially when the two of you spot the Gojo clan elders side-eyeing you from the table of old folks, not to mention Naoya hovering around that same table, the same scowl on his face. The only remark that Satoru whispered as the two of you floated by the table pointedly, a smirk on his lips as he waved and held you close to his side — “one quick hollow purple could solve my problems,” 

You gave a forced chuckle at that — unfortunately not yours. 

And finally, the two of you head home — in relative silence, the drive being short to Gojo’s apartment, where your car was parked. You sigh as he pulls in, “I’ll head out I guess—” 

“Why don’t you just stay the night?” and your gaze snaps to his, the first time all night, “it’s really late, and I have a guest room—” 

“My apartment isn’t—” 

“Your apartment isn’t far, but I thought we could…talk,” and your heart gallops to a start — talking was the last thing you wanted to do. 

“What is there to talk about?” And his fingers brush against your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. 

“Maybe about why you can’t meet my eyes?” You huff, looking away. 

“Can you blame me? Your blue eyes are freaky,” you grumble, and you can hear the judgment in the silence, a first for Gojo,  “Gojo, what do you want me to say?” 

He stays quiet for a moment, “You don’t have to say anything, just come inside,” So you do — following him inside, the silence hanging over you like a guillotine waiting to slice, “Thank you for what you said—“ 

The door clicks behind him, as you stop, “Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you’re shaking your head. 

“You don’t have to thank me, I was just—“ 

“But what you said—“ 

“I said what I had to—“ 

“You didn’t have to say all that, Princess,” his voice grows soft, “you know you didn’t,” and he’s drawing closer across his living room. 

“He was upsetting you,” you murmur, eyes unable to find his again, falling instead to his plush carpet laid against his hardwood, “I couldn’t stand by and let him — I know it hurt when he brought up Suguru—“ 

“Suguru?” he repeats, and your eyes find his, finally, and you find his brow furrowed, “is that what you think I was thanking you for?” 

“What else would you—“ and he’s stepping even closer, your breath stuck in your throat as his fingertips graze your cheek again, “Satoru—“ 

“Did I mention how beautiful you looked tonight?” he murmurs, a soft chuckle in his voice, “you always look beautiful, but tonight in particular, I couldn’t take my eyes off you,” 

“You don’t have to—“ 

“That’s just it, I don’t have to,” his palm slides against your cheek, “I want to — I want to when it’s you,” 

“But, i can’t do this, not like this,” tears burn at the corners of your eyes, water threatening to spill out of a too full glass that had been full for far too long, “not when it will give me—“ you cut yourself off before you cut your own heart out, but he’s only forcing the scalpel back into your hand. 

“Give you what?” 

And you can’t turn back now — you’d turned from this road far too many times, sprinted in the opposite direction only to end up here again — you needed to do this, even if it lead to a dead end cliff, “Give me the wrong idea,” and you’re turning away, but his hand catches you by the wrist, “stop, I—“ 

“It’s not the wrong idea,” and you stop. 

No, it was. It was, right? 

“Satoru—“ and his fingers find your own, as he steps closer, “please, don’t—“ 

“If you want me to really stop and forget about this, I will,” he murmurs, “I’ll turn around and open the door and let you go home right now, sweetheart. I won’t bring this up again,” but you don’t move away, you don’t say anything, so he continues, “but if you don’t want that, and you want the same thing I do—“ 

“And what is it that you want?” And you hear his soft chuckle, his cheek brushing against you, as his fingers tuck your hair behind your ear. 

“I thought that was obvious, but I guess I’ll have to spell it out for you,” he squeezes your hand, as he guides your face to look back at him, his lips curled in a small smile, “I want you,” 

Your breath is shaky, no, no — he doesn’t mean that, “No you don’t,” 

He tilts his head, “You don’t think I don’t know what I want?” 

“Satoru, I don’t want to be a substitute for others—“ 

And his hands are sliding around your middle, pulling you closer, “You think I could ever think of you as a second choice?” 

“But—“ and every doubt from when you were younger wells up, every fear of not being enough — but they are erased away, crumbled into dust, by the way he looks at you — entire multitudes of skies all made to look at you. 

“You keep finding reasons not to do this,” and his fingers skim your cheek, before resting under your chin, “but have you tried finding a reason why we should?” 

“Satoru—“ you can’t help but lean into his touch — god, he was a temptation personified — everything you ever wanted, even when you tried not to want it. These feelings were never fake — so why not give in? Just this once. Your fingers slide against his cheek, and you can feel his skin burn under your touch, “do you have any idea what you do to me?”

“No, sweetheart,” he leans in even closer, your breaths becoming one, “but I’d love to find out,” 

His lips brush yours — it’s chaste, hesitant, testing the waters — he tastes like sugar, and you almost laugh — he tastes like the frosting from the wedding cake that he had swiped a slice of on the way out that he finished before you two had reached his car. His eyes flutter open for half a second, before your lips are crashing to his this time — a new record for addiction? A second maybe and you were too far gone. 

His hands cup your cheeks, one sliding to the back of your neck, as the other slides down to your waist to pull you ever closer. 

“Did you find it out?” You murmur between kisses, lips meeting and parting if only to allow you both a breath. And his snowy eyelashes flutter, as his lips quirk upwards. 

“Think I need another,” and his lips swallow any coherent thoughts you have, his hands slipping down your sides, lips parting again, “another,” he murmurs, a kiss, “another,” 

“How many do you need?” you ask breathlessly, a chuckle caught in your throat, and his lips press desperate kisses along your jaw, a smirk against your skin. 

“Is infinity an answer?” And you laugh, “have to take responsibility — I’m addicted to you,” 

“And if I’m addicted?” His hands squeeze your hips, drawing a gasp from your lips. 

“I’d be more than happy to take responsibility for you, Princess — always have,” 

Your heart beats against the bars of its cage, threatening to burst out — but you couldn’t — not without knowing, “And if you break my heart?”

“I won’t ever break your heart,” he leans down to press butterfly kisses to your cheek, “but even if I do, I’ll put it back together,” 

“Promise?” You murmur, and his lips meet yours again, and again, as he’s leading you towards his bedroom, his fingers running through your hair.

And the door to his bedroom swings shut, “Promise.”  

“How long are you going to tease me?” you’re grumbling, cheeks hot and eyes averted, the back of your hand pressed against your lips, as Satoru presses needy kisses along your neckline of your dress. 

He looks up at you through his snowy lashes, and you don’t know if you want to slap the smile off his lips or kiss it off, “You’ve been teasing me for years, you can’t give me this time, sweetheart?” His teeth graze the juncture of your neck and shoulder, “plus, do y’know how fun it is to watch you squirm?” 

Slap. It’s definitely a slap. 

“You’re insufferable,” and he smirks when your breath catches when his lips ghost over the swell of your chest. 

“Yet you’re the one who's under me—“ and you try to get up only for him to pin you back down, a pout on his lips, “alright, alright, can’t blame me for wanting to see you squirm, Princess, how many chances will I get?” 

“Only this one if you keep this up,” and he’s finding your lips in a languid kiss, an apology with no words, a smile filled with affection that only made it hard for you to feign annoyance. 

“Then I better make this count,” he’s gently helping you up, turning you around to undo your corset strings — but you wonder if he’s undoing it or tangling it, “why did we choose a dress with such a complicated back?” It’s his turn to grumble and it only draws a giggle from you. 

“Surprised you haven’t hollow purple’d it by now,” 

“Trust me if you weren’t in it, I would have,” he sighs, as the fabric begins to loosen up, slipping off your shoulders. 

“And here I thought you were good at everything,” you chuckle as he helps you shimmy out of the dress, the fabric falling away from you in a small pool around your ankles. Pools of blue rake over your exposed body, raising goosebumps in its wake, as your arms reflexively try to cover yourself, but his hands find your own, easing them away. 

