#i feel like i can hardly catch my breath before something else happens

[itostea]

my first & last love (gojo x reader)

satoru realizes he's in love with you after you suggest he set you up with suguru

tags: fem! reader, Gojo praises you like A LOT! slight miscommunications, childhood friends to lovers, reader gets drunk & satoru helps, he's a lovesick idiot & dramatic, both yours & his pov, gojo’s implied to be taller than reader, slightly suggestive bc it’s gojo, slight angst

word count: 11k

The first time Gojo Satoru learned true, unadulterated jealousy was on a Friday night out in his sports car–the crickets chirping to the melody of a random song. 

It was real jealousy—not just simple, petty envy. Not like the envy he felt when someone got to taste the limited edition cupcakes at the bakery before he did or the envy of studying hard and getting a lower score than someone who didn’t (which is a lie because Gojo was that very person who was effortlessly good at everything he did). 

Either way, he’s never felt the bite of jealousy, breaking the flesh as blood drips slowly, lingering as if it could never be washed away from his skin. Never felt it smother his throat with needles and leave him with a metallic taste in his mouth. That is, until today.

It was colder than usual but he still insisted on grabbing some ice-cream from the local convenience store, declaring it was his your reward for putting up with the party Sukuna hosted–the same party that ended in your dress being soaked in vomit. The atmosphere was perfect for sentiment, for talking–for confessing. 

You’re humming to the beat of the song, licking your lips clean of the ice cream you just ate. “Satoru,” you murmur his name softly, staring at him through your lashes. 

“Yeah?” His eyes drink in the sight of you: your droopy eyes from sleep, the faded lip tint on your lips, the hoodie he let you borrow that’s obviously a few sizes too big on you. There’s hardly any light coming in but he can still feel your eyes on him, the tension so thick he thinks he might suffocate from it. 

For a moment, he’s scared, fearful of what you were going to say because he knows this silence. This is the very silence that happens before someone confesses to him, the same suspense that he has to mentally prepare himself for since he knew he was going to break another heart. And he’s terrified that he might have to do it to you–his friend, his neighbor, someone who he’s known for a very long time. 

“I need to tell you something,” you start and he winces, shifting uncomfortably on the driver’s seat. 

“You do?” He mutters. You’re nervous. He can tell because he’s known you long enough to understand what you’re feeling–long enough to know that your eyes are darting from place to place, a habit of yours.

His chest squeezes when you take a deep breath just as he exhales, already making his mind to grant you a swift rejection. He hopes you can forgive him after this.

“--I like Getou and I need your help.”

“Listen, I’m sorry but I just don’t see you that way–”

He blinks, wondering if he heard you right or if he was drunk (he didn’t drink at the party because he was your ride home). “Wait what?”

It was your turn to blink now. “I like Getou and I–”

“I heard you the first time,” he cuts you off hastily, clearing his throat to play it cool. He runs a hand through his hair, grazing the side of his undercut. “Okay wow.”

Gojo mentally curses himself for not knowing what else to say other than humming pensively, busying himself by mixing the ice-cream in the tiny container. He still needs time to process, to mentally upload your words to his brain. You like Getou and not him? He pauses, repeating that thought again. 

You like Getou and not him. Part of him tells himself that this is exactly what he wanted since your friendship wouldn’t go to ruin. You managed not to catch feelings for him–managed not to fall for him like many others. Yet, he’s confused when another part of him doesn’t respond too well once he realizes that this was you he was dealing with.

“That’s not weird right?” You question, bringing your knees up to your chest and propping your chin atop of them to watch his reaction–reminding him to keep it cool. 

“Nah it’s not weird at all,” he said, not thinking straight when his next words escaped his lips. “So why Suguru?” And not me? Though, he keeps that last part to himself. 

“Well isn’t it obvious? He’s tall, handsome, and has a good personality.”

Am I not that? He asks himself, not bothered by how stuck up he may seem. “That’s not very specific from someone who likes him.”

You huff and he can tell you’re narrowing your eyes at him. “I know you don’t wanna hear me yap about the specifics, Satoru.”

“I do.” He says quickly.

You make a noise of surprise, looking interested in his sudden intrigue. “Well okay… Suguru’s very caring and attentive. Being around him makes me feel warm inside you know? I’m not sure when I started liking him but I just know that I just really want to be closer to him. And it doesn’t help that he’s just so smart and nice. And his looks are just a bonus.”

“Oh,” he utters, not even bothering to curse himself for his lack of response. He tries a weak smile. “You must really like him.”

Gojo can’t help but furrow his brows at the semi-embarrassed expression you wear—as if you were flustered at the mere thought of having a crush. “Oh, was I that obvious?” You ask, not even bothering to deny the fact that you were undoubtedly head over heels for his best friend.

Oh god, he thinks he might be sick and he doesn’t know why. 

“Are you going to help me?” Your voice cuts him out of his reverie and he’s cut back into reality–the reality being the anticipation in your eyes. Did you always look this pretty? 

Gojo nearly flinches at the thoughts that cross his mind, blaming the unprocessed shock for being the cause of these obscure ideas. He coughs. “Hold on. So you don’t like me right?”

“What? No I–” your eyes widen in understanding. “Oh so that’s what that was all about. You thought the person I liked was you! How cocky can you be to think everyone’s in love with you?”

“It’s not cocky if it’s true. I’m just really lovable y’know?”

You let out a sarcastic laugh. “That can’t be true since I’m not everyone.”

I know, he thinks to himself, staying silent as he watches you shuffle in your seat. He didn’t just dislike this idea you proposed, he hated it.  It wasn’t hard to just decline and keep it like that–let you figure your feelings on your own. 

Yet, something about the near-pleading look in your eyes made him reconsider and it filled him with an urge to smooth the wrinkles on your expression. He sighs loudly, rubbing the invisible crease in between his brows. “Well I guess you came to the right person because I’m an expert at this. 5 star ratings and all that. But what makes you think I’m going to do this for free?”

“Uh the goodness of your heart?”

“Cute,” he laughs. “But no. I want a coffee from the place everyday for a month.”

“What?! Are you insane? That means I’d have to wake up early everyday to get in line!” 

He shakes his head, waving his finger around with a disappointed expression. “A small price for love.”

“I don’t understand why you even need me for that. You can buy the whole shop yourself, ass,” you whisper the last part behind your palm, making his eyes light up in amusement.

“What was that?”

“Nothing. Actually you know what? Fine,” you huff. “You’re right. It is a small price for love. But I’m not walking back and forth around campus to deliver your coffee.” 

“I got that covered,” he grins, already coming up with a plan in his head. He likes this, the banter you two typically enjoyed. It made your duo, a duo. In a normal situation, he’d relax and continue bothering you. Still, the feeling of dread gnaws at his throat and he tries to swallow it–tries to ignore it by pretending to be the same, goofy Gojo you’re used to. And he’s starting to think it’s hard to do that when you look up at him with such genuine gratitude. 

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“Thank you, I mean it.”

Gojo feels that emotion again, that visceral feeling where he might go sick and vomit all over the car. “Yeah.”

He thinks he would’ve preferred if you confessed to him instead. 

Gojo wonders if stress (if you can call that) is enough to make someone wake up with a hangover the next day. He didn’t drink last night but he thinks he might have–considering the headache that was interrupting his morning. 

He’s in the middle of downing a glass of water when his phone buzzes, your name popping up as a notification. 

(Name): i’m gonna get ur coffee pls come 

Him: come ??? cum

(Name): it’s too early to be doing this 

He sees the bubbles appear before they disappear for a while, only popping up again when he’s in the middle of cracking an egg over the pan 

(Name): SATORU 

(Name): OHMYGOD SATORY SOI SOS 

Him: WHAT 

Him: HELLO??? 

(Name): GETOUS HERE OMG IM GONNA 

(Name): HE SAID HI TO ME 

(Name): WHAT DO I DO?

Gojo grips his phone a bit tighter, his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. He sighs.

Him: say hi back 

Him: and then go PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE

(Name): no wtf and i meant what do i after this silly 

(Name): i don’t know what to do im literally an npc rn

(Name): jk he just said bye :(

Him: should’ve done what i told u to do

Another name pops up from the top and his eyes scan the name, his brows raising in curiosity. He huffs at the message, feeling a wave of nausea cross him.

Suguru: You’re close friends with (Name) right?

Him: yeah why 

Suguru: Nothing

It’s silent for a few seconds and Gojo’s back to eating his eggs, tempted to pop a Tylenol to ease the growing headache. Contrary to popular belief, he was against the reliance of pain-relieving meds, opting to let his body figure things out on its own. Luckily for him, having food in his stomach was enough to relieve the headache.

His mind wanders back to the night in the car where you told him to help you with your crush on his best friend–not fully coming to terms with the fact that he wished you liked him instead. Since when did he start feeling this way and why did he need another man to make him realize he liked or even loved you? The thought of anyone having you for themselves was like hearing the sound of nails against a chalkboard and he was jealous. He finally admitted it. 

Gojo Satoru wasn’t an idiot when it came to his feelings and he’d be a fool if he kept denying his undeniable irritation that came with your crush for Suguru. He places the unwashed dish atop some other bowls and utensils, reminding himself to get to that later since his priority was not to keep you waiting at the coffee shop. 

Another buzz and Satoru nearly trips over his feet at the dread he gets from seeing his best friend’s message. Are you kidding me? He thinks to himself as he reads the message again. 

Suguru: She’s cute

Yeah, he thinks he might be sick again.

Music’s playing in the background to substitute the sound of chatter that’d usually fill the room if Shoko were here. It wasn’t rare for Shoko to not flake on parties and it was even rarer for you to leave your comfort zone and go to one–especially the last one hosted by Sukuna; but this one was different. Suguru was the host and you’d be an idiot to miss it. 

You flinch at the feeling of your mascara poking the inside of your eye, cursing quietly as you take a q-tip to fix the mistake. 

The buzz of your phone makes you freeze.

Gojo: omw to ur house 

Gojo: ill be there in 10 

You: wait satoru don’t get mad but what do i wear 

Gojo: …

Gojo: YOU DIDNT LIKE THINK ABOUT THAT AN HR AGO?

You: I WANNA STAND OUT TO ATTRACT THE LOML OKAY? 

You: so i need ur opinion 

Gojo: dude

Gojo: ok

Gojo: just wear whatever u want it’ll be fine 

You: yeah but what specifically?

Gojo: not smth that makes you look like a grandma 

Gojo: like that dress u wore to the last party 

Gojo: no offense

You: but i liked that dress :(((( 

You: was it that bad?? I mean i had to throw it out bc of the vomit anyways

Gojo: it made u look like a grandma but in a good way 

You: wow okay thanks

Gojo: you looked nice 

Gojo: ANYWAYS  

Gojo: a pair of jeans 

Gojo: and that light blue long sleeve that shows ur shoulders 

You: really? 

Gojo: yeah and i’m leaving my apartment now so hurry up 

You like the message, tapping your lips to even out the lip tint before you rush to put on the shirt and jeans. Doing a quick double-take in the mirror, you spin once and prop your hands on your hips, snapping a few selfies to commemorate this day. 

You’re not sure how much time passes until you hear excessive honking outside, the sound of your phone buzzing as you see Gojo’s caller id. It’s enough to make your eyes roll as you grab your bag–leaving the door locked and the lights off. 

Gojo’s grin is boyish and teasing as his eyes scan you from top to bottom. “Oh look at you,” he coos. “You’re actually wearing what I told you to wear.”

“Well I felt like listening today,” you murmur, feeling a small ripple of embarrassment pass you. 

“Atta girl.”

“Shut up,” you mumble, feeling a grin form when you hear him chuckle. He puts his car into reverse mode, propping his arm on the top of your seat. Up close, you can get a stronger whiff of his cologne–its musk and earthiness slowing your heartbeat, calming you. Your eyes scan his outfit: a black pullover layered atop white t-shirt, paired with a pair of pants that were on the edge of being joggers and trousers.

On anyone else, the outfit wouldn’t have done them good like it did with Gojo. To your displeasure and awe, he looked effortlessly classy. And if he noticed your lingering gaze, he didn’t mention it. 

“What’s your game plan?” His voice draws you back to reality and you watch as he sets the car back into drive mode. 

“Game plan?”

“That’s right,” he glances at you, his shades sliding lower on his nose bridge. “Your plan to seduce the love of your life.”

“I’m not going to seduce him!” You gape, narrowing your eyes at his widening smile. His hand reaches down to turn the volume of the song a bit louder, stopping at the upcoming red light. 

“I’m just joking with you,” he laughs, his eyebrows furrowing slightly before that smile returns to his face, not quite meeting his eyes like it usually does. He sighs before breaking into a laugh that almost sounds bitter. “I’d pay to see that though.”

At the party, you’d imagine yourself “mingling” with the crowd and letting loose–being the life of the party. Unfortunately for you, your feet are still stuck on the kitchen floor and you’re glued to Gojo’s side. You’d like to blame it on the vomit incident from Sukuna’s party and you’re fortunate enough to not be known as the “girl that someone threw up on.” 

Either way, you weren’t especially fond of the fact that you were keeping Gojo from having fun somewhere else. Like in one of the unoccupied rooms upstairs or in the living room playing some drinking games. It’s enough to make you feel somewhat guilty and suddenly regretful that you even came to this party. 

You tap his shoulder in the kitchen, offering him a reassuring smile. “Satoru. You don’t have to stay with me. I can manage myself!” 

“That’s what you said last time,” he chuckles, rummaging through Getou’s fridge to search for something sweet, frowning when he sees traditional Japanese snacks that his grandparents would eat. “What the hell?” He murmurs to himself.

“I mean it,” you say, taking a few steps back. “You have some fun. I don’t want to bother you too much.”

“You’re not–”

“Satoru. (Name),” a velvety voice greets, all too familiar. A warmth spreads over you. “You made it.”

“Getou,” you murmured to yourself, glancing at Gojo who was already staring at you. 

For a second, you see a subtle tick in his jaw, a sight you blame on the lighting since he’s back to normal the moment he turns to face Getou. He grins that teasing smile of his. “Suguru.”

“You looking through my fridge again, Satoru?” The brunette huffs, kicking the fridge’s door shut lightly–exchanging the grin with his friend. Your heart squeezes as he casts a lingering look at you, his smile polite. “Hey (Name). Good seeing you here.”

“Huh?” You perk up. “Oh you too?”

You inwardly curse at yourself for how awkward you were, giving Gojo a scathing look as he hides his laughter behind his palm. Luckily for you, Getou’s sweet and he was also good at redirecting topics. “You want something to drink?” 

“Oh sure,” you blink, offering a thankful smile. “Thank you Getou–”

“Suguru.” 

You pause, cocking your head to the side in confusion. “Sorry?” 

“Call me Suguru,” he hands you a red, plastic cup–his smile pretty enough to make your breath hitch. “We’ve known each other long enough.”

You feel your heart race as he looks at you expectantly, as if you knew what he wanted you to do next. You fidget, suddenly more bashful at the attention he was giving you. “Thank you Suguru.”

“No problem,” he smiles and you like how he looks satisfied with you. He hands another red cup to Satoru who stood beside you, the sarcastic grin of his returning. You take a tentative sip of the booze, watching curiously as Satoru and Suguru talked amongst themselves–reconnecting despite seeing each other only a day ago. 

You observe the two of them, mapping the details of Suguru’s face before your eyes land on Satoru–suddenly aware of the fact that the boy you spent most of your youth with grew up. Sure, you know that his face attracts attention from everyone but that was a token from childhood. It just didn’t hit you that he matured, grew up to be the man most would dream of dating. The realization is to make you wonder if Gojo ever registered the fact that you were growing too.

Slowly, you take another sip of your drink, blinking slowly as the alcohol settles in your system. Gojo’s the first to notice when you stumble, how your skin seems to heat up. “Hey hey,” he holds you by the shoulders, his voice soft. And if you paid closer attention, you would’ve seen the way Getou’s brows raised at how gentle his friend was acting towards you. “You okay?” 

Amidst your drunken state, you realize that Gojo didn’t bother drinking any of the liquor in his cup during his conversation with Suguru. And Suguru. Sweet Suguru who puts the pieces together and confirms that you’re a lightweight, the guilt evident in his expression. “Oh shit. I forgot how strong this liquor is.” 

“I’m okay,” you mumble and step forward, ready to excuse yourself to the restroom. Gojo looks like he’s about to say something until a group of unfamiliar faces barge into the kitchen, their faces bright as they greet Getou and Gojo with intentions to keep them occupied. Among the chatter and crowd, you find it easy to slip away–rushing to find a restroom. 

The first one you went in was already used by a couple that you remembered mumbling apologies to. The others were either locked or used. At some point, your gut told you to go upstairs and you staggered into an unoccupied bathroom where you splashed cold water on your face–sighing at how nice it felt against your skin.

The music’s only a fraction of its noise from up here and you’re surprised that there’s not much of a group upstairs. There’s a funny feeling in your stomach as you crouch slightly, mentally cursing yourself for downing the whole cup so quickly, ruining your chances to talk with Suguru–coherently at least. Part of you wants to sulk over your spoiled opportunities but another part of you just wants to crash on the tiled floor and sleep–rest your eyes for a bit. 

You’re thankful your mind was still conscious enough to rationalize the unsanitary conditions of the bathroom floor, opting to curl up in one of the hallways instead–shivering at the feeling of cold marble beneath you. Your eyes droop, a yawn escaping you. And you’re almost certain you would’ve fallen asleep if not for the gentle shaking of your shoulders. 

“Stop,” you whine softly, your vision blurry as you catch a glimpse of hair the color of snow and a pair of worried filled blue eyes. Your protests turn quickly to bemusement. “Satoru? What are you doing here?”

You think he smiles as he kneels down on one knee to be eye level with you. “How about I get you off the ground first?” 

“I don’t wanna. Let me sleep here,” you shake your head, ignoring how your body felt warm at how softly he treated you. 

“C’mon,” he chuckles. “The ground’s dirty. Let's get you to a bed at least.”

In your drunken state, your mind still decides it favors a soft comforter over cold marble and you see his eyes soften when you go limp in his arms–letting him lift you from the ground. “Good girl.”

Your mind goes fuzzy at the sound of that and you’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or something else that makes your temperature rise. In that simple moment, you let his arms wrap around you, cradling you to his chest as he makes his way downstairs. All your thoughts stop as your eyes close, drowning the sound of the party out as you permit sleep to take over. His hands give your thighs an occasional squeeze, the gesture oddly intimate yet you don’t bother questioning it or objecting to it. 

Even with the veil of sleep dropping on your form, you still recognize Suguru’s voice as he tells Satoru to take care of you, his tone apologetic–having been the one to give you the liquor. They talk for a bit and once more, you feel the bounce of each step as he carries you out the house.

You’re barely awake when Gojo puts you in the passenger seat and you feel disappointment wash over you when he stops holding you. You’re not sure when you grabbed onto the sleeve of his shirt, your eyes half-lidded as you peered up at him. “Don’t go.”

A noise of protest escapes your lips when he removes your cold hand from his shirt gently, rather taking it in between his warmer ones. “I won’t.”

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“I like when you compliment me.”

“Oh yeah?” He says, laughing a bit. “It’s hard not to.”

The music and cheers in Suguru’s house are still audible even in Gojo’s car, your vision getting darker and darker with each blink. Still, you can still feel Gojo’s hand gripping yours–his thumb rubbing circles on the skin as you invite sleep back in, taking deep breaths as you breathe in his cologne. 

And as sleep came to life, you allowed the dreams to live as well. 

Was there such a thing as a relationship between dreams and memories? In moments of delirium, you can’t single out what’s real and what’s not–was it a dream or did it actually happen?

But now that days have passed and you’ve given yourself more time, you’re certain that Gojo was the one who carried you out of the house and spent his night caring for you. So you ruled out the possibility that the night was a dream, rather a memory that made you feel soft inside–grateful yet unsure. And if you wanted to ponder harder, you would’ve done so if not for the hell you were experiencing this week. 

Forgetting the content during a quiz. Getting yelled at by your boss. Having stepped in bird shit. Waking up late nearly every day because you’d forget to put your alarm on. 

If that wasn’t enough, you got in an argument with your parents over the phone. It was about something stupid and you were so frustrated that you ended up walking to some 7/11–buying yourself an ice-cream to cheer yourself up. The argument was so dumb and you weren’t even sure what you guys were even arguing about. All you knew that you should probably call them later to talk it out; you also knew that this week couldn’t get any worse.

What was Satoru doing right now? You think to yourself, pulling out your phone to check your messages–frowning when you saw none from him. Your eyes land on a message from Suguru, seeing the link he sent you to some video he found funny or intriguing. After the party, you were shocked to see an unknown number texting you, claiming it was Suguru and that Satoru gave your number to him. The day that happened, you texted him using exclamation marks and thanked him–smiling at your phone as you two exchanged witty messages with one another. 

You sighed, unlocking your phone and clicking Satoru’s contact and phoning him. You almost hang up after several rings but you hear his voice after the nth ring. “Hello?”

“Satoru?” You say, your voice cracking the second your lips part to speak. You weren’t expecting to cry and neither did Satoru–though you can hear the concern laced in his voice as he questions your whereabouts. 

