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ruhorih4ra · 2 days

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Hi! (⁠´⁠ε⁠｀⁠ ⁠) Heheh maybe this story won't end with 20 chapts... The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math?

This chap has a cliffhanger but I actually have the next part ready so is safe to wait until next monday!

Get out of my way! 🌈

And that’s how you’ve been using the Newspaper club for your own benefit. The routine was pretty simple but exhausting, every day you woke up as early as possible to search for any information that could be used against the Little D.’s. Sometimes you would find something, you would follow the clue until a dead end was met. Those days weren’t completely useless, at least you had learned a few tricks. Books, old scrolls and even antique boards surrounded you day and night. You were completely absorbed and stupidly oblivious to the passage of time and curious eyes.

To begin with, it was difficult to differentiate mornings, afternoons and nights, but now? All days were blurred into something unspecific, your days divided into useful information and effective weapons or useless information and the ever present possibility of a tragic ending.

The Little D.’s annoyed you all the time, their voices always trying to rile you up. Always trying to seduce you to succumb to lust and sloth and ultimately losing the battle. However, the constant chatter and loud work at the club was your shield, so strong and efficient that you had been reduced to a human hermit who barely speaks and lives on caffeine and Beelzebub’s snacks.

“Mc, are you listening?” Mephistopheles repeated for the third time. “Yes. I heard you loud and clear. Would you please be kind enough to stop yelling in my ear?” You heard distant laughter. The demons had grown fond of your presence and the idle bickering between you and the former president of the club. “I would if you would consider listening to me!”

“Well, today’s your lucky day! What can I do for you?” Immediately after you finished talking, an elegantly decorated yet formal folder landed on your already messy desk. “What is this?”

Mephistopheles cleared his throat. He inspected his cane with rehearsed interest as he spoke. “We need to talk. A serious talk about… the mess you had brought upon this club and how you’re going to fix it.” You were silent for a few minutes, a foolish “Eh?” was your only response.

“Follow me please.” Upon entering Mephisto’s office and leaving the publicity of the previous room you felt more at ease to talk. The demon took the large black curtain that covers a gigantic window that overlooks the RAD patio and removed it with a theatrical movement. “Look!”

Nothing. You couldn’t see a single thing, but that wasn’t rare in the Devildom where the sun never comes out. “Yes, the sky is as black as ever, beautiful. So?” You questioned. Mephisto’s eyes widened purposefully, his head bowed to the side, urging you to take a closer look. You narrowed your eyes, walking closer too, slowly noticing that what you previously thought was the sky was far from being it.

Those were… feathers. A little eye opened, followed by another, and then dozens. Crows. All pushing each other uncomfortably together and pressing themselves to the window. “What the actual hell?” You looked at Mephisto in horror. “Why?”

He crossed his arms, looking the scene as if he were already used to it. “You know whose familiars are these, don’t you?”

“I know but why would he do this?” You couldn’t stop looking at the poor horde. “He’s not doing it on purpose, at least that’s what I think. They are simply reacting to Mammon’s emotions. It’s very disturbing if you ask me.”

Mephisto had seen Mammon’s downfall. First, he acted surprisingly mature, showing control and calm. But the more days passed, the more absorbed you became in who knows what, the more you distanced yourself from them, the less the demon was able to keep it together. Constantly seeking you and more often than not facing a refusal, even Mephisto felt bad for the avatar of greed.

He sat in a little sofa and you sat in front of him, still unable to tear your eyes away from the window. That was until you noticed something was remarkably different from all the furniture in the room. The seat you had taken were pink with floral embroidery. “I didn’t remember your office to be this… romantic?” Mephisto was serving a cup of tea, and even though you had a coffee just some minutes ago, you didn’t complain. It must be something nobles do, the need to drink tea while discussing important things. “You see, Mc, this furniture was a gift from Asmodeus. He told me that you would get sick if everything was plain and gray.”