“I’m good at what counts, Princess,” he kisses your wrist, pulse jumping under his touch, nose brushing against it, he hovers over you, as he undoes his tie, fingers tugging at the knot, as he undoes the top button of his shirt, “and I’ll show you.” 

~~~~

Satoru had dreamed of this — of you and him. He knew when he realized it — although it was too late when he did. Maybe it was the night before you left — the night after graduation — before you left — you had fallen asleep watching the movie you had put on. Your lips parted and mouth ajar, your eyes fluttered shut, and you were out. He had leaned over to grab his phone to snap a picture to tease you with later, only for your fingers to grab onto him, your head on his shoulder, a quiet murmur of his name. 

“Satoru,” — not Gojo, as you had always called him. And he knew he wanted to hear you say it again and again. His fingers brushed a stray strand of hair away, his head leaning against yours.

Suguru was everything to him for a time — he had come to Satoru at a time where he thought no one else would ever be able to understand him. No one else would be able to reach him — because how does a person reach for a god? But here you were — and the way your head rested on his shoulder and your lips said his name made him want nothing more than you by his side. 

And when you left — you didn’t reply to his messages, you disappeared, just like everyone else did in his life. He was always left alone in the end — maybe it was his fate. 

But then you came back — came back almost right after Suguru left for good. And that part of his heart that was meant for you began to thrive again and again — as he spent more time with you. 

And god, when his clan started to pressure him to find someone to marry — he wrote them off as he always did. He thought he could ride out the ridiculous proposals and dates they had arranged for him — but as he thought more about who he wanted to spend his time with, who he wanted to see after a tiring mission, and who he couldn’t imagine being without —- 

And he realized it was you. 

“Satoru, don’t tease me,” you pouted, teeth bearing down on your bottom lip, legs spread for him, his eyes flirting between your all too cute expression and the growing wet patch on your panties, “fuck, please—“ 

“Gonna have to tell me what you want, sweetheart,” he presses a wet kiss to your inner thigh, his arm hooked under your knee, your foot pressed against his back, “where do you want me?” 

“You fuck-er—“ the last syllable is a gasp as he kisses your sensitive clit through your soaked underwear, “Toru—“ a whine leaves your throat. 

Fuck, you’re so cute, his fingers toy with the elastic of your panties — and all of this was worth it, worth it to see if these feelings were what he thought they were, worth it to make you smile, and worth to end up with you. 

“How can I refuse you when you say my name like that?” he’s tugging your underwear away, exposing your sipping cunt to a rush of air and his warm breath, “all this f’me, baby?” You mumble something he can’t quite make out, “what was that?” 

Your glassy eyes look up at him, blown wide with lust, “Only f’you, Satoru,” fuck, his dick twitches — he could bust just looking at you. 

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, “g’nna make me cum just with your words,” but he diverts his attention to your needy cunt, his long fingers graze over your pussy, collecting the precum on his fingertips, before he pinches your clit. 

“Toru,” you squirm, as he grins down at you, all too pleased. 

“Imagine if the elders could see you like this — spread out for me like a good little wife,” he’s leaning down to kiss your fluttering folds, leaning back for you to see the shiny pre that clings to his lips that his pink tongue darts out to clean off, “sweetest thing I’ve tasted,” 

“Please, Toru, fuck—“ and finally his finger is circling your hole, before sinking in knuckle deep — fuck, you were fucking tight — he could melt from your warmth, pulling him in like a siren to a drunken sailor, “oh my god,” 

“You don’t have to call me ‘god,’ princess,” and he earns a glare from you that fades into an open mouthed moan as he begins to pump his finger in and out, “so good for me,” and he’s adding another finger, the wet squelch of your cunt growing louder, as he reaches a hand down to graze against his erection if only for a little relief. 

He wishes he could memorize the way you looked right now — perfect little lips parted for him, his name and soft pants the only sounds you could manage to make, your back arching into his touch, and the way you moaned when his lips found their way around your clit. 

His tongue circles your clit at first before his lips suck at the hard pearl, fingers parting your dripping folds, finally finding that spot that had your walls giving that telltale spasm, “Toru, I’m close—g’nna cum—“ you whimper, his fingers pistoning in and out of your cunt as he sucks hard at your clit, and you cum, hard, around his fingers, drenching his face and finger alike, as he fucks you through your orgasm. 

You’re beautiful — lips parted and chest heaving, as you moan his name again, “good girl,” he’s murmuring, as your eyes flutter open, to watch him lick his lips and fingers clean, “might get addicted to how you taste, sweetheart,” 

And you’re boneless, but still you’re still reaching for him, pulling him into a languid kiss, his cock twitching as he shifts himself over you, hands pressed into the mattress, his clothed cock rubbing against your drenched folds. 

“Wanna make you feel good,” you mumble against his lips, and he’s pulling back an inch — but unknowingly, he’s given you a mile, as you flip him onto his back. 

You’re a vision — your perked up nipples visible through your bra, halfway slipping off your shoulders as it is, hair a lovely mess, and pretty lips kiss ruined. 

“My turn,” and your lips burn a trail down his jaw, along the curve of his neck and the cut of his collarbone. You take your time, if only to pay him back in full for all the teasing he did, “didn’t know you taste so sweet, Toru,” your tongue drags up his chest, “must be all the sugar you eat,” 

And your lips smile against his abs at the sharp gasp he fails to stifle, “I’ll have you know I’m very sweet—“ and your fingers graze over his clothed erection — his hips buck up into your touch, “I’m known for it,” he hisses, as a giggle escapes your lips. 

“Uh-huh, I’m sure almost everyone would care to disagree,” the tip of his cock strains against the fabric, the dark wet patch growing larger the more your thumb beared down on it, “but I wouldn’t be one of them,” and you’re dragging the fabric down his hips, freeing his cock, your eyes nearly hypnotized by the slight of it, thick beads of precum dripping from the slit, before your gaze finds his again, softening, “because I know how much you do for others — and how much you’ve lost because of it,” you kiss his inner thigh softly, nose brushing against the skin. 

“As long I don’t lose you,” he says softly, “I think I’ll be okay,” 

And your fingers find their way around the base of his cock, drawing a ragged gasp from his lips, before you lean down and flick your tongue against his leaking tip, “I’m not going anywhere, Toru.” 

Your tongue drags a thick stripe up his cock, before beginning to trace along one of his veins, your fingers slipping up to use his pre to rub up and down his length. Your thumb teases his slit, and a hiss leaves his lips, a smirk against his dick. 

“Fuck, sweetheart, you know exactly what you’re doing to me,” his cheeks burn, dusted with pink surely — as he watches you lick the precum that dripped down your fingers onto your wrist, “knew that mouth would be s’fucking good—“ 

“Turns out you don’t shut up even in bed,” and that earns you a cheeky grin that parts into an ‘o’ as his dick sinks into your mouth. He swears he was closer to death than he was when Toji nearly killed him — not that he’d like to remember that man in this moment — but you’d surely be the death of him, and you would be — if he had to spend another second without you in his life. 

Fuck, he looks down at you, eyes half shut, his white knuckled fingers gripping the sheets — you’re gorgeous as you swallow him whole — sucking and licking, nose brushing against his pubes as your eyes water, as you bob along his length from tip to base and back again. 

“S’good for me, so pretty, fuck—” he groans, when his tip brushes against your throat, his fingers finding your scalp to try and ease you off,  I’m s’close princess, g’nna cum—” But your hands only slide to his ass to hold yourself against him, as his dick twitches in your mouth, and your fingers drift to his sack while your tongue flicks along his slit and he’s done. He’s cumming down your throat, hot release painting your mouth.

He’s watching you with half lidded eyes pull away from him— a string of cum and spit strung between your lips and his dick, before beginning to drip from the corner of your mouth. And fuck, it’s enough to make him hard all over again. You lean over him, wiping the release from your lips, as you kiss up his body. 

“Now who’s good at everything?” and he huffs out a chuckle. 

“I stand corrected — actually, don’t think I’ll be standing for a while after that but—” and he’s finding your lips in a kiss, tasting himself you, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, as your fingers find his erection again, stroking it, before he’s flipped you onto your back. He runs a hand through his snowy locks, a smile on his lips, “don’t think you’ll be doing much standing after this either,” 

“So full of yourself,” you roll your eyes. 

“That’s what you’re going to be full of in a second—” 

“Oh my god—” and your laugh dies on your lips as he starts to tease your entrance with the head of his cock, “Toru,” you whine, as he watches your needy cunt flutter around nothing as he drags his length up and down your dripping hole, watching your releases mix, “please—” 

“So polite,” he hums, as he leans down to press a kiss to your lips, “now how can I refuse that?” and he begins to sink his length into your cunt, warm walls nearly pulling his cock in deeper, as he groans your name, “s’perfect, s’good for me, princess, made for me,” and inch by inch, until he’s finally bottoming out. 

“Toru, ngh, s’big—” you gasp, lips parted in a silent moan, as you pull him even closer, face buried in the crook of his neck, but his fingers tugging your hair to show your face. 

“Let me see you,” he murmurs, as his lips meet yours in a sloppy kiss as he continues to thrust into you — his hips meeting yours, the wet squelch and skin slapping echoing in his ears. A gasp parting your lips as you pull apart, your head thrown back in a moan as your walls flutter around him as his tip breaches that one spot inside you. 

“Haa, I’m close, Toru,” you groan, and he’s nodding, his fingers reaching between your bodies to find your clit. 

“Cum for me, pretty girl,” and you do — cumming hard, as he notches himself deep inside you, before spilling inside you, his hot release deep in your pussy. He’s moaning your name, as your bodies slow and his fingers cup your cheek gently, and his lips find yours. 

He slowly rolls off of you, your warmth leaving him for a moment, before he’s pulling you close again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. 

“Is this a dream?” you mumble, eyes fluttering shut, and a small chuckle leaves his lips, legs entangled. 

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, “If it is, I hope I never wake up, Princess.” 

Your body aches — that’s your first thought as you stir into consciousness. Fuck, why does you feel so sore? Your eyes try to flutter open, but the sunlight blinds you — a soft groan leaves your lips. You shift, as you stretch, your back aching and muscles tight, but then someone moves behind you, an arm wrapping around your waist. 

Your eyes shoot open, as your head slowly turns to find looking at Satoru. A gasp is caught in your lips. 

Fuck, it was real.  

You slowly turn to face him, his soft breaths leaving his pink lips — god he’s so gorgeous. His pretty white eyelashes resting against his skin, lips parted ever so slightly, and his snowy hair askew and mussed. Your fingers ghost over his cheek lightly — how many people have seen him asleep like this? How many had seen him with his guard down? You knew he didn’t sleep nearly enough, you were surprised he was still asleep — but, your cheeks burned, you both did spend half the night awake. 

But there were more pressing things to think about — what did this mean? You chew on your bottom lip, he had said he wanted you — but what did he want? Just last night? Or something more. 

“I can’t sleep with your thoughts grinding so much,” he mumbles, heat rushing to your cheeks, he’s burying his face in the crook of your neck, “why are you awake so early?” His nose brushes against your neck, his lips pressing softly against your pulse. 

“I just woke up,” you murmur, a small shiver running up your spine, as you relax into his touch, your fingers running through his soft locks, “did all my thinking wake you?” 

“Yes, and you’ll have to compensate me,” and you snort. 

“You’re rich, like old money rich,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your skin, heat climbing up your body. 

“Money isn’t what I want,” he nuzzles you, nose brushing against the skin of your neck, “wonder what other ways you can repay me,” 

You chuckle, humming at his touch — god even the simplest of touches has your logic up in ash, “I’m sure you can figure out some other methods of payment,” 

And his lips find yours again — it’s a lazy morning kiss, soft and slow, but not bereft of any of the passion from the night before. His fingers slide down your body, as he pulls you impossibly closer. 

“My preferred method of payment wouldn’t have us leaving this room until tomorrow morning,” his lips curl in a smirk, “but I’ll collect my charge tonight — how about I make us breakfast?” 

“You can make breakfast?” You raise an eyebrow. 

“I know how to scramble an egg,” he shrugs, and you snort only for him to pout, and you smile, your fingers brushing against his cheek, before your thumb runs down his lips. 

“How about we make breakfast together?” 

“Was that really your first time making tamagoyaki?” you raise an eyebrow, as you pick up a piece of the rolled omelet between your chopsticks.

“Promise,” and you bite it — it was perfect — the texture, the taste, the seasoning. And you stare at him, an eyebrow raised. 

“Either you’re lying or you really are good at everything,” you mutter, and he grins, as he takes a bite of his food — a sweeter tamagoyaki he had made for himself, far too smug for his own good. 

“I think I proved that last night, Princess,” and you nearly choke on your food. And you chew thoughtfully — you two hadn’t even breached what last night meant yet. You had simply been dancing around it, or at least you had. You didn’t want to be the one to bring it up — or rather, you picked up another piece of tamagoyaki up, you didn’t know how to, “what’s going on in that head of yours?” 

And your eyes snap up, “What do you mean?” 

He tilts his head, “You’re not hard to read — you keep thinking about something,” and his lips curl, “last night?” Your hesitation gives you away — and he only smiles wider, “should I refresh your memory?” And your cheeks are burning, and he chuckles, “come on, sweetheart, let’s just talk,” 

You bite your lip — you needed to do this, you couldn’t run away from how you felt, not again  — your fingers fidgeting with your chopsticks, before you place them down on your bowl, “What did last night mean?” 

And his lips curl, but this smile he has is softer, “What do you think sweetheart? Do you think I’m really the—“ And his phone rings, and he picks up his phone, eyes flickering to the caller, and you wave him off, “you can take the call,”

He sighs, “One second,” he gets up to speak, and he hangs up a few minutes later, “text me a location,” 

“Who was that?” And he’s shaking his head, a sigh on his lips, his hand on the back of his neck. 

“The ever breathing and ever irritating geezers want me to meet them to speak about something involving the clan,” he meets your gaze, a flicker of an emotion in his eyes — a drop of water that disappears into the sea as quickly as it formed, “and it’s a good opportunity for me to discuss something I have been wanting to speak with them about,” 

“Something?” and his lips quirk in a small smile. 

“I’ll be back soon enough to explain, sweetheart,” he walks over to you, “will you wait here for me? Think I’ll be able to come back faster if I know you’re here waiting for me,” 

And you can’t help the small flutter your treacherous heart gives, “The great Satoru Gojo will rush for me?” 

“Oh, he would rush day and night if it meant he could come home to you,” and his fingers find your cheek, drawn like a magnet — why was it you could never look away from him? Even in a crowd, your eyes always found his gaze. 

And you’d go to him — like a moth to a flame, “I think I’d prefer just Satoru,” you lean into his touch, your hand over his, “I do owe him after all,” 

“You do,” he leans forward to press a kiss to your forehead, before he’s pulling away, a smile on his lips, “consider that a deposit.” 

You didn’t know what to do with yourself. 