“Where are you sweetheart?” You hear rustling in the background amidst his voice and your sniffles. “I’ll pick you up. Your location’s shared with me right?”

“Mhm,” you wipe your eyes, fidgeting with the hem of your hoodie. 

“Okay just stay there and don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in a few. Don’t cry (Name).”

You think you might cry harder with how sweet his voice was. 

Satoru thinks he might be the only one who notices the rift between you and him. And he’s not sure if he’s the one causing it or if it’s you. But after that night with you (in his car again), he’s been thinking about how soft you were in his arms; how he liked the way your head drooped against his chest. Or maybe he likes you but he’s not going to think about that unless he wants another headache. 

Regardless, he finds himself looking at his phone sporadically, subconsciously eager to see your name pop up unexpectedly–eager for things to go back to normal. Even though you two still speak, he’s almost sure that he’s not imagining the awkward tension in the air. 

Was he too intrusive when he carried you out to his car? Were you mad at him because he didn’t leave Suguru and you alone in the kitchen? It was a selfish thing to do, he admits. His original idea was to leave you alone with Suguru so you’d get to chat with him–get to know him like you intended to do at the party; but seeing Suguru give you that sly smile of his was enough to make Gojo ditch his plans of playing Cupid. 

If Gojo was a good man, he’d feel happy that you were getting what you wanted since he knew you weren’t the only one interested. Like with the message Suguru sent to Satoru and how he eyed you at the party; how he called Satoru over for a bit and told him that he understood why people liked you or found you attractive; how he commented on how the shirt you wore suited you. 

No shit, I picked it, he thought to himself as he recalled that night. Satoru always knew you were beautiful and he hated that everyone else knew too. You weren’t even his yet but he didn’t want to share you–to let anyone else hold you or have you. Seeing you blush and smile shyly at his best friend made him want to puke—made him want to claw his eyes out. That should be him and god he wishes it was.

He was selfish yet he never promised to be good. Yet, this was for you. He wanted you to be happy, is what he told himself whenever he saw you and Suguru talking. 

His phone buzzes and it’s almost embarrassing how quickly he snatches it, the anticipation in his eyes fading when he sees that it’s Suguru messaging him about the party today. Satoru sighs, rubbing the spot between his brows as he leans on the kitchen counter, suddenly reminded that he planned a party at his place today. It was an impulsive decision to forget about the tension between you two and Satoru’s kinda wishing he took the time to talk it out with you rather than planning something else. 

He invited a good amount of people and was going to invite you as well to give him a reason to call you. But lucky for him, you made things easier for him by calling him. Satoru thinks it’s not healthy for his blood temperature to rise just at the sight of your name on his phone and he’s already grinning when he picks up. “Hello?”

“Satoru?” 

Oh. He pauses, his brows furrowing at how your voice cracked as you tried to hide your sniffles. His first thought was to wonder who made you sad and he thinks it’s scary how hearing you cry was enough to send his emotions in a frenzy. But you needed him and he didn’t want you to be alone. “Where are you sweetheart?” He asks, the nickname flowing off his tongue before he can stop. “I’ll pick you up. Your location’s shared with me right?”

“Mhm,” You mumbled back and his heart nearly snapped in two with how dejected you sounded. He frowns, grabbing his jacket and his keys–rushing to slip on his sneakers. 

“Okay just stay there and don’t go anywhere. I’ll be there in a few. Don’t cry (Name).”

You make a sound of understanding and he hangs up, his finger tapping to click on Suguru’s contact. Satoru hears other familiar voices in the background but he doesn’t pay much attention to it. 

“What’s up Satoru–?”

“Party’s off.”

“What? Wait what are you–”

“Sorry something came up. I’ll tell you later,” he says, hanging up before his friend can say anything else. He knows he should feel bad for flaking out last minute but his list of priorities had you at the top of it. And he really didn’t care if anyone else would understand. 

You’re regretting the choice of shorts in the chilly night air and the ice-cream you ate wasn’t helping you shiver any less. 

The way Satoru sounded made that warm, fuzzy feeling settle in your stomach again. He sounded like he would drop whatever he was doing just to get to you and it made you feel special. You think back to the sound of “sweetheart” from his lips, shaking your head when you feel your blood get warm.

“(Name)?” Satoru’s voice startles you from your thoughts and you think the sound of it could erase all your troubles. “You alright?” He asks, shrugging the jacket off his shoulders and draping them over your legs, kneeling down to see your face.

You only nod. “I want to go home.”

“Yeah I can take you back–”

“No,” you shake your head. “Back to your place.”

For a moment, you’ve stunned him but that surprise left as fast as it arrived. He sighs, tapping your knee with his finger. “Usually dinner comes first–”

“Not like that you idiot,” you kick him lightly, a grin forming on your lips. “Your methods of comforting are weird.”

“Yeah?” He laughs, the sound blending with the wind. “Well maybe I’m not trying to comfort you,” he eyes you with a teasing glint in his eyes and flashes a lopsided grin. He looked almost sweet as he did sly, the blend making your heart pick up in pace. 

You squirm, mustering a tone of nonchalance. “I changed my mind. I’m going back to my place.”

This time he chuckles, his eyes narrowing in amusement. “Nuh uh. It’s my job to wipe that frown off your face,” he says, the corny phrase making you roll your eyes. “C’mon, I’ll be good to you.”

You pretend to think, ignoring the attentive expression he wore. “Fine. I guess I’ll let you take me home.”

“That’s my girl,” he grinned, standing up to his full height. You beam at him, matching his steps as you two reach his door. By the time the two of you were settled at his place, you already spoke to your parents in private–clearing up the misunderstandings like Satoru reminded you to do. You were glad you had him and even more glad that things were falling back to place. 

Your eyes scan your surroundings, noticing how he must’ve tidied things up. “Did you clean your place?”

“Hm?” He grabs two mugs from the cabinet. “Oh yeah. I was going to have a party here.”

“Today?”

“That’s right,” he drawls, glancing at you from the corner of his eyes. “I was going to call you to see if you wanted to go.”

“Really?” That was a shock to you. “Are you still gonna have one today?”

“Nah. Canceled it last minute.”

You pause, raising your brows as you try not to jump to conclusions. “Why’d you cancel it?”

“Had better things to do. I'd rather hang out with you anyways,” he says casually, smiling when he finds the packets of hot cocoa. “Found it!”

Did he cancel the party for me? You think to yourself, a bit surprised that you came to that conclusion; but if you were right and he did, you wouldn’t know what to feel other than appreciation and maybe something else. Whether that was true or not, you know that you should be feeling guilt and not giddiness from having him prioritize you. Was it normal to feel this way for Satoru? You’re about to let your thoughts fill your head but you feel your breath hitch at how he seems to lean closer to you. 

His hands move you by the hips, the touch barely lasting five seconds. “Sorry I gotta get the spoons,” he murmurs, paying no mind to how you hold your breath. Your eyes fall to his biceps, swallowing a gasp as you see how the black material of his shirt moved with every movement he makes. There was no way he was human when he looked like that.

Oh my god, you think to yourself, suddenly mortified at the fact that you were checking him out. What was wrong with you right now? You always knew Gojo was attractive but you didn’t think he was this attractive. And if he had any idea of your internal conflict he didn’t pay it any mind. 

“Can you go get the movie ready for me?”

“Uh huh,” you nod immediately, quickening your pace as you try to distract yourself. By the time he sits next to you, the blankets and snacks are already placed neatly on the living room table. You smile and mutter a thank you when he hands you the mug of hot cocoa. 

“Feel better?” He asks, propping an arm on the head of the couch once you’re halfway through the movie: a random romcom you picked to cheer you up. Even as someone who claims he’d rather watch a movie with more action, you think the drama that comes with romcoms intrigues him–much more than he’d like to admit. 

You take a sip of your drink, your eyes flitting to him. “Much better.”

“I bet,” he murmurs, his eyes glancing at the way your knees touched. The scene panels to a teary confession the female lead does, the music dramatic with strings in the background. You watch intently, observing the expressions both characters make on screen.

“Y’know, I never understood how they can always come up with a speech like that on the spot,” Satoru comments, plopping a few gummy bears in his mouth. “Isn’t that unrealistic?”

“It’s a movie,” you point out, watching as the male lead hung onto every word the female lead had to say. “It’s not supposed to be realistic.”

“I guess you’re right. But that stuff apparently happens in real life right?”

“Wouldn’t you know? You have people confessing to you all the time.”

“I don’t give them much time to continue speaking,” he shrugs. 

You don’t like how uneasy you feel after he says that. “Well, maybe it’s love that makes this kind of stuff happen.”

This earns you an amused snicker. “Of course you’d say that. You gonna do that with Suguru? Confess to him from the bottom of your heart?”

You roll your eyes. “To do that, I’d have to be in love with him.”

“Are you?”

“No,” you give him an incredulous look. “I hardly know the guy. I just really like him.”

He makes a sound of understanding but you feel as if you’re deluding yourself when you see the look of relief cross his face. You turn to him, the movie forgotten all of a sudden. “Would you do that?”

“What? Confess to Suguru with the bottom of my heart?” 

“Yeah sure. That’s what I meant.” you huff, seeing his teasing grin form. You sigh. “No like…confess to someone you love.”

He’s quiet, the faraway look in his eyes confirming that he’s deep in thought. You’re not sure why a pang of irritation hits you when you realize that there might be someone Satoru’s in love with. And you’re not sure if it’s because he’s not telling you or because you want to be that someone. You go with the former because you’re supposed to like Suguru. 

His eyes wander to meet yours and the tick in his jaw makes you nervous–makes your palms sweaty because he’s never looked at you like that. You’re not even sure words could describe what emotion he had on his face. He smiles–not the smile that’s crooked and boyish. It’s the smile that’s sharp and makes his eyes narrow. “I might.”

“You might?” You ask, hating how breathless your voice sounded to your ears–something that he notices with the way amusement practically glimmers in his eyes. You swallow a gasp when his gaze falls to your lips, quickly flying back to your eyes. 

“Maybe,” he whispers and you can’t help but wet your lips, feeling faint when the bright blue of his eyes darkens to black. You don’t flinch when his head tilts, his arm coming to the side to trap you between the couch. His cologne overwhelms you, makes you drunk on him. He’s so close that you can feel his breath hit your face. 

“Satoru–” 

The sound of your phone buzzing crushes the tension quickly and you let him lean back–looking as if he had more to say. You feel a smidge of disappointment as you grab your phone. “It’s Suguru,” you say and you’re not sure why your inner voice begs Satoru to tell you to ignore the phone call–to act like he cares more. 

“Shouldn’t you answer it?” He questions and you hate that sinking feeling in your stomach when he doesn’t even spare a glance at you–as if acting like he wasn’t about to kiss you seconds ago. You can only frown, nodding as you watch him stand up–still not offering you one single look. “I’ll clean up.”

As you glance at your phone, at the name of Suguru appearing on your screen, you hope for the slightest bit of joy–that lovesick feeling you get whenever you’d see him. Yet, it felt wrong. This felt wrong. And apparently, Suguru could tell from your voice that there was something bugging you. 

“Is everything alright? You don’t sound too good.”

Your eyes linger on Satoru’s figure moving to the kitchen. You think Suguru mentions something about a date but you don’t pay much attention, not feeling all that bad as you drown out his voice. “Yeah. I’m fine. What were you saying?”

“I was asking if you wanted to go to dinner with me tomorrow. I’ll pick you up at 7 and we can–”

“Sure,” you say, trying to ignore the way your body lurches at your response–as if it didn’t want this. “Sure. I’ll see you at 7.”

You don’t catch what he says when he hangs up, only thinking of how Satoru looked at you when he was leaning closer. The thought doesn’t horrify you as much as it should but you think that if he had kissed you, you probably would’ve kissed him back. 

If someone told you a month ago that you were going on a date with Suguru, you would’ve cried tears of joy and celebrated. But now, you’re almost undeniably feeling a wave of indifference hit you and it feels awful. Suguru’s perfect–his sharp features and his charming smile that’d send anyone into a frenzied mess. Or maybe most tend to fixate on how suave he is with his words–mixing the subtlest of flirtations with simple compliments.

He’s everything you could’ve asked for. Yet, you find yourself missing the ruthless beauty you saw in Satoru–the striking blue of his eyes and the rare color of his hair. You find yourself missing the rasp of his voice, how it’d soften that night when he comforted you; you find yourself missing his warm and strong embrace as he took care of you in your inebriated state; you find yourself missing how close he was that night on his couch and how he looked at you. 

At some point, you found yourself replaying that scene over and over again. The first few times, you were giddy with hormones as you imagined him leaning closer and kissing you. After a while, you wanted the image gone because it didn’t happen. He pulled away. He let you pick up the call from Suguru. He acted like nothing happened when in reality, a lot did happen. You two were finally breaching the line of friends and he knew that. 

So why? That question plagued your mind for days after and every time you think you forgot about it, the memory of him would remind you all over again. And when he only congratulated you when you told him about your date with Suguru you felt betrayed. Why don’t you care? You almost blurted out but technically he did care. After all, he was the one who was trying to set you guys up so why did you suddenly want to change your mind?

You think you might hate him a little for being so good at acting like everything’s normal and you think you might hate more for making your heart beat so fast. Things weren’t supposed to end up like this. You weren’t supposed to imagine your best friend kissing you breathless or taking you on a date. 

Everything’s going to fall into place, you tell yourself. You’ve already dolled up and were in the middle of spraying your perfume when Getou messaged you that he was already here. He’s relaxed in the car as you enter the car. This scene feels the same, you think to yourself, recalling the way Gojo greeted you the last time he picked you up.

“You’re wearing the shirt you wore to the party,” Getou points out and you look down at your shirt, gaping at the revelation that you’re wearing the same top Gojo told you to wear. Even with the company of another man, your subconscious still wishes he was here. 

“I didn’t even notice,” you mumble, smiling at the brown-haired male as he drives. The small talk is all natural as you two make your way to the restaurant and you’re grateful that Suguru’s such an easy person to talk with. He’s nice. Really nice and you feel almost guilty for not being as enthusiastic as you wanted to be. 

It’s only when you’re midway through the meal that he mentions it. “You’re not here.”

“What?”

“Here,” he shrugs, glancing at you with an empty smile. “You’re thinking about something else aren’t you?”

“I’m not–”

“Don’t worry I’m not mad,” he says and you know he’s telling the truth. “I’m curious. What are you thinking about?”

This makes you squirm in discomfort, a bit uneasy at how perfectly he read you. Satoru’s always made comments about Getou’s intuitive feeling for emotions and you’re starting to think he wasn’t exaggerating. “What if I don’t wanna tell you?” You joke.

“Then you’d leave me to assume,” he answers easily, the corner of his lips curling upwards. “I’m not an idiot (Name). I know when a lady’s thinking about someone else in my presence.”

When you try to protest, he only smiles. “Is it Satoru?”

Your silence is enough said. You want to deny him–want to shake your head and utter a firm “no.” But something about the question makes you lose your sense of thought and Suguru understands that too. “Are you in love with him?”

This catches your attention. “No. I like you not him.”

“Aren’t we well past the point of lying now?” He gives a good-natured chuckle. “If you liked me then you wouldn’t have looked at your phone so many times as if you were expecting a call.”

You widen your eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to–”

“Nah I’m really not mad,” he sighs. “But I’m interested in why you didn’t decline my offer for a date.”

You’re silent for a while, musing over his words. “When you called me, Satoru and I were about to kiss. Or well–at least I think we were about to kiss.

“So why’d you pick it up? I know Satoru enough to know that a call from me isn’t enough to make him stop with whatever he’s doing,” he raises a brow and you catch a roll of his eyes as he remembers something. 

“It’s because he was the one who was setting us up together.”

Suguru makes a sound of confusion, nodding at you to continue. You take a big breath. “I asked Satoru to help me get with you.”

Getou makes a “o’ with his mouth, nodding in consideration as he processes your words. His pity makes you feel small and you’re finally experiencing the impact tenfold. “Oh (Name).”

“Yeah,” you shrug. “So now I’m pretty sure I messed up the friendship because I was stupid and he’s never gonna like me back–”

“That’s not true,” he stops you, taking a sip from his wine. “Satoru’s different around you.”

“Well that’s because I’ve known him for a while now.”

“Maybe. But he doesn’t go out of his way to help people like he does with you. Even an idiot could notice that.”

“That doesn’t mean he likes me back–”

“You don’t know that yet,” he retorts, that smile of his returning again. “Just like I didn’t know you were in love with my best friend the entire time.”

You wince, swallowing as you peer up at him. You know he didn’t intend for the comment to burn but a small part of you thinks he did it on purpose. The sight of you sulking brings a wider grin to play on his face. “Relax. I’m only playing with you,” he pauses. “I’m a bit jealous that Satoru's got such a cute girl in love with him though.” 

His teasing makes you laugh. “What if he doesn’t love her back?”

“Then he’d be an idiot,” he says, giving you a look as he asks for the bill. “If he breaks your heart you know who to go to. I’d be happy to have you for myself.”

You roll your eyes, smiling softly when he coyly smiles. Suguru was kind enough to offer to drop you off at your place but you told him you wanted to see Satoru—bringing a surprised look on the brown-haired male’s face. You’re not sure how apparent it was, but you reeked of anxiety and Suguru was quick to point it out.

“I’ll wait for you,” he says nonchalantly, shooing you with his hand once you stare at him in bewilderment. “Go. Just do me a favor and message me when you guys are gonna get uh intimate.”

“We’re not—“ you click your tongue at his grin. You thank him, rushing to Satoru’s flat—the sound of your heels clicking against the floor. 

If you were in a movie, there would be dramatic music playing in the background—perhaps orchestra or a sappy love song. The scene was so cliche but you’re understanding why the protagonists always ran: it was love. You were in love with Gojo Satoru. 

You ring his doorbell, fixing your hair as you ready yourself to see him—mentally preparing the script of your confession. Please be home, please be home, please—

The door opens and a plethora of blue looks back at you, the surprise evident in them. You visibly brighten, smiling as you see him. “Satoru I—“

“Satoru?” another voice says from behind him—the voice evidently female. You freeze, feeling as if this image was in slow motion as you see a glimpse of a girl behind Satoru. Your eyes flit to both of them, the speech you prepared in your head drying up like a sore. “Who’s this?”

You hate that you can only watch. “It’s just a friend. Why don’t you go back inside for a bit, yeah?”

She’s so pretty, it hurts. There wasn’t a speck of imperfection on her and the need to curl up in a ball never felt stronger. The girl nods at Satoru, glancing at you in curiosity as she leaves you two alone. 

You think you might hate a little bit for looking at you in concern. “Is there something wrong? Are you okay? If something—“

“No. Nothing’s wrong I’m just—“ you say, wishing your voice was louder at this moment. You avoid his eyes, fearing that you’d end up crying in front of him if you continued to stare at him. “I need to go.” 

“What? But you just got here—“

“I don’t know why I came here. This was a mistake and I—“ you sigh shakily, turning on your heel to leave. 

Satoru grabs you by the wrist, his gaze soft as he shakes his head when he sees you try to pry his hand off of you. “Just tell me what I can do—“

“Suguru’s waiting for me,” you say quickly, ignoring the way his face drops. “He’s outside right now.” 

You hold your breath the moment his hand slowly slips off your wrist, taking a few steps back as you make your way outside. Not once do you turn back as you try your best to hold the tears in—ultimately failing as they fall as quickly as they appear. 

By the time you reach Suguru’s car, your make-up is already ruined. At first, he snaps his head back at you with a smile, the curve of lips quickly disappearing as he sees your lip trembling. “No?”

“No,” you confirm, sitting back into the car and wiping your tears with a tissue he hands you. There’s no words spoken between you two as he starts the car, a heavy sigh escaping his lips. Ironically, you listen to the soundtrack of “The Other Woman” playing in his car and he’s quick to change the song. He clears his throat.

“I didn’t think he was that stupid,” he says after some time, signaling right as he reaches the stop light. 

“He wasn’t,” you murmur. “I was the stupid one for thinking that we could be more than friends.”

After the ordeal a couple nights ago, you’re not even ashamed that you’re blatantly avoiding Gojo like the plague. You even turned off your read receipts for him which you would’ve found so petty if you didn’t feel so frantic at the sound of his name. Originally, you thought he’d put up more of a fight and be more persistent in getting your attention–only you were proven wrong when you didn’t see any of his attempts increasing. 

Disappointed, you were caught in a dilemma. You wanted this distance but craved his presence. At some point, your thoughts ran dry and you were in a slump. Were you always this bad at making up your mind?  

No. You weren’t. You didn’t think excessively hard when you decided you liked Getou and when you stopped liking him. Nor did you think super hard about your other crushes. Gojo made your brain hurt and if this was love, you’re not sure you really liked it; but it felt so nice to think about how it would feel to be loved by him–to have him kiss you. 

Which is why you thought it was a great idea to avoid him because surely time makes the feelings fade. And you hope they fade fast–especially after you saw him with that girl. You bite back your jealousy at the thought of what they did together. Today was supposed to be a mental health day. It was if fate allowed you to have little to nothing to do and you were going to take advantage of it. 

