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rainydaywhump · 2 months

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Zombies Are An Afterthought - 13

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Taglist: @i-eat-worlds @pigeonwhumps @den-of-whump @generic-whumperz @turn-the-tables-on-them

Premise: Holy shit, this fic isn't resolved after all!

Annette, having been kidnapped and tortured for months on end before being rescued by Kel -- thanks to some pandemic-borne luck -- is now well enough that she is willing to call her friends for the first time. The ensuing conversation brings on a host of emotions.

CWs/themes: female whumpee (whump was in the past), female caretaker; zombie pandemic winding down in the background, no big deal; aftermath of torture/aftermath of trauma; tears; creepy and obsessive whumpers (referenced); the struggle of reintegrating/being social after trauma; feels; bittersweet with a positive ending.

Annette Painter sits in front of the laptop. She stares at her own reflection in the camera.

She tries to see herself from the view of the people she’ll be talking to soon. She’s not sure if she likes it; she doubts they will. They’ll be worried. Her cheeks have filled out and her bruises have faded since Kel rescued her from that hell next door, but she knows that she’ll never go back to normal.

Some scars, both literal and not, are simply too deep.

She had considered using foundation to cover up her face and neck scars before Skyping her friends – her true friends, not ‘friends’ like her kidnappers once had been. She was somewhat surprised to find, when Kel asked who she wanted to contact if she was ever up to it, that she still trusted this group of friends despite Cassie and Kay’s betrayal. But then again, she’d always known that these friends were genuine in their care for her.

She had ignored her gut feeling about the other two, and…

…and it isn’t your fault, Kel’s firm voice repeats in her mind.

Kel…hadn’t judged when Annette had told her that she had no family. She hadn’t seemed surprised. When Annette asked, the other woman had explained that she’d done some digging on Annette’s missing person case, and there were no relatives mentioned in any of the scant news articles on her. Kel’s googling skills (she called it ‘OSINT’ and ‘a few favors’?) were unmatched; she knew quite a bit about Kay, Cassie, and the others, too.

That was another conversation.

Despite her tech savviness, Kel had no makeup to speak of – “That’s more Marie’s forte.” So Annette simply wore a t-shirt with a neckline that didn’t show too many garish signs of the abuse, and she let her hair down to shadow her cheeks. It wasn’t perfect, but she knew her friends weren’t expecting her to be.

Based on their text exchange a half hour earlier, they were just happy that she was alive. They had all been absolutely shocked when she’d texted the group chat (numbers found online by Kel, because Annette didn’t have them memorized). The relief in their written words couldn’t have come through clearer.

And now Annette was about to Skype them, to see their faces for the first time in months, for the first time since she’d been kidnapped.

Her stomach churned.

“Hey, Annie?”

She turns. The nickname, which had been so mocking from her tormenters, makes her smile when Kel says it. The tall, muscular woman is standing in the partition between the living room and the kitchen wearing a black tank top and dull green cargo pants that are entirely at odds with the snow falling gently outside. She’s also holding a ratty old dish rag.

“Doing the dishes,” she says, gesturing with the dish rag in unnecessary explanation. Little flecks of soap fly everywhere. “Shit. Eh, at least it’s soap. Anyway. I’m gonna be in the kitchen, unless you want me somewhere else when you call?”

Annette shakes her head. Suddenly, she finds that she can’t speak.

Kel seems to understand.

She tosses the rag to the sink and comes over to join Annette on the couch, looping an arm around her shoulder. Annette remembers her first waking encounter with the other woman – when Kel had been having a bad memory in a nightmare, and had lashed out with that arm when Annette had startled her awake. Her strength had sent the smaller, younger girl flying. But Annette feels nothing but safe with her now; Kel’s strength has only been used (purposefully) to treat her wounds and carry her to bed when her body fails her, nothing more.

“Hey. You don’t have to do this if you’re not ready,” she murmurs now.

Annette shrugs. I want to. But if I start talking now, I’ll start crying, she scribbles on a notepad for Kel to see. I just need a moment.

Kel taps her lightly on the shoulder and rises.

“Alright. Just let me know if you need me. If you can’t talk, throw something at the wall.”

Her eyes drift toward the section of living room wall that Annette knows contains a pistol, and the girl is reminded, not for the first time, that her rescuer is also a little insane. An occupational hazard from her past, she’s learned.

The familiar absurdity startles a laugh out of her and frees up her vocal cords. “No, I’m not firing blanks to get your attention,” she giggles, punching Kel lightly.

Kel puts her hands up in flabbergasted defense – “Annette Painter! I’m not that crazy, come on!”

“Are you telling me that’s not why you looked over there?” Annette laughs.

“I can neither confirm nor deny that allegation,” Kel says with a perfectly straight face, and Annette, still giggling, waves her off to the kitchen. She can hear her muttering something about gun safety on her way out.

When she turns back to the screen, the camera shows a reflection of her that’s a lot more confident than she’d been feeling a few minutes ago.

Her phone has been blowing up in that span – it’s time. Annette takes a deep breath an exits the camera.

Then she logs onto the call.

Kel’s internet connection, serving roughly 100 people in a ten mile radius (and periodically downed thanks to pandemic traffic), takes a moment to connect her. But once it’s done bitching, the faces of her friends pop up between three frames, and suddenly Annette’s throat is damming up her voice again. The same can be said for her friends, but only for a long, long minute before –

“Annette?!”

“Holy shit, it’s really you!”

“What the fuck happened?!”

“Oh my god, you’re alive!”

There’s Gwen, her short blonde hair pulled back at the bangs, freckles splattered even more haphazardly across her face than Annette remembered. She’s sitting next to Mia and Zeke, all three of them crammed together on what Annette recognizes as the table in an apartment Annette doesn’t. In another frame is a girl half-running, half-walking through the snow in a suburban neighborhood, breath foggy in the cold air and workout clothes a pop of color against the snow…Nikayla, her lazy eye slightly askew and the other staring wide out over the rim of her mask. Evander and Vince are squashed together in the next frame, the former sitting on the edge of a couch and the latter perched on the arm, gangly knees in the camera’s view, leaning in to see.

“Hey,” Annette says, smiling sheepishly.

All six of them talk at once; the mic glitches. When it comes back, thank god, Zeke is the only one speaking.

“Where are you?” He says with an intensity that makes Annette forget her nerves for a moment; she belatedly realizes that he’s asking so he can know where to go if she’s in trouble.

“I’m at…”

Annette hesitates for a split second, because even though Kel has told her the cabin’s address multiple times before, she doesn’t remember in the moment.

“2880 West David Lane, Ionia County,” Kel calls from the kitchen.

“Two eighty – wait, Anne, who the hell is that?” Zeke explodes.

“Is that the kidnapper?!” Gwen gasps.

“Are you in danger?!” Evander exclaims.

“I’ll call the police!” Nikayla and Mia yell at the same time.

“No, no – guys, seriously,” Annette said quickly, silencing the overlap of voices. “That’s Kel. She’s the one who saved me.”

“Saved you…?”

Kel pokes her head in. “Sorry, Annie, I was just cleaning up. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop.”

“You’re all good,” Annette says with a smile. She turns back to the camera. “Here, lemme show you.”

She maneuvers the laptop so its camera faces Kel. The taller woman waves to the people behind the screen. There are six of them; three are at a table together, two are crammed inside the frame, and one is half-walking, half-sprinting as she watches.

They’re all young – college-age, like Annette. They’re all in varying orders of emotional magnitude – some are crying silently, others’ faces are gray or flushed with shock. Kel’s heart swells. All these people, and these are just the ones on the video call. Annie’s got some damn good people who care about her.

“Yeah, uh, like she said, I’m Kel.” She’s not used to making introductions. Can’t be that hard, right? I’m the recluse who lives in the woods ‘round here. I found your friend half-dead and carried her back to my cabin because damn it, even in an absurdly early retirement with sketchy origins, I can’t stop trying to be a hero. Hmm. No, that wouldn’t do. “Annie can tell you what happened, but if you’re worried, again, I live at 2880 West David, I’m the only one who lives here, and if you check google maps, you’ll see a big-ass truck in my driveway.

“Annie, you good?” She asks in undertone.

“I’m good,” the girl assures her, and Kel backs off, leaving the dishes for another time and heading to her bedroom to give her more privacy.

She looks back to her friends, truly alone now.

“Hey,” she says again. “I, uh…thanks for all hopping on.”

And thanks for never giving up on me. Thanks for caring. Thanks for weathering a whole pandemic and starting a new year at uni and still never ever giving up on me. She doesn’t know how to say it out loud, but from the tears in her friends’ eyes, it’s clear they hear it anyway.

“Of course,” Gwen says, and those two words hold more weight than anything else.

“I…I’m safe. At least, now I am,” Annette says hesitantly. “Kel rescued me about a month ago. I would’ve let you all know I was okay earlier, but…”

She hesitates.

“You say you were rescued,” says Mia. “I….I take it you were in bad shape, love?”

Annette nods slowly. “Between the blizzard and pandemic measures, Kel couldn’t get me to a hospital. But she didn’t need to. She saved my life.”

“What happened?” Gwen asked quietly.

Here, Annette hesitates.

“Cassie and Kay,” she finally says. “And a few others, but they instigated it.”

The six friends exchange murderous glances.

“We knew it,” Evander says darkly. “We just couldn’t prove it. They – they fucking spoke like they were your best friends. And like you were a lost cause.”

“I always had a bad feeling about them, but I…” Annette looks down. “…I looked up to them, I dunno. I made a huge mistake.” Tears blur her vision.

“Hey, stop that,” Evander says forcefully. “They tricked everyone. They’re manipulators, Anne. You better not be blaming yourself.”

“Damn straight,” Nikayla says.

“Yeah, ‘cause how dare you not expect basic human decency from two random college juniors,” Mia says sarcastically. “They��re the ones who fucked up, you know -- right?”

“And they’ll pay,” Zeke mutters, cracking his knuckles. “Where the hell are they?”

“I don’t know,” Annette says truthfully. “Kel knows, but I asked her not to tell me yet. I just know they’re nowhere near here.”

Nikayla frowns. “Annie…is that a cut on your jaw?”

Oh. Shit. “…yeah. Well, no. It’s a scar. It’s healing.”

The six of them exchange another look through the camera.

“What?” Annette asks, stomach curling in on itself.

“We did some…digging into those two and their circle, after you disappeared,” Gwen said slowly. “And we found…well, you know how I’ve got that one techy friend, Blake, and we…”

“What?”

“We got into their insta accounts and stuff for a bit before they realized someone was snooping. And they had a lot of stuff about you, love,” Mia said, looking down. “Like…they never said they did anything to you, but uh, their old posts had a lot about you. In, uh, a creepy way. We showed it to the police! But then the pandemic hit, and – and they just –”

“They fucking ignored us,” Nikayla growled. “They didn’t care.”

Zeke scoffed, nodding shortly. “We broke into their dorm during the first lockdowns, but we didn’t find anything. Someone reported us and that set us back a whole three days.”

“Jail for B&E,” Evander explained helpfully.

“Holy shit, I’m just glad you’re okay,” Mia whispered, shaking her head. “What the hell did they do to you?”

“Not that you have to talk about that,” Gwen says anxiously, and Annette’s heart twists at the sight of her friend’s familiar nervous habit of twirling her hair. “I mean, unless you want to?”

Five-and-a-half pairs of eyes stare at her from the screen, and Annette is drowning.

“I…”

“Hey, I’m on google maps and I see the truck Kal, I mean, Kel said she had!” Evander, clearly trying to change the subject. “Dang, she’s really out there in the woods. Have you gone hiking?”

“I need to go,” Annette manages, and she shuts the laptop before she lets herself burst into tears.

She’s silent, pressing her hand to her mouth as she grabs Kel’s cell. On the group chat, several of her friends are in the middle of typing. Annette’s fingers fly to beat them.

It’s okay

Sorry

I just got overwhelmed

I’m really happy to see you guys

Talking in general is hard that’s all

Didn’t realize it would be

Are we okay?

She practically throws the phone down on the coffee table and all but runs to her room, not ready to read any replies. She knows that her friends will be nothing but understanding, that they’re flooding the phone with reassurances, that by now they’re all in a call with one another, talking about how best to help. But Annette is terrified of seeing it, terrified of taking such undeserved kindness from them, and, perhaps above all, overwhelmed by talking with so many people at once, especially with people who knew her before the kidnapping.

Kel is leaning against the wall separating their rooms; Annette can’t hear her, but she knows her well enough, and Kel knows her well enough, that there’s no doubt. Kel will be waiting for Annette’s signal for help, and if she doesn’t give one, then Kel will pad into the living room and put the phone and laptop away and make a steaming mug of sweet peppermint tea and knock on Annette’s door and leave it just out of the door’s swing.

“Progress isn’t linear. Progress isn’t linear,” Annette whispers to herself. She burrows under the blankets, but it isn’t enough; she wants the world to be blind to her.

She hasn’t hidden under the bed in a long time, but its small, comforting embrace remembers her all the same.

“Progress isn’t linear,” she repeats. “I’ll be okay.”

She breathes in deeply – holds it – releases slowly through her nose – repeats.

A soft knock, the clink of a mug being set down, and Kel’s purposefully-audible footsteps register, but they don’t startle her. Annette waits for another minute before wiggling out from under the bed.

As peppermint steam warms her face, she gathers up the resolve to step outside.

#whump #whump writing #whumpee #whump rescue #whump recovery #whump oc #female whumpee #female caretaker #whump caretaker #tw torture #cw torture #hurt comfort #zombies are an afterthought #obsessive whumper #creepy whumper #kel oc #annette oc #bittersweet

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imjustabeanie · 2 months

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Matchup exhange for @kamesama

Your jujutsu kaisen match is...Nanami Kento!

Toji was a runner up but he lacks the stability that Nanami gives.

First of all, he is exactly what you’re looking for. He’s firm yet caring and isn’t offended easily. I did say in private that I thought of him the moment I started reading your match and I mean it. The dynamic between two professional people who still know how to have fun outside of work is what lead me to this choice.