Alone in Satoru’s place — you didn’t know what to do with yourself. He had left right after breakfast, and he told you where the TV was, books, and told you could order anything or use anything you needed. But, this place was so him — each place you went, there was just another reminder of him that seemed trail after you, but at the same time, without him, it was like a shell of a place — no soul present. 

And you supposed the soul wasn’t present. 

You ended up back in the bedroom, crawling back under the covers. Fuck, they even smelled of him — you squeezed your eyes shut.

You really didn’t know what you were doing — did you? 

You laid on your back. What were you supposed to make of what happened last night and this morning for that matter? Was this real now? A real relationship with Satoru — you turned over on your stomach, pulling the covers over your head — you could barely imagine it. 

And your phone goes off, as you reach for it blindly on the nightstand. But it wasn’t the white haired sorcerer you hoped it was — your eyebrows knit together — at least you didn’t think it was. A text from a number you don’t recognize — and a picture to top it off from the preview. 

You nearly deleted it — only to spot a familiar mop of white in the picture. 

Your blood runs cold at the sight. Satoru? He was at a restaurant with — a woman? You didn’t recognize her, but his hand held hers, picture taken mid laugh. Your cheeks burn — no, no — there had to be an explanation. 

A text now — Want to see what your boyfriend does in his spare time? Is he done using you now? 

There’s only one person who’d text like that. 

Naoya, how fuck did you even get this picture? You stare at the photo — have you fallen so far in your clan that you have the time to stalk Satoru now? 

He replied, it’s not my fault that they are dining in a Zenin owned business. 

Another picture — Satoru and her were hugging, his arm around her waist, far too close to be friendly. 

You don’t think — you call him. It rings and rings, but no answer — the cut to voicemail makes your heart sink. 

Another text — even if you don’t believe me, do you think this will be the last of your problems? When you’re Satoru Gojo, anyone close to you will have a target on their back — if only to use your blood to paint one on his head. 

You knew you couldn’t trust this. You knew there was an explanation. You knew Satoru wouldn’t do this to you. 

But even still, you wished you could tell your heart that. 

“What is this?” Satoru was led to a table at the restaurant the old geezers had chosen — but there were no wrinkly old cranks in sight. Instead, there was a woman. 

“Are you Satoru Gojo?” And he raises an eyebrow, hands sliding into his pockets. 

“The one and only, now I don’t suppose the old fools of the Gojo clan turned into a woman — so who are you?” She swirls the glass in her hand, before downing the liquid in one go. 

“Figures they had to lie to get you here — seems like we’ve been set up,” she gestures to the chair in front of her, “I’m Airi,” and he takes a reluctant seat, “I was told this was a meeting for us to meet for a potential engagement,” and he scoffs, he should have figured it was something like this, “but judging by the look on your face, you didn’t know that,” 

“I was expecting to meet 

I suppose we’re on the same page,” 

He tilts his head, “Really?” 

“Gojo, you may be a catch, but to me, you’re nothing more than a potential knife to my neck,” she places her glass down, leaning back in her chair, “and plus, I have someone I’m interested in,” and her eyes slide down, “and judging by the bite mark on your neck, you do too,” 

He pays it no mind, a laugh leaving his lips at the thought of you waiting for him at his apartment, “I do,” and he sighs, pushing his chair out, before getting to his feet. “and I have to get back to her,” 

She follows suit pushing out her own chair, rising, a waiter walking by, and she trips. It’s a reflex, he catches her by the wrist and by the waist, steadying her. 

“Sorry,” she pulls away immediately, looking back for the waiter, before biting her tongue, “fucking waiter tripped me,” the two of them glance around, but see no one, “I’ll have to talk to my grandfather’s advisors about this. No one trips the granddaughter of Naobito Zenin,” she mutters, and Satoru’s eyes snap to her. 

“You’re a Zenin?” And it clicks, the wedding, “who arranged this meeting?” 

She tilts her head, “My father, but he heard about this from my cousin, Naoya—“ 

He checks his phone — and he sees a missed call from you. 

Fuck. It was a set-up — in both ways. 

“I have to go,” and he can only hope you wouldn’t do the same to him when he came back. 

Satoru calls you, but you don’t pick up. You can’t bring yourself to stare back at the photo he had set as his contact photo — the picture Yuta had taken of him clutching at his phone with your picture on his screen. 

You needed to talk to him in person. 

And it’s not long before he’s back home — practically teleporting at your feet. 

You swear, stumbling and he grabs you, tugging you close, “Got you,” he smiles, tugging off his blindfold for you to see his eyes — the startling blue that you still couldn’t navigate without drowning in its depths, “does that mean I can keep you?” and you want to pull away, you want to run, but you can’t help but melt into his touch, your fingers gently clutching at the front of his shirt. 

“That depends on whether I’m the only person you’ve said that to,” and you look up at him, his brow furrowed, “and held like this,” 

“The meeting today, it was supposed to be with the elders — I was going to discuss our relationship again but—“ you show him the pictures on your phone, and his brow knit together, “how did you—“ and he doesn’t finish his sentence before he realizes, “it was a set-up,” 

“I know,” and relief washes over features for a moment, but your eyes can’t meet his, your lips a thin line. 

And he glances at the photo again, seeing the one where he’s holding Airi, “She tripped, sweetheart, trust me—“ his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing the length of your cheek, “I don’t want to hold anyone but you,” 

“I know Naoya and the Gojo clan probably set this up,” you whisper, leaning into his touch, “but—” you pull away from him, every step away from him a fissure in the foundation of this bridge built, “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” 

And he’s blinking, “Why?” 

“I’m not good enough,” you’re shaking your head, stepping back as he steps forward, “I hurt you by leaving, and I was this close to doing it again—” 

“But you didn’t—” 

“And your clan doesn’t want us together, and I don’t know, I feel even if we’re together,” the words that leave your lips break your heart and his, we’ll only hurt each other in the end,” 

“Why do you always push me away when we get close?” 

“No I don’t—” 

“You don’t think the sorcerer that’s an expert at pushing others away — wouldn’t know if he’s getting pushed away?” 

“This isn’t working out,” you cut him off, as the slice cuts through thin air — but it’s not your head that goes rolling — it’s his heart, “we should stop — I think your clan has been convinced,”

He’s silent for a moment, before he replies, “well, I haven’t been convinced,” 

You scoff, his hands by his side, as his quiet footsteps approach you, “convinced of what?” 

“Convinced that,” he stops in front of you, “you don’t feel the same way I do,” Your breath catches, as his fingers find your cheek, “all these years, sweetheart, and you didn’t know?” 

“But,” you can’t process this, it doesn’t make sense, “but Suguru—“ 

“Was important to me yes,” he murmurs, “but it’s been years, and it doesn’t mean I can’t have deep feelings for someone else — especially when I’ve had them for over a decade,” 

“You—“ was this real? As he stood before you, in his living room low lights, sunlight streaming in from his windows, “what?” 

He laughs, “Didn’t know it was possible to render you speechless, sweetheart — guess there’s a first time for everything,” he steps over your missteps with the same ease he does everything, “I really do have to spell everything out for you, don’t I?” The back of his fingers ghost over your cheek, “I’m in love with you—“ 

“No,” you’re shaking your head, and his face falls, “Satoru, we can’t—“ 

“But—“ 

“Your clan doesn’t approve of me, they won’t stop trying to break us up, and I could put you in danger,” you murmur, “they could use me against you — just like Suguru did,” you couldn’t bear the thought of that, “and is that worth it? Worth it for something that may not be real?” You ask the question you’re afraid of asking him — of asking yourself — “was it ever real?” 

And he’s still trying to reach for you, despite it all — he knows it’s dangerous to be around him, he knows anyone close to him is in danger — and that’s why he was okay when you left. If only you’d be safe — but he knew that if he always played it safe, he would never be happy, “It’s real to me,” 

“It’s not to me,” you turn towards the door, “I’m sorry.” 

And this time he doesn’t stop you. 

It’s for the best. 

That’s what you tell yourself. The same thing you say when you’re leaving his place. The same thing you say the next morning you wake up with only a pain in your chest and a dull ache in your head. The same thing when you accept a long mission overseas. 

It was for the best. 

Then why — then why did you think of him? Each and every day, every minute, every second. But it was for the best. He was safer without you, it was easier without you, it was better — better and yet each day seemed to drag when you couldn’t talk to him. And your notes were filled with unsent texts to him — and your mind was filled with nothing but memories. 

And you couldn’t touch memories nor could you talk to them. 

Several months later, you’re sitting in a plane, watching the animation of the plane fly back towards Tokyo. You had been checking in with Yaga several times a month, but you hadn’t heard a thing from Satoru. 

Or rather, Gojo. Not that you expected to — not after what you did. 

And soon enough, you’re arriving home — heading inside your home to find a bunch of your mail had fallen out of your mailbox, knocked out of the rickety box from the storm the night before. You pick up the drenched mail between two fingers that was stuck to the sides of your walls, as you fumble with your keys to open the door. Your suitcase and mail fall to the fall as you close the door behind you, sighing. 

Fuck. You were home. 

You dragged your suitcase inside, picking up the mail off the floor. You collapsed on your couch, tossing the wet envelopes onto the table — when a name catches your eye. 

Gojo? 

You pick up an envelope — the frilly envelope doing nothing to protect the contents inside — you barely can make out any of the text, except the faint inked kanji of his name. 

You gingerly open the envelope, peeling out the insides — and your heart drops. 

Is this an invitation? The faint text was blurred and smudged from the rain — the contents all but faded and you could only make out three things — ““marriage,” today’s date, and bits and pieces of what you thought was an address. 

Satoru was…getting married? 

It felt like logic had fled your mind and panic took its place — as you looked up the parts of the address that you were able to decipher. And you found it — it was a popular venue not far from here. 

You didn’t think — you grabbed your keys and drove. 

You couldn’t let him get married, no, no — you had made a mistake when you left. You thought he was better off, you thought it was for the best — but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be when your chest hurt like this — felt as if your heart was splitting in two with a sword stuck between your ribs. It couldn’t be because you pushed him away because you were scared — scared of getting hurt again, scared of hurting him, scared of being with the only person you ever had loved. 

Basically, you pulled up to the venue, you were an idiot. 

You hadn’t changed, you hadn’t showered off your who knows how long of a flight, and now you were on the steps of a wedding venue that Satoru was getting married at. You froze before the doors. 

You couldn’t do this. He didn’t deserve to have his day ruined by you — not when you had ruined enough. If he had found someone else to spend his life with — whether it was arranged or not, he deserved to be happy. 

Even if it wasn’t with you. 

So you step down — walking off a distance to watch when the couple emerged — which judging by how dark it was and how staff were already almost done setting up — would be any minute now. 

So you wait. 

And finally when the doors swing open, you steel yourself — knowing it would do nothing, nothing to shield you from the pain of seeing—and your eyes find the groom. 

That wasn’t Satoru. 

He certainly had the white hair, but he did not have his blue eyes — he had a lovely bride regardless, who looked at him the way you had always looked at Satoru. Was that the look you had hidden away for so many years? And why were you still hiding? 

And your eyes find Satoru almost instantly — as fast as his eyes find you seemingly, as your name escapes his lips — as he parts through the crowd to your side. He’s wearing the other suit he had tried on — the white suit that had been your second favorite — his white locks parted and combed to the side, but still impossibly unkempt as they always were. 

“You got my invitation?” you blink, tilting your head. 

“But you—what?” and his brow furrows. 

“Don’t tell me you lost your ability to read and speak while overseas, princess,” and a small chuckle escapes your lips as you shake your head, wringing your hands. 

“Satoru, the invitation was wet because of the rain, I thought—” your voice wavers, glancing away as your cheeks burn, “I thought you were getting married.” 

He raises an eyebrow, lips curling, “And you were about to burst in and object?” 

You roll your eyes, but even so you can’t meet his gaze,  “Satoru—” 

His smile only grows wider, “What were you going to say? A passionate speech about how you’re still—” And you’re tugging him close by the collar, and his breath catches, your name leaving his lips. 

“I’m in love with you, Satoru,” your voice is steady as you speak, your hand sliding to his cheek, “I always have been — I was just afraid to admit it, I didn’t want to hurt you — whether it was by my own hand or not,” and his brow furrows, but you continue, “but I’m not scared anymore — because it hurts more to be nothing than something with you—” 

And his lips find yours. It’s everything you want — because it's him, he’s everything you’d ever wanted, and everything you’d ever want. You want the way his arm slides around your waist to pull you closer, you want the way his hand cups your cheek, you want the way his lips smile against yours, and you’d want his past, present, and future. And you’d do anything to keep it. 

“Promise you’ll never leave like that again?” he murmurs, his arm tightening around your waist as he says the words, his forehead pressed against yours, “I already have abandonment issues,” and you chuckle, your fingers finding his cheek. 

“I promise,” you murmur, “I’m sorry I left — both times I left, and there won’t ever be a third,” 

And he smiles, “You proposing to me, sweetheart? I’m not one to rush into things, gotta take me out on a proper date first,” 

“How about tonight?” you find his lips again, the taste of sugar on his lips — undoubtedly from indulging in a slice or several of wedding cake. 

“So soon?” he hums,and his gaze softens, as he presses a kiss to your forehead, “someone’s eager,” and your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his, as you would a million times more,

“Well, you don’t know until you try.” 

✧ a/n: ahhh another celebration fic done!! this one was lowkey a struggle towards the end so i hope this turned out okay. it's beyond me understanding if it did or not lmao. i hope you guys enjoy ahhh -- gotta probably put up a poll to decide the next celebration fic this weekend :) (it's only because i'm horribly indecisive).

✧ taglist: @yunjinabla, @weluvsza, @yamaguccitadashi, @gojobbg, @soulofoz, @hfdkhjghjkghfj, @forest-fruits-jam, @cerene-dipity, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @reaperxdeath, @octopishisahybridanimal, @hanlay, @whereflowerswenttodie, @tsukimefuku, @numbing3scapism, @arcswonderland, @kirashuu, @fushitoru, @spider-fan72, @jayathelostdragon, @sunflowmaryam, @satorusmochis, @catsgomurp, @simply-a-s1mp, @kentocalls, @weluvsza, @lucy-xv0202, @mazzd4, @dontshuugo, @zz-snow-zz

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

[altfire]

i am thinking so much about. lio of all people. and how he is just my most miserable oc and like even the small happinesses he finds dont last. i want to do more for him but i have no idea what

#every time im like ''ok this ship will be endgame and will Fix him'' it doesnt work out #(obvs no relationship can fix anybody but not my point) #naemon dies and raz ''dies'' and silver-claw is flaky and bastian is just such a goody two shoes baby man #im wondering if he needs like. assuming he's immortal. like a century of solitude. maybe traveling and not cooped up but #time with himself to Try And Get Better. do they have therapy in tes. i doubt it #watch your feet #lioren #what im rlly thinking is i pick an uncommon time frame for tes (sometime late second/early third era or even early fourth??) #and i see what lio looks like in a couple centuries and how he's feeling and. if he's good. maybe make him a mans #was also thinking it would be funny to play him in skyrim and join the companions as a (in my mind) nearly thousand year old werewolf #and then idk maybe he smooches farkas. whos to say