The coffee house was ambient with the occasional loud laughter from groups of friends. You were halfway through your book, taking a sip from your drink as you flipped the pages. This was what you were meant for: reading novels in a cafe, keeping a low profile, and protecting your peace. 

You’re about midway through the big plot twist until you hear the sound of a chair scraping and your heart freezes in your chest when you see Gojo stare back at you. Only this time, he looks serious and even annoyed. 

“I knew I’d find you here,” he begins, tapping his finger nails on the wooden table. You don’t miss the way a few people take a few double-takes when they walk past him. So much for keeping a low profile. 

“Gojo,” you acknowledge him awkwardly, fidgeting with the pages of your book.

Your stomach does a flip when his jaw twitches and his eyes cross your face. He sighs, leaning back and adjusting his seating position. “Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad at you?”

“You literally just called me Gojo,” he said and if you were more rational, you would’ve laughed at how childish he sounded over you not using his first name. 

“A lot of people call you Gojo,” you point out, still not meeting his eyes. 

“You’re not just ‘a lot of people.’ And you always call me Satoru,” he murmurs. 

You tense up. There he goes again: treating you like you’re special. It makes you confused and makes your heartbeat skip. You clear your throat. “I’m not mad at you.”

“Then why are you avoiding me?” He says, a bit loudly at that. It was unlike Gojo to attract attention to personal matters in public and the guilt hits you. You were so caught up in your own feelings that you completely ignored how he would’ve felt. Even if he only thought of you as a friend, anyone would’ve felt mad if put in the situation you put Gojo in. 

You glance at the curious gazes in the cafe, grabbing him by the hand as you pull him outside to a secluded area. You quickly drop his hand, a bit surprised that he let you even hold it. “What are you talking about?” You ask, not sure why you’re playing dumb. 

“You’re avoiding me,” he says, staring down at you. Sometimes, you forget how tall Satoru really is and how his gaze can make anyone feel small. “Did I do something to make you mad?”

You think back to him and the girl. “No you didn’t do anything.”

“Then what the hell is it?” He says, sounding more mad than you initially thought. His eyes scan over your face–observing your pursed lips and aversion from his eyes. He clicks his tongue. “Is this about the other night?”

You really wish you didn’t snap your head so fast to meet his eyes. The other night could’ve meant many things but you knew he was referring to a specific one. “No,” you say and you already know he doesn’t believe you. 

“(Name),” he says softly. “Were you jealous?” Hearing him saying it out loud makes you cringe. You shake your head adamantly, trying to muster up the courage to not break eye-contact with him. You wonder if he could hear how loud your heartbeat was. “I’m not jealous. Why would I be jealous?”

“You tell me,” he voices in that tone that tells you that he’s already figured it out. For all the years you’ve known Gojo, you’ve become well-acquainted with his habits and his mannerisms. And you knew him well enough to realize that he wasn’t going to stop with the questions until you told him the truth. 

He always did this. Always made sure to pummel the truth out of you and it didn’t matter how dirty he played. “Then why did you go to me in the first place? Didn’t you have Suguru outside waiting for you?”

“I–”

“What was so important about what you wanted to tell me that you left Suguru waiting for you? What was it and why are you so scared that you’re avoiding me?”

“It’s because I like you!” You finally say, knowing that he bested you in this game of his. The regret hits you so hard you feel like running away again. Only this, he doesn’t let you when he pulls you by the shoulder. 

“What?” He says breathlessly, his eyes wide with wonder. It’s over, you think to yourself. He’s going to hate you after this because you ruined the friendship. 

“I avoided you because I like you,” you admit quietly. “And because I saw you with that girl the other night.”

“(Name)...” 

“Stop,” you murmur, feeling the tears form. “Stop. I already know what you’re gonna say, okay? It doesn’t matter anymore.”

You shrug him off, wiping your tears with your sleeve. The plans for “protecting your peace” almost seemed silly now because you couldn’t rewind time and undo all of this. You don’t bother saying goodbye to Gojo as you take your chances in leaving. And you desperately wonder how you were going to move on from this. 

Gojo thinks he’s in a fever dream. Your confession stunned him into oblivion and if it weren’t for your tears, he thinks he might’ve stayed in one spot for hours on end. The night you came over, Gojo already had enough on his mind. Seeing you in the flesh made him lose the logical side of his brain and his mind just replayed that night you two nearly kissed. 

He remembered being able to taste how nervous you were–how you found purchase on his shoulders as he tried his hardest not to pin you to the couch and kiss you stupid. He remembered how soft you were and how that thought would torture him for days on. 

Gojo knew what he did after was an asshole move but he thought the phone call from Suguru served as a reminder that he couldn’t have you. You two were best friends and to ruin that because he wanted you was selfish of him. He was already selfish enough to want to keep you for himself but you wanted Suguru. 

That’s why when you came to his place, he was confused. Gojo did something stupid and didn’t want the thoughts of you to keep popping up. He recalled dialing the number of some girl he stopped talking to ages ago just to not have you occupy his mind. 

When he saw your brows furrow at the sight of her, he was surprised to say the least. He ruled out the possibility of jealousy early on and just kept it as that. But now, on this chilly afternoon and in some secluded corner, you were confessing to him. 

You like him. You like him back. Sure, you didn’t love him like he loves you (or at least he thinks so) but that's besides the point. He collects himself the moment he sees the tears forming in your eyes, panic coursing through him. 

Did his silence make you misunderstand? Did you know that he was ready to scream and tell the whole world that he finally got the girl of his dreams? How he was prepared to pull you into a crushing hug and hold you like he had heaven in his arms? 

He forgot you weren’t a mind reader and it dawned on him that he caused your tears. He doesn’t want to be the guy who lets misunderstandings marinate nor does he want to be the cause of your fallout. He was going to fix this. 

If you thought he was going to let you go that easily then you severely underestimate him. Because Gojo Satoru was willing to fight for your love.

You think you’re in some sappy k-drama when he grabs you by the wrist the second time. If you weren’t crying your eyes out, you would’ve laughed at him and he would’ve laughed with you. But there’s only a wave of frustration when he doesn’t let go. “Satoru let me go–”

“No,” he says with a deadpan and you almost think he sounds desperate. You’re about to say something but he only steps closer. “You can’t run away like you did before. That’s the easy way out–”

“I’m not–”

“You are,” he interrupts. “And I’m not gonna let you because you’re gonna listen to what I have to say.”

You’re almost reluctant to stay silent but you give in when he squeezes your wrist–as if begging you to stay. You sigh. “Fine.”

“Good,” he whispers, racking his brain for what to say. He takes a deep breath. “A while back, I said I didn’t understand how the characters from romance movies always knew what to say in moments like these. You know those super long speeches? It seemed unrealistic to me but I think I understand now.”

You let him continue, clinging onto every word that falls from his lips. “It’s so easy to say stuff like this. When you’re in love with someone, you notice the little things about them. I noticed you and you were the only thing on my mind. You still are the only thing on my mind. Do you get what I mean?”

You watch in awe as he continues, stuttering over some of his words which was so rare for him. “The night you told me you liked Suguru I was so annoyed. I’ve never gotten jealous of Suguru or anyone but I wanted to be the one that you liked. I wanted to be the one that you dressed up for and the one you smiled at. It drove me insane when you went on a date with him and I hate that I didn’t just say fuck it and steal you away sooner.”

He takes a chance to catch his breath, ruffling his hair as he finally flashes you a crooked grin–a mix of embarrassed and boyish. “That girl you saw me with…I never did anything with her,” he admits and you think you might fall over from shock. “I couldn’t. I just kept thinking about you and I wanted you on my mind all the time. I didn’t want to think about anyone else and didn’t want anyone to take your place–”

“What I’m trying to say is that I’m in love with you,” he finally says. “I already said that earlier but I want to say it again. I think I’ve always loved you–even when we were kids. I think little kid me always wanted your attention. I just never knew what I felt until I realized that you weren’t mine–not mine to love. And I don’t think there’s nothing in the world that I want more than you.”

At this point, your mouth is already ready to catch flies as you listen to his ramblings about his affections. You think you might cry. Gojo’s usually not good with words but you can tell how genuine he is–how much he meant this. “Then all those times you helped me with Suguru?”

“I hated doing that,” he huffs. “I swear I was about to punch Suguru every time he called you cute.”

You laugh, feeling jittery all over. “Would you?”

“I’m a bit worried that you like that idea a bit too much.”

You grin, shrugging. “Maybe a little. I guess I should tell you that I really wanted you to kiss me when we were on the couch.”

“You did?” He practically beams, cupping your face with his hand. You feel your stomach do twists when his thumb grazes the skin of your cheek softly, as if this was always normal. 

“And I should probably tell you that I love you too,” you say firmly, gaining a rush of confidence. “And you should probably kiss me right now.”

The smile on his face might just be the prettiest thing you’ve seen in the world. He leans in, cupping your face as he presses his lips against yours. The way he holds you makes you feel safe and you think you might love him a little more when he moves his hand to your neck. 

You break the kiss. “Does this mean we’re dating now?”

He laughs. “Do I need to kiss you again for you to say yes?” 

When you nod, he pulls you in again and again. And if this was his way of asking, you’d say yes each time. 

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

[hey-august]

One Bed Trope - NSFW (Cross Guild x GN!Reader)

Description: A mix between headcanons and an imagine. What could happen if you have to share one bed with the Cross Guild men... Warnings: NSFW, MDNI, GN!reader, lil bit of voyeurism, drinking and gambling. Word count: ~1k

🤡 Buggy

You’re both thinking about it, but don’t want to be the first one to say something. So the two of you just lay in the shared bed under a blanket of awkwardness.

You take the first step. You planned on wearing your regular clothes to sleep originally. So you tell Buggy that this isn’t comfortable and you’re going to sleep in something else. A shirt and underwear, or maybe just your underwear.

You undress slowly, giving him plenty of time to watch and stare. To see how your underwear hardly conceals the arousal from all your dirty thoughts.

He’ll probably follow suit and also “get comfortable.” If not, he’ll do so if you suggest it. He’s probably not thinking with the right head.

You make sure Buggy catches you staring at his hard-on straining to get out of his boxers. His hand ghosts past it and he notices how you hold your breath. You notice a dark spot soaked with precum.

A little bit of awkwardness hangs around once you’re both back in bed with less clothes. Your hands are touching, but not holding.

Buggy makes the next move.

“…I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep like this.”

“What do you mean?”

“With my dick hard and untouched.”

🦅 Mihawk

The swordsman wasn’t thrilled about the accommodations. He doesn’t want to share a bed with you because he’s afraid of losing control near you.

And the signals you’ve been trying to send his way aren’t helping. It looks like he’s ignoring them, but you’re wearing him down bit by bit.

Mihawk’s resolve crumbles more when you ask him to stay nearby until you fall asleep.

For you, the shameless request is your desperate attempt at getting him into the bed.

For Mihawk, your voice dripping with desire for his presence makes him feel both weak and powerful. Weak because he can’t deny you, but powerful because he has such an effect on you.

He sits on the bed, propped up by a pillow, and leaning against the wall or headboard. You notice how tense he seems. His jaw is tight and he avoids looking at you.

You also notice that Mihawk’s hands are clasped over his groin. It might not mean anything, but you can’t help wondering what he looks like touching himself. His fingers tracing along the length of his erection while he fondles his heavy balls.

Mihawk feels your burning gaze and is unprepared to see your flushed face and half-lidded eyes focused on his body. His hands move slightly as his concealed cock twitches hungrily.

He moves to get away from the temptation, but you put a hand on his leg to stop him. You look up with all the lustful, impure thoughts written across your face.

“Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

“Remember, you wanted this.”

🐊 Sir Crocodile

Crocodile knows your mind is in the gutter the moment you hear there is only one bed.

He can see the wheels turning in your head as you think of all the things that could happen and how to make them a reality. Meanwhile, he already has a plan of his own.

Crocodile excuses himself to take a shower. He makes sure to undress down to his pants before moving to the bathroom.

His confident and unperturbed demeanor makes you feel like a pervert. Which is all part of his plan.

You notice that the bathroom door is ajar. The rational part of your mind would have thought that was uncharacteristic. But the louder, dirtier thoughts tell you to wait until the water is running and find an excuse to walk past.

Peeking into the bathroom, you see his nude form in the shower. That’s exactly what you expected, but nerves kick in and you walk away before you can ogle more.

Soon you notice a rhythmic sound rising over the splash of water. A wet slapping noise.

Crocodile fists his cock and waits for your face to appear in the cracked door again. He lets out a pleased grunt when you peep on him again, just as he expected.

“Are you gonna keep watching or are you going to join me?”

“Hurry up and bend over.”

���️ All four of you in the same room...

It’s tense. Strange. Weird. And the wine doesn’t help much.

You and Buggy decide to play a card game to pass the time. Crocodile joins in only after you both agree to play for money.

Eventually, Mihawk gets tired of hearing you and Buggy complain after losing to Crocodile a few times. He joins the next round to show that it’s not impossible to win.

You get tired of transferring money and debt, so you ask Mihawk to bet his hat instead. He agrees if you agree to bet one of your own articles of clothing. This turns the game into a bizarre version of strip-poker, but clothing comes off in a random order depending on what each player asks for.

Soon, you’re all in more vulnerable states: - Mihawk hasn’t lost his hat, but that’s all he has left. - Crocodile is still wearing his coat and rings. (That was an argument and eventually the decision was all the rings count as one article of clothing.) - You lost all your clothing but have Buggy’s hat and Crocodile’s vest. - Buggy, to everyone’s surprise (including his own), still has the most of his own clothing left - his scarf, gloves, and boxers.

The competitive fire still raging, you break into teams, pooling resources to out bet the other duo. You and Crocodile versus Mihawk and Buggy.

Against your’s and Mihawk’s complaints, Crocodile and Buggy bet you both - the weaker halves of the duos. Crocodile loses and you move to join the other two pirates.

Mihawk pulls you close, wanting to start an alliance. He’s whispering in your ear but you barely hear the words that his warm wine-scented breath carries.

All of a sudden, you can’t tell the difference between regular tension and sexual tension. Looking at Mihawk, you see that he’s come to the same realization.

Tired of losing at the card game, you two consider a different activity. The swordsman pulls you in for a kiss. One that’s sloppy, heated, and full of greed. One that captures the attention of your other two roommates. One that guarantees you all end up using the bed at some point during the night.

#cross guild headcanons #cross guild imagine #buggy headcanons #crocodile headcanons #mihawk headcanons #cross guild x reader #buggy x reader #crocodile x reader #mihawk x reader #one piece buggy #buggy the clown #one piece crocodile #one piece sir crocodile #one piece mihawk #one piece cross guild #buggy imagine #crocodile imagine #mihawk imagine #buggy x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader

[ghouljams]

Has Love ever held Bug for Birdie for any reason and has Ghost seen her if she did? I just want to watch Professor Ghost have a moment when he sees how sweet Love is with a baby.

Love and Birdie don't have many opportunities to cross paths, HOWEVER, you're so so right about Ghost seeing Love with a baby bestie and I'm going to make it happen.

Ghost follows after Gaz, the two men discussing last night's footie match as they weave through the education department's halls.

"You coming for dinner?" Gaz asks, "Soap's already invited himself."

"Not doin' anything else," Ghost hums, eyes scanning the various posters pinned around the halls. Children's drawings and calls for volunteers, internship opportunities. The education building has always given him a sort of squirmy feeling in his stomach. He can't help but think about his nephew, what grade he'd be going into, whether he'd be doing well. Gaz smacks his chest to pull him from his thoughts.

"Giving you a ride, may as well stay." Gaz grins, and Ghost rolls his eyes.

"Just don't go handing me the baby again," Ghost tells him as they turn the corner to Birdie's office. Ghost stops short, gaze sticking to Love as soon as he sees her. Gaz grabs his shoulder to stop him from turning around.

Love smiles, grins really, lighting up the hallway as Birdie chatters away about something. She's bouncing Gaz's baby in her arms, the infant's head tucks against her shoulder as she rocks and bounces. Birdie spots them and waves, Ghost has to force his feet to carry him forward as Gaz drags him into the thick of it. There's not much that scares Ghost, but babies? Terrifying. His eyes stick to Bug, the tiny thing has their fingers wrapped around Love's necklace, the rest of them lax and sleeping against her shoulder.

Birdie says something and Ghost grunts, his eyes moving from the baby back to the woman holding them. Love glances at him, cooing softly at Bug when they start to fuss. When he'd thought about marriage he hadn't imagined kids. There were certain things, specific dreams, that always seemed off limits to him, parts of the Riley lineage that were cursed. It had felt like a noble sacrifice to have the name die with him.

But there was Love, there was a baby, a future, sleeping under her gentle hand, and there was a warmth in Ghost's chest that he hadn't felt before. "You like kids?" He asks. Gaz and Birdie discussing evening plans beside them hardly seem to hear the question.

"They're alright," Love hums, "I never think I want any until someone puts a baby in my arms, then it's like all bets are off." She laughs, the motion of it hardly jostling the infant. Ghost watches the way her hand smooths over Bug's back, gentling every soft breath the infant takes. "What about you?"

"What about me?" The question catches him off guard. Love raises her brows.

"Do you like kids?" She bites down her teasing smile, her teeth tugging at her lip. Charming, every inch of her seems tailor made to tug at his heart. Ghost reaches to uncurl Bug's tight fist, easing the chain of her necklace out of the baby's grip.

"This one's ok," Ghost supplies, settling the necklace back against Love's chest, "Liked my nephew."

"It's easier when they're your kids," She tilts her head for him, her skin prickling at the touch of his fingers. Ghost wonders if his hands are that cold. He hums.

"It is."

"Do you want kids?" Love asks. Ghost's eyes dart to her face, she isn't looking at him. Ghost looks at the baby, glances at the way Birdie smiles and leans in to kiss Gaz, a picture of familial bliss.

"I didn't used to," Ghost answers after a moment. That feels like the truth. He didn't used to, he didn't think about them, but now all he can think of is Love and babies: how pretty she'd be with one of his on her hip, what they'd look like, if they'd have his hair or if they'd have her eyes. If they were with her... maybe he does want kids.

He should start looking at houses again. They're going to need a yard, and more than just the main/guest bedrooms. He could do it. What's one kid?

Actually one kid might get lonely, things were always better when he had Tommy.

What's two kids?

Unless they're fighting.

Ok, three kids. Three kids, Ghost can handle three kids if they're hers too.

#simon ghost riley #x oc #cod x oc #ghost mw2 #simon riley #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #cod simon riley #simon riley x oc #oc: love #professor au #Notice that the man has not said a fucking word to Love about this #He ran into her. saw the baby. decided they were having three kids #Ghost is king of delusional city #actually Konig is but he's not in this one

[another-lost-mc]

ASMODEUS x gn!Reader 0.6k Words | NSFW | Making Out in a Semi-Public Place | Insecure Reader -> Prompt: "Feeling a little needy today?" [ Obey Me! Masterlist ]

"Alright, what do you think about this one?"

You walked out of the changing stall and spun in a slow circle while Asmo's critical gaze roamed your figure head-to-toe, his eyes narrowing on the slim-fitted shirt he picked for you.

His legs were crossed and his chin was propped up on his knee. He hummed noncommittally. "What matters most is, what do you think, darling?"

You pulled self-consciously at the sides of the shirt that felt tight across your chest and belly. You knew the shirt technically fit, but it made you squirm thinking about wearing it in front of anyone else.

Well, anyone else besides Asmo, who seemed to appreciate the view if his heated gaze was anything to go by.

"I'm not sure it's the right style for me, to be honest," you muttered. "Maybe something else a bit—" Looser? Unshapely? Boring? "—more relaxed might be better."

Asmo stared at you, his undeterred adoration for you tinged with something a bit darker, and your breath hitched when you saw the intensity that flashed across his face. It was there and gone again, and like nothing happened at all, he stood up with a deep sigh. "I'll bring you something else in a moment," he offered and waved you back towards the changing stall.

You just finished unbuttoning the shirt when you heard footsteps approach and pause outside.

"It's me," Asmo said quietly on the other side of the curtain. "Can I come in?"

You opened the curtain enough for him to duck inside. You turned around and put the discarded shirt back on it's hanger. "Did you bring something else, or are we finished for the day?"

Asmo stood behind you and hooked his chin on your shoulder. He held up another shirt in front of you, and you both looked at your refelction in the mirror.

Your mouth dropped open and you glared at his cheeky expression in the mirror. "This shirt looks even tighter than the last one. Is it even my size?"

"You're too hard on yourself," he chided you, and his tone was unusually serious. He frowned at you in the mirror, then he let the hanger fall from his grip and drop at your feet.

"Asmo, what are you—?" your confusion turned to surprise when he spun both of you to the side and backed you against the wall.

His kiss was fierce and all-consuming, his lips moving against yours with urgency. His tongue danced along the seam of your lips until you opened your mouth in a surprised moan. He licked into your mouth like he was starved for the taste of you.

"You're so gorgeous, I just wanna touch you," he groaned between sloppy kisses, and the words were muffled because he could hardly bring himself to remove his lips from yours.

Your mouth was slick with spit and the barest traces of his lip gloss, and you huffed in amusement when he pulled back to give you a chance to catch your breath.