Nanami is known to not associate his work life with his personal one. This is why I believe you two met at a coffee shop. It was a rainy day, you both decided to take shelter in this coffee shop. Unfortunately it was packed so you two strangers had to share the same table. At first, Nanami said he’d stand up elsewhere to not make you uncomfortable in true gentleman fashion. You insisted and he finally sat down. Enjoying a warm cup of coffee and reading is a nice activity. It is uncertain who commented on the other book first but a nice conversation sparkled, distracting you from the weather. From now on, you two had one meeting minimum per week at that coffee shop. It’s nice to unwind after a long day surrounded by morons. The friendship was nice but it was after you somehow got tangled up in his world did he realize his fear of losing you. The nail on the coffin was when Gojo intruded on the meeting and was just being his usual self. The action was effective because Nanami asked you out a week later.

A relationship with Nanami is rather domestic. He starts by laying on the table that he’s a sorcerer and all related stuff and asks you if you’re sure about staying with him. He knows his end will mostly be tragic and wants to warn you. He is direct, he knows what he wants and doesn’t want to waste anyone time. The strongest base in your relationship is definitely communication. You two will step up the rules and boundaries rather early to ensure a peaceful and healthy relationship. His deal breakers are the same as yours. As long as you respect him he has no issue.

Due to your religion, I believe Nanami won’t initiate physical contact beyond the basic gestures like offering you his arm when walking. He doesn’t know your limits. He will do his researches obviously. He is actually happy when you initiate PDA and will ask you about what you accept and won’t accept. He actually gifts you hijabs that he thinks look nice or have a nice texture.

Not gonna lie, your character is rather similar to Nanami this is why you two understand each other rather well. Just like you, he has a specific routine and hates it when it gets ruined. Your routine together consists of meeting at least once per day after work hours. It could be for dinner, a coffee or if you want at one of your houses. He likes surprising you with homemade dinner and daily new pastry he finds. His love language is mostly acts of services and quality time, this is why he pays attention to all the little details and try to make your life easier. Details like your usual orders, favorite brands and your comfort foods during bad days. Nanami enjoys that you mostly do the same, this earns you a soft smile that none would think he can pull off. Now this is a personal headcanon but I believe Nanami enjoys nature in general. He likes going with you on walks or booking for foreign resorts for both of you in the week-ends/his vacations.

Both of you are perfectionists, it’s easy to get lost in the self criticism. Nanami would actually give you advices to improve the work if he sees them but when he feels you going too far he will tell you. More like he will coerce you with good tea or a new book he picked. All of this is to distract you. He is calmer and has more patience that’s why he’s here to bring you down to earth when you get too fidgety. I believe him to be emotionally intelligent, he knows when you start to isolate and would gently ask you about your problems. Trust is something that takes time, he understands and is willing to wait. You’re the only person who he won’t judge or get impatient with. Unless you start making bad puns, that’s the bane of his existence (jokingly). Or you get too reckless, that’s the only time he will be angry at you. Besides that, to be honest I don’t see any possible issue with your relationship.

Nanami also dates to marry. It will take a maximum of 5 years but he will ask you to marry him after booking a vacation at your dream resort. He will let you lead all the decoration and will only give his imput when you ask for it. He just wants to choose the food lol. But he makes sure everything is in order. It might be intrusive but I see the wedding to be a beige/brown colored wedding, I’ll try to look up for pictures online. After the wedding the honeymoon is in Malysia.

When you two moved in together, the only thing that changed is the amount of romantic moments. You two share all household chores and actually have a planner for it. He’s actually invest in those fancy coffee machines and there is a room in the apartment dedicated for both your hobbies. Like drawing, photography and reading. He also brings you flowers weekly, or more if he comes late and each flower has its special meaning. He also likes having baths with you where you two share your day over some tea. He likes hugging you from behind in the morning and smelling your hair. On slow days, you two can be found baking. Your house is quite aesthetically pleasing because none of you are messy. You are seen as those perfect calm couples that share their love in private.

Your tears of themis match is...Artem!

It was very tight between Artem and Marius to be honest. But I choose Artem cuz Marius is more chaotic and less to stick to a routine. From afar, Artem is similar to Nanami but he’s more sensible and emotionally aloof sometimes….

You two are neighbors who got introduced to each other by a grandma. He likes helping the elderly and children just like you. You two probably helped the grandma who decided to play matchmaker. She found you two to be cute together! This is how she somehow tricked both of you into spending more time together. At first it was purely out of convenience since you’re both neighbors and Artem didn’t know what to think of your personality. Then it went from talking about normal neighbor stuff to lending movies/books. I am not going to lie, Artem fell without knowing it (this is a slow burn. Like a year or more). It was his friends at work (ahem, Rosa and heck even Vyn) who pointed out how much he spoke about you. He didn’t want to make this awkward and wanted to know if you felt that way first before asking (he was ready to move out if he made you uncomfortable). Then you surprisingly asked him out to a restaurant he spoke about and he asked you out first.

Artem was happy when you laid out your boundaries because he didn’t know how to bring it to the table. As we saw in the game he’d rather read books about romance and try to follow their exemples…which can lead to funny situations like him randomly using bad pick up jokes. You laughed at him for it and even tease him sometimes. Artem is a serious and blunt guy but is very inexperienced in love. In true lawyer fashion he follows everything by the book which can make the relation seems boring in the long run. You’ll have to reassure him to step out and be himself more as it won’t make you angry or anything.

His love language is acts of service and gift giving. But it is very subtle. He is observant and just does things for you in silence. Like making sure the company you work for isn’t suspicious (just laking sure you’re safe in general), taking care of the annoying maintenance and paperwork, randomly delivering food at your job without leaving a name , remembering your favorite things (he keeps a notebook) and buying brands of various things (even cleaning stuff) that he found effective and wants to recommend. You get what I mean. He is more into the practical stuff. But later on when you two eventually get married, he’s the type of husband who likes getting you jewelry on special occasions. Artem will get red when you get touchy with him but will gladly accept it, he’s just going to be offput at first. Besides that I think of him as someone who loves kissing your forehead and hand.

Artem is a perfectionist who puts his heart and soul into his cases, yet he knows how to destress by engaging in his hobbies or just going on walks to clear his mind. He’s also naturally very good with words and thus very good at reassuring you that everything is okay and that you’re making a good job. He couldn’t be more proud. He knows how to make you stay calm so you won’t do anything drastic just like he knows when to just let you express your anger (especially if the person really deserves a brutal check to reality). He is willing to work through your trust issues and accepts that everyone has secrets, he also does have a baggage that won’t be unloaded easily. He takes his time with this relationship because he wants it to be solid and possibly evolve into marriage. Artem will give you a disappointed look if you do something that’s really reckless, you’ll have to apologize for it lol. But he’s also clumsy, it’s perfect teasing material.

Artem likes indoor dates. He has a home cinema fully dedicated for both of you to enjoy movies as much as you can. Each night one picks the movie and the other makes the snacks. He enjoys all kind of movies but his favorites are art and war related films. With you he’ll just learn to appreciate horror more. Beware, if there’s a random law/lawyer in the movie he will comment if it’s correct or not and what he would have done as the lawyer. Artem also likes cooking with/for you no matter your level in cooking, it also gives him the occasion to dance with you in the kitchen cuz he has a vinyl player. With time, he will surprise you more with jewelry and dinner dates at exclusive places. He does go all out during his paid vacation time with you.

For the negative parts…perhaps it’s how individualist he is? He doesn’t want to burden you and sometimes doesn’t know how to communicate his feelings I guess.

Now for the wedding…I can see it being a destination wedding at a very nice beach to be honest. The honeymoon would be some sort of tour d’europe or something like this. He wants to visit the world with you and explore different cultures that’s why. Just like nanami, your house will have some kind of coffee and reading corner. Since he has a man cave you’ll have a room reserved for your hobbies. Artem loves surprising you with breakfast every morning. I can see him setting up the living room ceiling to represent the stars at your wedding day when they light up…Abd finally, the grandma has bragging rights.

#matchups #match ups #jujutsu kaisen #tears of themis

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onthesandsofdreams · 2 years

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A Dream Passion

Fandom: The Sandman (TV) Pairing: Dream of the Endless x Fem!Reader Summary: "Do you remember?" The voice whispers in your dreams. Insistent and deep, with a slight hint of desperation. Rating: Explicit (to be safe) Words: 1033 Notes: Boy. First time writing something as explicit as this, so, please be kind. Also, this fic is for my big sister @mousedetective, hope you like it, because I’m trying to write smut, which is something as you know, doesn’t come easy to me. Soulmate AU / Witch Reader. Warnings: Unprotected sex. PIV sex Prompt(s): #8.- Do you remember? from @fictober-event

Read @ AO3

"Do you remember?" The voice whispers in your dreams. Insistent and deep, with a slight hint of desperation.

You groan. The hands that are currently running all over your body are sending shivers all over. The mouth that explores you is drawing happy sounds of pleasure. Your hands turn into fist, hanging into the silken sheets as the man slides down until he arrives at your core.

"Do you remember? Do you remember me yet, my love?"

Truth is, you don't remember him. If you had met before you would be sure you'd never forget such a handsome man. Not when he is like darkness personified, stars for eyes and dressed in black. Should you know him? There is something there, in the back of your head and your heart and soul that screams that yes, you know him.

You're about to speak when strong hands part your legs wider and a firm tongue makes contact with your clit. Whatever you're about to say, it gets lost in the cries of pleasure that the man between your legs is drawing from you. His strong hands are keeping your legs apart, making it easier for him to explore you at his leisure.

One of your hands leaves the sheets and tangles in his wild hair, doing your best to push him further into you. "I need..." even with your mind clouded with pleasure, you sound breathless.

He stops, "Yes? Tell me what you need, my love?"

"You. Please. Take me."

The man hums, quite pleased with your request. "Very well. If you want me, you shall have me. Who am I to deny my Queen?"

You're not a Queen, but you don't have time to deny that as, with one swift motion he has buried deep inside of you. You keen, he fills you so well. Like two puzzle pieces connecting at long last. Your chest feels heavy, your heart is loud and you can hear the rush of blood in your ears. Time stands still as the man above you does not move, but lowers himself enough that there is no space between your bodies.

The kiss he gives you is deep, and you moan into his mouth when he finally starts moving. And it is utter bliss.

He is both gentle and loving one moment, the next, it is as if he were a man dying to meld your bodies together that neither of you could tell where one ends and the other starts. You kiss him fiercely and devour the deep groans and growls that make their way out of his mouth.

You only part when the need for air becomes to much. The world outside of this bedroom may be quiet and dark, but in the privacy of this bedroom, the sounds of flesh meeting flesh and the sounds of pleasure are like a song, like music to your ears.

Pleasure only grows and grows. Your hands exploring his back, clinging to his surprisingly strong shoulders. Leaving a trail of kisses on his neck. "Oh God, you feel amazing."

His mouth also explores you as much as it can, but he leaves marks behind. "Mine." He growls. Both hands resting on your butt, lifting up to find another angle. He knows he found the perfect spot when you keen and scratch at his back.

"Please, I'm close..." you manage to speak through the fog of pleasure. "So close."

You don't need to say more, for the moment those words have left your mouth, one hand leaves your butt, finds your clit and begins a soft massage that heightens your pleasure all the more. "Yes, please..."

"Mine." He growls into your ear. "Say that you are mine."

"I'm... yours." And you're close, so very, very close. "Yours."

He growls and you shiver, you're about to fall to the precipice when he speaks again. "Say my name. Remember it and say it out loud."

Your mind is clouded with pleasure, but with one more thrust and and pressure on your clit and you're falling down a precipice of pleasure, "Morpheus!" You scream, not even caring if the name is right or not.

"Good, you remember me." One more thrust and then you can feel him filling you. "My love, my Queen." He groans as he continues to ride out his pleasure.

You sigh, your walls still clenching and enjoying the bliss. Your eyes feel heavy with sleep and you wrap your arms around him and kiss the head that has come to rest on your chest. You play with his hair and he purrs in contentment. You loose track of time as you both remain wrapped around each other until you drift off to sleep.

"Morpheus!" You call into the empty room as you bolt upright. Light is filtering in through your curtains, and your bed is empty.

But you know that just wasn't a normal wet dream.

That is when it all comes back to you. Of the dozens of lives lived, of the many loving nights you and Morpheus spent together and the promise that you two would find each other in the next life. In that moment you know that you have to find him. He is part of your soul. Not only that, but your soulmate.

"Morpheus. I remember. If you're listening to me. Come to me."

But he does not.

That is when dread fills you. That is when you know that something is not right. That you got to find him. Because you know that if he had been able to, he would have materialized in your room the very moment you had said that you remembered who you were. What you both were to each other.

You will do everything in your power to find him so you two can be together again. And heaven help anyone who had harmed him, because witches like you could be hell when angered, fortunately, you had time. This life had blessed you into being born to a family of long-lived witches and wizards.

"Morpheus, I'll find you. I promise you that and we'll be together again. Hold on. I'm coming my beloved King. I'm coming, my dearest Dream."

#fictober22 #morpheus x reader #dream x reader #dream of the endless x reader #dream of the endless #reader insert #the sandman fic #pre canon fic #au: witches & wizards #au: soulmates #the sandman

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zhimaqiu · 7 months

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Omg would you look at that! A Yuri!!! on Ice fanfiction in 2023????

I'm using Inktober prompts, but to write instead!

Relationship: Yuri Plisetsky & Otabek Altin (platonic)

Word count of the chapter: 2,960

Tw: Russian accent because Yurio without accent isn't Yurio

Short summary: Yuri is troubled after one of his performances and leaves the ice rink before even hearing the results. Left alone only one person comes to mind who could listen to his worries.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

INKTOBER 2023 COLLECTION

Chapter 1: "Dream"

Awaiting music’s sweet death, we cut water’s crystal flesh and melt it with sweat to touch the skies. Sinking allowing flight. What an irony hidden beneath dance. Breathe. Breathe. A spark of agony will rise you above.

Yuri let out an angered breath. It was over. He opened his eyes and looked up at his outstretched hand for a moment. Reflector’s light slid between his fingers and touched his bright eyelashes. He let his arms fall to his sides as he stood in the middle of the ice rink. One uncovered his heart, the other his face. He hissed and skated to the exit where Yakov waited. Despite the pleased look on his face, Yuri looked away.