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Headcanon: Worship

Yandere Forgotten God (tentacle monster) x GN Reader

TW: Tentacles, teratophillia, gore, dubcon, and yandere themes

He was an ancient chaos god, one that was once revered amongst humans a millennium ago. But over time he had been forgotten when his fishing village had become a city. Now he was nothing more than a tall tale. A god with no name. He no longer had a humanoid form but was now a blob of black tentacles. It was shameful how far he had fallen from grace from his own pride. He should have made sure he was never forgotten.

The god shouldn’t have been so cocky to believe that monk couldn’t seal him away but alas, this was the punishment he deserved for his insatiable greed.

So when you arrive to his shrine and accidentally break the millennium old ward, he’s shocked. Have his own prayers finally been answered? Has someone come to free him from this lonely existence?

“I’ve heard there was once a god of chaos here so I have come to pray to you… please hear my plea.” You then bowed down in respect to the shrine and cried a bit. “I do not wish to be married off to some senile, corrupt man. Please god, if you hear me, save me.” You cried before him. You wanted to be saved before married you off to some old nobleman. You shared your woes of how this man made your city nearly inhabitable with his high taxes and of his salacious behavior. How could he not be swayed? He felt obligated to help you.

And so the god did what he did best, he wreaked havoc. He used his supernatural abilities to cause a landslide onto that nobleman’s home, killing him instantly. Now you no longer had to worry about being a stupid old man’s property. You could continue on with your life worshipping him! Your god!

You visited his shrine daily and left him small offerings. Ones that he would have rejected in the past but was positively thrilled to have now. The god began to love you. How could he not be drawn to your genuine gratitude? He couldn’t remember the last time someone had been this thrilled with him… it must’ve been over a thousand years ago now? He didn’t know…

What he loved most about you was your smile. It warmed his heart and he adored it. You were his world and he wanted to be more humanoid for you…

When your visits became less frequent, he used that time away from you to try to shape his body once more. He wanted to be with you. To hold you. To touch you, but he couldn’t do that as a shapeless blob of tentacles… but he could if he was more humanoid.

And so here he was with a mostly humanoid body with functioning male reproductive organs… save for the tentacles that remained attached to his back. His face was picturesque but his extra limbs weren’t… it didn’t matter. He would do so much for you, more than any human man. You didn’t entirely have a choice.

The god diligently worked on his shrine to make it more inhabitable for you as well. He needed it to be perfect so the two of you could be here for all eternity together. Him and his savior! His beloved devotee!

When you returned to his shrine after a week of not seeing him with bruises on your face, he was livid. Who had harmed you? Why would they hurt you? Hurt his destined spouse? How dare they… how dare they.

You shared your woes and prayed for salvation once more, this time from your family. They believed you to now be bad luck due to the nobleman’s sudden death and began to verbally and physically abuse you. You looked so miserable… just like him. His poor, precious worshipper didn’t deserve such treatment. No. They deserved to be worshipped.

The god now had enough power to leave his shrine due to your generous offerings. Your worship gave him the power to become a great chaos god once more.

And the god once more inflicted his wrath upon your enemies. This time he tore them apart limb from limb, starting from their mouths to their hands and eventually to their feet. He wished to start out by ripping out the tongues that spat venomous words at you. To break every bone in their hands and feet for the pain they inflicted on you. For every sin committed against you, he would inflict it back tenfold.

This is the first time you were able to see his true form as well… you were so silent the entire time of his massacre of your family. Was he so gorgeous that you were speechless? How cute his darling was!

You began to sob when he held your face between his blood coated palms. The smell of iron was too much for you that you began to retch but he was oblivious that he was the reason of your disgust and fear. Those damn humans must be too much for you to be around… perhaps he should whisk his spouse away?

So he did just that. His arms and tentacles tightly wrapped around you as he whisked you off to your new home together. The revamped shrine. He hoped you’d love it since he worked so hard on making it habitable for the two of you!

You struggle in his grip but he doesn’t relent. You must be shy… how cute!

You try to push the tentacles from you, but they merely wrap around your form to gently massage you. He needed to calm you before you hurt yourself… it was okay!

“Be not afraid, my dear.” His voice made you jump in surprise but he chuckled. “I’m not going to hurt you… you’re my beloved after all. My savior.”

“You’re the god of this shrine…” you whispered softly, which made the god eagerly nod. “You’re Xeros.”

Yes! That was his name! The one he had forgotten over the years. You were so sweet to remember his name…

You don’t even have time to protest before his tentacles wrap around your body in an enticing manner. The extra appendages slip into the waist band of your pants and tease your tight hole. You whine at the sudden touch but more tentacles wrap around your arms and legs to keep you in place

“Your offerings were wonderful but I need a better offering since I eliminated your problem…” Xeros smiled down at you with his hauntingly beautiful face. “I demand you as my offering. You will be my eternal spouse.”

“But I’m just a human- ack!” You gagged on the tentacle that was suddenly shoved into your mouth. Your eyes welled up with tears as the god beamed at you.

“It doesn’t matter to me what species you are. I’m a god. I will always get what I want.” Your back arched when one of his slimy tentacles finally breeched the tight ring of muscles and wriggled inside of you. You moaned loudly at the overwhelming sensation of pleasure that overcame you.

“See? Why would you resist such pleasure?” Xeros leaned to whisper, his hot breath tickled the shell of your ear, “I’m far better than any mortal lover. Don’t you think so?”

Your mind is too cloudy to form a coherent reply, your eyes rolled back in you head as his black tendrils ravish you. The tentacle in your mouth soon replaced with his tongue.

This was the way you should always be. You deserved every orifice of your body to be stuffed to the brim with him. To cry and whine in pleasure that ascends human comprehension. To be his spouse and to lay his eggs.

You deserved to be worshipped as his deity

#yandere #yandere fic #yandere imagine #yandere stories #yandere obsession #yandere god #yandere monster x reader #monster yandere #tentacles #t #terat0philliac #monster fudger #monster fucker #TW.tentacles #reader x monster #monster x reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral s/o #gender neutral imagine #yandere oc #yandere original character #obsessive yandere #yandere eldritch #eldritch #eldrich horror #eldritch monster #delusional yandere #tw.dubcon #yandere headcanons #yandere oneshot

[ttearsofthekingdom]

starting a collection

#2nd one is literally that medic hc i posted about wanting to talk about uh 3 or 4 days ago #something something medic is semi-immortal and has been doing this for a Long Time hence his disregard for standard medical practices #hes seen it all before #also smth smth merasmus may be involved and stuttgart as a city is nearly a thousand years old so its not implausible blah blah

[hotchscvm]

three cents

pairings: aaron hotchner x reader

summary: you butt dial your boss during a girls night … the girls night where you told them you’d fuck aaron hotchner for three cents.

word count: 1.2k

warnings: talks of big dick energy, prostitution if you squint, red wine, gray sweatpants (mentioned)

Girls' night out was wild, no one knew where you would end up. One night, you ended up on a boat and the next you were on a train to NYC. After getting thrown in jail with Emily, JJ, and Penelope during another night out, you all vowed to keep whatever happened during the night a secret from everyone, specifically Derek Morgan. Derek Morgan who had bailed all four of you out of jail, Derek Morgan who teased you relentlessly for weeks after.

After a long case, Emily suggested another girl’s night which all of you agreed on, desperately needing a celebratory drink after saving a little girl. It was around one in the morning when you got back to Quantico and though Aaron gave you the day off for tomorrow–or well, later today–all four of you decided to crash at Emily’s and drink to your heart’s content.

Popcorn and Hersey kisses lay on Emily’s coffee table, bottles of half-empty wine and jello shots litter the floor and you’re all giggling about whether to prank Derek by getting phone cases with a picture of him shirtless. You’re all on board and Penelope is getting them custom-made through a website she’s found.

“Speaking of Derek’s abs.” JJ drags the ‘s’ creating a hissing noise. She turns to you, grinning. “I’ve wanted to ask ever since you went to that Doctor Who convention with him. Do you like like Spence?”

You giggled, taking a small sip of wine, thinking about the genius. “Noooo. Spence is my friend. And he runs with his gun like it’s weighing him down. Besides, I only went to that Doctor Who convention because he went to see Barbie with me. He’s, like, too young for me, too.”

“He’s older than you.” Emily points out, smirking, knowing full well you liked older men. “He’s adorable and sweet.”

“Spencer is definitely cute and I’d be lying if I said I hadn’t had a sex dream about him,” you confessed, smiling as the girls burst out laughing. “But he’s too … inexperienced. I like my men like I like my wine. Old.”

Your phone had been on mute since you entered the plane, not wanting to abruptly wake anyone up if they were resting, so not a single person in the room had heard your phone ringing or Aaron’s multiple “hello’s” trying to get your attention. All of you were oblivious to your boss listening in to the conversation.

“Is Rossi too old for you?” Penelope asked, inciting another round of giggles.

You nodded, finishing off your glass of wine. “Just a bit. I’ve seen pictures of him when he was in the Marines though, and I definitely would’ve been the fourth Mrs. Rossi back then.”

Emily cackled, a bit of red wine spilling from her full glass. “Okay, I have a question. Would you guys fuck Hotch for ten million dollars? Be honest here.”

“No!” both JJ and Penelope spit out. They all turned to you, grinning like madmen.

You shrugged, filling another glass. “I’d do it for three.”

“Damn, three million? That’s–“

“Nope,” you smirked, taking a sip.

Emily paused, head tilting in confusion. “Three … hundred thousand?”

“No.”

“Three thousand?”

You shake your head, grinning at the confused woman. “Nope.”

“Three hundred?”

“No.”

Emily’s eyes widened, jaw-dropping a little further as you denied her guesses. “Three dollars?”

“No.”

“THREE CENTS?” JJ was the one to shout, mouth dropping open when you giggled and nodded.

Penelope threw a pillow at you, and you giggled, dodging it, nearly spilling your drink in the process. “Hey! This is supposed to be a judge-free zone. I’d suck and fuck Unit Chief Aaron Hotchner for three measly cents.”

“Okay, I’d understand if you said Derek but Hotch?” Emily exclaimed, shaking her head at the thought. “He’s like twenty years older than you!”

“Exactly! That’s part of the appeal,” you replied. You were sure by tomorrow no one would remember your confession–though you were positive you wouldn’t either–and that they wouldn’t tease you too much over it. “He’s the literal definition of a DILF.”

The girls laughed at your words, JJ having to clutch onto a pillow to control herself.

“And!” you continue. “I was working out with Derek once and Hotch came in the gym with gray sweats and his dick looks humongous. It was a huge fucking bulge. I think I saw it twitching.”

Penelope slaps her hands over her ears, playfully grimacing at your words while Emily chugs the remains of her glass, absolutely baffled. You didn’t mind, sex and boys were common conversation topics during girl’s night (and sometimes when Emily would catch you making eyes at someone.

The rest of the night continued the same, though less talk about Hotch’s big dick and more on whether you all should make more jello shots. By the time you’re coming up with an answer, it’s five in the morning and all four of you are knocked out from the alcohol in your system. Even in your drunk state, you knew you’d wake up to a pounding headache.

When Derek calls in the morning, telling everyone about a new case, you’re all moody and grumpy. Hotch wanted everyone in even though he had given the day off, so no one was jumping for joy especially not in your hangover state.

Despite drinking the most, Emily drives the four of you back to the BAU, mumbling obscenities under her breath on the way. When you enter the elevator, Derek is there, causing all of you to groan at his presence. One look at you and he laughs loudly, knowing what had transpired the night before.

You wish you could shoot his foot.

In the briefing room, Hotch apologizes for having you all come in on your day off, pausing to glance at you before presenting the case. Truth be told, you hadn’t paid that much attention to it, your headache taking up your attention. Fire, serial arsonist, fifteen dead, Seattle.

“Wheels up in thirty,” Hotch announces, walking across the table. As the team filters out of the room, he calls your name. “In my office, please. I want to discuss something with you.”

Confused, you follow him to his office, pushing through your headache to think about what he could possibly want to speak to you about. You come up blank, even more confused when you see him lock the door to his office as you enter. “Did I do something wrong?”

Hotch shook his head, moving past you to his desk. He picks up something and turns around. In his hands are three pennies, and he’s holding them out to you. “Three cents.”

You’re getting deja vu on the words, and it’s not until several seconds of standing in silence and confusion that it clicks. Three cents. You blush, looking at the pennies. “I don’t understand.”

“You said you’d suck and fuck me for three cents,” he smirks at your shock, placing the coins in your hands.

“What–”

Hotch unbuckles his belt, causing you to stop mid-sentence. “You’ve got twenty-eight minutes to suck my cock. Get to work.”

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner smut

[rboooks]

DC x DP Fic idea: The Royal Consort

Wesley Weston runs a blog after getting over his desire to expose Danny's secret- primarily due to no one believing him- and no one pays attention to it since almost all of Casper high school has one too.

The difference between the hundreds of other blogs is that one of his pictures of Phantom is clear. A perfectly uncorrected image of the famous ghost, whereas nearly all other pictures are blurry due to ghosts disrupting cameras. Even Wes isn't sure how he managed to capture him so well.

Another difference between his blog and others is that one of his followers happens to be John Constantine, who followed the kid a long time ago due to the fanfiction of the Bats and found them hilarious.

John opens his phone app, expecting a new chapter to the Bruce Wayne/Superman fic, and spits out his tea upon seeing the High King of the Dead casually in the human world. Horrified that the King has not been appropriately welcomed- which could lead to a war that the humans would never win- he calls an emergency Justice League and Justice League Dark meeting.

It didn't help that they had allowed a county to pass the anti-ecto laws, which ruined any attempt to appease the Ghost King once the news broke to the public. The League still worried about a declaration of war even after they demolished the laws and the United Nations had the States apologize on humans' behalf.

They quickly discover High King Phantom has been visiting Earth for almost three years. Before his coronation, Phantom had not been outside the Infinite Realms very often though he has appeared throughout history. Cave drawings date back thousands of years before the first ancient Egyptians, but he's visits are few and short.

Life would naturally send him back to the Realms because he had too much power and ectoplasm. After taking the throne, his powers only grew, which meant someone had to summon him as the only way for him to stay on Earth longer than an hour.