"You seem a little needy today," you teased, but your breathlessness betrayed your own desires. You knew he was trying to distract you from your self-doubt and insecurities, and maybe later you'll talk to him about it; right now, you were a little too desperate to care about propriety.

His chest rumbled beneath your palm, and in an instant he slotted one of his thighs between yours. You gasped when you felt a familiar hardness grinding against your hip, and his breathy chuckle tickled your ear.

"You have no idea," he whispered before he sucked your ear lobe between his teeth and flicked the delicate flesh with his tongue.

Your head tilted back against the wall, and his eyes flashed deviously before his hand slid down your bare chest and reached for the zipper of your pants.

#obey me asmodeus #obey me x reader #omswd x reader #obey me asmo x reader #asmodeus x reader #obey me smut #omswd smut #asmodeus smut #obey me asmo x mc #asmodeus x mc #obey me asmo x you #asmodeus x you #obey me fanfic #omswd fanfic #x reader #gn!reader #jes.2k event

[bitchlessdino]

and they were roommates pt. 3

A svt.hub collab

Pairing: camboy!chan x afab roommate!reader

Genre: smut, kinda fluffy ngl

Word count: 2.7k

tags: pining, idiots in love, jealous dino, enabler mingyu, cute banter, unprotected sex, nickname (kitten), cumplay (consumption included)

Summary: Wanting sex is a natural feeling, it just so happens that gratification could be found in the next room with a shitty webcam and an infectious laugh.

author note: AND THERES THE FINAL PART. Thank you to everyone that joined in and loved the series that didn’t even expect to be a series. I hope y’all had so much fun reading as much as I did writing. It has gained so much love and appreciate all you for being in for the ride. Kisses to all of you. MUAH.

part 1 | part 2 | part 3

“So Chan. You’re looking pretty damn chipper. Seeing someone?”

The young man raises his eyebrows, wondering how a simple observation can entail such a specific, yet accurate, assumption. He single-handedly stirs the contents of his wine glass, watching you make company with Hansol and Seungkwan, seeing that smile that erupts on your face that pushes him into the depths of an abyss. “I guess something like that.”

Your eyes gradually lock with his, a hint of indescribable tenderness, noticeably listening in his conversation without input.

“Oh, are you,” Jeonghan, the interrogator, nudges, “Mind you tell us a little about this special someone?”

“We’re,” he glances at you, catching your pretty smile in his direction, “happy. They’re good to me and hopefully, I’m as good to them.”

As dry as Chan’s response is, it did the job: give answers without revealing even a sliver of his privacy. You understand the reason behind his ambiguity since it’s the same reason why you hadn’t told anyone yet: the uncertainty. You were both surrounded by mutual friends you saw way too often, it couldn’t be easy to confess to a situationship that could complicate a variety of factors.

Still, it couldn’t help but hurt. Maybe, you were starting to really like him, or was it, Dino, the one you really like?

Chan tries not to overthink the questions being thrown at him, so he figured he needed a breather or several. At the common home warming, there is luckily a balcony coated by the night sky, the waning moon, and not a single star in the darkness. He hardly remembered the last time he looked at the sky so aimlessly like tonight. His half-empty wine glass in hand, he gingerly sips it, remembers why he hates wine and sets it aside on the balcony table.

“Blech, why did I let Minghao give this to me?”

His solitude did not last as Mingyu seeks the vacancy beside him, offering a brotherly smile. “Why are you drinking all in your lonesome? Everyone else is inside.”

“Since when did you start using words like lonesome,” Chan scoffs.

“Never mind that. I have some questions that you might have the answers to.”

It wasn’t uncharacteristic of Mingyu to invade Chan’s personal bubble, he was used to it at this point. “Okay, shoot.”

“Say I have my eyes on someone and say I’m thinking of asking them out.” He playfully suggests.

“Not interested.”

Mingyu rolls his eyes, “As cute as you are, I’m not talking about you, Chan. It’s Y/n. They seeing anyone?”

Chan’s breath hitches, gripping the metal bars of the balcony. “I don’t know. Why you ask?”

“You live with them. Thought maybe you’d see someone passing through your place. And if they’re not serious, I’d take a crack at seeing if sparks f—”

“I’m gonna stop you right there,” Chan interrupts with clear disdain, “if this is one of your little sex ventures, fucking forget it.”

“Woah, woah. What’s with the hostility?” Mingyu raises his hands in defense.

“Don’t act like you didn’t come here to get advice on how to pull up on my roommate, they’re way too good for the shit you’re trying to pull now.”

Chan sneers at the man, his teeth clenching, gnashing in restraint. The man before him reveals a hint of taunt, stepping up towards the plain field and into the younger man’s face, despite the pure raging running through their body. “Why? Because you treat them better? You think you can satisfy their every need?”

“I know I can because I already fucking am.”

Shock crosses over Chan’s face in relation to what ran its course from his lips. His eyes flutter, staggering in his spot, ultimately scoffing in disbelief. “Shit.”

“Mmh-hmm. Joshua owes me 50 bucks.”

“You fucking placed a bet on me?”

Mingyu’s sly grin spread across his face. “Of course I did, it was a sure win. You couldn’t keep your eyes off each other all night.”

Chan’s anger dissipates, feeling his insecurities take over him, and looks to his older brother figure for comfort. “I may have done something stupid.”

He explains to Mingyu the best he could without divulging in details of his side hustle, summarizing basically the ambiguity of your relationship: unintentionally exclusively with no desire of ending what you have, but for him, it didn’t feel like just sex anymore. 

You made his days feel shorter. You made his nights livelier. You made him feel like everything was okay right in the world with no interruption. Everything you do motivates him and at the same time make him happy like no one ever truly has.

“So what’s the problem?”

“…What if I’m not right for them? What if I’m not what they want?”

There was always that thought that trickled into the back of Chan’s mind that veered him away from committing to the real thing; thoughts that had nothing to do with his own doubts. Instead, he wonders whether you felt the same sentiment he did. He knew since he first met you that he felt drawn to you, but naturally, there wasn’t anything he was going to do. He was surprised that you would even make it this far with him, yet still, how was he certain that your feelings are mutual?

“What happened to Mr. Satisfaction? You said you could satisfy their every need.”

“And maybe that’s all I’ll be to them,” Chan exasperates, “What if all I am is good sex? What if I’ll never be relationship material?”

The older man sighs, not expecting a whole spiel on Chan’s love life, and felt even a little guilty for playing with his emotions the way he did. Enough to retract his placed bet, however? Not in the slightest.

“You wouldn’t know unless you ask, kid,” he pats Chan’s shoulder with a sympathetic gaze before straightening up his posture, “Well, I’m gonna claim my prize money now.”

Chan knew better than to seek guidance from Mingyu, so he let the taller man be. On the way back to the party, Mingyu nods to the person that passes by him and lets them take his place on the balcony, an unwavering look of mischief on his face. The newcomer sets either of their arms on the metal rails, grinning up at Chan. “Hey, I was looking for you.”

“Hey,” an immediate smile melts on his face, “Just chilling on the balcony…thinking about you.”

You softly chuckle, pulling close. “Want to get out early then? I feel like I’ve been away from you for too long.”

“More than anything.”

Before the apartment door completely shuts behind you, your hands grasp the pocket of his jeans and tug him in for a mind-numbing kiss. Your body presses up the now closed door, his hands on either side of your body as he rubs his clothed erection against your waist. A moan escapes your lips, flirtatious laughter following. “I wanted to do this with you all night. So nice to have you all to myself.”

“Took those words right out of my mouth, Kitten,” his hands slip over the shape of your ass, cupping them in either hand, “Your ass looks so good in these pants, almost couldn’t help myself.”

“Not you stealing words from me now.”

His laughter perks up your ears, and you have the sudden urge to have that laugh run over your entire body as you moan his name was immensely tempting.

You made it to the bedroom quickly without a minute to waste. Down to your birthday suit in mere seconds, Chan climbs into bed with you and pulls you in his lap. His knees arch behind you, embrace your form, and make you feel at home against him. His eyes pierce through yours, guiding your hips to grind against him like it was a competitive sport. He rewards you with kisses as soon as you match his energy. You buzz under his touch. Your legs hook around him, letting the length of his cock slip easily into your aroused core, allowing you to feel pure ecstasy.

Chan watches your eyes roll back, kissing you with half-opened eyes. His arms clutch your frame, thrusting his body up in you, and sees the look of gratification unfold on your face. Hypnotized by your mere presence, he presses his forehead against yours, mixing bodily fluids. Your eyes occasionally open and close, while his stays wide open watching you like a man in love. He bounces you on top of him, your thighs locked in his arms as he overpowers you. 

You gasp for your breath, your head rocking back and forth, and soon you feel his lips on your neck. “Mmh, Chan…”

His nails dig into your flesh, teeth nibbling your neck, “You call my name like that again, I’ll have no choice but to fuck you with no mercy.”

He pushes you against the bed, your legs anchor around him impulsively, and he pushes his weight into you. His hands smooth over your palms, intimately lacing them through, and start rolling his hips in irritatingly slow, yet deep, strokes. Like a symphony, the sounds that roll out of both your mouths create a perfect ensemble. In that mess of sounds, you moan his name the same way moments before, immediately calling Chan to attention.

Chan gradually quickens his hips and has your hips twitching beneath him, choking on your own breath. How pierces into you make tears brim your eyes and you begin to feel your climax getting closer in the passing time, announcing it desperately in his ears.

He softly scoffs, “Yeah? You wanna cum? Should I let you cum?”

“Y-yes,” you answer from your throat, “please.”

“Okay. Cum for me.”

He says that reoccurring at the moment, “cum for me,” “cum for me,” until you finally can’t help but do so. Vicious white ribbons seep out of you, and you feel your limbs lose against your lack of stamina. Chan, still stiff to the touch, pulls it out of you, soaked to the brim in your juices, dripping down to the dirtied sheets under you both.

On your bedside table, he pulls out the conveniently stored wet wipes and cleanses your inner thighs. Smiling, you thank him as you normally do, pulling him in for a tender kiss, “I’ll take care of it from here. Go on and do your show.”

“I can cancel tonight,” he reassures, “I’ve done it before.”

“That’s exactly why you should go live, I want everyone to see how pretty you look right now.”

He traces his nose over yours, smiling that smile that was living rent-free in the heads of thousands of his fans, only for you to experience every day of every hour. “Does that mean you’ll catch the show then?”

“We’ll see.” You tease.

He gives you one last kiss before taking his leave, but lingers at the door frame, itching for the words to finally leave his lips. He seems to have taken his time in his thoughts that you couldn’t help but call out to him with concern. “Something you’re forgetting?”

He turns back to you, hesitating before shaking his head. “It’s nothing. Get nice and clean, okay? I’ll be finished soon.”

“Okay. Can't wait.”

He proceeds with his live show as usual, hard as a rock, notification chimes indicating the growth of his income, and the image of your naked body still fresh on his mind. Having not yet cum that night, Chan was able to finish himself.

His sly attractive smile leaves an impression on his viewers like always, his now flaccid cock held in his sore hands. His chest was sticky with cum streaming down his abdomen, his nipples red and stiff from his relentless self-teasing, and from his forehead to his lower torso was glistening in his own perspiration. A sight that both you and his viewers were vocal about their favoritism for.

“You were amazing today,” he pants, “can't wait to make you feel good like that again. Can you tell that I enjoyed it too?”

He peers a little closer to his screen, giggling upon seeing the comments. He licks the inside of his cheek in a playful manner, scrolling past every comment to furiously popping up in the chat. One peculiar user plays precedent in his thoughts

Kittennextdoor99: I can’t wait to lick you clean

“Hmm. Well. That’s the show for today. Let’s do that again soon. Until then, good night. Hope you’ll cum again soon.”

He turns off his webcams and properly shuts down his setup. A few beats later, his door is followed by knocking and you were the one to be the person on the other side with a hot wet towel and a cold water bottle. 

“You said you’d lick me clean,” he eggs on.

You can help but chuckle, “Maybe next time.”

“You said you would,” he pouts.

You approach him, setting the water bottle aside and in between his spread legs, you lower your body below the waist. You place your hands on his firm thighs, the hot towel damping his skin as it was still in your grip. Your head dips down on his stomach and drag his tongue between the valley of his abdomen, collecting the sickly sweet climax on your tongue with Chan to watch. His jaw jobs gradually, softly laughing at how sexy, yet fun, the gesture was.

“Happy?”

He grabs the back of your head, his tongue colliding with yours and collecting the sample in his mouth, your eyes enlarging ten times their normal size, “Now I am.”

Your cheeks heat up as if the room was well above 100 degrees, hand over your mouth in utter shock. “You did not—”

“I did. And I’d do it again.”

He takes your towel and uses it to clean up. “Enjoy the show? Or would you have preferred we finished that exclusive preview?”

You cough, fanning your cheeks as he looked at you like he could have you eating in the palm of his hand, which he probably could. You try regaining your train of thought and looking at his eyes properly, determination imminent in you. You take the arm of his swivel chair and pull him in front of you on the bed. Your clothed figure sitting comfortably on his mattress while Chan lay perfectly naked parallel to you, his turn to be surprised.

“I actually would rather we talk about something a little bit more serious than we normally do.”

He nods solemnly, taking it upon himself to use the towel to cover his private bits, “Shoot.”

“What were you and Mingyu talking about earlier tonight? It looked pretty intense.”

He simply shrugs, “Just Gyu being Gyu.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Nothing like about…me then, or at least, the person everyone thinks you’re seeing.”

“...It may have come up.”

“So then.” You ponder before proceeding, “Don’t you ever think of dating? Or being with someone even?”

“I do.”

There’s sincerity in his tone.

You lean forward with a curious hand to your chin. “With anyone?”

“Maybe anyone,” he chuckles, his voice bringing chills down your spine, “Why? Do you want me to date?”

“Short answer: yes. Long answer: no,” a smile weighing down on your lips.

“Those are two completely opposite answers.” He obviously points out with a cheeky smile.

“Yes. I’d like it if you would date, but not if it’s just anyone.”

His hand trails over your thigh, “Who are you suggesting then?”

“You’re really gonna make me spell it out for you.”

Chan was ecstatic, but attempted to not let it come up on the surface.

Instead, he hums in delight, enjoying the banter you both create. “You want to date me?…I’ll consider it.”

You roll your eyes before and attempt to draw distance from him until pulls you toward him instead, laughing. “Okay, okay. Let’s date. Let me be your boyfriend.”

“I’ll consider it,” you mock, climbing onto his lap.

“You’re so cute when you’re obvious about being obsessed with me.”

You lightly shove him. “And you’re actually so annoying.”

You feel him twitch beneath you, intrigued, but act as if you didn’t notice. “If you were to become my boyfriend, what would that entail?”

Chan thinks to himself for a moment, tapping his fingers against your lower back. “My full undivided attention?”

“I have that already?”

“Then…” his head pulls forward to land a chaste kiss on your lips, “What do you want?”

“You give me everything I want by being you. All I’ve ever wanted was you.”

#Dino smut #seventeen smut #lee chan smut #seventeen dino #seventeen lee chan #dino #lee Chan #seventeen chan #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #seventeen x you #seventeen x reader #seventeen x y/n #dino x reader #dino x you #svt dino #dino imagines #dino scenarios

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

hurt/comfort prompt(s): "i know you're freaking out, but I've had worse" and/or "you're not fine!"

From this prompt list!

"Tom, remember to breathe. And if you're going to puke, aim somewhere else." Sarah says with all the concern she can muster. She's being incredibly patient about the whole thing and the fact she's got a medic and Tom in her face. It's not like she wanted to get shot, but it what the armor was for, what she was for. Damn thing hurt like a bitch, but at least it went all the way through. At least the military kept her up to date on all her shots. Tetanus on top of everything else happening would just make her mood worse.

He's holding her hand and squeezing hard enough she can notice it through the gauntlet. The error codes her HUD hasn't stopped throwing in her face now subside as the Mjolnir's sensors on her palms read his touch and read out to his IFF tag. They both look and feel like shit, but that makes sense. It's been months with very little progress. No word about anyone else. What is happening out there on the other fragments of this damn Halo?

Thinking about it soured her already dismal mood. Her adrenaline keeps fading and she grimaces at the mess of her shoulder. Missed shot. She huffs a laugh and explains to a bewildered Tom, "Don't let Halsey see, or she'll offer to make us match."

"You're joking? I guess I should be happy about that." He sighs and rubs at his temples. His smile dies a quick death on his face as he looks her over again.

She and the medic attending the weeping wound in her shoulder both side eye the captain who's looking a bit green as he eyes her in return. Well, her wound and the spike round lodged into the rock behind her.

Tom opens his mouth to argue, his bloodshot eyes meeting hers, but the medic finishes taping her and immobilizing her left arm before he can. They spout off basic care. Keep it clean, keep it dry, do not try to poke it - typical instructions for a S-IV. They nod and leave the commander and captain locked in a silent conversation.

When the medic is far enough away, Sarah beats him to the punch. "I know you're freaking out, but I've had worse."

"That doesn't help and you know it."

"You're concerned over nothing. We're built to take hits. It's most cauterized anyway." She's losing ground in the argument and she knows it. She used to silence his worries and deal with the puppy eyes he'd use instead of words. Now he's hovering and he won't stop talking. "Help me eat my lunch and I'll tell you how I saved an Admiral from a Chieftain and only got hit twice by someone not even in the fight."

"Sarah."

"Tom."

She scowls. If she had more energy she'd be pissed off, but these days it was harder and harder to hold onto anything that wasn't anger or revenge. Spite had fueled her a long time, but now there was hardly anything left. She and the armor had been running on empty. Her HUD squawks warnings and overdue updates. "I'm fine."

"You're not fine!" Tom bellows and it shocks her into silence. "Don't say it is. Don't lie. You know I can hear the warning, I can see you limping when the armor locks up. It's unpredictable but this all ends the same way."

He deflates, hand still locked in hers. "I hate seeing you in it and thinking about how it's going to be your coffin."

"Is that all?" She asks. Her voice only catches in her throat on the last word.

Tom's jaw flexes and he swallows hard. He's a mess. She can't really talk, but at least she's keeping up appearances.

"Then we do something about it. Like we always do." She pulls him closer, good arm wrapped over his shoulders. "Pry me out of the tin can and keep moving."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that."

#my writing #Sarah Palmer #Thomas Lasky #i was gonna have her shake off a skewer but further research was like ehh. no palmer kebab for now. she would not have a shoulder left even #if she pulled herself off of it #its fine shes fine #shout out to gunny helping me remember tetanus #anyway. i miss them so fucking muc h where are they 343 please dont kill them off in a novel. let me see them die onscreen #doom-dreaming

[helloiamadrawer]

@cainesrealwife asked:Pleas Yuga fanfic where make out turns into sex-ing pleas I beg of you can also be anything else just any aoyama x read I’m starved save me I’ll pay you in kisses if you write me a Yuga Aoyama x reader (Not lying frfr)

I'm so sorry this took SO long😭 I had to take off a week cause my wrist was hurting and then I had to deal with smut block and work issues (so fun😭) but I was NOT going to let a fellow Aoyama fan down✊so here you go I hope you like it!!

The Nightrobe✨

Warnings:smut, porn with little plot, Aoyama being a tease, lil bit of possessive reader

A/N: The story happens after Bakugo blew up the dorms because of U.A Heroes Battle, so it's basically two days still in winter break

It all started when he picked up his phone off the floor when he "clumsily" dropped it...you knew he was up to something at that moment. The way he looked at you with a certain look in his eyes, giving you a subtle hint that made you confused at first, but then a minute of thinking later you realized this was another one of his teasing games.

Sitting on one of the couches in the commons at the Alliance, your eyes glided to him having a conversation with Mina and Momo about something or whatever the heck they're talking about. all you needed to do was get his attention and try to pry into his mind and expose his little 'plan'.

"Hey Aoyama! Can you come over here for a sec please?" you call out sweetly to him.

"One moment mon amor!" you hear him respond back. While you're waiting for your significant other, you take out your phone and swipe some notifications away and the second you put it back in your robe pocket, there he was awaiting your question with that cute smile he has on most on time. "So what was it you want to discuss my dear?" he asks as he fiddles with the front of his purple robe and leans over to you.

"I was going to ask you about something..particular you did..hours..ago.." you slowly trailed off before your eyes were dropping to the front of the robe that exposed some of his bare chest, clearly showing that he's been walking around with nothing under it, that tease. Your face froze mid sentence until your boyfriend spoke, "Um, mon amor my eyes are up here."

He tilted your chin up to look at his bright indigo eyes and chuckled a bit. In an instant you snapped back to reality, and in mere seconds a blush breaks out on your face. Sometimes you hate being so easily flustered just by his body but he's just perfect that way to you in addition to his quirky personality. Finally you managed to stand up and excuse yourself to the bathroom which kind of confused Aoyama but he just waited until eventually he got a text from you reading

hey bby can u come to your dorm right quick?

Aoyama opens his room door only to be met by you pulling him by his robe's collar and crashing his lips with yours. HIs lips were so warm, you just wanted to kiss him so much until he runs out of breath. The two of you find yourselves moving to his bed thanks to the stray moonlight through his patio window. So you ended up in a position where you ended up in the blonde's lap and you both pulled back from the kiss to catch your breath.