“You did vell, Yurachka.”

“I vas pathetic. And zis program sucks! Staying here is a vaste of time.” He took down his skates ignored the shoes Yakov offered him. “I don’t care about the scor. I vant to go back to Russia.”

Yakov grabbed his arm.

“YURI!” he kept his grip firm as he moved closer to him and leaned over to talk to his ear.

“Let me go.”

Yuri shook Yakov’s grip off of him and walked away. Before any of the journalists could ask him anything, he was already on the way to the changing rooms. He heard Yakov calling him from the behind.

I von’t need dose anymore.

He threw the white gloves he wore to the stadium seating. A fan that caught one of them quickly hid it beneath his coat, and another one showed it off to her girlfriends that cheered her luck. Yuri paid no attention to that. His ears didn’t catch any noise as he focused on his thoughts.

There’s no vay I vill keep performing to this. It barely shovz any of my strengths. I am more than dis.

He stopped and looked back at Yakov who followed him, but was stopped at the tunnel’s entrance being asked for why Yuri didn’t decide to go to kiss-and-cry.

I’m going to become an unreachable dream for everyone. Victor and that Japanese piggy can forget it.

He looked up.

And Yakov...

His coach blocked the light coming from the rink as he was still explaining Yuri’s behavior to the journalists.

He only holds me back.

He let down his hair and curled down his toes. Cold cement was freezing him to the bone.

“Maybe it iz time for me to move on,” he said quietly and wrapped arms around himself.

•

The changing room was quiet. All the skaters were up at the stadium, wondering here the World Champion has gone. Rows of blue lockers silenced what was going on the surface. Yuri put his skates in a big black bag and threw in the costume, before making sure it’s zipped and locked. He shivered before putting on a thick hoodie. It warmed him up, but he still let out a little sneeze.

What a joke. I live on the ice. I can’t get sick.

He put out his phone and was about to click the maps app to look for the nearest pharmacy, but his thumb slipped and clicked contacts instead.

“Hell,” he hissed about to go back, but stopped himself.

Right on the very top of “favorite” section, name Altin Otabek caught his attention. He starred at it for a moment before pressing it. He jumped hearing a phone ringing right behind him. He turned around.

Otabek smiled at him, but his eyes were expressionless. To an outsider it looked more like a sneer look than something you would greet a friend with.

“God, don’t sneak on me like that, you idiot!” Yuri rose his hands and threw down his bag. “What are you doing here?”

“Decided to watch you perform. Before you went to the ice you looked so focused you didn’t even hear me calling you from the sides.”

“Ah.” Yuri looked away and sat down, breathing in and out sharply.

Otabek looked at him for a moment and sat down beside him.

“Hm.” He scratched the paint covering the bench with his nail. “Why do they always do that to wood? It can’t compare to its natural beauty.”

Yuri did not answer, so he leaned forward and looked at his face. Tightly closed eyes, small nose and lean cheeks were red contrasting with porcelain skin. He must have wash his face roughly to get rid of the make-up.

“Are you cold?”

“No. Stop asking me stupid questions.”

“Then why did you call me?” Otabek’s voice was flat.

“Obviously not to talk about white paint and if I’m cold.”

Kazakh skater sighed deeply. Asking never worked on Yuri, but it didn’t hurt to try from time to time when communication failed for once. He moved closer to make their arms touch. Yuri didn’t move. This time he even leaned on him. A little thing, but Otabek appreciated it.

It’s been almost a year since they became friends. They didn’t see each other often. Otabek stayed in the home country and Yuri was busy with showing up on special events, talk shows and training trips. It was Yakov’s idea to let him travel more. Changes of environment could strengthen him and get used to being the brightest rising star from the northern sky, but they seemed to have the opposite effect. Yuri lacked space. If he did have some he’d occasionally text Otabek, but calls were rare. He almost forgot the sound of his voice.

“Let’s get out of here,” Otabek said after a couple of minutes.

He put his hands in his pockets and got up. Yuri opened his eyes and looked at the ceiling for a moment.

“Ye,” he answered getting up and picking up his bag.

“Food?”

Yuri nodded. “Vatever you vant.”

Otabek turned around and started going towards the exist. It was for the best he didn’t encourage Yuri to catch up with him. If he wanted to talk he’d really bitch about whatever was bothering him, but instead he walked slightly behind Otabek, just making sure to follow the helmet hung on his arm swaying in the corner of his eye.

After they arrived at the private part of the underground lot, Otabek showed his identification card to the security guard and passed under the barrier. Yuri walked passed it, still lost in thought, but he looked up at Otabek when he was securing Yuri’s bag.

“I need to drop by a pharmacy before we eat,” he murmured when Otabek offered him another helmet. “I think I’m getting sick.”

Otabek put on his own helmet and got on the machine.

“I can just give you mine. We’re going to my place anyway.”

“What? Why?” Yuri couldn’t complain more, because the rest was muffled by his hiss and a little squeak when he pinched his finger in the chinstrap’s buckle.

“You said we can get whatever I want.” Otabek smiled down at him. “I decided to cook myself.”

Yuri put his finger out of his mouth and looked at him in bewilderment, but a faint smile brightened up his pinkish face.

•

“I’d never sink someone attending the Grand Prix Finals would rent a house instead of a hotel. You still have the energy to cook yourself?”

“I like cooking,” Otabek murmured. Cold wind drowned the last syllable as they walked towards a small bungalow, but Yuri still made out what he said. “And I can make the food taste exactly how I want.”

“Doesn’t it distract you from practice?”

“Why would it?”

Yuri didn’t answer.

A moth circulated around a lamp that automatically lighted up at their arrival. The light was so faint Otabek had to ask Yuri to use his phone’s flashlight on the keyhole. They took of their shoes and walked to the kitchen barefoot. All lights were out, Otabek’s coach was sleeping in his room occasionally snoring every now and then, so Altin closed the door and turned on two lights; above the stove and the counter. Both of them were quiet. Otabek set water to boil in the kettle, put out a cold medicine in a sachet from a bag and then focused on warming up milk after washing his hands in the kitchen sink. Yuri decided to just scrolled down posts on Touchbook.

Katsuki posted some pictures from practice with Victor. Nothing interesting, just them in an embrace and smiling on the ice. He looked at it for a moment.

“Have any spare clothes in the bag?” Otabek asked setting a glass of already prepared cold medicine in front of him. The bag lied in complete shadow on one of the chairs next to Yuri. “You could take a shower and get under a blanket.”

“Tch. I do, but you sound just like my dedushka,” Yuri laughed putting his phone aside. He drank the entire glass in one go. “Eugh! That crap’s awful!”

“Don’t complain, kid.”

Otabek chuckled hearing how Yuri was on the edge of boiling over.

“Hey!” he rose on his hands on the kitchen island. “Who you are calling ‘kid’, prick?! You zink you can can call that a world champion?! How about you show me on the rink what a kid I am, ha?!”

It was the first time Yuri heard Otabek laugh. A low sound, pleasant, but with his characteristic hoarseness. He stopped screaming and looked at Otabek grabbing the edge of the counter. Without his leather Ramones jacket and black glasses, he looked so much less intimidating. When he finally stopped, he kept a gentle smile while mixing the dough.

“Where’s de bathroom?” Yuri asked quietly.

Otabek pointed at a door directly behind Yuri. He reached to his bag and took out a towel and a fresh pair of sweatpants, boxers and the tiger shirt he bought back in Hasetsu. The print was harsher in touch, detaching from the fabric in a couple of places. Yuri frowned and left to the bathroom.

When he returned Otabek was almost done cooking. A few pieces of flat bread were laid on a white plate with a blue and gold lining. Two small jars of honey and blueberry jam were open and set aside. Grey rivers of steam made their way to the ceiling in meanders before trailing off towards an open window. There was a bag of home delivery services besides the trash can near a cheap fridge, list still attached.

So Otabek and his coach just order food, instead of shopping, but I can hardly imagine Otabek with groceries on the motorcycle anyway.

A drop from his wet, blond hair fell onto Yuri’s bare foot. He stopped starring and quickly rubbed it fairly dry, then hung the towel on a chair and put on fresh socks. Then he started eating after putting jam on one of the pieces.

“Mm!” His eyes widened and his stomach squeezed at the reminder of what food feels like. After just the first bite he started to eat so fast Otabek could barely see the bread on its way to his mouth. He leaned on his hand.

“Good. You’re enjoying it.”

Yuri answered something, but it was completely muffled. Otabek passed him a cup of tea and encouraged to drink it. As it wet the food in his mouth, Yuri took a big breath and raised his voice.

“Vkusnyy!! Vat is dat?”

Otabek smiled eating his own piece he rolled like a thin pancake standing beside the stove. He didn’t say anything, but Yuri must have been too focused on eating, because he forgot to nag him to give him the name of the dish again. Once Otabek put down the last piece, he turned off the hood vent and sat next to Yuri. He looked at the honey about to drip off his shelpek. It glittered in the warm light and hesitated for a moment before falling onto the counter. Otabek looked at the drop and stopped chewing.

Why did I hesitate? Why did I not reach for gold, for the dream, just like I’m just sitting here in silence.

He wet his finger with his tongue and wiped the drop off the table then tasted it.

It’s like scavenging. Picking up after it already became an easy target.

Yuri could barely finish his third piece, but once he did after a long struggle, he let out a long yawn and stretched on the chair. Eyelashes slightly covered his eyes as he leaned forward and put his head on his folded arms at the island. He rested like this for a moment. Then he opened his eyes. His sharp gaze made Otabek look back at him.

“Vat does dream mean to you?”

“Where did that come from?”

“Just answer, oke?!” Yuri’s cheeks became red from anger again. A most adorable trait.

Otabek’s eyes stirred a little bit, but all the cheek muscles and his eyebrows remained in the same spot. How interesting that only recently he’s begun to smile at people, but at last – he actually had a friend he could do it for. He looked away for a moment. Yuri observed him from the curtain of his bangs. Otabek’s face was of a true soldier he once claimed Yuri to be. He was more down to earth, not wasting too much time on philosophy of things in skating. Maybe that was the reason why he couldn’t reach Yuri’s level. His technical perfection was admirable, but that can never be. Yuri found out about it in Hasetsu all that time ago. Maybe it was time to visit the city again.

“What we see when we sleep, what we want—”

Yuri cut him off with a wave of his hand.

He’s still zinking about most basic of definitions. He lacks novelty.

“And what if you want to become a dream?” he said after a moment of silence. His voice weak for a moment. He shook it off quickly and clasped his fist.

“Become it?” Otabek frowned.

Yuri walked away and lied on the sofa, his legs spread comfortably.

“I can’t be zinking like you.”

Otabek felt a stir in his chest, but did not make any louder sound than a controlled breath in. He waited for Yuri to explain himself.

“What Yakov doesn’t get is that I need something more than a fairly challenging program. I need something dangerous. Something that won’t let anyone in the future question my superiority.” He slammed his feet onto the floor again. “I’m more than they let me show!”

He grit his teeth, warm light drowning in his eyes as his pupil widened.

Otabek starred at him without a word. What does he see in front of him right now? What made him desire fame so strongly?

“I’ll go crazy with that won’t stop,” Yuri added his fingers digging into the seat.

Otabek looked at his own skates standing at the wall between bathroom and the entrance hall. Through the glass on the sides of the front door, he saw a cat run by turning on the motion detection lamp. It was chasing a moth, but once it caught it, it let it go, so it could play some more.

“Listening to you makes me think I could never win against you. We might not be as similar as I thought. You evolve so quickly it terrifies.” Otabek kept a faint smile on his face, still observing the cat. “But somehow I still can’t get myself to walk away from you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you since the day I saw you for the first time.”

Yuri looked away from him and stared through the window. Clouds covered the night sky, but streetlights shone in their place. The brightest, blue ones, hurt the eyes of the observer, but no yellow light could ever compare to it.

Plop! Both of their phones got a notification. Otabek looked at his, after lowering the brightness that previously hit him in the eyes. Yuri completely ignored it.

People gathered under one of the yellow lamps outside, chatting about the just announced competition results. Their excited voices slipped into the house, but Yuri couldn’t make anything out of them. It didn’t matter to him at the moment. He just kept looking between the yellow and blue lamps. The later, though brighter, seemed avoided. That wasn’t a surprise since it is the blue lights that are the most cursed at while driving, especially when the car coming from opposite direction has them.

Floor creaked as Otabek stood up.

“Maybe Yakov thinks you’ll destroy yourself, if you don’t slow down your growth,” he said walking over, his strong posture blocking out the light from Yuri’s body, putting him in deeper and darker shadow with every step he took. “Us, sportsmen, don’t have much time to make name for ourselves. Just like stars in the sky we must burn brightly, ending our lives, just to be noticed.”

“Den I need to become an explosion.” Yuri smiled, his face full of determination, then added with a chuckle. “Or like dose annoying ass blue lamps.”

Otabek smiled back at him. “That’s more like you.”

They looked at each other for a while, then clasped their hands firmly and held them together. Only then Otabek realized how hot Yuri’s skin was. He put his other hand on his forehead.

“Hey!” Yuri brushed his hand aside. “Vat do you sink you’re doing?”

“You’ve got a fever. We need to tell Yakov,” Otabek murmured as he looked through contacts on his phone. “I won’t be able to stay here with you tomorrow. I still need to compete in the free skate and make up for finishing in the fourth place.”

“Ha?” Yuri frowned. “I don’t need dat old man to babysit me.”

To confirm his words he let out a tiny, sweet sneeze.

#inktober #inktober 2023 #ao3 #yuri!!! on ice #otabek altin #yuri plisetsky #yuri on ice #yoi #fanfiction #yuri on ice fanfiction

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raelly-writing · 2 years

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Care - Thancred/WoL

Whoops, seems like I forgot to upload this little.. emotional exploration piece. Alludes to mature themes, but nothing explicit. I was too lazy to turn it into a ‘proper’ smut fic.

Takes place sometime between 5.3 and 5.4.