Now as King, he appeared only within the small town of Amity Park daily. Why?

John sighs. "He has an anchor. Someone is tying him to this plane. Like the helmet for Nabu, which allows Doctor Fate to exist here without being launched back to the Infinite Releams, Phantom has bonded himself. And I know who that is"

He pulls up a class photo on Weston's blog and points to a boy wearing a particular necklace.

"Danny Fenton is wearing the official Royal Consort of the Infinite Realms symbol and has been since he was fourteen. Phantom's husband may be our only hope to salvage the terrible mess the USA's bloody GIW placed the rest of us in."

Danny loved the necklace he found in Pariah Dark's old haunt. He inherited Pariah's haunt and everything inside once he was crowned and hasn't taken it off since. He didn't think it would be an issue. It's not like it would out his secret to his parents or anyone else since it was in Ghost Speech. Even he didn't know what it said.

Then one morning he comes down for breakfast only to have the most important members of the Justice League sitting in his living room waiting to greet him.

Desperate to keep his halfa status a secret, Danny must convince the entire world watching him, that he's just a human who scandalously eloped at age fourteen with one of the strongest beings in the mulitverse.

Jack's horrified "We were shooting my son-in-law this whole time" became a meme that has trended for months.

( Part 2 )

#dc x dp #dc x dp crossover #Danny is girlboss gaslight his way through this #his parents knew he was bi but married!? #The Royal Consort

[thatdeadaquarius]

About your language brainrot. I see your "Reader's writing can't match tyvat's long and flowery writing" and bring you "Tyvat isn't used to books over 50 pages long so a short story to the Reader is a whole dictionary to tyvat readers".

Seriously, have you seen how thin the books are? They don't wrote novels, they write short chapters formatted in the way really old stories are. As in, summarizing all the events down into one smooth story then adding a few quotes. Fanfiction writers are insane. They will willingly sit down and write hundreds of words at a time. To them, a proper modern day story of maybe, oh 10k words or so, would probably be like the Oddessy itself.

If we were to combine the two headcanons. It would end up as many historians being intimidated by this insanely long written scripture in the language of the forgotten.

I'm going to take this a step further and say that if the creator asked some people to proofread their things, it would establish a hiarchy of who is able to actually finish the book the creator read and who isn't.

NOW THIS, THIS IS MY FUCKING JAMMMM

I'm so sorry this is so old!! u probably all know this by this point that I've really slowed down as the year has gone on, but I graduated university and then got my first job so its been pretty crazy!

Sun: Reader (you/they/them)

Orbit: Headcanons-ish

Stars: dash of all the book/nerds of Genshin, heavy on Sumeru?

Comets & Meteors: Content Warnings: Cussing, 16+ Mature Audiences, Spoliers for Sumeru Archon Quests/Scaramouche, & Trigger Warnings: mention of shipping/characters shipping themselves with you.

Comment if any missed, please.

☆

FULL STOP.

THE AKADEMIYA, FONTAINE RESEARCH INSTITUTE, HAVE BEEN WAITTTINNGGGG ON YOUR ASS LMAO

You fall from the fucking sky like a 5 star, or pop out of the Irminsul or whatever

and immediately are mobbed by scholars. LMAO jkjk (not really, bc that's what it’d feel like)

can you even imagine the dread older stories(”the classics” to them), that was instilled in the poor students around Teyvat??

id like to think ur works are the most preserved over the thousands of years of Teyvat archeologists excavating them, in comparison to other authors (teyvat just likes you more, suck it William Shakespeare)

also, bc I cant resist language differences/world building I'm sorryyyy 😭 😭

the vocab of Genshin lang vs. ours, has significantly less vocabulary like their actual dictionary is 1/3 the size of ours type of energy

(Omfg all ur fanfics being considered like insanely long realistic romantic classics or tragedies like Jane Austen-level, and only the richest and biggest play companies put on plays about ur stories bc the script goes on for hours)

(ur plays only get put on for rlly big events bc of this, like Lantern Rite or like a Summer/Winter festival/your birthday, which is, yes, an international holiday)

dude the sheer power move of anything you’ve written being essentially “Journey of the West” to them, like Damnnn.

endless like adaptations, plays, Teyvat-short stories condensing it, (THEIR OWN FANFICTION ABOUT UR STORIES)

the power is, in fact, going to your head every time another scholar both deflates at how long ur stuff is, but also lights up bc they get to read it

speaking of scholars… you know who snatched you up first. you know. you don’t even need to read the next line.

Alhaitham.

sneaky bastard he is, absolutely manipulated, mansplained (and manwhored bc he knows he’s handsome, cheeky little shit) his way into getting you to sit down with him and interview you about both translating other classics, your own, giving your own analysis of others works and ur own, and picking ur brain apart of how/why you wrote urs, etc. its fucking endless,

Kaveh had to come rescue you bc u were starving to death after getting stuck with the Haravatat scholar in his office for nearly 7 hours of interrogation discussion about literature

and Alhaitham wasn't even nearly done, he’d informed you as you left that he already had another appointment for later conversation scheduled (how?? you don't even know ur own schedule??? you have a schedule???) and was looking forward to more of your “creative and enlightening input” :)))

(you’re never going to escape him, not even Nahida herself can save you from his stubborn ass)

On another note, Xingqiu is quaking when you agree to autograph his copy of your stories (of which he has all hard covers of the first edition translations)

Zhongli/Rex Lapis is known for having a near-lifelong passion for searching for your works specifically, and learning how to translate them better into Teyvatian vernacular

like the same way he can absolutely speak on Rex Lapis facts/rocks/adepti info, is the same confidence he speaks about knowing ur work lol

(yes he did also ask for several autographs and another sit-down talk about the works, tho a lot more sneaky then Alhaitham bc he just casually gets u guys into it during dinner)

Barbatos/Venti has written some of the most famous songs based on your stuff, he has his favorites too,

but he always claims the best songs are any that have been written in the story, like either when a character sings something, or there are like quotes from songs ur fanfics are based on lol

(he also demanded to hear what they actually sound like from you, yes, you have to sing them for him lol)

Venti also can surprisingly drunkenly ramble the entirety of at least one of ur stories, like, word for word lmao

(Diluc gave in and did give him a drink on the house for that one, just once, Venti doesn’t remember it lol)

(I forgot to mention, u guys still speak the same language, just like, different versions of it)

ur works being one of the few things all the Archons can freely talk about with each other, like it’s neutral ground bc they’re all fangirling about it lmao

Furina and Neuvillette have had like,, fierce debates over the decades about character dynamics and the general drama of ur stories, they’ve gotten into it enough they’ve stopped talking to each other for a couple days a few times lol

Albedo, Sucrose, Kokomi, Yae Miko, Ei, Raiden, have read every single work they’re gotten their hands on in Teyvat (it took them like a literal year or longer)

Albedo drew you fanart for every single story, bc he’s hyperfixated on everything related to you ngl,

Kokomi had commissioned smaller pocket versions of ur works (which later got popular thanks to Yae Miko) both the OG and the Teyvat shortened versions

THE HARBINGERS ARE THE MOST DOWN BAD LMAO

Childe has literally tried to recreate battle scenes from ur works lmao

and gets especially riled up about fighting someone who resembles any characters from them (esp villains, what a cutie)

You cannot fathom the amount of research throughout Teyvat that has been secretly or indirectly funded by Pantalone/Tsaritsa

from the experts to analyze them, to funding play companies to act them out, to actually excavating places to get more of ur stuff unearthed

(the Harbingers absolutely are the first group of people that got to read several of ur stories first bc of this, like the world’s most exclusive secret book club lol)

Scaramouche used to clown on Childe all the time about how he was too impatient to even “sit down and read the King’s classics”, and he was downright insufferable when he found out about Tartaglia’s habit of recreating battle scenes/that being what motivated him to fight sometimes lol

that being said, Wanderer surprisingly never forgot ur stories.

Even when his memories were wiped for a bit, he found comfort in these fantastical epics still sticking around, even when his old names did not

(he mayyyy or mayyy nottt have secretly namedhimselfafteroneofthetragicprotagonistsherelatesto- )

oh btw, Nahida also found joy and comfort in ur stories when she was trapped, they also helped her literally grow as a person bc she had ur stories to help her sort of process the world/what life was like outside of her dreaming prison 🥺💔❤️‍🩹

◇

OMFG

ANYWAY FULL TONE SHIFT LMFAO-

the ABSOLUTE SPIRAL-RED-STRING-CONSPIRACY-THEORY-BOARD ENERGY IF THIS WAS A BLUNT LANGUAGE AU LMAOOOO

like specifically how Teyvatians like to give all the context ever thru their words, but older deities/beings like you just do simple phrases that can have deeper meanings (whereas teyvat just explains all the meanings behind their words)

STOP there’s like an official display at the Akademiya and Fontaine Institute of red string theory boards 😭😭 (look what you’ve done to themmm LMAO)

for like every story of urs, INCLUDING THE FANFICS STOP

IMAGINE THE SHIPPING WARS IF U EVER WROTE ONE THAT WASNT EXPLICIT OR LIKE ONE OF THE MAIN ROMANTIC INTERESTS HAD CHEMISTRY WITH OTHER CHARACTERS HAHAHAHAA

that's actually what Akademiya scholars argue about the most viciously, it’s like politics you can’t just bring up ships from ur stories casually in regular convos 💀

(poor Cyno has to deal with a shipping war once a year bc someone always makes the mistake of reading ur work for the first time (without being told to not talk to others abt ships lol) and it starts an all out brawl in the cafeteria every time LMAO)

Also yes.

Cyno is a fanboy.

(he has read Creator x Reader-insert fanfiction.)

(As have most of the characters mentioned, and those not lol)

…

(I'm gonna make a whole Creator x reader fanfic post one day i stg lmao)

☆

an iced coffee? for me?? :0

ok but real talk…

wtf do you guys wanna see for new years!!

i didn't do a inktober/october days thingy bc i felt too unprepared (and bc id wanted to post that 1000+ followers eldritch au for Halloween)

but now i kinda wanna, at least for a few days :o

ill post a poll in a minute, so check it out!! but still, please feel free to comment some ideas here! :)

Safe Travels Deafening Dreamer,

💀♒

If you wanna join a taglist, DM me what for! "Pspspsss, please tag me for [All SAGAU posts, Only SAGAU Language AUs, diff fandom, etc.]!"

(If you ever wanna drop, just DM me! "No more taglists/[specifically this AU/fandom] please!")

♡the beloveds♡

@karmawonders / @0rah-s / @randomnatics / @glxssynarvi / @nexylaza / @genshin-impacts-me / @wholesomey-artist / @thedevioussmirk / @the-dumber-scaramouche / @chocogi / @fallen-starr / @areaderofbooks / @devilangel657 / @esthelily

#this looked a lot longer on desktop #fuck it #anyway sorry if im slower again guys! #i got sick again :( #my voice was completely gone for days #im onyl just recovering #so finally felt decent enough to write more #check out my other posts for the poll btw! #genshin sagau #genshin impact #sagau #genshin isekai #genshin imagines #genshin impact sagau #aqua asks #genshin x reader #self aware genshin #genshin self aware #more like isekai heavily but this does rely on u understanding they could/have had ur stories for years in their world #so kinda #<3 u guys but DO NOT TAG AS YANDERE/DARK #bc its not <3 #gonna start putting that reminder in the tags

[prettiestgrlinthemorguexo]

Swipe (Lucifer morningstar x reader)

Description: after his divorce, he finally gets back into the dating game…through a dating app :)

Please note I’m writing this before the release of ep7 and ep8 so-

Takes place between ep 5 and right before ep 6

I wrote nearly 98% of this at like 3 AM-

Part 1 of 3

Warning: Lucifer being a dork, Lucifer being a dorky dad, age gap(reader died at like 25 and Lucifer is like a good few thousands years old so), talk of divorce, Charlie being a supportive daughter, I’ve never used a dating apps so i might get info wrong, Lucifer doesn’t know modern day technology or slang, lying, Lucifer straight up cat fishing reader,

No one’s POV

Lucifer was a wreck after his divorce with Lilith. Becoming the shell of the man he was, going from a family-oriented to a man who barely talk to anyone. After visiting his daughter and her hotel, he knew he had to be there, he already missed so much he wasn’t gonna miss another second of it. Becoming the best father he could also meant moving on, it’s been seven years since the separation. Charlie knew her Dad had been in pain since the divorce but she could tell, he was trying and she was going to be there.

Lucifer’s POV

“Charlie, are you sure about this?” I ask still hesitant, I knew Charlie just wanted to help and had the best intentions, but a dating app?  “Of course!” Charlie exclaimed, face lite up. “It’s perfect! You get to meet people without the face to face interactions!” Charlie said downloading the app, viva by Voxtech.

Charlie’s was more excited than I was, I wanted to meet people but an app? I can’t help but feel my heart race and my body get heavy, why was I this nervous. In the middle of my overthinking Charlie handed me the phone, it had a profile made it had my name and many details. It felt like I was giving it to all 9 rings of hell! “Ok! How we gotta add some photos an-“

“Charlie!”

We both turned are head to see Alastor and Vaggie standing there. “Can you help with something real quick?” Vaggie ask seeming annoyed. “Of course!” Charlie’s called back before as standing up. “You go ahead and add those photos dad I’ll be back!” Charlie said as she ran to the two, leaving me alone on the couch staring at the screen. 

I read over the info and it all was so…personal. How would anyone be comfortable putting this much out? I Don’t get me started with being the King of Hell it’s self, then an idea popped in my head. I turn my head slightly to see Charlie still talking to the pair so I decided to take matters into my own hands. I added photos of my duck inventions and made a duck with a white top hat as my ‘icon’. Now onto the name, Lucifer was too out there everyone would know, think! L names that are similar.

Lucifer..

Luci…

Luc…

Luca..

Luca! I instantly think changing the name quickly, removing the last name from the profile along with it. After that it looked like a normal profile. When I finished and satisfied with it Charlie was walking back over. “Sorry bout that dad! Now back to w-.” While she was speaking I shove my phone in my pocket and stand up. “No it’s fine! I set it up!” I nearly screamed it out as I stood from the couch. Charlie stared at me shock for a moment before her normal bright smile returned to her face. “Wow that’s great!” She said as she walked over “Look at you getting the hang of technology!” Charlie said happily. I didn’t know why I was so nervous by an app, but it was on my mind. After finishing talking to Charlie I was able to leave, soon I was back in my bedroom. I let out a sigh and feel onto the massive bed and pulled out my phone, Viva still open.

Y/N POV

Left..Left..Left..

God this app was a never ending app of swiping left on people wanting hook-ups was tiring. This was the last time I’d take F/N advice and use a dating app, the fact they exist in hell was already surprising. It was nude after nude of people looking for a hookup. Then something different popped up, instead of the naked body I almost have gotten used to, I was greeted by a rubber duck with a white top hat. My eyes widen a bit as I layed there I swipped to look at the second photo, more ducks. I then moved and read the bio. “Luca..” I said quietly to myself reading the short info. I looked at the photos and the bio, it stood out in the sea of profile, i stair a while longer…

…Right.

“CONGRATS! YOU GOT A MATCH!” Popped up on my screen in red shades, with the little duck icon. “…that was quick” I think to myself. I click on the little message option.

Y/N - Hi :)

No ones POV

Lucifer layed there looking at the profiles, this was dating. More like brothel. He could barely understand, after swiping left a few times he chose to just turn off his phone, it was a mistake to think an app could help. Almost as soon as Lucifer sat his phone down his phone went off, illuminating the room …then it went off again.