"How..dare you..Aoyama..why..did you do that?" you panted.

"..do what exactly ma Cherie?" he lightly huffed back.

"Come on you knew what you were doing, dropping something and picking it up slow on purpose, that's my weakness and you know it." you playfully retorted at him whilst poking his chest a bit hardly with your index finger almost as of you were berating him. He tries to stifle a laugh at first, but then a smirk grew on his face. "So you figured it out huh? How did you know?" He asks as he puts on this faux tone of coyness.

"Well,", you explain, "when you 'dropped' your phone your um..the front of your robe showed..your chest.." you muttered in a quiet tone.

It's not a wonder how you cannot Aoyama in the eyes and say that exact sentence cause you could feel his neck getting hot. And he knew what the next thing was to do next to make you break for him.

His hands gripped the front of his nightrobe and shuffled it off showing off his toned shoulders and chest. "Like this?" He asks in a cocky demeanor. You bite your lip and lewdly murmur "oh fuck~".

Oops. Your eyebrows shot up in surprise as you feel Aoyama's thigh now moving against your clothed cunt in a slow rhythm. A dull ache begins to form in between your thighs, arousal shooting through your nerves like an arrow. The action making you bury your face in his shoulder as you literally turn red.

"Yu-Yuga~"

"Aw, were you going to say anything else about my perfect body, cause it appears that that's the aspect making you so horny~" Aoyama croons. Well now you broke, you quickly took it upon yourself to shove your tongue in his mouth to shut him up. Muffled moans were exchanged as the room seemed to get hotter as your boyfriend's mouth begins to dominate yours as he just stops grinding against you, getting lost in the fiery kiss. Aoyama's hands make swift work of making your clothes disappear off of you onto the floor, revealing yourself in a plain white t shirt and panties,a pleasing sight to the the blonde.

A minute of tongue fighting later turns into your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms coiled to his neck for support as you grind against his aching cock with your wet pussy. Aoyama's hands were basically feeling you up from your curvy hips to your perky breasts earning a gasp or moan form every course of action he had performed but he hasn't even got fucking your brains out. But the friction that was being applied to him was enough to make him shiver and groan a lot. It just feels so good, and the sight of your lolled out expression on your face was begging him to just fuck you on the spot. After a couple more delicious grinds from you he whispers in your ear, "Are you ready my dear?"

"If it means you fucking me until daylight then yes please." you seductively replied giving him a devious grin. Unfortunately, you had to unwrap your arms and legs for a split second as he slipped on a condom. But he got back in between your thighs before you could even blink. You were now laying down on your back, Aoyama carefully lifts your legs around his waist again just above his beautiful belt and shares an intimate gaze with you, his dark purple eyes soften with a mix of what lust, desire and love would be all together. The brazen image of his whole chiseled body alone gave you shivers of excitement that's to come. He nudges your needy hole with the tip of his cock before he sheathes himself into you. In mere seconds, the feeling of yourself being stretched out made your back arch. It felt sensational for you since you haven't experienced it in so long, especially for your boyfriend as well, hissing through his teeth of the insatiable tightness around him and it was fucking delicious.

"mm~fuck, damn yuga~" you moaned. Now it was his turn to taunt you, "What happened to that jealous facade you were wearing ,hm?" his eyes crease up in cockiness. You try to buck his to move but his hands stop you from doing that. The blonde giggles, "ah-ah my cherie you don't move until I let you, okay? You feel so good right now baby~ I just want to capture this moment before I let you have all of me." . Your blush returns again, covering it slightly with your arm before your walls feel him moving languidly inside you. A few slurs of curses and moans slip out of you as his slow, passionate thrusts transform you in to a dumb mess and how his hands are guiding your hips with his pace, is making your heart race like hell.

"Such a needy girl are you~?" Aoyama teases, his voice being unbearably sweet but filled with lust. This slow pace was going for a minute, driving you crazy all you could jerk your head to the side and silently whine, "yes, yuga." Your lower half starts to stutter and twitch , signaling that you were craving more but your mind was in a cloud of pleasure. Suddenly, Aoyama gives you one sharp, precise thrust that immediately snaps you out of your haze, causing you to gasping as a louder moan thrums from you throat.

"You're gonna have to look at moi in my gorgeous eyes and tell me, otherwise I can do you just like this all night..without going any faster." He instructs.

Oh god, he wouldn't, but he could.

Collecting some nerve you forced to stare warily into his eyes and mewl out, "yes..Yuga..mm~ I'm such a needy whore-oh fuck!". He grabs one of your legs, raises it to prop on his shoulder, and brutally increases his pace, his length plunging into your heat even more. "Ah! Yuga,oh! right there!~~" you throw your head back into the pillow, hands gripping the sheets hard to keep yourself still as he pounds into your guts mercilessly hitting your sweet spot endlessly. Aoyama hearing you moan so loudly like this is music to his ears, encouraging himself to moan back , forcing you to clench around him more. " That's it baby ah~ i'm so close right now you don't even know~" he groans.

The sight your sweaty, flushed body, the provocative way your breasts bouncing from his force only pushes him closer to his high. "agh!--m' gonna cum-baby oh my god!~" you sputter. You're now just fisting the sheets with white knuckles and bated breath as Aoyama continues to rearrange your insides, his thrusts becoming wet slaps that join in the sexy ambience of the room. He rolls his hips into you with a few more powerful thrusts and finally, your orgasms crash into each other, racking both of your bodies in tandem. Eventually, you two collapse in the bed, soaking up the afterglow of what you shared with the shining boy. Aoyama sits up on his elbows and huskily whispers, "That was great, amazing even my love."

"You said it." you sighed lovingly.

The blonde then slides out of his bed and ties back on his nightrobe. "Do you need some l'eau? Cause i sure need some." he asks with a dry chuckle as he heads to open his room door. "Please do, thanks baby."

"Oh, I also forgot to tell you, I was thinking we could perform another round after we regain energy..or two." he adds, taking out one condom in a wrapper before two more flip out. Your mouth stood agape for a few seconds but then you laugh as you smiled at him and told him happily,

"You're the best boyfriend ever."

word count: >1.k cause i lost count lol

#aoyama #boku no hero academia #mha #aoyama x reader #aoyama yuga #mha x reader #aoyama smut #smut

[toiletwipes]

IM WAITING FOR THE PUNISHMENT, I KNOW ITS ON MY WAY | vampire!wilbur

~3k words / hey hey hey. so ahah. yeah. @l0veb0mb1ng keeps dropping bangers and they have good vampire fics so I couldn't help myself! blame her! anyways. hope yall enjoy!

[You get a little too invested in the murders happening around the city and get introduced to the phrase: fuck around and find out. Wilbur happened to be the person to save you. And he's kind of a vampire. Roll the tapes.]

Nothing makes sense in this fic, I am so sorry but the title is from Custer by Slipknot. I'll do a part 2 <//3

When one pictures their ideal death, it usually involves passing on during their sleep or perhaps something just as kind, maybe old age.

All this to say this is not what you pictured for yourself.

Curled up, in someone else's arms, a half-stranger, cradling your body as the two of you put pressure on the wound in your neck. You can hardly speak, struggling to even breathe, and all you can see is this man, speaking to you and you're hearing none of it. And after considering everything, yes you don't want to die… but dying in his arms seems nice.

A very handsome man, with brown, wispy, curling hair into his eyes as he looked over you, around you as he tried to find anything that could help. There was nothing. And you liked the way his eyes were red, despite knowing why they're red. His smile, you remember, had been the prettiest thing you'd ever have the pleasure to see.

"Wil-" you choke on the blood on your mouth, trying to speak, and his hands shake as they press harder on your neck and he shushes you, every part of him shaking even with the weight of your body in his lap.

"It's okay, you're gonna make it out of here, the ambulance-" and you lift a trembling hand to graze his cheek. It leaves a streak of blood on his cheek by his mouth.

"Smi- le. P-p-... please." And the two of you hear the sirens already, and his eyes flicker between the street and your face. And he chokes on air he doesn't need before flashing a small smile.

"You're going to make it out of here, I swear. You'll make it." He kept repeating it even as you felt the ache, the pain in your neck dull. Before you could realize it, you're being placed on the ground, gently as he could and without the added pressure from him, you gasp and gag on the flowing blood. But it doesn't last long, bright lights show and people slide into your blurring vision.

For better or for worse, you close your eyes and let them deal with it. Sleep tempts you enough to listen.

***

Blinking your eyes awake, you tilt your head to the side to see the monitoring equipment and the IV attached to your arm. You swallow, with an extremely dry throat you notice, and look away. You've always had a weak stomach when it comes to these things. Looking around as much as you could though, there's no one in the room. Your eyes trail to the door with the window and open blinds and people pass by every few seconds. Nobody opens the door.

You sigh, not that you really expected someone but… the last thing, the very last thing you remember, is the smiling face of a truly beautiful man. The thought of it, separated with the choking on your own blood part, still makes you feel warm.

The table beside you has your things on it, your phone and your keys. And a bouquet of flowers sitting in a vase, the prettiest you'd seen. You recognize tulips and carnations but nothing else. Still the white and blue flowers are pretty and thoughtful.

No tag on them to show who the flowers were from. Frowning, you take your phone, groaning for a second as you reach with a weak arm. Leaning back into the bed out of breath, the phone lays on your stomach, the cold screen apparent through the thin sheets.

When you catch your breath, you're quick to unlock the phone, going straight to your call log. There's a missed call from your boss and then there's your aunt in town, but there's one call that makes your eyebrows raise up.

It's a phone number you don't recognize, but checking the text messages, it seems like you did know him. Or, were going to know him. And then it all comes back to you.

Meeting him at night, having information about these strange killings in your part of the city, and then after a week of this, being attacked. Not by him. Something else entirely. And he'd tried his best to call the ambulance, let them know of your location and held tight to make sure you made it till then. At least you think. (And if you think hard enough, you remember part of his name. Will, maybe.)

The last thing you truly do remember is his smile and the warmth it brought you even when touching him made you shiver and the cold ground still sink into your bones, even now in this hospital, you could feel it.

The door opens and a doctor walks in.

He explains you lost a lot of blood, that they managed to get to you in time and that if they were a minute late, you wouldn't have been here. But then he explains that you've got a patch on your neck, that despite losing so much blood, it didn't even need stitches. ("It was… strange.")

When you asked about the flowers, he hums and scratches his beard, "I think I saw a guy deliver them to your room but other than that, I don't know I'm sorry." You mumble your thanks, sinking into your bed before the nurse comes back in and you ask for another blanket.

They let you out after twenty-four hours, and you make it home in time to see… nothing has changed.

Everything was exactly as you left it.

Which also meant the dinner you were in the middle of eating was still there. You grimace, throwing the whole plate away as you move through your apartment. Nothing had been out of place.

Tapping your fingers against your folded arms, you think absently about the wound. About how you asked if he could anything, from that night, and he froze, it was for a split second but he froze. And then he shook his head, stopping and cutting himself off every few words. But it sounded mostly like he couldn't do it. Like it would hurt him. And hey, modern medicine has its wonders, so you're not too upset.

But that night when you go to peel the bandage back after getting completely undressed to shower, your breath is stolen completely. There is hardly a wound, sign that a wound was ever there in the first place. There's two tiny dots, dragged down in a jagged line, but they're mostly scars. Fresh, and still tender when you graze over it with a finger, but still. Scars.

It made you wonder.

Whatever he did, he didn't make you into something like him. That much was obvious. The hospital food had left you hungry for real food, but the food was still things like a sandwich or a box of donuts, things like that. Nothing like whatever made him hungry.

So, scrubbing your skin off of any dirt, you get out, and dry as fast as you can. Throwing on shorts and a hoodie, you sit in the middle of your bed, arms wrapped around your legs as you dialed the phone number to this man.

He doesn't answer. And he doesn't answer the second call, and that's when you leave the voicemail. "Hey, um, Will, is that right? I- it doesn't matter, or it's not that urgent but it matters to me but I need you to call me? Or something because I'm seriously freaking out and something's wrong. Please call me back." You've never felt more pathetic in that moment but what could you afford to lose?

Dignity means nothing to you right now and as you pad to your kitchen to eat, you just knew you needed answers. Leaving your phone on the bed just in case because if he calls, and you know it's a bad time to be petty, you want him to feel just a little desperate like you did. Enough to call you a second time.

And when you come out of the kitchen after eating the leftover soup in the fridge, you see your phone has one missed call. And nothing else. Not even a voicemail.

You wonder if you should call him back when you hear frantic banging on your door. Glancing at your phone one last time, you manage to convince yourself that it couldn't possibly be him. It's way too soon, there's no way he lives close by and when did you ever give him your address?

The frantic banging didn't stop until you slide the lock off the door and opened it, and your mouth gaped open at seeing him. Him.

"I-" you stammer, struggling to form a thought. "I called you like four minutes ago, how-" he waves his hand and stops you from talking again.

"Will you let me in? And show me what's wrong?" His voice pleads with you and you bite down on your lip, chewing as you contemplated it for a second. It is why you called him, after all.

Letting him in, you lock the door behind him and show him to the couch. He doesn't sit but you're too bothered to care about it, you sit with your legs tucked under you.

"I want to start by saying I don't exactly remember everything that night, just that I was supposed to meet you and when I did, I got attacked and I- I almost died."

("Hey, hey, stay with me, you're going to be okay. Y- you're going to make it, just- just listen to my voice okay?" His voice shakes in your memory. And you have to pull all of your strength together to stay focus, even with all the blood leaving and choking and the hot, blinding pain in your neck.)

He doesn't move but you can see the flashes of emotion on his face.

"And- and when I got home and went to take a shower, it's just. Well, look." You stuttered through the beginning, breath catching in your throat as you thought about it and when you pulled the jacket down enough, just to show the scars, he stiffened. "And I wanted to know if you did anything to me- if you tried to heal me, even a little bit-" and he shakes his head, turning away and to the window. He stands by it and yeah, you look at his hands, they're closed and shaking with how hard he's clenching them.

"I told you at the beginning, there are going to be risks, looking into this." And he turns around, face definitely angry and frustrated. He can't cry, and it's not a thing of refusing to, no you can see them building in his eyes and they just won't fall. "If I tried to save you the way I was, you would have rathered me to kill you by now." And he starts pacing.

You look down at the ground, not feeling an ounce of guilt or regret. You know the truth of those murders, first hand. You know what's killing them and that's more than what the public knows. But it almost killed you.

"You have to drop it." He speaks.

And automatically, you refused, "no." You didn't even want to entertain what he wanted you to do.

"Either you stop looking into this or you die. It's as simple as that." He says, moving away from the window and towards you.

"The people need to know they're not safe-"

"-they already know!" He shouts, stopping four steps away from you. He digs his palms into his eyes, "five people have died the same exact way and nobody has been caught. People already know they're not safe. And if you tell them what, a fucking blood-sucking demon is the person behind it, they'll never believe you. And then you'll still get killed just like everyone else." He drops the palms from his hands and then steps closer, and despite being so frustrated and scared, your heart beats harder at being so close to him.

"You almost died already, just please stop." His hands hover over your neck and face, close enough to feel the chill of his cold skin.

"I can't stop. The people who died-" "-they're already dead, there's nothing you can do for them." And he steps away and when you watch him, he releases a breath he doesn't need. He turns away and for a moment, things are quiet.

And thinking real quick, to the moment where he stood so close and stared you in the eye like you staying alive mattered more than the justice these people deserved- you recall the dark irises. Nothing like the red color before.

"You're hungry." You state, and his shoulders tense up. "Why?"

"Trying to lose weight, it doesn't matter. That's not what I'm here for." He refuses to turn around.

"It- I just- there's still one thing that I'm confused about." He doesn't say anything as you stand up, moving closer to him. "I was bleeding out, I was right there. It would've been easy to-"

"To kill you?" He turns around and the both of you freeze at how close the other is, despite him being far more aware of it. And yes, that's what you want to know. He was right there, the same kind of creature that's killing your city's people, holding your bleeding body and you were right there.

"It would've been easy," you say, and his eyes dart to your face. He searches your eyes for something you can't describe.

"It wasn't." He said in the end and then backed up, backs away from you, holding his breath again. "Stop trying to be a hero and lay low for a while." And then he slammed the door on his way out.

***

It's one thing, to be told to stop being a hero, it's another to follow through with the advice. It's not like you wanted to die, far from it. But knowing what you know, you couldn't just let everyone fend for themselves against a feral vampire.

Not to mention, you're not going to listen to someone be cryptic, be the prettiest man you've ever met, and then leave you alone to make stupid decisions.

So right now, you've been following whispers and half-true rumors about this guy. It leads you all the way to this house. Right on the corner and in the middle of a neighborhood. You wonder if that's by choice for a second before wandering inside, quiet as you could with creaking floorboards. Not to mention, the door was already unlocked and swinging in the wind.

Not a good sign.

The inside was in a worse state. Things toppled over, blood splattered every imaginable surface. Bodies littered the floor. It was harder to hold the bile in as you followed the trail of chaos up the stairs, following the noise. As soon as you reach the top of the stairwell, you hear Will's voice and your heart beats a little faster. What the fuck is he doing here? And after a few whispered words, you heard vile things.

Limbs torn, flesh bitten off. Awful stuff and by the time you can even think of moving your feet because was that Will? Did he just die? You see something tossed across the hallway and seconds later, Will walks into your line of sight. He is just covered in blood. It's smeared around his mouth, coating his hands and it's seeping into his clothes. His hair caught some of it but in all honesty, he looked every bit of monster he claimed to be.

And you couldn't feel more relieved to see him.

"Oh thank fucking- you're alive." You feel your shoulders drop and you run up the stairs, just close enough to wrap your arms around his shoulders and press your forehead against his chest, standing on the lower step. You make a point to ignore the blood.

His hands slowly come up to rest on your shoulders, pushing you away enough to give him space. Enough space to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. His eyes are wide, wild and completely red. Brighter than anything.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" His voice drops in pitch and it's almost a growl with the way he speaks so low. And shit, you were supposed to stay low, weren't you?

"I caught wind of the guy being here and I was just-" your words get caught off as you watch him move, his hands dragging blood across skin and clothing, wrapping themselves around your throat in a delicate motion before pushing you against the wall, still on the stairs.

"Yeah, he's dead. Made sure of it." Your eyes, previously focused on his face, dashed to look at the dead body's direction but he clicked his tongue, lifting a finger to nudge your face back towards him. "Eyes on me." And something about him, probably knowing he's a monster, covered in blood, right after killing the man you've been tracking down, makes his gentle touch feel even softer.

He groans, leaning his nose into your hair and inhaling, and he nearly covers you in his body with how close he is. "Can feel your heartbeat under my hands, it beats so fast. Thinking about me?"

And you know your heart beat even faster, knowing he could hear it, feel it. "Are you gonna kill me this time?" You ask, because this is a strangely ill-fitting position to kill someone. Because you want him to be this close because…

"Oh, I don't want to kill you- maybe get a taste of you but," he moans into your hair, a hand leaving to press against the wall beside your head, "no, no. Want you alive. Want you begging, squirming underneath me. Need you. Need you so fucking bad" And then he presses even closer, his hips pressing against yours and you can feel him. Feel him hard and twitching beneath blood-soaked clothes. And by then you couldn't keep your hands off of him, coming up to grip his clothes, bite back your whines as he continues to grind you against the wall.

Then, a moment of clarity, you remember you're in a house full of dead bodies. Probably all monsters.

"Take me home, Will, and you can have me," whatever possessed you to say that, you don't know. But he pulls back and as you're about to head downstairs, he presses a hand against the back of your head, pulling you close to him as he kisses you. Hard with teeth clacking against each other, nipping at your lip before pulling away. Listening to you pant against his mouth.

"Hold on," he whispers against your lips, stealing another kiss before wrapping your arms and legs around him and all you can think as the world blurs around you is how lucky you are you aren't dead. Strange thing to say before you get fucked into the next week by someone who is probably legally dead- after he just slaughtered a house full of monsters- quite the strange thing to say.

But still. You're lucky. You're alive, and you're starting to think you might like this guy.

Strange things indeed.

#wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot x reader #c: wilbur soot #au: vampire #vampire wilbur #tw: gore

[3minsover]

Steddie Dancing With the Stars AU Part 4 (last part for now - should i continue?)

After the absolute disaster that was Steve critiquing his form earlier in the week, Eddie thinks he’s got through the worst of it. Nothing much else happens in the next two days other than practice after practice. But Eddie’s overcome by the memory of the silken touch of Steve’s fingertips on his skin, and he’s finding it harder and harder to concentrate whenever he’s in Steve’s arms.

He knows it’s just the proximity. It’s just the emotion behind the dance, the parts they’re playing, But he wonders whether he might just be- no. There’s no time for that. They’ve got a competition to win.

And then Saturday comes, the day before dress runs at the studio, and they’re practising the dip towards the end of the number. It comes after a parade of turns that’s had Eddie’s brain whirling somewhere outside his skull all week.