----

Her lips were hot against his neck, his hands pinned against the mattress in a firm grip that remained loose enough that he knew that he had to but ask her to and she’d let go. But he remained torn, itching to touch her yet was thoroughly swept up in the heat she’d stoked in him. This hadn’t been his plan when he’d pulled her down into bed with him, and yet…

Groaning, Thancred tilted his head back, and was rewarded with a quiet sound of approval that shot straight down his spine to settle in his abdomen. Arousal thrummed in his veins, his skin feeling too hot and sensitive.

“Viana-“ he started, but all thoughts flew his mind when she dragged her teeth over the sensitive skin of his Archon sigil. A guttural moan wound its way up his throat, while hot sparks of pleasure danced through him. His entire body was all too aware of the weight of her over him, of the tickle of her loose cotton shirt against his bare abdomen and the press of her legs on either side of his hips.

He felt as much as heard her quiet hum as she pressed another open mouthed kiss to his neck before responding, mirth colouring her tone, “Yes, love?”

The endearment, spoken in such a gentle tone, made his chest clench. Thancred worked his jaw for a moment, his usually nimble mind muddled by the unfamiliarity of the situation. Sure, she’d taken the lead of more than a few of their encounters in the time they’d been together, but the look in her eyes when she’d flipped him onto his back and pinned his hands down… there had been an edge to it he had not seen outside of when they sparred together or were shoulder to shoulder on the battlefield.

He must have been silent longer than he thought, for Viana sat up enough to meet his gaze with a concerned furrow between her brows that he instantly wanted to kiss away. “Is something wrong?” she asked, eyes soft with worry and affection as she searched his face. Her fingers around his wrists loosened, and before he knew it a sudden, thoroughly unexpected jolt of fear that she’d let go and withdraw made him shake his head.

“No, it’s not, I just…” That precious control he always kept was slipping like fine sand between his fingers. “I’m not…” He wet his lips. Not good at trusting, letting go. An old part of his mind, so well ingrained by the life he’d led and choices he’d made, screamed at him to take back control, to lavish her with the attention she deserved so dearly.

When he didn’t immediately elaborate, she tilted her head to the side in thought. But then, she smiled softly, a look of understanding flickering across her features, before she leaned down to press a kiss to his forehead. Thancred shuddered and closed his eyes. It was so innocent an act, yet he felt the contact in the very core of his being.

Viana brushed her nose against his. “Thancred?” she asked quietly and rested her brow against his. Her thumbs were rubbing soothingly against his wrists, not holding him down in any manner, yet he did not feel like moving them. “Will you let me take care of you, for once?”

Such a simple question, yet he felt like he had the wind knocked out of him. He didn’t deserve that, hadn’t earned it. She gave so much of herself to everyone else, and the world took and took anyway of what she did not give willingly. How could he be selfish enough to ask her to give more to him? “You don’t have to,” he rasped out, even as a part of him yearned to submit to her every wish. He was good at giving pleasure, treasured seeing her relaxed and happy in his arms, to help her forget about the demands of the outside world for a few precious hours…

“But I want to.” She pressed a small kiss to his parted lips, then drew back enough to meet his gaze once more. “Would you… trust me, with that?”

“Seven Hells, Viana, I trust you with my body and soul,” he responded softly. And for some reason she’d seen fit to trust him with her heart.

A small smile curled the corner of her mouth. “Is that a yes, love?”

He blinked up at her, fingers flexing against nothing. Slowly, she slid one hand up until he could lace his fingers with hers, and squeezed. It was harder than he thought it would be, but he finally let go of those final strands of control and nodded. “Yes, it is.” Exhaling slowly, he relaxed back against the bed. “I’m yours.”

#Thancred Waters #ffxiv #Thancred #Wolcred #shadowbringers spoilers #My writing

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flamingo-bubbles · 1 year

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A03 First Lines Tag Game

Rules: Share the first lines of ten of your most recent fanfics and tag ten people. If you have written fewer than ten, don’t be shy and share anyway.

Tagged by @mcalhenwrites ! Thank you for remembering even though I’ve only recently come back to the land of Tumblr joijepriksjdfjl

I’m gonna cheat and pick just 10 of my fics, not my 10 most recent ‘cause I go through bouts of writing for the same ship/fandom and variety is the spice of life!

Lets’ago!

1. Going for Gold

The cheers and whoops of the packed arena died down quickly to respectful murmuring. The sudden stillness pounded in Amy's ears and shot adrenaline into her bloodstream. This was always the worst part; it never got easier.

2. Notes to the President

Sayori stood outside the clubroom.

She had stared at this door countless times. The unique quirks of its craftsmanship and wear had been burned into her brain - the black smudge along the bottom, the slight indent above the door handle, the discoloration on the left side. Tiny, inconsequential things her mind latched onto and carefully checked to make sure they remained unchanged.

3. Made With Love

“Judas! Teach me how you make omelet rice!”

Judas looked up from the campfire to find Reala staring intently at him, her eyes practically bugging out of her head and the firelight casting her pink, puffed cheeks in an orange glow.

4. Smiles

You're not allowed to cry.

All the sadness, all the pain, all the fear – every grief-ridden emotion must be pushed away. You must find the strength to smile. When you're standing outside the door, that's when you're allowed to be human; that's when you're allowed to grieve.

5. A Convenient Liminal Space

The doors slide open, a cheery chime announcing Meiko’s departure from the real world into the climate-controlled void of sanitized fluorescence. Places like this were called “liminal spaces” or something like that, right? Not the haven of home nor the hell of her cubicle - someplace in between where she can breathe.

Or, y’know, it could just be the convenience store that she visits on her way home from work.

6. Bury Me In Your Flames

Bury me in your flames and let me forget.

Burn my eyes with smoke and dreams.

Clear away what I've done, the people I've hurt, the lives I've taken, the guilt that sears my brain.

Give me a second chance. Take me away from the screams that haunt my heartbeats. Let me go back to those simpler days, when I knew I was good and Arthur was just. When Laphi was there, struggling but smiling. Complaining. Breathing. Alive .

7. Chasing Shadows in the Morning Light

Sitting at her window, Rhea watches the sunlight cresting the horizon, the hazy light chasing the shadows from the monastery. Although she has been up for hours, it's only now that she moves from her vigil, making her way slowly and steadily to her armoire. In stark contrast to the grace with which she walked, she falls heavily into the chair, as if the weight of the world pulls her down.

8. Beneath the Mascara and Blush

They had stumbled into each other's lives like rainbows - bright, sudden, and entirely unexpected. At first, all that tied them together was their mutual friendship with Ludger. However, chance meetings in Trigleph led to chatting led to lunches led to friendship.

Led to a massive crush. Much to Leia's dismay.

9. Tracing Constellations

Ashe always fell asleep first.

After three years of sharing a bed, Marianne knew Ashe’s routine as if it were her own. The tight grip of his arms around her waist would slacken as his breathing grew deep, slow, and even. After a few minutes more, his soft snores would signal that he had fallen into a deep sleep, one he would not wake from until the sun rose in the morning and streamed through their bedroom window.

10. Points of Contact

The hand on his shoulder is firm, assured even.

The transfer student leans down slightly so they're at the same eye level and Mishima's sight immediately falls to the floor. He slumps down, trying his best to be as small and non-threatening as possible.

Dark emotions explode one after another like fireworks in his brain - hatred for the transfer student's prying, anger at Sakamoto for dredging all of this up in the first place, fear that he won't be able to keep it bottled any longer and what that'll mean for his next "special coaching" session.

(This has made me realize - although really I kinda already knew - that I’m a big fan of impact single short sentence to start stories out, haha. It’s a good strategy! Oh, also, not tagging anyone since my Tumblr resurrection is still young and I’m not sure who’s still about. But if you’d like to do this, consider yourself tagged!)

#Bubbly Babble #brah I feel like I don't write much and then I see that I have more than enough stories to pick and choose from for this #and go 'oh yeah' haha

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wonderfam · 8 months

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An Amazon and an Alien sitting in a tree...!

Decided to try my hand at writting again. I really fell in love with this AU comic- Knights of Steel- and it saddens me a bit that it won't be fleshen out more (DC being DC -_-)

But that's what fanfincs are for, ain't it :3

AOW

Fanfinc

PROLOGUE

Preparing the Soil

***************

Thomas and Martha were gentle monarchs, and much more intelligent than the rest of inhabitants the Els had so far met. But they still had issues thinking ‘outside the box’. They were content in the current state of peace, and concerned themselves solely on domestic matters.

The Els, however, were growing more and more concerned about the hostility shown to them by their neighboring Kingdoms. After the Waynes adamantly refused to have them leave to appease the Kingdom of Storms, addressing the issue strategically became necessary.

At the meeting sat the King and the Queen, General Waller, Lara Lor-Van and Jor-El.

“The Amazons are the only real threat. We know almost nothing about them. Only their reputation from ancient wars.” The General opened the conversation. “And if it is to be believed…we could be in trouble in case of war.”

“There hasn’t been a war between the kingdom in generations.” Thomas stated, unnerved about Waller’s tense declarations. “The Amazons keep to themselves. Their alliance to King Jefferson is close only due to territorial proximity.”

“Not entirely accurate, your Majesty.” Jor-El said. “Both Kingdoms have close ties with magic. The Amazons could believe this Prophecy with as much fervor as King Jefferson does. And if they are as ignorant of you as we are of them…It will only fuel their fear and distrust.”

“It will be difficult, if tales are to be believed. As no man is allowed to set foot on Amazonia.”

“Not all of us are men, dear Thomas.” Lara said. “I will make the first contact. Once we are sure they are open to negotiations, perhaps Queen Martha could join me in a second visit”

“No. You and I will go together on this first visit. By ship.” They were surprised by Martha’s firm words. A Queen in these lands was not expected to participate in politics or matters of war. Thomas valued Martha too much to think of her as less than him, and Martha was well aware of her intelligence and worth, but these people loved their traditions too much to openly disregard them. Perhaps the reason why when she did speak, everyone listened.“If they believe in the Prophecy with as much fervor as the King of Storms does, you flying into their island will only frighten them more.”

“As the tales go, Amazons fear nothing.” Thomas chortled.

“Fear inhabits every mortal’s heart.”

“They are immortal, Lara. Or so the tales go…”

*************

It took them three days to reach the port, and another four of voyage to finally see the Themyscira Archipelago. Most of the islands seemed to be completely covered by vast forests. Massive birds and strange beasts flew across the skies. The city stood at the center of the main island, and the buildings seemed sculpted into the very rock of the island’s cliffs. Trees and lushful vegetation almost completely hid the colorful walls.

But that was in the distance, and visible only to the Els. The Waynes’ attention was focused on the many ships scattered around the island. Shaped for speed and reinforced with metal, they were obviously vessels of war. Not having set foot on the island yet, and already crucial errors on their data were discovered. Nobody in their half of the world knew that Amazonia warred at sea.

A month prior, a messenger had been sent on a merchant ship. Their intent for a peaceful meeting was well received and a date and time was set. It was true that no men were allowed to set foot on their land, but in the spirit of tolerance and respect, Queen Hyppolyta had promised to set aside a vessel so the men could participate in the meeting as well.

As they approached, they could see it bobbing in the waves. The biggest of the lot, the purple banner of Amazonia waving high on the mainmast. A lion of gold gleamed at its bow, snarling its defiance to the world. It was clustered with the tallest, most muscled women any of them had ever seen. All covered in metal and leather, armed to the teeth, and staring back at them with the hardened gazes of seasoned soldiers.

“It is a good start.” Jor-El remarked, coming to stand next to Thomas at the bow of the ship as the Captain began maneuvers to port. “It shows they are willing to adjust their traditions for the sake of diplomacy.”

“Yes. I also welcome foreign diplomats with a contingency of armed soldiers.” Thomas murmured back. “I still can’t believe I let you convince me to bring the children…”

“The Amazons are not savages, Thomas.” The El sighed. “General Waller has issues to focus on matters unrelated to war and death. But the intel’s there. They are civilized, highly advanced people. Besides…” He eyed the amazonian ship with his other visions. Indeed, it was packed with armored Amazons. “I will protect you, my King.”

“I’m sure you will. Maybe you can sleep with the Amazon Queen. A bond of shared blood is a common method of enforcing an alliance in these backwater worlds of ours.”

Jor-El didn’t take the jab personally. The Waynes were not invulnerable, and the Amazons were not behaving in a very reassuring way. Bringing the children had been Martha’s idea, but the Els’ voted in favor. If anything bad happened, it would be their fault. From beginning to end…

**************

Queen Hyppolyta was an imposing sight. Like the rest of her kin, she was tall, muscular and strikingly beautiful. Clad in purple leather and a thick fur cape, the only symbol of her statues was a tiara of gold. Even without it, however, she stood out amongst the rest by the sheer force of her presence.

Her eyes were piercing, but there was a softness to them that soothed the visitors from the Wayne Kingdom. She was also smiling…and there was a child standing by her side.

“...this is Diana.” Queen Hyppolyta introduced her after the monarchs exchanged the obligatory salutes. “My daughter. Princess of Themyscira.”

The girl was a tiny version of the grim women around them. All tacked up in her leather armor, a small sword and a tiara of her own. Of course the grim expression of the seasoned warriors looked more like a pout on that young babish face. Her big blue eyes gleamed with curiosity, and betrayed the facade.

“She’s precious!”

“...Martha..!”

“Show respect!” The precious little girl snapped, taking a threatening step forward. “I am the Queen’s Daughter!”

“And you’re speaking to a Queen, Diana…” Hypolitta chidded. “And your elder.”

“I meant no offense. My most sincere apologies…I…”

“Please, do not concern yourself. Despite what my daughter may think, she is a child. Still in need of learning the art of diplomacy and tolerance.”

The tone was gentle, but Diana looked properly rebuked. Blushing and pouting, she apologized as well, and promised to remember they were from very faraway lands.

“Perhaps this is a wonderful time to introduce our own little treasures.” Lara said. She had almost gushed over the princess herself. Only her excitement of introducing Zala as a potential playmate had halted the impulse.

They had told the children to wait on the ship until they had a clearer idea of what to expect from the Queen of the Amazons. And of course, they had been eavesdropping. The moment those words left Lara’s lips, quick feet thundered down the ramp of their ship and into the deck where they stood.