Lucifer raised an eyebrow picking up his phone to see two notifications, both from Viva. Seeing a match with someone named Y/N and a message from them. Lucifer felt himself lose the ability to breathe, “A match?” Lucifer asked himself, confused on what that meant, he open the Add to be greeted my the words “CONGRATS! YOU GOT A MATCH!” And the icon that belong to Y/N.

The icon was a photo of Y/N. Lucifer’s eyes lit up and he finally let out a breath. He admired their features. Their H/C H/L that looked perfect, their E/C eyes drew him in. He clicked the image see their profile, he was greeted my a normal photo of you, it stood out. Lucifer saw the message illuminating in corner of the screen, he let out a breath and opened the message and saw a simple

Y/N - “Hi :)”

I sat their staring at the message before typing himself

Luca - Hi

Time skip (why? Because I fucking said so.)

Over the past few weeks, Lucifer and Y/N talked every day. Learning every little detail of each other. Lucifer learned about your job, your friends, how you lived and how you died even. He couldn’t help but want to know everything.

Y/N learned he had a daughter and that he’d been “recently divorced”, his words not theirs. Y/N learned that he loves ducks and creating new duck toys, he was a big dork, like a big puppy dog. Of course you didn’t know you were talking to Lucifer himself, you thought you were talking to a man named Luca…

During Lucifer’s now frequent visit to his daughter and her little Hazbin hotel, Charlie couldn’t help but notice how her dad was one his phone more then usual, usual being never. Naturally, Charlie was curious. “Sooo..” Charlie started, a little unsure what to say about her fathers new found internet obsession. “Who are you talking to?” Charlie ask curious.

Lucifer was quick to meet his daughters eyes and quickly put his phone face down on the table . “No one!” He said in an almost scream, before it buzzed again..and again…and again. Charlie eyes went between her dads now sweating face and and his phone. Before Lucifer could even react, Charlie reached for his phone. “Wait!” Lucifer said reaching for his phone from her hands, the phone screen lite up and Charlie was greeted my 4 notifications from someone named Y/N from Viva. Charlie gasp turning quickly turning to face him, Charlie’s face lite up like Christmas lights. “YOUR TALKING TO SOMEONE?!” Charlie squealed from excitement, since she helped set up his password she quickly opened his phone to see more.

“Charlie don’t-“ Lucifer started to say before seeing her face fall from its happy to confused. “Wait..” Charlie said looking at his profile, “why is your name ‘Luca’?” Charlie ask her eyes moving from his phone finally to be greeted with Lucifer’s red face “well…,” Lucifer started, “I wasn’t comfortable putting my name and photo on there so…I put a different name and photo.” Charlie’s face went from suprise to more annoyed, not angry, just disappointed. “Dad you can’t just do that!” Charlie said to her father, her free rubbing her face. “You can’t just catfish her!”

Lucifer looked confused, catfish? Like the animal? “Catfish?” Lucifer asked, truly not understanding the term. “Yes dad you can’t just lie about who you are to someone like that!” Charlie said scolding her father. Lucifer after that was able to put two and two together, the weight of what he’s been hit him like a bus. “Dad,” Charlie said letting out a sigh, “you have to come clean to them.” She said as she handed him his phone. “Char ITS not that easy!” Lucifer said taking the phone from then hand seeing them newest text, her caring words, them asking if he he’s eaten, remind him to take care of himself, her word hit his heart hard. “It’s not a normal situation, I’m the king of hell, not some random sinner!” Lucifer said he eyes not leaving the illuminated screen. “Dad, they’re gonna find out sooner or later, it’s better if you do it now, early into you talking then later..”

Lucifer stated quiet, he knew deep down she was right, he did truly like them and want more with them, he could only imagine how you’d react if he waited much longer it’s already been a few weeks… Lucifer let out a sigh and looked up at his daughter. “your right..” he said quietly, “I’ll tell them just…give me time..” Charlie stared for a moment before letting before smiling again. “Just do it soon dad…” Lucifer knew she was right.

Later that night Lucifer layed in his bed, looking at her last message, contemplating how to tell them, shoudl he texted it, no they’d think he’s joking, “maybe…” he though out loud. “A FaceTime..?” He asked himself, no, he didn’t even know how to start one… maybe…a date? You’d know he wasn’t lying about being satan himself, he could explain better then over a device and he could only imagine how beautiful you were in person… Lucifer looked down at the message you last send hesitation purged his mind, but slowly he began to type.

Luca - hey, can I ask you something?

Y/N - of course ask anything! :)

Luca - I was thinking he could go out sometime? Like a date going out.

After a a minute he saw you typing a new message. He could already feel his heart race a mile a minute, he felt a cold sweat form. Why was he so nervous? Then a little buzz when off, it was you he was hesitant but swipe to open the message.

Y/N - wait really? You wanna go on a date with me??

Lucifer swallowed the lump in his throat before typing with shaky fingers.

Luca - yes Y/N I really do.

Y/N - Yes I’d love to!! ❤️

Lucifer’s eyes lit up seeing you answer in only seconds, he can’t help but feel his heart flutter at the simple heart emoticon. Soon you both planned to meet for dinner the next night at a nice restaurant, named killer appetite, closer to the center of pentagram city, then he hit him…you both were actually going on a date. Together…

Y/N’s POV

When I saw his message asking me out, I could have screamed. He actually wanted to see me! I quickly typed and agreed to it. We chose dinner at a nice high end restaurant closer to the center of the city, I’ve heard of the place it was up scale. I was so ecstatic.

The next day at work couldn’t have gone slower, it felt like every minute was a hour long but as soon as that clock hit five, I was out the door racing home to get ready.As soon I was ready, my hair and outfit was perfect. I was quick out the door to the restaurant. On my way I received a message from Luca.

Luca - hey! Placed a reservation under L.M.

“L.M?” I asked myself, wondering what it meant, maybe his initials? I smile and replied ok,only a few minutes later I was at the restaurant, even though it was only 7 the restaurant was lively, full and packed. I walked over to the hostess stand.

“Hi, there should be a reservation for L.M?” I felt nervous, a mix of because of how busy it is and meet him…when I said the name of the reservation the hostess gave changed a mix of nervousness and excitement. “Of course! Right this way!” She said trying to put on a happy face but the nerves over shadowed that, she let me to a table already set up in a quieter area, almost completely different from the bustling atmosphere of the restaurant. “your server will be with you shortly, please enjoy!” She said as she raced out the room. I staired at the entrance way confused, why was that girl so nervous, and to have such a secluded area on a Friday night, it was unusual…

I sat down at the table that faced the entrance way. I pulled out my phone to text me.

Y/N - Hey! I just sat down! We have a really nice table, are you almost here? :)

I saw he read the text but no reply, I felt nervous again, my eyes kept watching my phone, my mouth was dry. But then I heard a voice “sorry I’m late..” the voice sounded nervous. I look up to a short blonde man. My eyes widen and my mouth is dry…

I was looking at Lucifer himself…

TAG LIST

@reverse-soe @kazurami14 @netheris @rainycloud858

#x reader #hazbin hotel lucifer #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel x reader #lucifer morningstar x you #lucifer morningstar x reader #lucifer morningstar #hazbin hotel

[lemonlover1110]

𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐖𝐎

Satoru Gojo

Summary: Satoru struggles with his two babies.

Warnings: Pure Fluff

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

*I used the two babies from baby steps for this, but you don't have to read to enjoy the fluffy oneshot🥹

“C’mon, Seiji. Vegetables are so good. yummy.” Satoru is trying to bribe his almost-two-year-old into eating the rest of his food, alas, he doesn’t sound too convincing. He tasted the vegetables, they aren’t too good but you cooked them so he isn’t going to bash them. Seiji really doesn’t care about not hurting anybody’s feelings at this stage of his life, so even though his dearest mother made them, he refuses to eat them.

Satoru sighs defeatedly, putting the fork down. He guesses Seiji doesn’t have to eat vegetables every day to grow strong. He picks Seiji up from the high chair, putting him down on the ground to allow him to walk around and do whatever he likes to do. Lately Seiji loves to play with any piece of trash he finds, making Satoru realize that he’s wasted thousands of dollars on toys.

“Don’t be too loud! Don’t wake your sister up.” Satoru yells, knowing that Seiji really doesn’t care about that. The baby only has one thought in his mind and that’s to play with whatever he gets his hands on. 

Satoru really thought that handling two babies under two would be a breeze, he’s the strongest, he can accomplish just about anything… But his two kids tire him out. Saori cries so much that he anticipates in horror the moment that she wakes up. Seiji never stops moving, it’s nearly impossible to get him to stand still for a moment. He loves his babies more than anything, but he’s rightfully tired.

Satoru is being the best husband that he can be by taking care of his babies while you study and finish up your degree. But two tiny humans are slowly ending his life. Satoru follows Seiji around, deciding to just let him wander around the house because Seiji hates to be put in his playpen lately.

“Dada.” Seiji points up when he gets to the stairs, looking back at his father. Satoru shakes his head, picking up Seiji and taking him back to the living room so he can find something there that he can engross himself with. Seiji makes sure to let out a dramatic cry because he hates being carried and contradicted. He doesn’t want to go to the living room, he wants to go upstairs.

“Crying isn’t going to do anything, baby. You’re staying down here.” Satoru says as he carries Seiji away. Seiji makes sure to yell,

“Down! Down!” Which actually works on Satoru today because he doesn’t want Seiji to wake up the sleeping baby. When his tiny feet hit the ground, Seiji begins to run around which isn’t really an issue for Satoru since he only has to take two steps to catch up to Seiji.

It’s boring, really, but he prefers walking after his toddler better than trying to entertain both babies while they’re awake. Seiji doesn’t care for his parents' attention until Saori is awake; when she’s awake he wants to become the center of attention.

Satoru really thinks he’s safe, until he hears her cries from upstairs, and the loudest sigh leaves his lips. He picks Seiji up, making him kick his feet and cry, demanding that he’s put down. Luckily for him, his father listens to his wishes and puts him down. Unluckily for him, he’s put down in the playpen that lately feels like a prison. 

“No! Out!” Seiji demands, but Satoru doesn’t listen. He leaves Seiji there while he goes upstairs to pick up Saori from her crib.

When he gets there, he notices his baby girl is sitting up, waiting for him to finally pick her up. He coos, approaching the crib and picking her up, “Hi my sunshine. Did you sleep well?”

She doesn’t stop crying so easily though. He changes her diaper, and the crying gets worse. He tickles her tummy, laughing to himself, “Aren’t you a hungry girl? You ate one hour ago too.”

He guesses he can’t blame her, a bottle of milk wouldn’t be enough to hold him over either… But he guesses he’s four times her size and two decades older than her. He exits the room, getting more irritated by the second with the crying baby that’s in his arms. 

He begins to walk down the stairs, and that’s when he sees a little rascal holding to the railing and trying to walk upstairs. His eyes widen, his first thought being: how the hell did Seiji escape his playpen? Seiji finally looks up, seeing his father at the top of the stairs. He lets go of the railing, his hands going over his tiny mouth, his signature move for when he gets caught.

Satoru watches it happen in slow motion. Seiji’s tiny feet on the edge of the stair, he tips over and falls back from the stairs until he’s back on the first floor again. At least Seiji was only on the third stair up so it wasn’t a long fall– However, he cries his heart out as if he was at the very top.

“Seiji, how the hell did you even get out of the playpen?” Satoru is reasonably angry because he has two crying kids to soothe on his own. He doesn’t want to bother you while you study so it’s his problem, and only his. He doesn’t know which problem to tend to first. 

Satoru just knows one thing, and he hates thinking about it, but he wouldn’t be dealing with any of this if he had used a condom.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk gojo #gojo imagine #gojo saturo #gojo x reader #gojo satoru #gojo satoru fluff #satoru gojo #jjk satoru #jujutsu satoru #dad gojo

[salaimoi]

𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒔: GUYS THIS IS NOT A DRILL!! I finally wrote a fic that isn’t about GOJO?! whaaaaaaat is the world as we know it coming to an end? D:

Past lover Sukuna who originally took no interest in you being his wife, but eventually, your abiding love taught him to do so. But, it was far too late when you established that he was indeed capable of loving someone other than himself. Your demise caused him to lose the individual he held dearest in this world – replacing the affectionate sentiment that had been coursing through his heart with resentment.

Past lover Sukuna who had anticipated your fated return once more since the Heian Era, only for your rebirth to never arrive, even though millennia went by. The benevolent soul he eagerly waited for became ensnared in the depths of the underworld, unable to reincarnate into the mortal world.

Even then, he was more than certain that you weren’t at eternal rest because of the longing, the nostalgia, and the need to be together again that he felt. 

He knew your anima was among the 7 realms somewhere; all he had to do was wait for your return. Heaven could wait as long as it meant laying eyes on that precious face of yours once more.

Past lover Sukuna who noticed the spitting image of his deceased wife walking down the street that fateful day. He couldn’t pass up this opportunity to have you once more in this lifetime as well – even if it was borderline selfish. 

To bring back those good old times; to bring back what was his. 

To hold you. To own you. To conquer you. To possess you. To control your soul. To do whatever he wanted to with you. 

To be with you once again, reverting to a time when he could feel affection – the way he liked best.

Past lover Sukuna who gripped your arm vigorously out of the blue among the crowd, because Sukuna never knew boundaries – not when it came to his beloved. 

“You look familiar,” he said, “not only the uncanny face shape and the exact same expression… but also your scent.” His gaze unrelenting as he scanned every aspect of your being as if you were his property, to make sure it was you – and he was correct. 

You were the same woman Sukuna fell in love with 1000 years ago. Alas, his delicate swan had returned to him after eons of suffering, like he knew you would.

Past lover Sukuna who noticed you squirming under his grip and scolded you, sharp nails digging at your flesh. 

“You shouldn’t be acting like this; it isn’t decent behavior for the reincarnation of my cherished wife to act in such a manner.” 

But you didn't remember a life before this one, nor did you recall his name or even the fact that you were once his most prized possession. 

Past lover Sukuna who waited over a thousand years just for his beloved to reincarnate into a mortal. He knew he wasn’t capable of loving anybody nearly as much as he loved her. And now...now she's back.

When you left this world, you took all – if any – of the sense of compassion he had. No one in the history of sorcerers and curses alike could come close to comprehending the misery he endured with each passing day.

Time and time again, reliving his wife’s death in his subconscious. Powerless to intervene as he witnessed the life drain out of her and transfer onto his fingertips.

“I missed you all those years, and I can't have the same fate happening again. I'm not going to let you die the way you did in your past life, got it?" Never forgetting to conceal the anguish in his words, as to not let himself be too vulnerable.

Past lover Sukuna who was hellbent on evoking in you the sentiment of what it was like to be his spouse. Even if it meant having to recreate every single romantic scenario he ever experienced with you a second time.

“I finally have you with me again. All I need to do is make you remember the feelings you had for me in your previous life, and then you'll have your past self fully restored.”