"For real this time, okay?" Steve instructs, striding over to the spot in the studio where their sequence begins. Eddie scrubs a hand down his face, braces himself on his knees momentarily before righting himself and heading towards his taskmaster.

"Okay."

Turns out there’s one thing that Eddie could never have expected to go wrong.

Eddie’s trying to find his focal points, rising and falling where he must, clutching Steve’s large hand and firm bicep like they’re the only thing keeping him upright. And perhaps they are.

They reach the dip; Eddie rests all his weight on his back foot, releases Steve’s hand to draw his arm out in front and above him, and it’s only his iron grip on Steve’s arm, the pressure of Steve’s hand around his waist, that grounds him. The room’s spinning a little. Which is why, when Steve tenses, and Eddie engages his core, straightens back up, he’s a little off balance.

It’s why, when Eddie’s returning to his full height, his brain seems to keep moving forward. It’s why Eddie topples a little in his ascent, throws his arm over Steve’s shoulder, and as he straightens, and Steve shifts to take his weight, the worst thing happens. 

Their lips brush.

It’s only featherlight, the gentlest contact, but it happened. And it’s like an electrical fire sparks behind Eddie’s eyes. He hears Steve’s breath hitch, feels his strong arm tense with a jerk around his waist, and when Eddie’s eyes focus, meeting Steve’s own in embarrassment, anxious as to how he’ll react, whether he’ll react, he sees this bewildered look on the usually-stoic man’s face.

Steve’s soft pink mouth has fallen ever so slightly into a little ‘o’, and his brows are pinched together above the bridge of his nose. His golden-hazel eyes are wide, guileless, surprised, and there’s a horribly adorable red flush blooming under the skin of his cheeks. They’re nose to nose, hardly daring to breathe for fear of tearing the fragile film that surrounds this moment.

"Sorry…accident…lost my…balance…’" Eddie breathes, entirely enraptured by whatever light shines from within Steve’s eyes.

"It’s- it’s okay," Steve whispers back, hazel eyes searching Eddie’s. he can only hope he possesses what Steve’s looking for.

"Yeah?"

"It’s- It’d be okay… if it wasn’t an accident…"

"It would?"

"Eddie, I- You can-" Steve starts, stops himself before he can finish the sentence. But Eddie’s hooked entirely on whatever Steve was going to say next. Eddie hopes it’s what he thinks Steve was going to say, but he can’t assume something like that.

"What is it, Steve?" Eddie breathes, feels the air catch and swirl between their mouths. Steve’s eyelids drop closed for just a moment, and Eddie studies the violet veins that lay like spiderwebs across the delicate skin. Steve inhales hard through his nose, before breathing out shakily. When he opens his eyes again, there’s a soft, almost imploring look in them.

"You can do it again. I- If you wanted to- Kiss me."

For a moment, Eddie’s mind whites out. the thing he’s been yearning for for days, it’s being offered to him just like that. And then his brain catches up with Steve’s request.

He swallows hard, buys himself a moment to build his nerve, before leaning in as quickly as he dares. He presses his lips to Steve’s in a chaste, hesitant kiss, inhaling the scent of his skin and basking in the softness of Steve’s lips against his own. Steve pulls back, before tipping his chin forward again, his free hand snaking around Eddie’s waist to join his left one. 

Eddie cups Steve’s jaw, fingertips sliding into the soft hair behind his ear, and risks parting his lips ever so slightly. When Steve matches, lets just the tip of his tongue graze Eddie’s bottom lip, Eddie knows he’s done for. This isn’t just characters bleeding over, this is real, and it’s tender and it’s almost shaking with barely restrained desire. Eddie pulls Steve closer to him, eyes rolling as Steve hums in satisfaction. They end up tangled and twined around each other, hands roaming only as far as underneath hems of tees - they want to savor it - but entirely lost in one another all the same.

Before long, they’re both breathing hard, chests pressed together. Steve draws away only so far as to speak. And when he does, it’s quiet, hardly louder than breath, and accompanied by a fond smile.

"You- Y’know we can’t do that on the show."

"I- obviously not. As…as long as we can do it again some time?"

"How about tonight?"

#steddie #stranger things au #3minsover #fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson #originally posted on twitter

[dark-noctis]

Writing Prompt #16

(not sure if i hate or love this, but it'll have to make do until i can gather myself and write properly again lol)

“You haven't been around much, Hero. Did I scare you away?” Villain states, trying to seem indifferent. They knew that something was probably wrong, of course they guessed as such when Hero was nowhere to be seen for the better part of a month, but seeing Hero's eyes swiftly avoiding theirs after the question proves Villain right.

“You know me,” Hero answers, a small smile gracing their lips, not ingenuine but not quite real. “Always off doing things, disappearing when need be.”

“No, seriously,” Villain says, taking a step towards Hero so that they stand face to face, “Where have you been?”

Hero laughs, as if Villain said something amusing, their gaze finally making its way to Villain's eyes. “Stop pretending you care.”

Villain wants to say, I'm not pretending, wants to grab Hero by the arms and shake the answer out of them because they're worried, damn it; but they settle for another lie instead. “You forget I'm supposed to be after you. It's hardly inappropriate for me to be curious. But if you don't want to tell me, then simply say so. I have my own ways of finding out.”

“Fine,” Hero bites out, “I was on a mission... for SuperHero.”

“None of SuperVillain's agents reported any signs of an attack against villains, nor an attempt at an act of heroism in over a month. No trades or exchanges were made, no one from SuperHero's Organization was spotted trying to cross the border. So, I'm going to ask again, where have you been?”

“I was being tortured, you asshole,” Hero shouts, their face inches away from Villain's, eyes burning with fury and something else Villain can't quite decipher, “Happy?”

Villain wouldn't define it as happy. Enraged, is more like it. Furious. Upset. Worried. They feel like breaking something, or screaming, but they can't scare off Hero after their admission, so Villain asks “Who?”

“It's... another hero. You wouldn't know them, they aren't in your district.”

“Oh, trust me, they will know me. I want a name.”

There's a quick, futile moment where Villain catches a glimpse of hesitation in Hero's eyes, but the moment breaks when Hero shakes their head in disagreement. “That's already a lot of information. I think we're done here,” Hero says, turning away to leave.

Villain knows they should leave it alone, knows that no attempt at insulting Hero could explain their interest in the matter, but they reach for Hero's wrist anyway. Hero hisses in pain, despite Villain's touch being inexplicably gentle, a proof of their treacherous heart. Villain curses silently before slowly pulling back the sleeve of Hero's tunic to reveal scars that aren't even properly healed, their once smooth skin now covered in shades of red that don't belong there. Villain's breath hitches at the sight. They know that they've done worse, covering the skin of their enemies with so many scars that they couldn't tell where the pain stopped and the healing began, but not to Hero. Never to Hero.

“I don't understand,” Villain manages to say, their voice suddenly sounding so small and defeated, guilty eyes avoiding Hero's gaze as they talk, “Why would a hero torture you? What possible reason could they have to justify—”

“Information,” Hero interrupts as they free their sleeve from Villain's grasp and cover the scar again carefully, “Information I had that no other hero did. It was bound to happen eventually. I'm just glad it wasn't SuperHero who decided to finally extract it because my punishment would've been much, much harsher then.”

“Damn it, why didn't you just give it to them?” Villain protests. They can only guess the state of the rest of Hero's body, considering how long they had been missing, and how fresh even the most superficial wounds looked. “Why didn't you just tell them?”

Hero answers so, so quietly that Villain thinks they've imagined it when they say, “Couldn't betray you.”

And Villain doesn't know what to do with that, doesn't know how to breathe with this information that sits heavily on their chest, over their heart that beats loudly, angry but yearning all at once. It's another moment of suffocating silence before Villain whispers “Why?” into the small space between the two of them.

“Because,” Hero stars, red-rimmed eyes finally meeting Villain's, “You tell me all these things about yourself and what you do, despite who I am, and you don't even hurt me enough to be anything of importance even when I deserved it and you're— God, you're so confusing, sometimes, with all the words of endearment you use. How you manage to make them sound insulting I'll never know, but damn it, Villain, when it came down to losing this” they say, pointing at the two of them, “or giving in, I realized I'd prefer enduring whatever they decided to do to me over betraying your trust.”

“Hero...”

“Just... be safe, okay?” Hero interrupts, looking away from Villain, “I don't want this to be all in vain. Not that I wouldn't have done it again, because I would, but just be careful.”

Villain nods, unshed tears blurring their vision, even though Hero won't be able to see it. And this time, when Hero decides to walk away, Villain lets them, forcing themself to watch as a single tear leaves a perfect trail on their face, the door shutting close behind them.

Such a fucking coward, their mind betrays them too, as treacherous as their heart which remains aching in their ribcage. A lonely, undeserving coward.

#hero villain whump #hero x villain prompt #hero x villain #villain x hero #hero villain prompt #hero villain snippet #writing prompts #writing prompt #my writing #villain prompt #villains and heroes

[beria1021]

Warmth (Soft, SFW Venti x Reader)

I know they didn't request this, but this is inspired by a post by @the-gayest-sky-kid. If you read, I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1.1K

There are few warmer places in Mondstadt than the Angel’s Share tavern. Considered from a purely objective perspective, this should not be true. The building is drafty, with two stories of room for air circulation and thin wooden walls—the reason for the absence of a fireplace. Even sheltered within the capital’s walls, Mondstadt gets cold, especially at night. Angel’s Share should not be warm. 

It is anyway.

The doors opened hours ago, but the atmosphere is still lively. Charles is kept busy by the patrons drinking the night away in splashes of effervescent color. Playing cards, laughing, dancing, singing, it all feels so warm, even to one who prefers to watch from the sidelines, as Mondstadt’s most popular bard dances to his own song atop one of the tables.

Venti attracts attention wherever he goes, and not entirely by accident. A bard is meant to be noticed, and their songs are meant to be shared. Tonight, he is doing just that. You can hardly spot him through the crowd of people though you are only a few feet away. He’s got them all dancing, tripping over each other in drunken joy as they stomp to the beat of his song. The atmosphere swirls around you in a flash of disbelief. To be here, at this time, with him. The scenario seems impossible, yet here you are, treasuring every moment. 

Rising from your seat on the edge of the jumble, you crane your neck to catch just a glimpse, solid proof—brilliant green eyes catch your own. For a moment, there is no one. No press of bodies, no scent of wine, no shouting or laughter, nothing except warmth, a song, and the two of you.

He winks, and the moment unravels. You smile, grab your drink, and join in on the song. 

***

It's early but not early enough to still be called late, when you finally stumble wearily out of the tavern, Venti’s arm hooked around your shoulder to keep you upright. You’d only had a couple of drinks throughout the course of the night, so your unsteadiness is mostly exhaustion. 

Venti, however, exhibits none of your symptoms, and he’d hardly let go of his drinks except to play his lyre. His feet are sure despite the hours of dancing, his voice is clear despite its use, and his eyes are bright despite the fogginess over your own.

“‘s not fair,” you grumble, navigating through the dark.

Venti giggles, his hands brushing your arms. They seem to sear your skin. Blearily, you wonder if you’d mind. “And what is that which seems unjust, to one so true as my dear gust?”

You fake a stumble to step on his foot but then sigh and lean closer. The night is cold, after all. “I am tired, and you-” you punctuate it with a lazy tug on his slightly mussed braid “-are not.”

“Oh? But if I was weary from the day, I could not hold you, your steps to stay! Would you prefer I dump you here to make your own way?”

“Hey. I can walk home by my own power.” As if on cue, your dragging feet catch on a cobblestone and you lurch forward, only to be steadied by the arm around your shoulders and another on your waist, burning through the layers like coals. He laughs, and you can feel your face heat up in embarrassment and . . . something else. 

“If fantasies your heart desires, then listen to the strum of my lyre~    ” He winks and clings to you even tighter, moving both of his arms to wrap around your neck, as if he was the one needing support. 

His lyre materializes from his vision, and you watch in awe as his eyes and braids begin to glow teal. A warm breeze plays with your clothes and twirls the lyre in front of you both. Venti flicks a hand, and a gentle melody begins to play, as beautiful as if plucked by his own hands. Your eyes widen and you turn towards him. He stubbornly holds on, so he’s practically hugging you, face pressed against you.

“Venti . . .” you breathe in awe before shaking yourself out of it. This could be bad if anyone happens to see it. “This might not be the best idea. Even vision holders can’t do that, I don’t think.” Honestly, it’s already a minor miracle that Mondstadt’s populace hadn’t figured out his identity yet. Well, despite a few including yourself, that is.

He breathes into your neck, “Guess we’d better get a move on then, huh? Now hush and let me sing to you!”

You chuckle and nudge him into walking. In his most genuine moments, Venti hardly rhymes at all—unless he’s singing, of course. Which he does now, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. The words are soft and delicate, things to be treasured.

You lean against each other as he sings, and your eyes begin to droop until you can hardly see the cobblestones beneath your feet. The night is still and otherwise silent. Your fingers are tucked beneath Venti’s cape to ward off the chill, and though you know the way by heart, you can barely make out the shapes of the buildings that surround you. 

You wish the moment would never end.

After a while, the song finishes with a final strum of the lyre and a mere whisper against your skin. You shiver. His voice is still soft and absolutely sober when he says, “Welcome home. Let’s get you warm, yeah?”

You blink to awareness and find yourself being led up the stairs into your shared apartment. He pushes the door open and lights a lamp before leading you to the bedroom. 

You stand there as he sets down the lamp, pulls back the comforter, and gestures to the bed. You sit down and blink lethargically at Venti, who steps out of his shoes and, with practiced hands, undoes both his cape and corset before leaning down to remove your boots. Your mind is moving slowly, but you remember the cloak you’re still wearing and fumble with its clasp. After a moment, soft hands stop your own, and the fabric falls to the bed.

You lay down, too tired to do any more, and smile up at him as your eyes close. “Thank . . . you . . .”

He climbs up beside you and sits up by the headboard. Gentle hands tug you closer until your head is resting on his thighs. You curl up, and his arm wraps around you. You grasp his hand closer. His other hand rests on your hair, gently scratching your head. 

As you fall asleep, you can hear the first words of a lullaby drifting above you.

#genshin x reader #venti x reader #sfw #nonsexual intimacy #my writing #fanfiction #gender neutral reader #esblished relationship #these are just AO3 tags at this point. I'll stop #ive been wanting to write something for a while so thank you for the inspiration #<3

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Part 21 - Sherlock

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Part 20 -- Part 22

Pairing: Sherlock x ofc

Summary: The guys throw a New Years Eve party at 179th Crescent Street...

Warnings: SMUT, NSFW, 18+, MINORS DNI, oral (f and m receiving), p-in-v sex.

Word count: 4.2k

A/N: Well, well, well... It's our beloved darling Sherlock. What else is there to say?

Let me know what you think! 🥰

@deandoesthingstome @geralts-yenn @summersong69 @peaches1958 @fvckinghenrycavill @keanureevesisbae @livisss @sillyrabbit81 @ellethespaceunicorn @ylva-syverson @poledancingdinos

"Can we just skip the party?" Elena asks when I kiss my way up her body again. "And then you can keep doing that all night?" 

"That would be rather unfair, don't you think?" She looks up at me innocently and shakes her head. I can't help but laugh - she's not wrong. I could spend all night going down on her and be perfectly happy about it, but I've secretly been dying for her to return the favour. Despite my curiosity, I am plagued by nerves. It has been a mere two weeks since we first kissed, and things have been happening rather quickly since then. I find my mind in a constant battle between new desires and my need to process all that has been going on. 

"Then maybe it's time for me to repay you?" I hardly think any type of guardian angel would be looking out for me in this particular way, so I'll have to go with either dumb luck or a natural progression of things. I hope the latter, I'm not overly fond of relying on things such as luck. Elena's hands are already wandering. Her long, slender fingers dip underneath the waistband of my trousers, and my breath catches in my throat. There is no doubt in my mind about what she is about to do, and I want her to - but I also want to stop her, put my shirt back on, and run. She senses my hesitation and smiles. “You’re not ready for this.” It isn’t a question, which I greatly appreciate. Had it been a question, I might have lied - and lying isn’t generally something I tend to enter into. 

“Have you seen my shirt?” I ask, slightly annoyed. Why can’t I find the darn thing? 

“I have.” The innocence in her voice means nothing good, that much I’ve learned in the past two weeks. As soon as I look up, I sigh. The good news is that I have found my shirt. The bad news is that Elena is wearing it, which means she will have to take it off. I am fairly sure I’ve said ‘we need to get dressed’ four times in the past hour. Needless to say; It did not work.

“We can’t keep doing this,” I warn as she walks over to me. Logically, if what I said is true, and we indeed cannot keep doing this, then I should be doing something to make sure we will not, in fact, keep doing it. The only problem is that I seem to be firmly glued to the edge of my bed, where I am currently sitting, and nothing about me seems inclined or able to move. That leaves us with only one other solution: What I said was not true, and we can - and likely will - keep doing what we were doing before. And I cannot say that I am in any way, shape or form likely to complain about that situation. 

Elena slowly stalks towards me while opening the buttons of my shirt - one by one, until it falls open and she is standing right in front of me with a leg on either side of mine. It’s far too difficult to keep my hands to myself. As if by magic - though I wouldn’t rule out demonic possession at this point - they hook behind her knees and pull her in until her knees are next to my hips and my lips are pressed to the soft skin of her stomach. With my hands on her hips, I urge her to sit down on my lap so I can kiss her. As soon as my lips touch hers, she moans loudly. The sound is exquisite as always, succeeding every single time in turning my insides liquid and my knees weak. This woman has me wrapped entirely around her finger, and I suspect she is more than aware of this fact - though I feel she does try her hardest not to exploit it too much. I answer to the sound with a low growl. It escapes me - I’m more than aware that it only fuels her desires, but I cannot seem to help myself. It’s odd. Resisting these urges was never a problem before. Sometimes, I fear she has bewitched me. It wouldn’t be logical, but neither is the fact that I still seem to have regained no control whatsoever over my emotions and desires.  

Her tongue explores my mouth, and mine hers, as they have done countless times - it’s almost impressive, considering I had never done this before a mere three weeks ago. Behind Elena’s efforts glints a sliver of impatience, an innate pressure from within to further our endeavours. A hunger. Lust. It’s evident in the motions of her lips against mine, and the travelling of her hands over my upper body, where she claws at my shoulders and softly traces my spine. With great reluctance, I break the kiss. 

“Darling, would you stop that?” She shakes her head briefly in reply. Of course she will not. She is more than aware of the effect her touch has on me, especially in this particular way, and her eyes reveal that she relishes my responses. 

“I want you,” she says softly. The phrase itself - or even the tone in which she says it - shouldn’t be particularly arousing to me, but my body once again betrays my mind, as is so often the case in situations that involve Elena. She knows I hate the tone she takes with me. It makes me shiver, and it causes my cock to twitch in my pants. Elena grinds her hips on mine, and I groan in reply. She’s naked - and wet - and making a mess of my trousers. It’s only a matter of time now before one of my friends comes knocking to see where we are. 

“We have to get dressed and go downstairs, Elena.” Now if only I could say that in a tone that sounded in any way convincing. The simplest truth is that I want precisely what she wants - but not like this. And I have to tell her that before the divine feeling of those lips on my neck robs me of my ability to think. 

“Not like this, love,” I whisper. My breath catches in my throat, and as is so often the case when I’m with her, I speak without thinking. “Tonight.”

We make our way downstairs, where we can hear Marshall’s voice in the hallway. He sounds annoyed - he has hardly been himself lately, and none of us know why that is. It’s rather curious, to say the very least. Not that he is generally particularly sunny, but his recent demeanour suggests something is the matter with him.

“Listen, you’re not the only people on the planet. Get a fucking room.” Elena looks at me as she tightens her grip on my hand. She raises her eyebrows inquisitively, but all I can do is shrug. I know exactly as much about this situation as she does. 

“Marshall, go find yourself someone to suck your dick, and leave us alone.” That is clearly the sound of Danielle’s voice. At the bottom of the stairs, she and Mike are engaged in a display of affection that is slightly inappropriate for a communal area, but they don’t seem to care much. I normally would, but something about the way Elena holds on to me tells me that I will struggle to maintain decorum before the night is out, as well. 

August and Anjelica are the first familiar faces we encounter in the already crowded kitchen. 

“I didn’t think the two of you would make it down here at all,” August says with a suggestive smirk. “Wine?” The offer is primarily for Elena, and she accepts gratefully. Moments later, I, too, am handed a glass. 

“Thank you,” I mutter. The kitchen is quite loud, thus my words will largely be inaudible. Knowing August, however, the accompanying nod will suffice as an answer. August is holding Anjelica close, and I can see why. It looks as though she has been crying - which would hardly be strange, seeing as she’s an incredible perfectionist with absolutely no sense of self-preservation. She has that in common with Elena - with whom she gets along remarkably well. 

“Should I be glad Elena gets along with Anjelica so well?” I ask August, who is obviously paying as little attention to the conversation the girls are engaged in as I am. 

“Oh, we don’t get a say in these things.” Geralt emerges from God knows where, and Solveig joins Anjelica and Elena in their chatter. This would be the time for any man to give up on trying to keep up with their conversation. It is simply a feat that far exceeds our capabilities. “I’m fairly sure we’re already doomed.”