They felt a little jolt of excitement as Diana’s hardened face brightened with excitement at the sight of Zala. Unfortunately, the sight of the young boys seemed to displease her and she snapped right back to her sullen ‘warrior face’.

There was a moment of unease as the visiting adults pondered where the children would wait. Bruce and Kal-El could not set foot on land, and they doubted the Queen would agree to let Diana into their ship. The deck would be an unpleasant place to wait, as they did not know how long the meeting would last.

Perhaps Zala could join Diana at the beach, and the two boys would be good big brothers and keep each other company on the ship…

***********

Diana sat with them in the meeting. As it turned out, the Amazons treated their children like adults. As Princess, the girl had thus the right and the obligation to participate. It was a bit awkward, but Lara told Zala to wait with Bruce and Kal-El on the ship. Of course it was left unsaid, but to the kryptonians and the Waynes, there was no need for a child to worry about these matters in times of peace.

Hands clasped in front of her, Hyppolyta waited until everyone sat down, and then went straight to the point.

“You are worried about Constantine’s Prophecy and our involvement with the Kingdom of Storms.”

“...yes. We are.” Thomas replied. He liked this approach. “We want nothing but peace and prosperity for all the kingdoms. King Jefferson is not listening. Do you believe in the Prophecy?”

The Queen took a moment to answer, sighing before speaking.

“I know a future being written is a dangerous thing, and fate is never so simple…We also know the hearts of men…” She nailed Jor-El with a piercing glare. It was an instant, but left no room for doubts. The Amazons were hostile to the kryptonians, but for different reasons. “...you have powers only the gods should brandish. Yet, you are not gods.”

“We are not.” Jor-El agreed. “We are-at heart-as human as you. All we wish is to give our children a life of peace. We have used our powers to help those in need. And that's all we wish to do with them.”

“They saved our lives when there was nothing for them to gain from it.” Thomas added. “They have enriched our culture and improved our understanding of the world around us. They are a force of good. Which is more than can be said about the gods. If they exist at all.”

The Amazons were displeased by the comment, and leather creaked, metal clanked, as the warriors around them fidgeted. Diana’s pout grew and she glanced uncertainly at her mother. The Queen simply stared pensively at the King.

“Words are hollow.” One of the two Amazons standing by the Queen’s side whispered. She dressed differently than the others. No metal-or visible weapons-on her. She was also the only Amazon that didn’t look ready to attack at any second. Dare they say, she seemed almost amused by the whole situation. “Actions are telling.”

“...we are a peaceful people, despite our reputation.” Hypolitta said after a moment. “We do not wish for war anymore than you do. But you must understand: our alliance with the Kingdom of Storm is ancient. You are inconsequential to our lives…” She gestured at the Wayne’s, and then turned her gaze to the Els. “And you have the power of gods, yet the flawed heart of men…That is even more concerning.”

“We understand that trust is built with time, and not something that should be demanded. ” Lara said. “All we ask is for a chance to be known for who we really are.”

“The world is a very big place, your Majesty.” Martha added. “And it does appear you have peaceful relations only with the Kingdom of Storms. But there’s so much more out there. And most of them believe that you are savages. In the kingdoms of the East, you are known as the one-breasted women.”

The visitors all paled at the blunt remarks, but Martha spoke with regal professionalism. No mockery, or anger, in her voice. Facts stated and nothing else.

“It’s true.” The same Amazon that had spoken before confirmed. “They say we chop off our left breast so we can shoot our bows better.”

The Amazons clustering the small room eyed them as if it was their wrongful beliefs. Some murmured angrily in their tongue, others chuckled at the absurdity of it.

The Queen simply rolled her eyes. It wasn’t the worst rumor she had heard about them. King Jefferson revealed once why so many merchant ships did massive detours to avoid sailing anywhere near Themaschyra. It still made her blood boil, but Phillipus had advised to let it be. Why, it was good to be feared by troublesome folk.

At any rate, Martha’s point was crystal clear.

“We should adopt Zala.” Diana spoke up, startling the guests. “The kingdoms of men exchange people to forge alliances. A woman to marry a man. We don’t do that. But…hum…” The warrior facade broke, and Diana was suddenly all child as she looked at her mother eagerly, a big smile brightening her face. “We can adopt Zala. We will know the Els, and the Els will get to know us! She can be my sparring partner!”

Lara was moved by the innocent proposal. Everyone was always so afraid of them. It took so long to earn trust and love. But here was this child, part of a hardened distrustful breed, just wanting to take one of them in as a playmate. No fear, no anger…To little Diana, the Els were no more and no less, than an Amazon…

Diana was staring at her. Lara smiled gently.

“We would most certainly be honored to be welcomed into the Island to get to know each other as people. The journey was long but..” She looked up at the Queen, expecting to find the same gentle smile any adult would wear when faced with the unrealistic wishes of an innocent child. But Hippolyta looked dead serious as she stared right back at her. Lara’s smile dropped, eyes widening in shock. “...!”

#zala Jor-El #diana of themyscira #fanfinc #my stupid fanfinc

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disneysliceoflife · 9 months

Text

An Amazon and an Alien sitting in a tree...!

Decided to try my hand at writting again. I really fell in love with this AU comic- Knights of Steel- and it saddens me a bit that it won't be fleshen out more (DC being DC -_-)

But that's what fanfincs are for, ain't it :3

Chapter 1

Preparing the Soil

***************

At the meeting sat the King and the Queen, General Waller, Lara Lor-Van and Jor-El.

“It will be difficult, if tales are to be believed. As no man is allowed to set foot on Amazonia.”

“Not all of us are men, dear Thomas.” Lara said. “I will make the first contact. Once we are sure they are open to negotiations, perhaps Queen Martha could join me in a second visit”

“As the tales go, Amazons fear nothing.” Thomas chortled.

“Fear inhabits every mortal’s heart.”

“They are immortal, Lara. Or so the tales go…”

*************

“Yes. I also welcome foreign diplomats with a contingency of armed soldiers.” Thomas murmured back. “I still can’t believe I let you convince me to bring the children…”

“I’m sure you will. Maybe you can sleep with the Amazon Queen. A bond of shared blood is a common method of enforcing an alliance in these backwater worlds of ours.”

**************

Her eyes were piercing, but there was a softness to them that soothed the visitors from the Wayne Kingdom. She was also smiling…and there was a child standing by her side.

“...this is Diana.” Queen Hyppolyta introduced her after the monarchs exchanged the obligatory salutes. “My daughter. Princess of Themyscira.”

“She’s precious!”

“...Martha..!”

“Show respect!” The precious little girl snapped, taking a threatening step forward. “I am the Queen’s Daughter!”

“And you’re speaking to a Queen, Diana…” Hypolitta chidded. “And your elder.”

“I meant no offense. My most sincere apologies…I…”

“Please, do not concern yourself. Despite what my daughter may think, she is a child. Still in need of learning the art of diplomacy and tolerance.”

The tone was gentle, but Diana looked properly rebuked. Blushing and pouting, she apologized as well, and promised to remember they were from very faraway lands.

Perhaps Zala could join Diana at the beach, and the two boys would be good big brothers and keep each other company on the ship…

***********

Hands clasped in front of her, Hyppolyta waited until everyone sat down, and then went straight to the point.

“You are worried about Constantine’s Prophecy and our involvement with the Kingdom of Storms.”

“...yes. We are.” Thomas replied. He liked this approach. “We want nothing but peace and prosperity for all the kingdoms. King Jefferson is not listening. Do you believe in the Prophecy?”

The Queen took a moment to answer, sighing before speaking.

“We understand that trust is built with time, and not something that should be demanded. ” Lara said. “All we ask is for a chance to be known for who we really are.”

The visitors all paled at the blunt remarks, but Martha spoke with regal professionalism. No mockery, or anger, in her voice. Facts stated and nothing else.

“It’s true.” The same Amazon that had spoken before confirmed. “They say we chop off our left breast so we can shoot our bows better.”

The Amazons clustering the small room eyed them as if it was their wrongful beliefs. Some murmured angrily in their tongue, others chuckled at the absurdity of it.

At any rate, Martha’s point was crystal clear.

Diana was staring at her. Lara smiled gently.

#diana of themyscira #zala jor-el #zala #knights of steel #dc comics #fanfinction #wonder woman

0 notes

sukirichi · 3 years

Text

— out of reach | gojo x reader

request: Girllllll I just read your jealous gojo fic and my heart went 📈📈📈📈💥💥💥 youre now one of my fav writers 🙏🧎‍♀️And the spicy parts 😫😫😫 💖 If your asks are still open, could I please request a fic where GOJO has a size kink 🥺🥺🥺 my 5’1 ass is obsessed with that shizzzz

pov: you’re gojo’s childhood friend and roommate – which leads to utter chaos – or perhaps utter bliss?

warnings: size kink, lots of teasing, lots of cursing, dirty talk, choking (probably not in the way you think), body worship, lots of size difference scenes, slight manhandling, overstimulation, thigh fucking, vaginal sex, unprotected sex (don’t do this irl guys) + unedited fic :D

notes: idk what happened here LMAOOO but i loved writing this one because i’m short as hell too lol. thanks for this request anon, i hope you like it! <3

word count: 10.5k

masterlist !

If you’re going to be honest, having Gojo as a roommate is something completely unexpected.

Not only are you two from entirely different worlds – him as a jujutsu sorcerer and you as an average human who can’t see curses – but he’s also just someone who is entirely out of your league. He’s respected and looked up to in his field of work, while half of your co-workers don’t even know your name, much less notice you in function parties where you mostly just nibble on sushi before calling it a day and turning back home.

You and Gojo met in elementary school. You could tell from the way he’s surrounded by servants and stern looking adults, firm hands on his small shoulders, that he was different from everyone else.

Apparently, he comes from one of the three big clans in the jujutsu world or whatever. You honestly don’t care about any of that, because Gojo refuses to act maturely about his role in the clan. You still remember how quiet he was on the first day of school, never smiling and keeping to himself despite your persuasion to eat lunch with him or play with him after school in the courtyard.

You miss that Gojo Satoru – the quiet, serious kid who was far too gentle in his actions yet firm in his words and beliefs. When you were still a little girl, you admired how he seemed older than his age, a wistful look in those azure blue eyes of his that you’ve always loved.

To you, Gojo Satoru was your hero. You’ve always been one of the shortest kids in class, and it didn’t help that you really loved pigtails all the way until middle school that made you an easy target from immature people who’s being hit way too fast by puberty and growing each passing day. You never minded your short stature because really, it’s just height, but you couldn’t ignore how your confidence dwindled each day when they called you several array of nicknames.

Too shy to fight back, you’d laugh it off or force a smile.

Gojo wasn’t having any of it. He’d break his silence and immediately pull you to his side (which only made things worse because Gojo was one of the tallest kids in class, further emphasizing how small you are right next to him) before threatening to smack the kids right in the face.

The threat should be enough to land him detention, but because he’s Gojo Satoru, the golden kid everyone loved, they took his word seriously.

At the age of eleven, you started seeing your best friend as your knight in shining armour. Gojo basked in this, growing protective and always glaring at whoever snickered when you walked past them. Sometimes he even bared his teeth to hiss at them, which was honestly so ridiculous now that you think about, though the message – the threat – always came across loud and clear.

So yeah, you love Gojo, you still do.

Years flew by and the two of you grew apart due to work and also as a part of growing up. You still kept in contact, messaging each other once a month to ask the other how they’re doing. His work kept him extremely busy though, and Gojo didn’t want you involved in the dangers of what he’s doing, so he makes sure to keep a safe distance.

Until six months ago, you hear a banging on your door. You’re just about ready to throw hands because your former roommate moved out to live with her stoner boyfriend, leaving you to shoulder all the bills and responsibilities of maintaining a two man apartment.

A sneer forms on your lips as you swing the door open, a scowl already on your face. You assumed it was your roommate who returned to get the pair of lace panties they left in their room, but instead, your childhood friend stands before you, taller (seriously, how has he not stopped growing?) and definitely a lot hotter than the last time you saw him.

One thing leads to another, and now it feels like there was never such distance between the two of you with how easily you both fell back into a comfortable – yet chaotic – rhythm and routine of being each other’s roommate.

Not that you mind, of course. Gojo’s definitely changed a lot from when you were kids. He’s no longer that stiff or sensitive when it comes to others. In fact, it seems like he loosens up a lot more with age, because you can barely recognize the man living under the same roof with you now.

For one thing, Gojo is loud. Like really talkative, won’t shut the fuck up and speaks like he’s in a screaming contest with someone. It doesn’t matter if you’re taking an important phone call or sleepwalking at three in the morning to pee, Gojo is always creating some sort of ruckus.

You’d never admit it out loud, but you loved it. You love him.

He’s definitely a lot more enthusiastic and fun to be with now that both of you have grown up, or in Gojo’s case, simply aged. His maturity reversed backwards because it feels like you’re taking care of a little kid.

Not only does his body clock is practically non-existent, he’s also horrible when it comes to taking care of himself and being punctual with work.

Fortunately for him, you love him, and you both leave for work at the same time. You always wake up earlier to prepare breakfast so you’d both have energy to start the day – although you highly doubt there’s really anything that depletes his endless source of one.

Sleepily walking through the kitchen with your fist rubbing at your eyes, you rummage through the refrigerator for some eggs when you realize there’s none.

Huh, you think to yourself, scratching your scalp. You’re sure that Gojo went grocery shopping last week since it’s his chore to do the outside stuff like buying groceries and throwing thrash, so where did it go?

You open shelf by shelf, checking each corner and shoving cans aside to look for the tray. With a glare, you stand on your tiptoes to pull the pantry open, only to have your mouth fall aghast because it’s all there – right at the back where you can’t reach it!

Fucking Satoru, you grit your teeth while heaving your body up onto the counter. It’s a struggle because not only are your muscles still half asleep, but because the shelf is right in your face, and if you’re not careful enough, you could hit it right with your face and fall over. Of fucking course you know Satoru did this to make fun of you – and now you retract your statement over your best friend.

It’s all a lie.

He’s a pain in the ass. Why do you even bother cooking for him and letting him live literally just a room away when you know he won’t stop pulling shit like this?