To you, it would entail falling in love with him all over again; to him, it would be a refresher on what you once shared. A win-win scenario.

Past lover Sukuna who began to notice the essence of that past life slowly merging with your current self, fusing the two identities into one. The love she felt a thousand years ago was slowly reawakening. All while Sukuna stood there in awe of the magnificent sight he was witnessing; the sight of his beloved being reborn again. The reunion of two souls was happening before his eyes, and it was almost emotional to see.

Past lover Sukuna whose heart felt heavy from the weight of joy and relief that he felt. He finally reunited with his once-lost lover. The essence of her former life was fully restored once more as she was standing right next to him. It seemed unreal to see her with his own eyes – his beloved was back, at long last. The eternal years of hardship for the sake of his plan were finally worth it.

Current lover Sukuna whose fingers ran through the locks sprawled over his lap – calming the both of you to no bounds when his fingernails rake through your scalp. His free hand holding onto your wrist tightly, because he had to be sure no one would snatch you from his grasp a second time.

“I missed you so damn much…more than you could ever possibly imagine.”

Current lover Sukuna who finally admitted to his feelings for the first time in millennium, because he missed you more than anything in this infernal world.

Current lover Sukuna who admired you with a soft expression, shocked at how angelic you were even after a thousand years.

“You still look as gorgeous as you did a lifetime ago.” words dripping with genuine adoration as he gazed down at his wife.

Current lover Sukuna who wondered how that was possible in the first place. Surely, granting him access to a companion of your caliber – with such a pure heart and soul – was a mistake of some kind?

Current lover Sukuna who thought, “All is right in this world again.” to himself. Because it was. You were by his side once more – right where you belonged.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #reader x sukuna #sukuna angst #sukuna fluff #jjk fluff #sukuna ryoumen x reader #sukuna ryoumen x you

[zylev-blog]

Time and Space. One could not exist without the other. Two brothers, born of the universe’s existence at the same time. Neither more powerful than the other, but both with different skill sets. The two watched over the universe for millennia without issue.

Then came the Observants.

Beings nearly as old as Time and Space themselves. Except they were arrogant and prideful. They believed that Time and Space should not watch because it was their job. Their job to Observe, but never intervene. But Time and Space did not listen. They knew for the good of all reality, sometimes you had to intervene. This led to the first skirmish between Time, Space and the Observants.

Things only continued to get worse over the next few thousand years. The relationship between Time and Space strengthened in their resolve against the Observants. The Observants were clever, though, and knew they couldn’t defeat the brothers alone. So they plotted, and waited for the perfect opportunity.

Time was clever while Space was cunning. Together, they were unstoppable. Apart, they were vulnerable. The Observants took this opportunity and struck down Space. But Time was clever. He knew this would happen from the beginning, but he also knew that this was meant to happen. In all timelines, Space would be struck down.

But Time could not exist without Space. The Observants thought they knew all, but they knew nothing. In the chaos, Time saved his brother and hid him inside of the timeline and waited for the day he would be reborn. The day that his brother would come back from the dead, risen anew and much, much more powerful than he was before.

For now, all Clockwork could do was watch Danny Fenton and guide his brother towards his destiny.

#danny phantom #clockwork #danny fenton #observants #Danny phantom lore

[dejwrld]

⤷‧₊˚ you + the eldest brother of the kids you babysit = a late night cam show

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊ warning readers discretion is advised — female reader, female anatomy described, female anatomy described, usage of y/n, cam work mentioned, cam boy!dabi, dabi has multiple piercings, fingering, squirting, consensual recording, dabi calls reader a slut and bitch once, mentions of black male, dacryphilia, told in third pov, mdni

a repost from my old account.

Being home from university for winter break was a huge burden for Dabi. Not only did he have to deal with being the black sheep within his family, but he had to set up a quite particular schedule to entertain his ten thousand subscribers on the popular camboy website. He figured to do cam shows when the house was down for bedtime or when he knew no one was home. However, with his family all crowding the traditional Japanese home for the holidays, he’s been abandoning the subscribers that tipped him wonderful just for stroking his cock on camera.

The thing is, Dabi didn’t really need the money. He came from pure old money. It just stroked his ego reading the comments people said about him. From complimenting his toned torso and pecks that were accessorized with a nipple piercing to adoring his Lorum piercing on his pretty cock. It made his ears grow so hot like an excited dog getting ready to play with its owners. He adored the ego stroke of what he did, but his gloomy eyes didn’t light up in excitement seeing his bank account grow. It was as if the money didn’t phase him. He didn’t spend much of the money on himself, usually buying his siblings’ stuff. Which usually was more of him throwing the item at them and mumbling how he remembered they mentioned to him that they needed or wanted it.

He even took it upon himself to give a gift to his younger siblings’ babysitter (Y/N). A beautiful young woman around his age who’s been the family babysitter for years now. Dabi never paid attention to the girl. Giving her a sly wave before slamming his home door to go hang out with his friends. However, it all changed when she went on the annual family trip with them one hot summer.

Perhaps, Dabi should have concluded that something was going to happen when the two were stuck sharing a hotel room due to a hotel mistake. A night that was filled with stealing miniature vodka bottles from the hotel bar when the bartender was occupied led to a breathless night of Dabi taking the pretty babysitter’s virginity. parted ways due to college, Dabi expected the girl to become clingy. Who wouldn’t become clingy to the guy who took their virginity? But she didn’t.

However, Dabi did notice something. He noticed that her skirts got shorter. Her tops got tighter. She always would let her fingertips graze against his hand when they were in the kitchen together. Her eyes even lit up with so much lust when she saw he was home. She was driving him so crazy because he couldn’t read her.

That was until he was in the kitchen munching on the dinner his mother cooked for the family before she and his father went on a date, (Y/N) was sliding her phone across the counter looking at him with such an intense stare. Dabi’s cold glare traveled down to the phone screen and he nearly choked on the rice ball that was in his mouth.

“You should really not use your most common fuckin’ nickname for your account,” (Y/N) chuckle as she looked at him.

Dabi swallowed the food he was chewing and quickly exited the website that once had his profile right on it. He even saw that she had an account on the website, assuming that she was only there to view the content and not do what he does.

“At first, I didn’t believe it. It’s just a coincidence,” (Y/N) explained. “But that piercing gave it all away,” She soon added as her alluring eyes traveled down to his crotch.

“Okay, I stroke my dick for fuckin’ strangers, now what?” Dabi asked as he stepped closer to her. “Going to snitch off to my parents?” His head tilted slightly, challenging the babysitter in front of him.

“Yes.” (Y/N) bluntly admitted.

Dabi’s fist clenched tightly, “Seriously (Y/N)? Don’t be such a bitch.” He uttered.

“Maybe I am one. Your father will be so upset hearing how his son gets an ego stroke by stroking his dick for strangers on the internet,” (Y/N) says as her hands went up to toy with the necklace around Dabi’s neck.

“Well, what do you want for you to keep your mouth shut?” Dabi asked. “Money? Shoes? Another necklace?” He motioned to the diamond pendant necklace around her neck. A gift he gave her for being such a good babysitter for his siblings.

Once that question left Dabi’s lips, he watched as her lips curled into a smirk. Her fingers dragged down his chest in a slow manner as she batted her lashes at him. She stopped at the string of his grey Nike sweats, “I want to be featured on your show.” She says.

“No,” Dabi says. “You’re not being in my show, I never do collabs. I won’t start now because of a brat trying to blackmail me.” He went back to eating, leaving her pouting at him.

“You’re really okay with your parents seeing this? Especially your dad,” She asked.

Dabi throws his hands up in the air in a careless manner. His shoulders shrugging before he’s speaking once again, “Guess he’ll see what he gave me huh?” He chuckled as he placed his plate in the sink and walked by (Y/N).

Her mouth gaped open at his comment before she chased after him like a lost puppy. “Toya, it would bring you so much more money though.” She whines as she follows him up the stairs.

“Why do you want to be on my show anyway?” He asked. “Wouldn’t want to tarnish your innocent image right?”

“Your shows are always filmed neck down, not like anyone would see my face,” (Y/N) blurted out.

As the dark-haired male caught on to what she said, he turned around to face her. His back pressed against his room door eyeing her up and down. He took in the way her plaid skater skirt moved as she switched her weight from one leg to another and the way he could tell she was wearing a push-up bra to show off her perfectly sized breasts. His teeth grazed at his lower lip as he was mentally weighing out the pros and cons of it. For her to notice that he always streamed from the neck down, she must have been a daily viewer.

“Fine. But if you utter any of this to my parents…” His voice trailed off. “I’ll tell them about when Shoto had to go to the emergency room because your irresponsible ass gave him something he’s allergic to.”

“How’d you know that?” She asked, her arms crossed over her chest pushing her chest forward.

Dabi’s eyes traveled down to look at her chest before he gave her a smirk. “I have my ways, now are you ready or not?”

“What? You want to do it now?” (Y/N) questioned.

“I was planning on streaming now that everyone is asleep and I have about an hour before my parents return,” He said before he twisted the doorknob to his door and pushed it open. His head motioned for her to come in. (Y/N) would give him a cheeky smile before skipping into his room like a child going into a toy store. Not knowing that Dabi was about to practically ruin her pretty little cunt for his subscribers.

He didn’t really let anyone in his room, it was his space. He was very protective of his space. The blue neon lights hardly helped with lighting in the room, which Dabi didn’t mind. It added a unique atmosphere and view to the way he stroked his cock for thousands of people online. The walls of his room were decorated with covers of vintage Rolling Stone and Playboy Bunny magazines. In the corner of his room, he had a record player with a neat pile of vinyl records. (Y/N) was expecting anything out from the camera view on his desk that had his multiple computer monitors would be messy, but he took her by shock. She sat on his bed staring around his room while Dabi sat at his desk going to the website.

“I want to finger you,” Dabi bluntly admitted, his eyes never leaving his computer monitor. “I think us having full-blown sex will be too much for my subscribers considering I only do solo content,” He soon explained.

“Don’t you think that’ll be pretty difficult?” (Y/N) questioned. “Your viewers won’t even be able to see it fully,” she huffs crossing her arms over her chest.

Dabi didn’t even have to turn to look at her to know that she was a pouting mess behind him. He logged into his account announcing that he’ll be starting a stream in about three minutes. His ears growing hot seeing the number of people liking his status update despite him just posting it. “Just take off your panties and come sit on my lap.” He said as he pushed himself a little from under his desk.

(Y/N) eyebrows raised at his comment before she stood up. Her hands up her plaid skater skirt she wore to tug down the lace panties she wore. She throws them over her shoulder before going over to Dabi’s lap, comfortably sitting down as if she sat on his lap multiple times before. Dabi’s fingertips traced alongside her thighs as he sat in the large gaming chair. Such a small intimate moment caused a chill to travel down (Y/N)’s spine.

“This still doesn’t solve our problem that they won’t be able to see you fingering me,” (Y/N) argued.

“You never shut up, do you?” Dabi asked, her remarks were causing the boy to grow annoyed.

“Only if you stuff my mouth with something,” She snapped back giving him a smirk.

Dabi chuckles at her comment, leaning over to start the stream. It was a one-minute count down until the stream would be broadcast to the world, “Lay your back to my chest, pull your knees up and place your legs on the armrest of the chair.” He urged. “Or just place your feet on my knees and keep your legs open for the world can see,” Dabi says. “Whatever makes you comfortable.”

(Y/N) glanced at the thirty-second mark on the screen before she does what she was told. Her cunt was now exposed for his subscribers to see, her gold anklet reflected at her on the screen. Looking at herself in such a provocative way turned her on. Despite you could only see from the neck down, it was a wonderful view to both her and Dabi. Her eyes filled with lust and her pussy throbbed to be touched. She could feel Dabi’s breath tickle at her earlobe and seeing his devious smirk caused her to swallow the harsh lump that formed in the middle of her throat.

“Look how good you look,” Dabi whispered in her ear. “You’re probably going to steal the show from me, doll,” He adds before a little tick noise could be heard as the stream was counting down from ten. “Make sure you don’t moan my real name like you did last time I had you like this during that family trip,” His fingers inched slowly and slow in between her plump thighs.

The show was now live for all his subscribers to see. Dabi was about to finger fuck (Y/N) for his subscribers and she couldn’t wait for that to happen. The pretty babysitter felt the harsh slap at her cunt when the countdown had finally hit zero. The tingle her cunt felt at the sudden slap caused her to be soaked. Dabi’s fingers swiped at her puffy lips collecting her wetness and she could feel his teeth nibbling at the bridge of her ear. “I slapped that cunt of yours and you grew so fuckin’ wet. You like it when I do that?”

“Yes,” Her words stumble out in an intoxicating way. “Please touch me some more,”

The pad of Dabi’s index and middle finger rubbed at her sensitive bud in a circular motion. The tipping notification was blowing up on his profile, but he ignored it. He wanted to see her fucked out just by his fingers. “Like this, doll?” Dabi questioned.

“Or like this?” His two fingers entered her sopping entrance without a warning.

(Y/N)’s mouth gasped open at the sudden action. Her hands grabbed at Dabi’s wrist. “Like that,” She cooed. Her eyes fluttered closed as if she was put into a trance.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet all for me, may have to fuck you until you’re seeing stars after this,” Dabi commented as he begin to move his two fingers inside of her. Her wetness pooled into his lap staining the grey sweatpants he wore.

The audience was loving every second of what was going on as the comments were moving so quickly that Dabi couldn’t even read them. His mind was making sure that (Y/N) felt the wrath of her silly con of trying to blackmail him. His fingers thrust inside her at a pace just like she liked him. A pace she was familiar with when the two shared a moment together during the Todoroki family trip.

“Fuck—” (Y/N) stuttered out as her back pressed against Dabi’s toned chest. Her head fell back as her eyes lolled in the back of her head. The pleasurable feeling of Dabi’s slender digits stuffing her pretty cunt caused her to quiver. Her eyes watered as if she was enduring so much pain, but just she was just enduring the intoxicating pleasure of Dabi fingering her.

“Look at them pretty lil tears.” Dabi cooed in her ear as his finger tugged out of her wet pussy. His fingers were coated with her slick as he rubbed at her clit once again. “I just fingered you and you’re already cryin’ out like a desperate lil slut.”

“Screw you.” (Y/N) spat at him as she was panting, her hips bucked upon his wet fingers for more friction upon her throbbing cunt.

“You’re telling me this as you’re bucking against my hand like a poor little wolf in heat.” Dabi slapped at her cunt once again before his fingers disappeared into her pussy again.