“What do you mean?” I ask, confusion clearly laid out in my voice as I raise an eyebrow inquisitively. Surely it can’t be that terrible?

“I heard,” Geralt answers, stressing that we didn’t get this information from him, which is his way of letting us know that he came by this knowledge through his sensitive hearing. It also means he considers what we’re currently doing gossiping - a practice he generally despises, and I can’t help but agree. “That they’re planning a girls night.” That hardly sounds like a very large problem, but perhaps my limited experience with relationships has left me without some important information on the subject. 

“That usually means that all of them are going to be told every minute intimate detail of your relationship, so they can… I don’t know why they do it, just that they do.” I silently thank August for supplying this information, but it also raises several concerns. 

“How intimate?” I inquire, trying hard to keep surprise and dread away from both my voice and face. Judging from the way August smirks back at me, I don’t succeed. 

“Yes, that intimate,” Geralt says - though ‘snarl’ might be a more apt description of the sound he makes. 

“We’re not looking forward to it, either,” August reassures me as he lays a hand on my shoulder. I can’t say I’m thrilled at the prospect of having all these girls know the most intimate details of my relationship, but thanks to my lack of experience with these things, I can’t say I’m overly worried about it, either.  

“Not looking forward to what?” Elena joins me again and wraps her arms around me.

“Nothing.” The girls seem to think nothing of the fact that the three of us grunt the word in unison - but looks can be deceiving, especially when one deals with women. 

Charles seems to have invited half of the university - which isn’t a problem, merely an inconvenience, as I’m not quite fond of people, and there are a lot of them in my house right now - and I find myself in quite the conundrum. Leaving the party without being seen is utterly impossible, and I’m uncharacteristically concerned with what people will think if I leave now, but I also can’t quite spend another minute here - and it isn't even midnight yet.

I feel Elena's arm around my waist as she leans into me. 

"Do you want to get out of here?" she asks coyly. I couldn't put into words my desire to say yes if my life depended on it, but despite the overwhelming urge, I say nothing. She takes my hand in hers and pulls me along, and with every step my surroundings blur until the only thing I see is her. 

Every next step up the stairs is harder than the last. I will my feet to move, but when the door to my room - or rather: the door that leads to the stairs that lead up to my room - closes, I no longer seem to be able to lift them. 

“I’d love to hear it,” Elena says suddenly. Whatever is she talking about? My confusion must be evident from my expression, because she continues her query: “The no doubt incredibly logical reasoning behind your doubts. And everything else that’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours.” Her hands feel so soft against my cheek, that I involuntarily let out a sigh. Elena all but drags me up the stairs to my room - after making sure to lock the door, that is - and towards my bed. As I drop myself down onto the mattress, a sound of utter exasperation escapes me. 

“Talk to me,” she says as she joins me on the bed, climbing over me in the process, before nestling into my side. She lays her head on my chest, and I weave a hand into her hair. I have found it is something I find comforting. We lay there for a moment before she repeats her question. She has no other choice: I was rather disinclined to answer it. If I’m being quite honest, I still am. Elena senses my reluctance and scoffs. “Come on. When an eighteen year old guy has a horny girl in his bed and doesn’t want to fuck, something’s usually going on.”

“That is a wildly incorrect statement.” I say plainly. She looks at me in utter bewilderment, which leads me to chuckle. “You are operating under the assumption that I don’t want to… very well… fuck. You are wrong.” 

“Well, then, allow me to amend my statement: When an eighteen year old guy has a horny girl in his bed and wants to fuck her, but doesn’t, something’s going on.”

“Alright, that is an acceptable observation.” Perhaps it is unfair of me to circumvent her implicit question, but I feel uncomfortable, and I technically haven’t been asked anything. Therefore, I will not answer the question I have not been asked. 

“Well, what is it?” Oh, bother. 

"I told you I needed time to process all that was happening," I answer, knowing it will not satisfy Elena's relentless curiosity. 

"I remember. Continue." 

"Now, I feel like I have to wait." I say softly. "The truth is that I don't think I need much - or any - time at all. I want you, Elena. All of you."

"We already knew your mind processes things quickly," she jokes.

"That's just it, darling. I haven't even begun to process these emotions. I simply can't figure out how. Yet it feels so incredibly natural." Feelings. If someone had offered me three weeks ago the opportunity to do away with them altogether, I would have taken it. Now, I cannot say I would. I am far from done with exploring the feelings I have for her - and what little I know of them yet, is far too precious to me. 

"We can wait until next year," she says as she grins up at me. 

"Clever girl," I chuckle. "I think we might." I also like to think that, despite the novelty of the event, we won't manage before next year. Or rather; it would sorely bruise my ego, otherwise, seeing as we're a mere ten minutes away. 

She's working on the fourth button of my shirt by the time I even notice she's undressing me. I recently developed the theory that she does this just to see how far she can get before I catch her - she gladly confirmed my suspicions when I brought it up. I'm also quite happy to find that she is rather good at it, though tonight is one of those nights where I will allow myself a little less patience than usual. She smiles when I pull my shirt over my head and immediately attempt to rid her of her blouse. 

"Are you trying to get me naked?" she teases. I can't help but roll my eyes at her utterly redundant question.

"No, I'm baking biscuits," I retort. It's not a clever reply, but I'm not overly concerned with coming across as especially witty right now. All I want is to feel the warmth of her skin against mine. 

"Before any more clothes come off," she says quickly as she - much to my dismay - wrestles herself away from the kiss we were engulfed in, "I want you to know I'm not currently on any birth control, so we'll have to use con- Sherlock! I'm trying to talk to you!" 

"I'm trying to kiss you!" 

"And I will let you, after we have a very mature conversation about birth control," Elena laughs. 

"Pardon my ignorance, but what is there to talk about? What methods of contraception you use hardly concerns me. I won't pretend to have any say in the matter, it's your body we're talking about, after all." She kisses me fiercely, so I can only assume I said something to deserve it, though I can't for the life of me think of what that would have been. 

My next attempt to take her blouse off isn’t met with any resistance, and I sigh deeply when the fabric falls away to reveal her gorgeous body. I sincerely doubt I’ll ever get used to the sight. She squints when it only takes me one try to open the clasp of her bra. 

“I don’t like that you know how to do that already,” she says, pulling her lips into a pout that makes me think several unholy things at once. 

“You weren’t so bothered by my efficiency this afternoon,” I remind her. Much to my surprise, she hadn’t been asking me to stop yet after four consecutive orgasms. She chuckles - a delightful sound that turns into a moan when I kiss her neck. My hands roam her body, impatiently following a downward trajectory. Never in my life have I been so thoroughly annoyed by a pair of jeans. My agitation clearly interferes with my dexterity - so much so that Elena barely suppresses a fit of laughter before helping me. 

I'm not quite sure what happens next, but in only a short moment, I find her on top of me. For a brief instance, I allow myself to relish the weight of her body on mine - it feels good, but I couldn't begin to explain why.

"Do you have condoms?" She asks suddenly, and I nod as I quietly thank Geralt for insisting I take them. "Good." Her lips are on mine only for a second, then they're off again, brushing over the skin of my neck, descending further every time they touch my body again. This time, I find that I am not quite as nervous as before - not that I’m given much time to be. 

Her hands work much quicker than mine once again, but I never get the impression she is rushing. I wish she would. These past two weeks have led me to wonder whether I am as patient as I always thought myself to be. Perhaps I am simply rather good at feigning composure. I find myself longing for her touch so much that it doesn’t startle me. In fact, I feel what I would most easily describe as a sense of relief when her hand wraps around my erection, my face and voice acting entirely of their own accord in accompaniment. My back arches off the mattress the first time Elena's tongue touches my cock. God, that feels amazing. The view is rather phenomenal, too. Sensations and emotions mix in my brain until I can no longer figure out where one ends and the next begins.

"Fuck," I groan under my breath as she moves her head up and down. Every time she goes down, she takes more of me into her mouth. There's a determination in her eyes that inflates my ego - apparently there's a degree of difficulty involved here that I didn't know existed. It becomes impossible to hold back my moans as she keeps going down until she finally gags. I'm fairly certain my first thoughts regarding this should be to see if Elena is quite alright. Instead, my mind is consumed by one thought, and one thought only: 'Do that again.' 

"Oh," she says, abandoning her ministrations and crawling up until she straddles my hips, "my baby has a dark side." 

"Please tell me I didn't say that out loud," I groan, but the grin on her face tells me everything I need to know. 

"You did," she says, the grin widening as she leans in to take my bottom lip in between her teeth. The sensation caused by her teeth scraping the soft flesh sends chills down my spine. "I like it. I want you inside of me, now." 

"Technically, I was inside of you just now," I reply without thinking, "can't we go back to that?" 

Elena playfully slaps my arm and laughs while she rummages around in the drawer of my nightstand until she finds what she's looking for. 

Luckily, she takes charge of putting the condom on. I don't have any hands-on experience, and… My thoughts are disturbed as a loud thud sounds from downstairs, followed by laughter that unmistakably comes from Mike and Danielle. 

"Why?" I whine when I see Elena's face morph into a pained expression as she attempts to choke back laughter. 

"What were they do-"

"No!" I interrupt, "I don't care about what they were doing! Really. Not one bit. I care - deeply, I might add - about what we were doing, and I'd like to keep doing it. Please." Yes, I am begging her, and I honestly couldn't care less at this time. I need her. 

"Care deeply, huh?" She lightly trails her slender fingers over my chest, fingernails scratching my skin lightly, every path feeling like a million tiny flames erupt on my skin in the wake of her touch. "Tell me what you want." 

"A minute ago you couldn't wait to jump me, now you're trying to make me beg for it," I growl. The faint hint of aggression in my own voice surprises me. "I want you to stop toying with me." 

Elena swallows hard and bows her head. I lift her chin and pull her in for a kiss while she slowly sinks down onto my cock. Neither of us bother with trying to keep quiet. It is both impossible and undesirable at this time. The tight warmth of her body surrounding me inhibits my ability to think clearly, but it is immediately obvious to me that I likely won't last very long. My suspicions are confirmed when she starts moving - slowly at first, but increasing her pace after only a few short moments. Half of my moans get caught in my throat - thank goodness. In the back of my mind, I hear her moan. The noise is faint: I can't say I'm particularly occupied with it over my own experience. It isn’t that I am unwilling to take note of her pleasure, it’s simply that I find myself once again overwhelmed by new, and thus unfamiliar sensations. They’re not unpleasant - in fact, they are far from unpleasant. I’d happily agree to a description that is more along the lines of ‘phenomenal’. Elena never stops moving as she takes my face in her hands. 

"Don't hold back," she pleads, "I want to hear you enjoy this." I can’t say whether it’s the sound of her voice, the look in her eyes, or just the timing, but it's advice I'll have to remember for next time. 

"Logically, I knew there was a very decent chance this would happen," I mutter while Elena climbs off of me and nestles into my side, "but I still feel the need to apologise." 

"Don't," she sighs, "I simply won't accept it." At this point, I am far too worn out to argue, so I opt to look at her until she elaborates, instead. 

"You did nothing wrong, there is nothing to apologise for. Therefore, you would be apologising without a cause, which makes the apology meaningless, thus inherently insincere, which is not something I can accept." I would say I hate it when she uses logic against me, but it would be a blatant lie. In fact, I find it incredibly attractive. 

Elena gives me a moment before taking my hand and dragging me out of bed, throwing on as little clothes as needed to be appropriate enough for the inconvenient yet very necessary trip downstairs. I silently curse the location of my room and the fact that I now have to navigate these infernal stairs in my current intoxicated state. Elena, on the other hand, seems rather unbothered by any desire for secrecy.

“They won’t care, Sherlock,” she reassures me as she makes her way downstairs in a rather casual fashion. She’s right, of course, I know she is. Unfortunately, that doesn’t prevent me from feeling a form of inexplicable shame regarding the current situation. No matter how hard I try, I cannot seem to find a logical explanation for the unwelcome feeling. I should be used to the indecipherability of certain emotions by now, but alas. It isn’t until I am once again in my bed, holding Elena securely in my arms, that the feeling slowly fades as I fall asleep. 

#179cs #179 crescent street #henry cavill characters #henrycavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill sherlock holmes #sherlock x ofc #sherlock holmes x ofc #179cs21

[feudalismoffire]

What a long morning this was…

From yelling to my mom, to nearly being burned alive to the deepest conversation I ever had with my dad… What could possible happen else?

Oh well, I tell you what happened…

After me and my siblings played near the entrance for a while, mother had arrived back with our breakfast… Well, their breakfast, to be exact. I counted, one, two, three, four, five meat pieces… None for me, of course.

We stayed silence all the moment, we stopped fooling around and just cowered as mother walked around, throwing dead trees into a large fire pit place in the lunch room, then breath a sudden fire that I almost believe it was aiming for me, in actuality, but missed by little.

She was still angry, clearly, but she was more than this, her snout was covered in blood from the animals she brought, not only scary, quite ununsual, she always cleaned herself before even arriving at the rivers, well, I can’t say I know what was going within her head…

“Mother…? Your…” One of my brothers said, pointing out to his own snout.

She seemed to knock out of whatever trance she was and moved towards the small fountain within the lair, washing herself. She acted like nothing was out of usual and calmly walked back to the fire and started cooking the meat in the fire, encouraging my siblings to come by, except me, of course, I would keep my distance.

It didn’t took long for my father to come and sit by my side, he looked around, in search of something, we would soon find out…

“Where is Kary’s breakfast?” He demanded from Karynthia.

Mother refused to respond or talk at all, she was uninterested in arguing again, so was my father. He took his piece of meat and cut off a little piece to me, murmuring something.

“You worry too much, Akavatos. Kary would still eat, whatever was left from us.”

“You are out of your mind if you think I will allow OUR son to eat like a scavenger!” Father stomped into the ground. Tensions were raising, once again, me and my siblings looked at each other, hardly surprised but not exactly amused either.

“Kary will eat food with us the day he hunts his own meat, otherwise, you shouldn’t expect else from me.” Karynthia smirked.

“Well, today Kary WILL bring his food, won’t you my son?” Father looked down to me, I faintly smiled and nodded. “More importantly, as a kobold, not a dragon!”

My father and siblings cheered me up, while mom stayed silent. Well, better than nothing… Though, I still have to create a weapon to face an animal, well, if my ancestors once did, my father can help me still.

My head was filled with too many thoughts, but I just wanted to enjoy my breakfast, I was still wondering what would be for lunch, maybe the moss of the walls of the cave are tasty? Well, I was determined to not be eating that.

As the breakfast was over, I begun working into a weapon, a bow as they call, me and my father went outwards to search for the materials, soon we were back and building the thing. It was hard, my father knew what it was, but his gigantic talons were not capable of helping me, so it was all on me.

I managed to, I was too determined and unwillingly to give up, at least not yet. My father also advised for me to make a knife, it would come handy with my still small talons, one can never be too ready. With everything at my talons, I told my father it was the time.

It was about a few hours to midday, we departed from our lair, my father carrying me in his maw and then we landed at a clearing, immediately looking up for my potential prey. The feeling was an excitement I rarely if ever had, hunting like a dragon in my mother’s lessons always meant I couldn’t face anything, my talons were not enough, never enough… But now, the tables had turned, I was equipped for such hunt.

“Kary, now its the time! I don’t care how small is the animal you catch, I am proud of you for trying, I am.” Father said behind me, as I turned to him. “Also son, don’t go too deep into the forest, I can’t keep track of you there, and the dangers lurking are far too much for your bow and knife.”

“Got it, father!”

And so the hunting begins, I slowly entered the forest, as silent as my skinny legs went through the grass, almost a ghost, well, I still was in a quite outstanding blue in my scales, but well, this was not to be trouble, right?

Not long after it begun, I located my prey, a small rabbit was going about their way in amidst a few trees, well, what could I say? Not even my siblings catch those fast guys, so it was my chance to also prove I was at their skill level too.

I aimed at it, readied my arrow and took a deep breath, waiting for the right moment… Suddenly I heard a loud growling, it didn’t sounded like one of my father’s, scaring me and I released the arrow missing the rabbit, who escaped deep into the woods.

I wouldn’t lose my chance, I started the chase, going through the fallen branches and trees. My blood was pumping and the thrill of hunting was finally at its peak within me, I moved almost flawlessly through the forest after it. I saw a large clearing right in front of me and one growl before I lost all sight from the rabbit.

I looked around and walk through the greenish lakes in the clearing, inspecting the place, as a shadow passes by me, it was my father and to some extent I had some relief and disappointment, I had nothing for him.

“Kary!” He yelled as he landed into the lakes splashing waves around. “Never run like this through the woods ever gain, do you hear me?! I lost sight of you, was searching for you the moment you disappeared.”

My heart had sunken like a small pebble into a large lake, I couldn’t disappoint him, I couldn’t…

But suddenly I noticed a movement in the water…

“Father, look out!” I shouted.

My father turned and a large crocodile, the biggest I ever saw bite his leg. He roared as loud as I ever heard and the crocodile started spinning into the water, a brutal dance twisting his leg, breaking it, in loud cracks.

I was desperated and had no idea what to do, just as I looked into my bow, I took it and grabbed an arrow and shoot at the crocodile, but it was insignificant as its scales were too tough. My father finally recovered himself and started flying, carrying the crocodile into the sky for a little before it released his leg back into the lake.

“Kary! Run to the clearing we came, now!” He roared.

I swiftly moved back into the forest, same as the first time, quickly arriving the clearing, as my father came down from the skies, thinking the least painful way to land with his broken leg into the ground, before finally landing and letting out a roar in pain.

I looked down in shame, this was it, this should be my end, I failed mom, dad, my siblings, I failed myself, this was a disaster, I had nothing to show and worse than this, my father has a broken leg now. We came out worse than empty handed…

Tears came rolling down as I sat into the ground, listening to my father’s growls of pain, before he looked to me.

“Remove those tears son…” He said as he bent down towards me, “You are not guilty in this… It was my fault, I landed where I shouldn’t have had…”

“Father…” I gulped, “Are you… Alright?”

“Alive, I sure am, the leg is bad but I will recover. I was more worried for you.”

“Father, what mother will think of this? Especially me returning empty handed…”

“I will deal with her if this came to be, don’t worry about this. Now lets return home, I need to wash those wounds in clean water.”

I nodded but I couldn’t really hide, I was scared, even from my father, this was a disaster, he surely wasn’t fine with it, but he was swallowing all his pride and anger in order to be my father, I think for a dragon there is no greater sacrifice than this.

I walked into his maw and sat between his teeth as he painfully flew up and started his path returning to home. It was the longest journey I could ever make, just blow up by what could possible happen that is worse than this morning, but you know, at this point, I wasn’t worried, I was expecting the worst…

But somehow… What happened next was… Rather surprising.

As soon as we arrived at the lair and he dropped me into the ground, he once again painfully landed and growled, and soon my siblings and mom arrived.

“Akavatos?! What is the meaning of this?! What happened?” She roared from back the lair.

“A crocodile pack attacked me when I landed in a lake searching for Kary…”

She immediately turned on me, I could see the anger building up, her neck almost flaring in fires of rage, I expected it, so I wasn’t really afraid, maybe a little bit, but I was ready.

“You… You little vermin… What have you done to your father? After he defended you?! This is how you thank him?! You get lost and is attacked by crocodiles?!”

But in a moment, her burning rage vanished, as if in her flames calmed down…

“See Kary? I was always afraid this would happen, you can’t hunt alone, you are going to be eaten by something, you simply are not one of us, I wished to give you a quick death so I wouldn’t lose you for something else…”

Everyone was surprised at her calm, even Akavatos. While for me, her point was proven? Was I really so weak I would never be free from my fathers? What is this freedom she always said? Do I really need it? Or she thinks I am too much of a dragon to live as a kobold?

“Karynthia… Hear me out…” Akavatos got up by sheer force of will to stand against her. “Kary shoot a crocodile with his arrows, and I think if wasn’t for his distractions, my leg wouldn’t be here still. He only needs training, for he soon will stand out as one of us, still in his kobold ways…”

“Give him a chance Karynthia, give your son a chance… Please…”

I saw my mom shake her head for a moment, in disbelief, she was lost, I could see it, maybe it was her draconic instincts, pride, anger or even the fact that she couldn’t deal with the idea that she was wrong about me, maybe she thought she was too far gone in this path to ever return, to ever accept me as her son again…

She stomped into the ground in a way, defeated, almost ashamed of herself, then walking towards Akavatos.

“Fine. First, we take care of your leg before the infection gets out of hand-”

“I can do this honey, the kids can help me…”

She nodded.

“Well then, almost lunch time. Today we will have crocodile meat here, they gonna pay for what they did to my husband and…” She sighed, maybe in an expelling of anger, “And my son…”

She faintly smiled at me, nodding in approval and then flying out into the open, in seek of vengeance. I would not like to be those crocodiles, but then again, this morning I nearly was, I could at least sympathize? No, not after they did to my father. Those beasts have no hearts… But do my mom has one?