Because, the nagging voice in your head tries to mock, he’s your best friend and you can’t really say no to him. This makes you huff as you carefully pull the tray towards you, hooking two fingers at the edge while your other palm grips at the end of the counter for support. No thanks to your short limbs, you’re practically hogging the shelf by now in an attempt to reach it. You look ridiculous, that’s for sure, and you make a mental note to keep Satoru’s windows open tonight so he freezes to death –

“Aw, cupcake,” a sing-song voice emerges from the other side of the room. “You look so adorable. You should’ve woke me up if you need my help.”

“Fuck off, Satoru,” you flip him off. The man only laughs, the rambunctious sound echoing off the walls. It’s way too early in the morning and he’s already so damn loud; something builds up at the back of your head out of frustration already. His grin only gets wider when you finally got the eggs and clutch it your chest, setting it down on the counter while wiping your sweat away from your face. “Freeloader,” you mutter under your breath, ignoring him when he happily skips over to you.

“Ouch,” he places a palm over his chest, although you both know he’s never really affected by anything. “So what’s for breakfast today? You?”

“You know, I can kick you out anytime I want. I’m being extremely nice even going as far to cook you breakfast before you leave for work, so don’t test my patience.”

“Exactly, my best friend is so kind,” Satoru grows the audacity to rest his arm on your head. This triggers a reflexive response from you; shoulders tensing up and hands curling into fists beside you. “I would totally date her if she wasn’t such a temperamental little devil,” you nearly stab him with a fork with his statement, which he thinks he’s being so sly for but you heard it, and you’re most definitely not pleased with it. “Okay, I’m kidding! I’m going to go shower now!”

You roll your eyes at him and heat the pan over with some oil, muttering under your breath that you’re really going to kick him out soon. As if things couldn’t get worse – as if Satoru couldn’t get any worse – he smacks your backside in the process before darting to the showers.

“Gojo Satoru!”

“Morning, best friend, love ya!”

You were right. He is a pain in the ass.

“You don’t always have to walk me to work.”

“I know.”

“So why’re you still here? I’m not a little kid anymore,” Contrary to your words, you stick closer to Satoru when the morning rush of workers and students begin to crowd the streets. Your best friend notices this with a small smile, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Don’t even try, Satoru.”

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

“I know that look on your face,” you fiddle with the buttons of your uniform, sighing when Satoru follows you inside the bus after tapping your phone for two seats. It’s not a surprise to you anymore that most of your expenses are spent by him, for him, and he lazily sprawls his long limbs across the seat before you pulling you down right next to him.

As much as you hate this man, especially because he smirks at the attention he’s receiving from women – even men – in the bus, you have to admit he’s warm and smells damn good. You bite the inside of your cheeks, looking around in slight self-consciousness before inching a little closer, just to feel his warmth. He’s comforting – irrationally so – so you set your bag between the both of you to keep your sanity. “If you keep doing this, Principal Yaga might fire your ass because you’re never on time.”

“Trust me, cupcake, he won’t. I’m too valuable for that.”

How you saw that coming – you can’t tell anymore. The bus ride is relatively quiet and eventless, with you dozing off every now and then because you’re never a morning person. Thankfully, Satoru is more respectful this time around, lolling your head until it drops to his shoulder. After that, he snakes his arm around your waist before resting it on your thigh as a way to say you don’t have to head bang every damn second and just sleep.

On any other occasion, you would’ve hated it. You always look so small whenever you’re in Satoru’s presence. It doesn’t help that he’s long and lanky, either, his slender fingers effortlessly caressing your thigh while almost your entire body is flushed next to him. But right now, he’s too warm, too soft, and you’re too tired that for just a little bit, you allow yourself to relax.

A beeping wakes you up a moment later. Opening your eyes, you push yourself off Satoru when you see an old lady reaching for the handles. No one gave up their seats for her even as the bus driver asked her to find a seat lest she’d fall.

“Grandma, here, take my seat—” You’re about to stand up and offer it to her when Satoru tugs you by the wrist. Because of your small, wobbly composure, pulling you to him takes little to no effort. You end up on his lap, sitting on him as if you’re nothing but a small, dainty schoolbag. Satoru is clearly enjoying this because you feel him breathily laugh on the back of your neck, charming – annoyingly so – as he gestures to the now empty spot beside him.

“It’s no worries, Grandma. She’ll be fine,” he gestures to you, patting your head like you’re some puppy. “Please, take a seat. The bus is already moving.”

“Satoru, get off me,” You wriggle yourself from his hold, which only ends up in wasted effort because this big oaf doesn’t even budge. He even bounces you on one of his thighs, and you dig your nails into his arms as a silent plead for him to stop. He ignores this, ignores your small whines and the apparent embarrassment that has you debating whether to punch him or hide yourself in the safety of his uniform.

“She’s a feisty little one, isn’t she?”

The old lady watches the two of you banter, giggling behind her wrinkled hands. “You’re an adorable couple.”

“I think so too!”

“You’re so going to pay for this, Satoru,” you grumble, face planted onto your palms. This is it – the worst day of your life. It’s even worse because despite your protests, you have to admit his lap is actually comfortable. You’ve already known this before after countless times of cuddling with Satoru during movie nights, but its different when you’re both out in public. It feels...oddly intimate and maybe even romantic when he rubs soothing circles at your back, almost as if apologizing for this event. Most of all, you just hate the way something pools beneath your stomach at having him so close to you like this. “This is so embarrassing. I’m practically crushing you with my weight.”

“Please, cupcake, you barely weigh anything. I could easily lift you off with just my finger,” when you elbow him in the chest, Satoru only laughs, raising both hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, I’ll stop teasing.”

You give up. No one seems to be paying much attention to any of you anyway, so you sigh, letting yourself hide in the crook of his neck as you watch the city pass through the windows. Your body moves as his chest rises and falls from his breathing, the movement oddly comforting. It’s embarrassing – it really is – but at least the grandma was comfortable until Satoru drops you off near your building.

“You don’t have to walk me all the way there.”

“Why not? You don’t want people to see us together or something?”

“No,” you stare at him from the corner of your eye. It’s no secret Satoru is attractive. This bastard knows it too, judging from the way he confidently and arrogantly swaggers next to you, hands shoved deep in his pockets as he walked with no care in the world. “My co-workers keep asking me for your number every time I tell them we’re not dating. It’s getting annoying at this point how they go Satoru this and Satoru that.”

“Am I hearing it right? Is cupcake jealous?”

“I’m not jealous, I’m disgusted,” you correct, “They don’t know how much of a pain you are to have around. They’re so focused with your looks that they completely overlook the fact you can’t even wash your dirty underwear!”

Satoru frowns at this, pointing his finger to you as if you’ve accused him of a huge crime. “Hey, I wash my underwear.”

“Yeah and last time you did, you mixed it with whites! My work uniform turned a stupid shade of blue! Now I can’t picture the colour of your boxers out of my head and it’s giving me a headache!”

“Wow, Y/N,” the smirk on his face and the sudden drop of nicknames lets you know you’ve said something wrong. Even behind his blindfold, you could tell his eyes are just sparkling with amusement. He’s enjoying this way too much. “I never thought you’d ever picture my boxers. I mean, I don’t mind showing it to you if you ask nicely—”

“Ugh, you’re so hopeless. I’m going to work.”

Gojo laughs when you jog away from him. He catches up with you in a matter of seconds, only having to take a few steps forward before he’s right beside you again. You’re unsure if you should be annoyed it’s so easy for him to always be right next to you, and how he almost always is right next to you while you prefer running away. It muddles with your heart and mind so much you pinch the bridge of your nose, trying not to be swayed by the sickeningly sweet sound of his laughter. “I can’t pick you up later, okay? I might work overtime!” (that’s a lie since Gojo prefers shopping and sightseeing)

Both of you know that’s a lie. Gojo never works overtime. He’s going to work for a few hours and so and call playing around with his students as “on-hand learning” before he goes shopping for stupid souvenirs and wild-flavoured mochis, then end his day by sightseeing and coming back home.

“Wasn’t expecting you to,” you mumble, waving goodbye to him as the office doors close. Slowly, Satoru’s grin and enthusiastic farewell fades into view until nothing but the pale, silver walls of your office greets you.

Funny how you claim to hate this man so much, yet the moment he’s out of sight, everything becomes dull and pointless.

It’s an absolutely shitty day. Your equally shitty boss blames you for something you didn’t even do, all because his incompetent secretary – who you’re sure he’s sleeping with – lost this month’s report and claimed she handed it to you last week when you’re not involved in that kind of work. Logic doesn’t come by them because your boss publicly humiliates and scolds you, calling you all kinds of names until tears are streaming down your face.

You slam the door shut the moment you get home, kicking your shoes off as you head straight to your room. You don’t bother taking your makeup off anymore as you change into a loose shirt and floral cotton shirts, padding to the kitchen after seeing Satoru is well nestled into the couch.

At least someone’s had a good day.

Seeing as the sink is empty, he probably hasn’t eaten dinner. This makes you sigh, because when will he ever learn to look after himself? He’s literally like a child.

Satoru pauses whatever he’s watching before he hovers over you, head tilted to the side as he gazes at you with curiosity. You ignore him and begin to set down some bowls and chopsticks for dinner, all the while Satoru is studying every inch of your tightly pulled face. “Bad day?” he concludes.

“Hmm.”

“Bad day it is then,” he nods to himself. “I can cook dinner, if you want.”

“And have you burn my apartment? No thanks,” you scoff, pushing him aside to retrieve the pans when you see that he’s placed them above again, even after you’ve reminded countless times to just leave it near the holders in the sink. “Ugh, why do you keep putting the pans in this shelf? You know I can’t reach this. I’ve had enough with you pulling pranks on me, and don’t think I’ve forgotten you placed my shampoo above the shower head today, you idiot,” you snarl and hop over the counter again to get the pans, trying your best to fight back the tears that are threatening to fall. “You’re really bothersome, you know that?”

“Then why don’t you kick me out?” he challenges, completely oblivious to how you’re struggling – both physically and emotionally. “You always complain about me being a nuisance here, but you’re not really doing anything to keep me out.”

“Because where else would you go?”

“Technically, I have a room back at the Institute.”

“Yeah, but because you’re so stupid and reckless that you got kicked out of your own home,” you spat out, and you watch as Satoru raises a brow at your statement. Banter is common between the both of you, but something about the intensity of your gaze lets him know you’re serious this time around. “I don’t even know how Yuuji puts up with you. That poor Megumi is right when he says you’re insufferable. You’re good for nothing!”

Satoru scoffs, “Fine, if you hate me that much, why didn’t you just say so earlier? I could easily pack my bags and go since I’m just making everything harder—” Satoru doesn’t get to finish what he’s saying when your hand over the counter that acts as support slips under you, and you fall, legs bent awkwardly while you scream, preparing yourself for the impact. The pan is long forgotten, your only thought was oh my god, so this is how I die.

But it never came, and you keep your eyes shut tight even as warm hands cup your ass. Satoru is breathing hard under you. Finally gaining the courage to crack an eye open, your breath halts when you see that he’s sitting on the floor, with you safely nestled between him.

Satoru has always had pretty eyes, but it’s rare he takes off his blindfold off even when he’s home. This is one of those rare occurrences that he seems like a normal human, dressed in a gray sweatshirt that hands low from his collarbones and magnetic blue eyes staring right back at you. His touch is gentle, almost as if he’s afraid to hurt you, and his voice that is usually loud and teasing comes out breathy and hesitant.

“Are you okay?”

Your gaze drops down to his lips. He’s close, so close, that if you just lean a little closer you could – you snap out of your daze. “Get off me.”

“Cupcake, you’re the one who’s on top of me,” his voice falls an octave lower, eyes flitting down to your clothing – or rather the lack of it – before Satoru takes a deep breath. “Did you really have to wear that?”

“I have the right to wear whatever I want in the comfort of my own home.”

“I wasn’t complaining,” he raised a brow, this time completely in control of himself as he gazes back up at you with a burning gaze. You see nothing but the way one corner of his lips tilt up, almost teasing, and he looks so much like a shit-eater that you feel heat crawl down your spine.

You push yourself off him but your bent foot behind you slips, and you fall forward with your hands clutching his strong shoulders. Satoru catches your leg behind you, drags it forward until your knee is pressed in between one of your warmth, very much still enjoying the way you wriggle away from his hold. He knows his effect on you – but you deny this wholeheartedly.

“Careful, cupcake. This isn’t a slip and slide.”

“I hate you so much,” you bare your teeth at him, slapping his chest until he finally lets go of you. Turning your back to him, you pick up the pan and begin preparing your dinner, muttering curses under your breath as you heat up the stove. “I’m kicking you out tomorrow.”

“Why not now?”

“Eat your damn dinner first.”

Dinner after that is awkward. Although Gojo is someone who can wolf down his meal in three seconds, he takes his time in eating to start conversation with you. Sometimes he asks decent questions like how your day was or he’d talk about something stupid, but he’s quiet the whole time. He even volunteers to do the dishes before retreating to his room, coating the house in silence.

It almost feels like you’re all alone over again.

You’ve gotten so used to him being an utter mess everywhere that when he’s not trying to piss you off and actually giving you the much needed peace, you begin to hate it. Memories of the rude things you’ve said to him a while ago play and in your head, and you bang your head against the wall repeatedly.

How are you supposed to apologize to Satoru now?

The answer doesn’t come until you stare at your walls, wide awake at midnight. The house is still eerily silent and you don’t stop shuffling around your bed in discomfort. Many times, you wished that Satoru would shut up and leave you alone, but now that he’s actually done that, it feels weird. Uncomfortable. It feels wrong.

With a grunt, you kick off the sheets and carefully tread to his room, knocking lightly in case he’s already sleeping. “Satoru?” you call out, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. “Are you awake?”

You’ve seen Satoru angry as kids before, but what would he be like now? Would he still want to be your friend? Would he still annoy you by hiding your things somewhere you can’t reach? Or would he be the who is now out of reach? If he leaves...who’s going to walk you to work? Who’s going to complain he doesn’t want to do groceries but buys you things you don’t ask for but want anyway? Who’s going to keep teasing the living daylights out of you if not him?

All these thoughts claw at the back of your mind until your bottom lip trembles. You hate how weak you feel; how you’re never careful with your words.