The only sound that bounced off Dabi’s room walls were the moans that tumbled off (Y/N)’s lips and the pornographic sound of Dabi’s fingers aggressively thrusting inside her cunt. At this point, the young babysitter soaked Dabi’s lap as she could feel her orgasm pooling at the pit of her stomach. Her back arching slightly off his lap just for his hand that wasn’t buried in between her thighs to push her back from not leaning forward to expose her face to his viewers.

“If you’re going to cum on my fingers go ahead,” Dabi urged as his fingers still were inside her. “I want to feel your pussy pulse around my fingers anyway,” He adds.

Dabi’s inebriating words only was responded with a string of moans. His free hand reached over to rub at her clit. The beautiful sight of (Y/N) on his monitor had Dabi rock hard under his sweatpants that were currently soaked. (Y/N) had reached to slowly Dabi’s hand but he moved it out the way as if she was being disobedient.

“Just let it all doll, I know you want to,” Dabi assured as his thumb flickered at the sensitive bud once again.

It was as if he had her in a trance because once those words fell off his tongue, (Y/N) let it all out. Her walls fluttered around his fingers as if it was his own thick cock. But that didn’t stop Dabi. His fingers still thrust inside her tight cunt, lunging through the overpowering orgasm she was currently enduring.

“Dabi, that’s too much” (Y/N) cried out as her tears decorated her lashline, causing the once-black mascara she wore to smudge and stain her face.

“Shhhh…I said let it all out, didn’t I?” Dabi questioned as his lips kissed at the side of her temple sweetly. His fingers still pounced forward until the gush of liquid escaped from her cunt. Dabi could feel it staining his pants, his wooden floors right below him, and even his desk.

The sight of seeing the way (Y/N)’s toes curled as his fingers removed themselves before he’s back massaging her clit. She was a wet quivering mess in his lap as the tipping notification on his profile was going off like crazy.

“Don’t ever think about blackmailing again, okay?” Dabi whispered into her ear before he eventually ended his stream.

(Y/N) couldn’t feel the lower half of her body, her brain felt like a frozen Windows tab on a computer, and she felt so exhausted. As she sat on Dabi’s lap, she could feel the same fingers that once were inside her tracing alongside her thighs that still were shaking just a bit.

“You need to get up and go shower before my parents come back” Dabi interjected her thoughts.

“Yeah, you’re right.” was the only words that could come out of (Y/N)’s mouth as she climbed off his lap. Her face felt so hot when she saw the wet spot on Dabi’s pants.

“It’s just a pair of sweatpants,” He responded as he began to clean the mess (Y/N) made.

When the stream ended, Dabi and (Y/N) were in the living room watching television. Sitting in silence trying to gather up all the thoughts of the intimate moment the two shared. He heard her phone ring, expecting it was his parents notifying her that they were a couple of minutes away from the house and it was okay to leave now if she’d like. But instead, he watched as her teeth bit down on her lower lip.

“Connor, you left me on read for three days and now you want to respond because I got finger fucked on camera! Fuck you!”

At that moment Dabi realized that (Y/N) didn’t care to blackmail him and use him being a cam boy against him. She used it for her own gain. To make her boyfriend jealous.

“How’d he know it was you?” Dabi questioned as his eyes tore from the television to look at her.

(Y/N) threw her feet in Dabi’s lap, lifting her left leg shaking her leg slightly so the gold anklet that had a ‘C’ pendant would be in his view. “This. He gave it to me last Monday for our four-month anniversary, just for him to cheat two days after that. I sent him the link to your profile before I even approached you about the whole blackmailing thing.” She said with confidence in her voice.

“You’re fuckin’ insane.” He added.

“I know.” (Y/N) says as she smiled at the dark-haired male.

Silence once again overcame the duo as they went back to watching tv, but Dabi broke the silence with a quickness.

“Do you want to do another stream together?”

#mha smut #mha x reader #dabi x reader #dabi smut #toya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki smut #anime smut #anime x reader #my hero academia x reader #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

[strangersteddierthings]

The Interview

Inspired by this post by @xoxoladyaz. Read on Ao3.

-

Eddie wakes up to one single missed call from Gareth on his private phone.

No one calls his private phone.

He dials back instantly.

"Hey Eddie," Gareth greets. He sounds tired.

"What's up? What's happened?" Eddie asks, a thousand and one scenarios running through his mind. Gareth is in Indianapolis, and Eddie's thoughts are filled with only his uncle back in Hawkins.

"Nothing's happened that we can't deal with, or rather, that I've already been dealing with. But, uhh, there's an interview you should watch. Let me send you a link-" there's a pause as Gareth does just that "-and just call me back after you've watched it. I know we usually ignore the shit people say about us but this- it's different."

"Okayyyy," Eddie says slowly. "I'll watch it."

They hang up without goodbye because Eddie's just going to call him back after the video. Opening his messages he sees the link, and then Gareth sent a follow up text you need to watch from 12:32 onward.

The video is nearly two weeks old already, and YouTube shows him a face he knows. Robin Buckley looks older but it's definitely her. Her hair isn't styled much differently than she had it in high school, just above her shoulders and a little wild. She's wearing a three piece suit in emerald green, slightly oversized on purpose by the look of it. She's sitting in a chair, cradling a grammy with one arm, as the interviewer sits across from her.

Eddie taps the screen and drags the progress bar closer to the 12-minute mark and listens. He hears the tail end of Robin's response to some question about her album before the interviewer asks what must be the question Gareth wants him to listen to.

'So, I think everyone is dying to know if you and Eddie Munson are friends. You're both from Hawkins, Indiana. Isn't that correct?' the interviewer asks.

Robin's smile slips a bit, 'I- uhh, this is going to be unprofessional of me but I made a promise to someone regarding if I was ever asked about Eddie Munson. So, can I have one minute to make a phone call before I answer your question?'

'Oh. By all means, make your call.'

Eddie watches as Robin is brought her phone by someone who is probably her personal assistant. She wastes no time in unlocking it and finding whoever in her contacts list.

'No time for formalities. I've been asked about Munson. Can I tell the truth?' Robin's mic isn't strong enough to pick up whatever answer she gets on the phone but she shakes her head to whatever answer she's been given. 'I told you, I love you more than this career and I've already got the grammy. I'll handle the fallout. It's not about me. It's about you.' What follows is a few seconds of silence before Robin nods and says goodbye, ending the call and passing the phone back to the PA.

The interviewer's eyebrows are up to her hairline in shock. 'That sounds ominous. You think it's career ending?'

Robin grins and it's almost feral. 'Corroded Coffin's fans have always been ruthless, and perhaps a bit heartless, so what I have to say will certainly set them on the attack. To answer your original question, yes, Eddie Munson and I are from Hawkins. We even shared band class in high school, but that's the end of what connects us. We are not friends, but we once were.'

'Can you elaborate on that?'

'Our friendship ended ten years ago when he ruined my best friend's life for fame and fortune, and Steve's never really known a day of peace since.'

Eyes wide, the interviewer leans closer, 'Steve? As in, Hey Steve, Steve?'

Robin nods, 'Just the one.'

'Are you prepared to talk about how one song ruined your friend's life?'

'That was the purpose of the phone call. Yes, I think people should know the truth. Munson vented his bullshit breakup rage into a song and fucked off out of town. A week after its release, his fans doxxed Steve. He wasn't out to his parents, you see, and Corroded Coffin's fans, Eddie Munson's fans, outed him. They sent hate mail to his house by the ton, it seemed. The fallout from that- the aftermath-' Robin cuts off as her eyes water and she swipes at them, smearing some mascara across her cheek. 'I'm sorry. I almost lost my best friend, the platonic love of my life, that day.

'It's public knowledge, what happened, you can look it up online if you know what to look for. But it is also so incredibly personal. I want to be the one to say this because it's important. What you do in life, it has consequences, and sometimes those consequences are for other people. Whether you think it will, or not. I'd rather people hear it from a human voice, from someone who loves Steve, and not the journalist view. No offense,' Robin shoots the interviewer a sweet smile.

'None taken, please continue.'

'Steve was hospitalized, I won't give the details,' Robin says, in a watery voice as she's clearly trying to not cry at the memory. 'When Steve was finally released from the hospital, there was no one but me to pick him up. And he's going through this while nursing a broken heart. He and Munson had only been broken up for maybe a month before Hey Steve came out.

'In less than two months, Steve had lost his parents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. And to top it off, that man gets to become rich and famous off a venomous, hate-filled song about their breakup. It talks about Steve like he's coward for not willing to be out, yet, and how... what's the line, about conformity?'

'Conformity holds your leash, baby, so run to the end of your chain and bark,' someone off camera shouts.

'Yes, that, thanks. Accusing Steve of picking 'conformity' over his love. Steve wasn't picking conformity, he was picking safety! And the worst part? The hate mail has never stopped. Steve lived with me and my family for a few months after getting out of the hospital before the hate mail got too much, and someone showed up at my childhood home, looking for him, threatening him. They had a gun. It was traumatic. I was still in my senior year of high school-' Robin cuts off, taking deep breaths.

The interviewer reaches across to place a comforting hand on Robin's, 'I can't even imagine what that must have been like.'

Once Robin has composed herself, she says, 'sorry, this is a lot. I've had ten years to come to terms with it, and I've waited seven for someone to ask me about Munson. I didn't think it would be this hard.

'And it's not- I can't blame Munson, or Corroded Coffin, for everything that happened. He doesn't control his fans. But he's never said anything about the treatment his fans give Steve. And if they're like this towards Steve, are they like this towards all his other ex's? Does Munson not care, or, almost worse, does he not even know?' she stops again, getting a faraway look for a moment before looking at the interviewer again. 'I had to help Steve move again. Just last month. They're still finding him. Sending him hate. Doxxing him.' Now she looks at the camera directly, "Eddie Munson. Call off your fans. Stop playing Hey Steve at concerts. Isn't a decade of hurt enough?'

There isn't a lot that makes Eddie feel anything these days, he'll admit. A decade of fame has made him a bit cynical and callus. However, Robin had said something that made his insides squirm. He swipes across the screen, rewinding the video to hear Robin say Steve had lost his parents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. -ents, his home, all his belongings, and the man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. The man he thought he'd marry one day. Swipe. Marry one day.

He pauses the video. That can't be right. That has to be a lie Robin is adding. To garner more sympathy or make Eddie, and therefore Corroded Coffin, look worse. Steve and he had been young and naive when they'd dated. There was no way they'd have ended up married, even if Eddie had stuck around Hawkins longer. Gay marriage wasn't even legal when they broke up in 2013.

Eddie unpauses, skips forward to the end and listens to Robin speak directly to him. Stop playing Hey Steve? The song that rocketed Corroded Coffin into the limelight? No way. And call off his fans? Like they're dogs he's supposed to control or something. The video ends and the YouTube algorithm shows him a number of react videos. Eddie clicks on one and falls down the rabbit hole.

At first the algorithm shows him responses in his favor. Videos made by his fans defending him, or strategically picking apart what Robin had said. Eddie wants to agree with them, he doesn't think he's done anything wrong other than live his life, but then.

Then a video of a guy wearing merch sold during their tour last year plays. He's on the right side of the video while a screen recording is on the left. It takes him less than five minutes to get Steve's past addresses found. And Eddie is... well, he's a little horrified at how long the list is. At the short amount of time Steve's spent in any one place is.

The guy in the video reads out the state, city, and how long Steve lived at each address. The longest one is when Steve made the jump from Florida to Maine, where he lived for 19 months according to the video, and that was years ago.

And then the guy, he fucking starts to speculate about where Steve might have moved to next.

"We can't know for sure, but it looks like he headed back west? You can see from the last 3 addresses he's been just jumping state lines to the next place. I'm guessing Oklahoma, Kansas or Nebraska next. If Steve thinks he can try and ruin Corroded Coffin through Robin Buckley, then it's up to us to prove him wrong," the guy is saying, and Eddie thinks maybe this guy is just exaggerating but the comment section is already filled with other people saying vile shit about what they should send to Steve or what they'd like to do to him physically and-

Eddie clicks off the video, to the next recommended. The more he watches, the angrier they seem to get. He goes to the search bar and looks for new react videos.

He finds that everyone has an opinion. He watches videos where his own fans express their disappointment in him. They talk about how Corroded Coffin runs an antibully campaign and then allows their fans to bully an ex and for not calling out the ones doxxing people, wanting to know which was the reason - does Eddie not know, or does he not care? Eddie didn't know. Truly. But he can't help but wonder if he didn't know because he didn't care.

He'd written all his feelings into a song, and now that he's older, he can see that a lot of what he was feeling is an exaggeration and dramatization of what really happened. But the point is, he'd written out his feelings and moved on.

The man he thought he'd marry one day.

His stomach twists uncomfortably as Robin's voice rings in his mind.

He continues his spiral down YouTube until Gareth calling him again breaks through and he answers.

"How is this the first time I'm hearing about Robin's interview?" Eddie demands.

"You've got a damn good PR team, that's how. I guess you fell down the rabbit hole, then?"

"How'd you-"

"Is been almost 4 hours since we talked. Doesn't take that long to watch a 30 minute video."

"Oh. Alright. So, why did you want me to watch the video? Am I supposed to respond to Robin?"

"No. People don't actually want to hear from you. They want to hear from Steve. And that's why you needed to watch. 'Cause Robin's announced that Steve's finally ready to make a statement. Robin's going to post it on her Twitter. Tonight. So, we've got to be ready. If anything Robin said turns out to be true, we might have a problem on our hands. A slander lawsuit being just the beginning."

"Fuck."

"What a way to sum it up," Gareth chuckles into the phone before his tone becomes serious, "hey, how are you doing, though? With it all?"

He thinks about it, and how he really feels, before answering. "It's been years since I've thought about Steve, y'know? I... I've had that luxury. I didn't know.... Did you?"

"No. Hell no! I'd of said something. I mean, shit man, we run an antibully campaign 'cause high school was shit to us. If I'd known at all we'd have been telling them to fuck off. Harassment's just what they call bullying adults."

Eddie swallows. "Guess we just have to wait and see what Stevie has to say."

"I'd come sit on the couch with you and refresh twitter frantically but, well, Indy's a bit of a ways off. I'll call after Robin's posted, then?"

"Yeah, man. Let's see the damage," Eddie sighed. "Talk to ya later."

"Bye."

Eddie digs out his laptop and pulls up Robin's twitter page. He adds an auto-refresher extension and sets it to refresh every minute before opening his phone and pulling up YouTube again.

#steddie #my fic #based on xoxoladyaz's ficlet #it'll be three parts i think #the interview #Steve's response and the immediate aftermath of that #and eddie meeting up with steve to talk