Maybe he was right… Mom cares about me, in her own weird and scary way. She thinks I am going to be eaten out there alone, after today, her concerns seems about right, if weren’t for my father finding me first, those crocodiles would have, my weapons are not enough against them… She thinks she should burn me, as in an act of mercy, to spare me the fate she doesn’t want to see me have, while being the very one who brings it to me.

Its a tragic prophecy in the way it self-fulfills by the fear of the possibility it could happen.

She isn’t ready to think that I will be fine, and to be honest, after today, neither am I.

Could the kobold village nearby us that my father mentioned be my new goal? I need new weapons, training, experience from my kind. My father only knows as much as his eyes can watch, but not fully understand. I need some time, this day was too eventful and I am exhausted, its not even midday…

I still gonna prove to you mom, hold your fire for a bit, because I gonna make you swallow back down.

#crocodile #digitalart #dragon #family #father #kobold #monster #mother #reddragon #reptile #reptiles #siblings #son #story #swamp #dragonoc #dragonocs #art #continentofwrath

[softguarnere]

Like A Girl (Like A Man)

Shifty Powers x OFC

Chapter 31: The Place Where They Cried

Summary: He claps Zenie on the back with – somewhat – good cheer. When no one else in the room responds, Luz finally elaborates. “Hitler is dead.” A/N: Chapter title is the literal English translation of the Trail of Tears in Cherokee Also, sorry this is like three days late. I think we all know by now that time management is not my forte. Warnings: discussions of genocide (the Trail of Tears and the Holocaust), language, alcohol, mentions of war Taglist: @latibvles @liebgotts-lovergirl @lady-cheeky @mrs-murder-daddy @ithinkabouttzu @lieutenant-speirs

Germany, 1945

Though Granny herself had only met them once when she was a girl, she had mentioned to Zenie several times that they had a lot of family out in Oklahoma. She maintained a steady correspondence with them over the years, bridging the gaps of the diaspora. When Zenie had asked how their relations got so far away, Granny had told her stories so horrifying that they seemed like something out of a novel – stories of invaders barging into houses and telling families that they had only minutes to pack and be gone; stories of people being crowded into stockades where sickness spread between them like wildfire; and stories where those who survived were forced to march through the worst conditions until they reached a place called Indian Territory. Granny promised that they would make the trip out there, someday, when Zenie was older.

Now, as they make their way back to town, the scenes that Zenie has seen throughout the day mix with all the stories Granny once told her that rise, very suddenly, to the surface of her mind. If the smells and the sights are making everyone else nauseous, speechless, then the effect is worse on Zenie.

Didn’t she barge into homes, commandeer them as the families were forced out with only what they could carry? And this place . . . Whatever it is they’ve found, from what Liebgott has translated, is too familiar to the things that Granny once told her about the history of her own people. All the realizations hit her at once, overpowering her. Bile burns her throat. Guilt weighs heavy in her stomach. The word genocide never held so much weight before.

Hardly anyone speaks on the trip back into town. No one speaks when they return to the homes they’re quartered in. What is there to say? The things they saw in the woods today are unspeakable.

Most of her friends fall into seats in the living room. Brows are furrowed, faces are set, and everyone is quiet, but the act of being together – even sitting in silence – can make people feel less alone.

A vague realization registers somewhere within her: she can stay right here with them and, for once, not shut herself up in a lonely room like she would back at home, in some other lifetime that feels ever more distant now.

She’s lowering herself onto the sea green cushion of the overstuffed armchair when she catches a glimpse of him out the window. Through the glass, Shifty’s eyes flick over her, unseeing, then focus back on the street ahead of him as he heads back to his billet.

No one asks where she’s going when she jumps up, runs to the door, and rushes out into the street. “Shifty!”

The Virginian stops, turns. Their eyes meet, and she knows that he understands.

The door has barely shut behind them when Zenie falls into his arms, hiding her face in his shoulder. The foyer of the house is quiet except for the pace of their racing hearts, the occasional shocked breath.

“Shifty,” she whispers.

“I know.” He rubs a hand on her back. “I know.”

“Granny always said – “ A shudder overtakes her, her spine transforming itself into a tube of ice water as all the stories that she was too young to understand come back to her. “It happened here, too. It can happen anywhere.” Buried in his shoulder, she’s not sure if her next words are audible. “When will it end?”

Shifty’s posture goes rigid. The full meaning of her words must be hitting him. Maybe the stories about Removal in his own family are coming back to him, suddenly vivid now that he’s seen so much human suffering.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he offers in a whisper.

“No.” The answer is more of an accident, something that just slips out. But no. She doesn’t want to talk about it. It’s like sitting in the foxhole by herself after Bill and Joe got hit in Bastogne – it feels unreal. Talking about today would make it too prevalent in her mind. Out of all the things that she’s seen in war, this is the worst. The camps are what she wishes she could unsee. She won’t allow herself to think about them. Not until she has to. Maybe not ever.

And tomorrow? Will they go back? Someone has to sort through the bodies, through the buildings, through the dirt. The images of what they discovered today will never leave her mind. And whatever they see tomorrow . . .

If the stoney expressions on her friends in the living room are anything to go by, it will only renew their determination to end the war.

It’s Luz who tells her.

“Happy fuckin’ birthday to Tommy!” Arms spread wide, he enters the room with a grin – not a smile as wide as the ones he once had before Bastogne, but it’s a smile, nonetheless.

He’s wrong, but at least he remembered – kind of. “You’re a day early, Luz.”

He claps Zenie on the back with – somewhat – good cheer. When no one else in the room responds, Luz finally elaborates. “Hitler is dead.”

“Thank God,” someone sighs.

The news perks everyone up. Hitler, dead? Does this mean . . . ?

No. The war does not miraculously sputter to a close, anti-climactic, or at its most dramatic moment, depending on how you look at it. But Luz has more good news.

“Nixon says that we’re moving out in an hour.”

A collective noise that’s not quite a cheer and not exactly a groan ripples through the small group. Easy Company is on the move, again. At least they’re not stagnant, waiting around in foxholes. But God knows where they’re going now – and what they will see when they get there.  

Picturesque mountains.

On the way there, at least. Fields framed by snowcapped peaks in the background. All beautiful sights that seem incongruous with their final destination: the home of the Nazi party. Who seem determined to stop them from barging into their territory.

“This war has more sitting around than I thought it would,” Zenie realizes aloud. Piles of rubble and rock are blocking their path up the mountain to Berchtesgaden. Amid the stopped vehicles, people have jumped down and are congregating like it’s the time of fellowship during church. Except instead of shaking hands, hugging, and telling everyone it’s good to see them, they’re all speculating about if they will ever actually see the top of this trail.

“At least we’re not in foxholes this time, though,” Popeye chirps.

Shifty squints up at the sky. It’s clear, the perfect blue. “Warm, too. For early May.” Then he smiles. “Good birthday weather, Tommy.”

The same giddiness that came over her back in Bastogne returns at the realization that Shifty remembered her birthday. They’re not back in the States for the beginnings of spring, but they’ve got a nice view. And if they could ever get up this mountain, the sprawling landscape promises to be even more beautiful.

“Better than what Earl had.” Lightly, Zenie elbows her friend in the ribs. Four days earlier, it had been overcast and there was a chill in the air. Today though, the bright weather promises to lead to something exceptional.

McClung shrugs. “Yeah, well, you’re welcome, Tommy. I used my birthday wish to get you this nice weather. You can thank me later.”

“Gosh, Earl. That sure was sweet of you. How could I ever repay you?”

Earl shakes his head, brushing it off. “Shoot, kid, it was nothing. Don’t mention it. From the kindness of my heart, and all that.”

When the road is finally cleared, the four of them opt to race up the steep trail with some of the others instead of riding the trucks. After all those runs up Currahee, it’s nothing. No one would ever admit it for fear of Sobel finding out, but stretching their legs like this again feels nice, and completing the run fills them with a sense of accomplishment. Back in Toccoa, it would have been impossible to imagine reaching the top of the mountain – or any mountain, for that matter – and laughing in good cheer about it, shoving each other and joking around, but now, after all they’ve been through, something about it just feels natural.

“Did you let me win?” Earl laughs when they finish.

Zenie shrugs. “Oh, kindness of my heart, and everything.” She laughs when Earl delivers a friendly shove to her shoulder.

“Smart ass.”

An organized sort of chaos quickly descends over Berchtesgaden. Its former residents left behind their finest clothes, jewels, and heirlooms – much of which can be seen in the arms of Captain Speirs as he hauls them away to wherever he hides them, building up a collection of shiny goods, like a magpie. Alcohol begins to flow so freely and in seemingly unlimited supplies that one could almost think about a glass of wine and have it manifest in their hand. Fancy rooms in lavish, towering buildings are opened up for their use, and are quickly claimed by people who feel it’s their right to sleep so comfortably after all those months of holes in the ground. The only thing there seems to be a lack of is rules. Or, more accurately, rules that are actively enforced.

“Sobel would hate this,” Zenie notes as a car comes flying down the street they’re on. Their small band jumps out of the way as Talbert flies past, laughing and honking the horn as he goes. If their infamous former captain were here, they would probably all be more tempted to cut loose than they currently are. The collection of souvenirs would cease or would become a sort of black market.

Luckily for Zenie, many of the fancy goods that draw her eye go largely unnoticed by the men. Most of them are too busy with guns and art to notice the silky dresses in the closets, or the bangles in the drawers.

On their first day, her friends begin sifting through a suite in one of the hotels, rummaging around for art and trinkets. Zenie lingers in the doorway, watching the scene. Invaders, she had heard Bull call them. Not for the first time in a few days, they’re barging into homes. Now, though, they’re taking souvenirs, intentionally leaving things out of place. We’re here to stay, the actions announce.

Babe throws open the curtains, allowing the large room to fill with sunlight that pours in from the spring day on the other side of the window. Illuminated, something on the vanity in the corner glints, catching Zenie’s eye.

A golden tube of lipstick rests on top of the smooth wood. Upon further inspection, it’s only half closed, like its owner left it behind in haste. The tube feels cool to the touch and smooth between Zenie’s fingers. It slides fully open easily to reveal a deep, royal red. Rich. The color of money. Zenie should know; this is similar to the color that she’s seen Beckie wear on her rare trips home.

Actually, Zenie herself once wore this color. Years ago – a lifetime ago, now – to a Christmas party. The Christmas party. What was she? Fifteen? Sixteen? It doesn’t matter now. She had borrowed Marilyn’s lipstick, coating her lips in it in the hopes that she would be leaving a stain in this color on Elijah Woodard’s cheek by the end of the night.

Silly, stupid to think about now. Those were once her biggest concerns: Beckie, Elijah, lipstick, what people thought of her, if she was as pretty as her older sister. Her new world has bigger problems than teenage drama.

The tube snaps firmly shut when Zenie replaces the cap. She places it back as it was, but it holds her gaze, engaging her in an intense staring contest.

A gentle hand on her elbow draws her back into the room. Shifty stands beside her, looking between her and the lipstick.

“Just say you’re sendin’ it back home to your sister,” he suggests in a whisper, as if he can feel the desire to pocket the makeup.

Invading homes, taking things – it all seemed so wrong when it first started. But somehow, here she is, standing in the homes of the very people who dragged innocent people from their homes, shaved their heads, forced them into camps. These people didn’t have the decency to feel bad about the things they’ve inflicted on innocents.

It plays back in her mind, this new image of Shifty that she hasn’t yet allowed herself to fully consider. The Shifty she saw back in the camp, who a man approached and knelt in front of, holding a sickly man in his arms, begging for help. Shifty, who said in his gentlest voice, “I’m sorry,” over and over again, because he knew there was nothing to be done for the man, but he couldn’t just leave him there alone. Yet another memory from Germany that will never leave her.

Any guilt she may have had regarding the owner of the lipstick melts away in an instant. They took far more from people than Zenie taking this tube could ever compare to. She places it in her pocket and joins the others in their search, pocketing a pair of earrings for Mama as well.

Between the collecting, the partying, the hunting, the hiking, the overall fun that they’re having, almost a month flies by with ease. With the lax rules and newfound opportunities for privacy, Zenie joins Shifty in the woods when he goes hunting, reveling in the shelter that allows them to speak freely, the opportunity to be herself for a bit.

With all the new space available to them, no one complains any longer about Tommy’s private habits, like his tendency to disappear whenever changing clothes is required. At night, Zenie can remove the bandages from her chest and enjoy deep, full breaths while she sleeps. Gene says that her ribs look the better for it, but all Zenie knows is that she hadn’t realized how badly she missed being able to sleep comfortably and without the fear of being discovered. And she’s starting to think that she could carry on like this forever.

Until a new word becomes an everyday part of their vocabulary.

Points.

#band of brothers fanfic #shifty powers #shifty powers x ofc #shifty powers x original female character #oc zenie mcglamery #my writing #like a girl (like a man)

[youwouldntlietopapa]

The Words That Were Never Spoken (OC Re-Edit) - Chapter Thirteen

“Good morning, Isobel.” Sister Imperator’s familiar voice greets Izzy when she answers. “I realise it’s your day off but I thought you would want to hear the news sooner rather than later.”

“News?” She’s almost afraid to ask. Copia’s eyebrow quirks up, silently curious. “Is-is there a problem, ma’am?”

Her fingers run through his hair, even as she looks away from him. Not that it isn’t good to have him with her or that he’s not the best support she could ask for. Just… everything is going so well. Too well. Sister Imperator calling first thing in the morning with news feels like it’s all about to come toppling down. Maybe if she doesn’t look at him, it won’t hurt so much. Maybe he won’t get dragged into whatever this might be.

“No. No problem. Good news as a matter of fact.” Izzy can hear the smile in her voice. The one that makes her nervous trying to work out if it’s genuine or if she’s decided to devour her soul. “I’ve just spoken with the workmen and your quarters will be ready for you to move back in by tomorrow.”

All at once it feels like the floor dropped out from under her. Izzy’s stomach lurches and twists uncomfortably and she can feel her heart trying to pound its way through her ribs. It was going to happen at some point. She knew it was coming. But not this soon. Not now.

“Oh… Oh, that’s...that’s excellent news.” Her tone sounds wrong, even to herself. Struggling to force some excitement into her words. “Please tell them I said thank you for their quick work. I’ll be excited to see how it’s turned out.”

“I will pass along the message. If you require help in moving your things back, feel free to call on some of the ghouls. Though, if I may, I’d advise Aether before Swiss or Dewdrop if you value your things.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Sister Imperator. Thank you for the advice.”

There’s an awkward pause while Izzy tries to think of more to say and, oddly enough, Sister apparently does the same. But she clears her throat and carries on, business as usual. “If there’s anything else you need, please let me know.”

“I will. Thank you, ma’am.”

She ends the call and, for a long moment, Izzy stares at Copia’s nightstand. Setting the phone on his bed without really thinking about it. Too focused on the screaming cacophony of panic and frustration and denial raging in her head. Spiralling quickly until her chest aches and she wants to scream. It’s stupid. She knows it’s stupid. Selfish and ridiculous. She should be happy. Her room is repaired. And Cope… he needs his space back. His privacy. Surely.

It’s hardly been a day and what did you think? That you’d just… stay? Forever?

“Isobel?” His voice breaks the silence in the room. His warm hand taking hers, keeping her anchored. Like he always does. More times than she can count. Always the first one there beside her. “You say good news but your face says something else.”

Copia shifts back up beside her. Part of her needs him there, close and safe. The other part only feels worse thinking of how the morning had been going only a few minutes earlier. Either way, there he is, with that sweet, concerned look he gets. Pressing his forehead against hers and rubbing your back gently.

“Tell me, Izzy. Please.”

“I’m all right, Cope. Really, I am. Just… surprised.” Her fingertip traces from freckle to freckle, from his chest up to his shoulder. “It’s good news. Sister just wanted to let me know my quarters will be ready tomorrow. To move back in.”

The hand rubbing her back stops and his whole body seems to freeze. The whole world might just as well have frozen. For one moment of madness she hopes that it has. That tomorrow won’t come. That she can stay there, in this moment. Right before Copia takes a deep breath, still not moving more than that.

“I’ll-I’ll be out of your hair. And… things can get back to normal.” Izzy offers weakly.

His hand catches hers, holding it to his chest. His heart pounding against her palm. “We said no more secrets, no more dreams, no?”

“Cope…”

“Don’t go.” It’s barely a whisper and he holds on to her a little tighter. “Stay. Please. Stay. With me. Here. Tell them you don’t need it. You stay here. Together.”

“Cope…”

“Please. I don’t want you out of my hair. I don’t want back to normal. I want you. Here. In the morning when I wake up. At night, when I go to bed. I want you, Isobel.” His voice shakes, so close to begging.

“Copia…”

“I wait my whole life for this, for you, amore. How do I sleep at night alone when I know you are down the hall? When I know what it is when you are here with me?”

She claims his mouth all at once. Because of every sweet, beautiful thing he’s said and to stop him from spiralling any further. “I don’t want to go either, Cope. I don’t want to leave. Here, there, anywhere at all, it doesn’t matter. Because this is home. This is where I want to be. With you. And nowhere else.”

Copia stares back at her like he might have misheard. Terrified that he misunderstood. “You will stay?”

“For as long as you’ll have me.”

Both of his hands cup Izzy’s cheeks, kissing her again. “Forever, Isobel.”

He kisses her deeply, finally relaxing again. Pressing tightly against her, her arms wrapping around him to pull him closer.

“Forever and always.”

#ghost fanfic #copia x oc #MDNI #re-edit

[labrats-and-clonetroopers]

“Ignorant” Kit Fisto x Reader Drabble, Star Wars: The Clone Wars

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Relationship: Romantic

________________________

The moment you see him you’re reminded of someone else. 

It’s because of the athletic build, you think. After all, you’ve seen many nautolans over the years that never triggered the memory of that particular one. You’re not even sure why the memory is still so strong. Maybe it was because you had been mildly disappointed when he died. So much potential wasted. 

You study the face of the jedi now striding over to the bar. You lean back in the darkened booth at the corner of the establishment, nursing a drink you won’t bring to your lips. You think it’s possible he could be related to that barbaric creature; force sensitivity tends to cling to bloodlines. 

Yes, the physical resemblance is strong, but the similarities end there. The nautolan speaking smoothly to the bartender is a jedi of calm, disciplined bearing. Nothing like the feral being that was carved to pieces by jedi blades. 

You focus, filtering through the buzz of the nightclub, listen to the jedi’s carefully worded questions. They’re exactly what you expect them to be, given the rather interesting events of last night. 

The jedi’s conversation is fruitless. He’s disappointed, you can sense that, but an air of optimism still hangs over him. His eyes sweep over the room, over the customers painted in the neon of the pulsating lights, most half drunk or high, sly hands passing credits under tables.  

His gaze settles on your partially shadowed form. It lingers for a moment, before he makes up his mind and walks in your direction. 

You sigh. You know he didn’t sense anything; you’re far too careful, but your species tends to catch the curious eye wherever you go. People aren’t used to seeing Pau’ans on Coruscant, especially lurking around in the lower levels. 

Technically, you’re a hybrid, but your heritage is too clearly evident. Too much associated with those features, as though simply because a species can live so many centuries means that every member is a wise advisor. 

“Is this seat taken?” the jedi inquires brightly. 

You tilt your head. Hearing it up close, you think you rather like his voice. It’s pleasing, though it’s hardly the only thing about him that you find appealing…but that’s irrelevant. Talking to a jedi would be irresponsible. If you sulk, and act irritated and drunk enough, you know he’ll end up just passing on by. 

You shake your head and make a loose, welcoming gesture. “No, feel free.” 

He obliges, sliding across from you. “Kit Fisto,” he introduces himself, “And you?”

You smile. “I don’t make a habit of handing out my name so easily, even to a noble jedi.” 

He’s amused. “You don’t find value in exchanging pleasantries?” 

“I still haven’t yet decided if it would worth the effort.”

He laughs. “I’m wounded.”

You shrug. “I’m just being pragmatic. A jedi rarely introduces themselves to strangers without an ulterior motive.” 

There’s a glimmer in his eye as he responds, “Well, unless you happen to know who attacked the Chancellor last night, I think we can put aside any ulterior motives.” 

You raise an eyebrow and smirk slightly. “So this is about pleasure when you’re supposed to be working.” You cross your arms. “I’m afraid you’ve found the wrong girl for that.” 

“I think you misunderstand my intentions,” Kit quickly corrects, “I don’t prefer to rush into things.” 

This surprises you. You frown, noticing the slight somber cast over his aura. “Now this is curious,” you muse, “A jedi who’s a romantic. Seems rather like a sin.” 

“Just need to breathe once in a while,” is his reply, his voice quieter than before. 

It disturbs you that you can’t tell if he’s lying, if maybe he had sensed something and is constructing a ruse to further investigate. Or if he is simply a weary jedi whose code just isn’t quite sustaining him. You’re in the dark, and after so many years it feels so foreign. Vulnerable, ignorant of the truth. 

You lean forward, your face not far from his handsome features, close enough that he can clearly see the perilous sharpness of your fangs. 

“Maybe we can see where tonight leads.” 

#kit fisto x reader #kit fisto #star wars: the clone wars #fanfic #drabble #reader insert #pau'an #nautolan