You never meant it when you said all that.

Your train of thought is cut off when the door swings open, revealing an equally tired-looking Satoru. At the sight of you peering up at him with glossy eyes, he pushes the door wider and steps closer to you, his large hands cupping your face as he leans down in worry. “Cupcake,” his brows pinch together, “Did something happen? Is something wrong?”

“I just wanted to apologize for everything I said,” you blurt out, “I was just tired from work and my boss was being shitty, so I wasn’t totally myself that time and I’m really sorry I took my anger out on you. I didn’t mean it when I said you’re insufferable and that I’m kicking you out so – yeah,” you breathe out, trailing your gaze downwards to stare at your feet instead. It’s difficult to look him in the eye right now. When you finally gain courage to speak again, it barely comes out as a whimper, your hands delicately tugging at his shirt. “Please stay. I like having my best friend around here.”

Satoru doesn’t answer.

You’re about to look up at him just in case you’ve said something wrong, or worse, he refuses to forgive you, but then – “Yeah, I know you wouldn’t kick me out. You’re too much of a darling to say no to me.”

Sigh. Satoru laughs when he sees your shoulders deflate, absolutely shattered in exhaustion. Hiding your smile to now show him you’re relieved, you punch his chest that really feels like a fly had accidentally flew into him. “Way to ruin the mood, Satoru. And here I thought I could have a serious conversation with you for once.”

“Apology accepted,” he beams, tilting your chin upwards so you could look at him. Even in the darkness of his room, his eyes glow, leaving you hypnotized in its beauty. “Plus, I think I’m the one who should apologize. You’re right; I haven’t been the best roommate and I am a freeloader,” he scratches the side of his head in thought. “But I do buy you food all the time though.”

“Yeah, with my money,” you counter, but you don’t really care anymore at this point. You’re beyond elated you’re both fine now, and you shyly gesture to his big, warm bed that suddenly looks so comfortable. “Can I stay here for tonight?”

“You want Satoru’s bear hug?”

“Yes, I do.” There’s no hesitation in your words and you don’t complain anymore when he easily picks you up like a ragdoll using only one arm. He’s surprisingly gentle when he places you both down on the bed, sheets warm and soft as it blankets over you.

It would be perfect – except it’s so damn awkward.

Gojo’s long limbs are everywhere. Your face is pressed into his chest, both your legs tangled together. His arm is sprawled over the curve of your hip, his hand nearly grazing your ass that’s barely covered by the thin material of your shorts, but if he shifts, he’ll end up cupping the back of your thighs which is equally uncomfortable.

He seems to be stuck in the same position because you’re so small, and your knees are grazing his groin. Had he known you’re going to sleep with him, he would’ve worn underwear or even boxers under his sweatpants.

He’s never told you before, but he prefers to sleep in the nude. Satoru only picked up the nearest pair of pants when he heard you knock, and even then, he didn’t have the time to wear a shirt.

Your breath is hot on his skin and he’s so sensitive and aware of all your movements. Satoru clears his throat awkwardly, shifting until his arm lightly holds your back instead, but then he pulls away as if he’s touched fire when he’d unknowingly fiddled with your bra clasp instead. It’s so painfully awkward that Satoru chuckles above you, while you scrunch your nose, silently praying to the heavens above that he won’t hear how loud your heart is beating right now.

“Why is it so hot in your own room?”

“Maybe it’s time you get me an AC.”

“You wish, Satoru,” you mumble beneath him, making yourself as comfortable as you can with your cheek resting on his bicep. It’s not the softest pillow considering he’s pretty muscular, but he’s warm and smells like mint spice nevertheless. “You’re really not going to put on a shirt?”

Satoru sighs, a long and loud one that is extended for dramatic purposes. Suddenly, he pushes your knee off of him, grimacing and thanking the darkness that you can’t see how much he’s struggling right now. “Cupcake, this is hard for me as much as it is for you. You’re barely wearing anything.”

“Since when have you cared about what I wear?”

“I’m a man, Y/N,” is what he reasons with, “You’re lucky it’s me. Had it been someone else and you crawled into their bed wearing these—” Satoru pinches the waistband of your shorts, and you squeal in protest, only making him laugh afterwards before he lets it go and the material snaps back at your skin, “—poor excuse of what you call shorts, I can’t guarantee they’ll give you a peaceful night.”

You know exactly what he’s trying to hint at. Still, it’s hard to believe that Satoru is capable of seeing you that way.

It’s not that you feel you’re unattractive. You know you’re pretty and have been out on many dates, but it’s easy to feel that you’re not sexy when you have the height of a thirteen year old and you’ve been constantly chastised about it.

Satoru’s not-compliment compliment has your heart skipping a beat, and you scoff in response. “Shut up,” you warn lamely, “I want to sleep.”

“Then let’s sleep, cupcake.” You don’t know if it’s because you’re utterly exhausted that you doze off seconds later or if Satoru’s words just held power in them, but soon all thoughts of anything unwanted drifts out the window, his arms keeping you close, completely safe and sound until the worst nightmares couldn’t even come close.

Hot. It’s extremely hot.

You crack an eye open to try and find the source of this uncomfortable heat, but you freeze when you realize you can’t feel your muscles from the chin down. Panic rises in your throat once you see the current predicament you’re in, and a scream rips through your throat so loud that the birds outside scurry away in a flurry.

You’re wrapped in Satoru’s blanket and comforter, rendering you unable to move because of how he’d treated you like a burrito wrap. Even your toes are captured inside this hell, and only your head is able to wriggle side to side.

“Satoru!”

The culprit comes out of the shower a split second later, his hair dripping wet and only a towel hanging low from his lips. If you weren’t so hell-bent on killing him, you would’ve been speechless at the way water drips from his hair down to the curves of his abs, going down down down into a place only your darkest imaginations could take you.

Satoru bends over in laughter as he whips out his phone, jumping from angle to angle and side to side to take photos of you. “Fuck,” he howls, slapping his thigh while you snarl in an attempt to break free. “You’re a lot cuter than I thought you’d be.”

“Satoru! Get me out of here!”

“No, this is way too gold. I’m sending these to my students.”

“Satoru, I’m serious!” The devil incarnate himself falls deaf to your please.

Maybe it’s because the violent intent has coursed through your veins so strongly that a surge of energy and strength overcomes you, and soon, you’ve rolled out of the blanket. The fresh air nipping at your heated skin is most welcomed, but right now, you had a mission to fulfil: obliterate Gojo Satoru.

The platinum haired man is still laughing to himself, too distracted in scrolling through the best photos to send to his students that he doesn’t notice you escaping and zooming straight right at him.

The momentum is enough to catch him off guard until you end up on top of him, short arms clawing your way through to snatch his phone. Satoru yelps when his phone lands out into the living room and your hands come down to choke him. You don’t have plans to kill him, but you want to hurt him enough to remind him you’re not someone he can fuck with.

You’ve just about had enough of this man and you’re so sick of him!

Satoru yells out a “Hey!” when you let out a battle cry, using your legs to kick him back when he tries to sit up. Your plan backfires when your hands slip down his wet skin and you fall face forwards, hands barely touching the ground for support when your lips come crashing down on his.

He stills underneath you. It takes a moment for you to realize that holy shit, you’re kissing him and his lips are so soft that has you scrambling back, but Satoru doesn’t let you.

His large hand comes up at the back of your neck to pull you forward. The sudden movement makes you gasp, and Satoru slips his tongue inside when you do so. You no longer remember how you got here or try to make sense of what’s going on, because he feels so good, tastes so good that you bury your nails in his hair while he ravishes your mouth.

You’re so tiny that his hand cups your entire buttcheek almost possessively, a low growl emanating deep in his throat when your tongue eagerly intertwines with his. Satoru tastes like heaven and everything about the kiss is sloppy – tongue clashing with one another and teeth nibbling at the other’s lips. It’s clear both of you can’t get enough of one another as you moan in his mouth, shamelessly grinding on his crotch, suddenly thankful that you’re always wearing thin clothes when you feel him harden underneath you.

“Fuck, baby,” he pulls away to breathe, a string of saliva connecting the both of you. “Yeah, just like that,” There’s something empowering about the way he pants at your ministrations, especially when you roll your hips faster across his erection. “Keep going, baby, you’re doing – fuck – so well.”

You smirk at his praises, latching your teeth on his neck to suck marks on them. Satoru groans at the same time you muffle your moans through his skin, his hands sliding under your shirt to tug the cups of your bra down. You nearly lose it when he pinches your nipple, bolts of electricity running down your spine at the contact. A moan breaks through your lips just as you come right there and then, the wetness of your sudden orgasm barely hidden in your flimsy underwear.

“Feel good?” he teases and drags your shirt down to the other side, but the post-nut clarity hits. And when it does, it hits hard.

Fuck. You just came from Satoru’s simple touches, and he’s so unsatisfied, still painfully hard underneath you but nothing but panic and regret washes over you like a strong tidal wave. Suddenly, you grow lightheaded as you push yourself off him, fixing your bra while ignoring the confused and hurt look on his face.

“I gotta go to work,” you run out the room, feeling your body tremble as Satoru runs after you. “Make yourself breakfast. I’ll eat on the way out.”

“Y/N, wait!”

You know you’ve just ruined everything – that nothing will ever be the same after that – but you’re scared, utterly and remorsefully so, that you slam the door right in his face as if you don’t have any idea how much you broke him.

You’ll never forget the way Satoru’s face fell when you left.

Just as you thought, nothing is the same after that. The tension is so thick around the apartment you make an effort and go out of your way just to avoid him and the apartment completely.

It’s cowardly – you know this much – but do you ever try to fix the friendship you cherish but shattered completely? You don’t. You don’t because it only crashes down onto you now that maybe your feelings for him aren’t just platonic, after all. It’s even worse because you touch yourself at the thought of him filling you up when he’s asleep, all because you want him so bad and the mere presence of him has your brain malfunctioning.

It isn’t entirely sexual either. Yes, you want to fuck him badly, but it scares you down to the core even more because you want so much more than that.

Now you understand why you always say he’s a bother but never asked him to leave. It’s because you like him, actually romantically interested in him. It makes sense now why you always felt so annoyed whenever your co-workers asked for his number, or how you’re immediately pissed off when Satoru talks about this hot woman he saw at work. You always chalk it up to an excuse you just hate how he can’t keep in his pants, but it isn’t true at all.

It’s because you actually like him – and you’re at a loss on what to do or how to deal with it.

The next few days feels like hell. Satoru isn’t stupid; he knows you’re avoiding him. He stops teasing you eventually and even buys takeout all the time when you lock yourself up in your room right after work, refusing to cook dinner or even eat all so you’d be spared the torture of looking at him.

He’d knock at your door and ask you to eat, but other than that, he’s respected your distance.

You feel like the most terrible person on earth. You don’t miss the way dark circles line under his eyes or how he’s lost his spark, barely even speaking to you when you’ve come or about to leave for work.

You’re alone the whole ride, as well, and it only dawns on you how lonely you are when Satoru isn’t always annoying you all the time.

But it doesn’t make sense. Why is he so bothered by it? Didn’t he regret it? It’s painfully clear you’re not Satoru’s type. You’ve seen the women he dated before, and you’re not close to them so why does he seem like he’s struggling with this as well? Or maybe...he’s just sad that his friend is avoiding him.

Yeah, that has to be it.

Satoru is a man. He was probably turned on at that time, but after giving some thought about it, he probably wants to keep his distance too. He’d be insane if he ever actually wants to date you – his best friend out of all people – because he’s Gojo Satoru and he could literally have everyone else.

You don’t care that you’re a coward.

You don’t care that Satoru is sad to see you this way.

You don’t care because you know he’ll reject you, you know he’ll be weirded if you admit your feelings for him. To him, you’re like his little sister. There’s just no way you two would work out. For now, you have to get comfortable with the uncomfortable. You just need some time to get over your feelings for him, and when you’re confident you won’t fall for him again, you’ll mend your friendship.

You just need time.

“So, Y/N, you still don’t want to give us your friend’s number?”

“Yeah, Y/N, you should share it,” your co-worker encourages by jabbing her shoulder to yours. It’s a lazy Friday night and the staff went out for dinner. You don’t usually come to these hangouts since dinner with Satoru is always much more fun, but he’s the last person you want to think about now, so you happily join them. Now, though, you’re starting to regret ever coming here. “If he’s really single like you said, then it shouldn’t be a big deal to ask for it.”

“Well, since you want it so badly, why don’t you ask him directly for it instead?” you snap, feeling anger begin to trickle. All you wanted was just one day where you don’t have to think of him, but of course they had to bring him up. It’s also annoying how they can never seem to get the message across that you don’t want them dating him. “Why do I have to be the messenger?”

“We haven’t seen him much. Doesn’t he always walk you to work?”

“He’s been busy with his job, that’s all.” And also because I’m avoiding him – so now he’s avoiding me too.

“He’s a teacher, right?”

“Oh, come on, guys, don’t be so dense,” your senpai chugged her drink rather loudly, catching the attention of your nosy co-workers who wouldn’t stop pestering you for his number. “Look at how uncomfortable she looks. It’s obvious she doesn’t want you guys to be involved with her friend for a reason. Think of how weird it is for her too if ever her co-worker and best friend dated. She’s going to feel like a third wheel.”

“I’m not—”

“That makes sense,” your co-worker nodded beside you, “Are you sure you just don’t like him though?”

“Ew, why would I?” the food began to taste bitter through your lies, “He may be tall and attractive, but as his roommate, I’ve seen his ugly side. Satoru is a complete slob and can’t even cook to save his life.”

“I don’t mind cooking for him all the time if I were to be his little housewife.”

“That’s never gonna happen,” your words came out harsher than it was, and you laugh it off with a wave of your hand when your co-workers’ eyes widened. “I’ve been living with him for six months and he’s never brought anyone home or told me he’s going on a date. I told you already, he’s a no strings attached kind of guy. He’s nothing but a one night stand.”

“You have to admit he’s still sexy though.”

Right. You hide your groan through another shot because there’s no way of convincing them otherwise. As much as you hate to admit, you’re actually jealous on how freely they could talk about him like that, but then again, it’s not like you and Satoru were dating – or would ever date, for that matter.

They start to leave one by one when it starts to get late, leaving only you who’s still desperate to avoid Satoru. Nothing prepares you for when the sky darkens and a storm comes pouring just as you’ve left the closing shop, the rain drenching and soaking your clothes through and through. Running under the nearest tree for shelter, you shiver. It’s cold – way too cold – and curse yourself for not bringing a darned umbrella.

The nearest bus stop is like what, fifteen to twenty minutes away? Your teeth are chattering and your legs are shaking, and you fumble through your phone as you dial a number you know by heart before you even realize what you’re doing. “S-Satoru?”

“Y/N,” the surprise is unmasked in his voice, something shuffling in the background before it falls silent. “Is everything okay?”

“Uhm, are you busy right now? It’s fine if you are, I’m just—”

“I’m training with Yuuji, but what is it?”

“Listen, I,” you inhale sharply when coldness bursts through your body, making you shiver and press yourself closer to tree to get away from the rain. Above you, thunder crackles before the rain grows heavier and angrier. “I forgot to bring an umbrella and I’m absolutely soaked right now. The nearest bus stop is fifteen minutes away and all the buildings here look so shady—”

“I’ll be on my way. Text me where you are,” You nod and thank him, too cold and numb to realize you’ve just broken days of silence. You lose track of time under there, hugging yourself until your lips turn blue. It doesn’t take long before Satoru shows up minutes later, his hair equally drenched and sticking flat to his eyes free from his blindfold while he pants, hand on his knees. “Thank goodness you’re safe. I rushed here so fast I forgot to bring an umbrella.”

After seeing Satoru drenched like that, something snaps within you. He doesn’t seem bothered by the fact the rain is unforgiving as it slaps the pavement, and your heart breaks when you see that he’s more concerned for you – even after you’ve given him the silent treatment. “You idiot! Now you’re soaking wet too, you’re going to get sick!”

“Highly unlikely,” he shrugs. “Come on, let’s get you home.”

“But what about—” Satoru suddenly carries you before draping his coat over your head, running until he found a cab to hail. He immediately asks the driver to turn up the heater while you tremble on top of him, not caring anymore that you’re sticking so close to him for heat.

Satoru doesn’t let you go all the way inside the apartment. He sets you down on the couch where you take off your wet clothes in haste, too cold with teeth chattering that you silently take the hoodie and boxers Satoru offers you, making sure to keep his gaze averted the whole time. Once fully dressed, you snuggle back into the sofa’s comfort, stiffening when the couch dips beside you.

Not a moment later, Satoru towel-dries your hair, leaving your mouth and throat dry with guilt. Even after you’ve unnecessarily been a bitch to him, he’s still so kind with you.

“Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“Satoru...” you twiddle with your thumbs just as he starts to ruffle the towel in your hair, making sure to squeeze water out of the strands as he dries it. “About what happened the other day—”

“It didn’t happen if you don’t want it to,” his voice is cold’ monotonous and so emotionless you’re rendered speechless. “You can forget about it.”

“I...”

“You regret it, right?” he’s done with drying your hair, and he stands up to place the wet towels in the sink as you watch him stride all the way there. He’s changed his clothes too; looking comfortable in a plain white shirt and some grey sweatpants, looking every bit the domestic boyfriend you’ve always wanted but can never have. “It’s fine. We can forget about it and go back to normal,” to emphasize his point, Satoru winks at you, though it does nothing but make your heart sink.

“What if I don’t want to forget it?” your voice is small; hesitant and wavering with fear. “What if...the only reason I pulled away is because I wanted more of you?”

Satoru’s back freezes as he sets the towel aside. At this point, your heart is pulsing on your tongue, and you dig your nails onto your thighs when Satoru sits down next to you, right next to you. He’s silent the whole time; eyes calculatedly piercing through yours. Your breath hitches when his hands that are burning hot against your cold skin cups your jaw before his thumb runs across your lips, his eyes turning dark at your reactions.

“And what if I said I felt the same way?”

“I,” you gasp, closing your eyes because it all feels so surreal. “I like you, Satoru. I like you a lot and I—” he doesn’t let you finish. Soon, you find yourself in his lap with his hands cupping your cheeks while he smashes his lips onto yours.

Satoru is absolutely feral. He’s breathing hard and almost angry, even, with the way his teeth are biting down to nibble on your lips. You moan when he drags you closer, your clothed centre rubbing on his thigh with delicious friction. “You have no idea,” he rasps down on your lips, “how much I’ve fucking liked you ever since we were kids,” Satoru pushes his hoodie aside, revealing your sweet neck to him, and he doesn’t waste his time in sucking and abusing the poor flesh so he can mark you as his. “I’ve always wanted you, Y/N, it’s always you, always you.”

You fist his hoodie when Satoru sinks his teeth down into the juncture of your neck, his hands curious and exploring every inch of your body. He knows you’re naked underneath his clothes, but it’s a different thing when he actually feels your breasts right on his palm. Satoru tweaks the hardened bud in his fingers, growling when you moan at the contact and use his thigh to get off.

“You—” you gasp as you expose your neck to him, wild and needy as you keep rubbing your heat over his thigh. “—talk way too fucking much,” you scold, finally pushing his lips away from your neck. Satoru chuckles at your eagerness but you silence him by flinging his boxers off of your body and somewhere far away, exposing your heat slick with arousal right in front of him. His pupils blow in excitement, hands coming up to grab at your hips, but his attention is taken away when you nibble on his ear to whisper, “Shut up and fuck me.”

The simple command is enough to make his patience snap. In a flash, you’re pinned underneath him, whining and moaning when his finger meets no resistance as he slips it inside. “You’re that needy, huh?” he laughs even louder when you lose it, humping yourself on his finger because it’s not enough.

“Satoru,” you beg, clutching his bicep when he adds another finger in. “More.”

His fingers are so long, hitting places that your small ones could never reach. He begins to scissor his way in, his fingers deliciously rubbing against your velvety walls while pumping them inside and out in a speed that causes you to squelch around him.

It’s absolutely lewd how you’re eagerly spread out before him, but your head is clouded with lust, no longer hindered by shyness out of your need to cum. Your chest is rising heavily, his thumb now rubbing against your clit as he coaxes you to cum. “Tell me what you want, baby,” he kisses your cheeks, eyelids, nose, anywhere but your lips, his voice so gentle and innocent as if he’s not knuckle deep inside you. “Tell me how you want me.”

“Inside,” you whine, gasping when he brushes against a really sensitive spot that has you clamping down on him. “‘Toru, fuck, just fuck me.”

“Beg for it,” he smiles against your skin, relentless and harsh as he keeps pushing inside you. You feel him everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Another finger adds in until you’re dripping enough on his palm and staining the couch, but neither of you care. “I said, beg for it.”

“No,” you hold back, nearly crying out when he pulls your fingers out of you. That sudden emptiness is back again, but you don’t want to beg. You’ve never begged another man before, and this won’t be the first time you’ll be doing so either. You refuse to let him have the upper hand despite the crystal clear fact you’re already soaking wet for him, but because you’re stubborn, you only fumble with his sweatpants to spring his cock free.

He’s already dripping with pre-cum from the slit, his cock hard and angry. Despite his arousal, Satoru stops you from going further, using only one hand to trap both your wrists. “Beg for it,” he demands again, his other fist already pumping down on his shaft.

You nearly cry at the sight. Both of you are aware that Satoru is capable of pleasuring himself, but it’s not that easy for you. Your small, dainty fingers will never be parallel to the pleasure his long cock could give you. All you had to do was beg for it. He’s right there, within reach, if only you’d just –

Impatient for your answer, Satoru takes you by the hips and discards your hoodie in the process, sinking you down his cock, inch by delicious inch. You don’t hold back from the sensual and high-pitched moan that leaves your lips. He’s long, and the tip of his cock just about brushes your cervix when he bottoms out. He feels so good, so warm and huge and filling you up right where you want him to be. Your head falls down on his shoulder as you begin to roll your hips, but Satoru has had enough.

“Fuck, look at you,” he presses on the bulge of his cock visible through your abdomen. “You’re so fucking small – how do you take me so well? I could ruin you. Do you want that? Do you want me to ruin you?”

“Yes, yes, fuck.”

“You think you can just leave me hanging like that, huh?” he slaps your ass, eliciting another moan from you and making you clench around his cock. Satoru falters for a moment. Before you can react, he stands up, your legs wrapped around his waist with nothing but his tip hitting inside you. “You’ve been so fucking mean – leaving me wanting you like that and ignoring me for days. Do you think you deserve this, huh?” Satoru kicks his door open at the same time he loosens his hold around your ass, making you slide down his length the next second.

“Oh, fuck,” you cry out just as Satoru begins to bounce you, your breasts following the motion of him fucking deep into you. “Fuck, Toru, that’s too—”

He’s so eager to fuck you, to make a mess out of you and have you losing your mind over his cock that he doesn’t even wait until you’re both on the bed. You no longer register when your back hits the pillow, or how your arms are frozen when he pins it above your head.

“You’re so beautiful,” he praises as he watches you clench around him. You’re so small and his eyes zero in on the way your abdomen bulges then flattens again every time he pounds into you, rolling his hips in a way that has you screaming and thighs quaking. “Beautiful, beautiful, perfect,” the moment his hands grip at your hips to pin you down, you know he’s not going to stop. And you don’t want him to.

Satoru latches his lips around your right breast, gently grazing his teeth over it while his other hand pinches and rolls the pebbled nipple between his fingers. He feels so good – and you’re crying already by the time you wrap your legs around him to pull him closer.

The room is filled with the smell of sex, the sound of skin slapping against skin combined with his breathy grunts and your moans like heaven on his ears. Satoru wants you to feel how much he loves you – how much he adores you – and the pace he sets is torturous. He snaps his hips against yours and presses down on the bulge of his cock through your belly, chuckling when you tighten more around him.

Your head lols to the side, tears falling down your pretty face because of how rough he’s being. But you don’t complain, not when he’s filling you in so deep and he’s kissing you everywhere, touching you everywhere, making you feel nothing else and nobody else but him.

“You’re amazing,” he rasps, watching the way your tight cunt sucks him in greedily as if you don’t want him to go anywhere else. “You take me in so well – you really want me to destroy you, huh?”

“Satoru, please,” you finally plead, “I-I’m cumming, I want you, I need you, oh,” you squeal when he finally lets your arms free. You look so precious, so innocent, and he doesn’t let up his pace. He plants his feet into the ground and his strokes begin to grow sloppy, your tight walls encouraging him to go faster, go deeper.

If possible, Satoru is only even more fuelled with the way you look so precious and innocent in that moment. His touch is gentle in comparison to the way he’s mercilessly plowing into you, using his thumb to wipe away the tears streaming down your cheeks. He knows he’s too big for you, that much is obvious from how much you’re already overstimulated just by his size, but your nails sink down on the flesh of his ass as a silent plead for more.

“Fuuuuck, I’m so close!”

“Yeah?” He fondled your clit, loving the sight of your small body creaming down on his cock. “Come for me, sweet girl. I want to feel you coming on my cock. Come on, tell me you’re mine. You’re made me for aren’t you?”

“Yes, Satoru, fuck,” you squeal, throwing your head back for a second when he keeps hitting your g-spot that has you seeing stars. Your toes curl and your hands fist the sheets behind you as he keeps impaling you with his cock right then and there.

You looked perfect; so perfect to him that he’s basically using you for his own pleasure at this moment. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave, back arching and nipples brushing against his chest.

In that moment, you grow needy to have him even closer, tilting up to blindly search for his lips. Satoru complies; leaning down and leaving open mouthed breathy kisses that’s a mix of you moaning and crying around him, while he struggles to do so when he’s cursing at the feeling of you coating his cock with your juices. Satoru looks down at your tiny frame trapped in his arms, his voice husky as he groans once he saw both of your arousal absolutely leaking out of your wet cunt.

He’s so close but you’re already over the edge, scratching at his back at the overstimulation. You’re still so sensitive from when you came and Satoru doesn’t slow one down one bit. He loses his rhythm as his thrusts go sloppy, and Satoru buries his face in your neck as his cock twitches inside you until he bursts with his cum leaking out of your hole.

Satoru’s arms give out beneath you, his chest colliding with yours but not enough that he’s crushing you with his weight. You’re both breathing hard and panting, his dick softening inside you.

He pulls back a moment later to slide out his sensitive cock, wincing while he watches pools of cum gather in your pussy before it drips out. It isn’t until he’s witnessing the mess he’s made he realizes how you’ve been so good for him; taking him all the way in despite your quivering frame. It dawns on him now just how tiny you are when he pulls you close to him; you’re practically hanging off his chest with how small your body is.

He wonders how you’re able to fit all of him, but he’s grateful nevertheless. Satoru shows his appreciation by peppering kisses all over your face, his hand snaking down to caress your inner thighs.

“Hmm,” you moan into the kiss, jolting when his knuckles brush against your sensitive clit. “Satoru, no,” you whine while pushing his hand away, and he shushes you with another kiss. “’M too sensitive, please...”

“It’s fine, cupcake, it’s fine,” his nickname for you is back again, and you lean closer to him just as he begins to massage your sore legs. “You did so well for me, cupcake, you know that? You’re such a good girl for me,” too fucked out to have a comprehensive answer, you only nod in response, spreading your legs open again and ignoring the warm stickiness between your thighs as Satoru kneads your abused flesh. You feel him kiss your temple before he leaves to get a towel and cleans you up. Meanwhile, you’re so tired you’re about to doze out in his bed.

“Hey,” he soothes, bundling you up in his arms until you’re tucked in the safety of his body. So small, he coos inside his head, watching as you fold yourself even smaller while your eyes flutter. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” you sigh into his shoulder, “I feel good. Thank you.”

Satoru doesn’t really know what you’re thanking him for. He feels like he’s the one who’s mostly indebted to you after everything you’ve done for him. You’ve already fallen asleep before he gets the chance to tell you how he feels, so Satoru only covers you both under his blanket, making sure there’s no more space between you out of fear you’ll distance yourself from him again.

But he doesn’t have to worry about that because you’re right next to him, and you’re never out of reach.

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