You surveyed the room, quickly noticing that Mephisto’s office had been taken over by pastel colors, from the huge pink wooden clock to the very striking orange coat rack. Your eyes fell on the set of expensive porcelain. “This tea and cake are from Barbatos. The new tiny fridge outside is from Beelzebub, although you only eat the energy bars, everyone else here is happy to help you with the rest.” You looked around, tons of cushions were piled up in different places. “Belphegor.” Mephisto answered with a sigh that you were sure was full of resignation. “Except the cat shaped ones, those are Satan’s.”

You were confused, but Mephistopheles continued, ignoring the growing frown on your forehead. “All of the members of our club are pretty happy, comfortable and well fed thanks to you.”

“I haven’t done anything special. I’m just here.” You said. “That’s enough for the brothers.” Mephisto handed you a cup of tea, he was happy, too much for your liking. “Lucifer gave us twice the budget from last month too.”

“Why? He used to complain about this club quite often.” The smell of the beverage in your hands reached your nose, it was your favorite. You looked at it as if it could explain things better than the demon who exuded smugness. “He gave us the paper you’ve been asking for, even if it’s more expensive, now the newspaper looks better.”

“I haven’t asked for any particular type of paper.” You said and Mephisto nodded enthusiastically. “No?” “I would remember.” You narrowed your eyes while Mephistopheles smelled his tea, closing his eyes and sipping from the tiny cup. “Does it really matter?” The door to Mephisto’s office opened and a demon rushed over to give him a piece of paper, leaving the room as fast as he entered. He read it in no more than a minute, if the smile was any indication, he was satisfied. “Levi agreed to review video games for us. He used to say he was too busy to take another responsibility, but he’ll do it if it helps you.”

“Why would it help me?” you put the cup on the little table with no delicacy, surprisingly it didn’t break. “Honestly? No clue, but he was desperate to help you and the newspaper needed a new column.” Mephistopheles shrugged, not even batting an eye at your outburst of anger.

Just how busy have you been to not notice their attempts to make amends. Your eyes traveled to the curtain again, if you sharpen your ears you can even hear the low chirps of the crows outside. When was the last time that you heard about the brothers? When was the last time you hang out together? You recalled Belphegor’s sad eyes in that brief dream. All your interactions with them had been defined by its short duration and superficial treatment. Perhaps your relationship with them was worse than you had thought, and all this obsession with the Little D.’s was the root of the problem.

Maybe you should follow Barbatos’s advice and confess.

“The new exchange student has been busy too. She’s always with one of the brothers.” Mephisto tried to address the topic downplaying it. “Naturally.” You answered. It is logical, she’s still the NEW exchange student, a human surrounded by demons. A witch, you remembered Mammon’s words. He had called her a witch, but you could remember that there was affection in those words.

“Last time I saw her she was dancing in The Fall with Lucifer. They looked good together.” If looks could kill, Mephistopheles would be drowning in that fancy tea. He was provoking you on purpose.

“Mephistopheles. What do you want?” you spited.

You could feel the strings of smoke tightening your soul, making his way through your nostrils, filling your lungs and taking hold of your throat. How can they be so worried about you if they keep flying around her like flies? You were trying to fight the Little D.’s stupid curse while they enjoy their time together? So while you had been working your ass off to go back to them as soon as possible, they just decided to replace you again.

You took the cup in your hands, your grip tightening around it. “I heard Lord Diavolo wanted her to move into the castle.” Mephisto looked at you intently, he was sure your aura was growing dark around you. “Rumors said he begged.” Mephistopheles found incredibly difficult to say those words, it was risible to think that Lord Diavolo would even think of doing that for a mere human, but there was something mesmerizing about the way your eyes grew cold.

“Liars. All of them.” What if you’ve been busy? Couldn’t they wait as they said they would? “I would find it impossible if not for the fact that she forged a pact with Satan.” You crushed the cup with your hands. You snapped out of the trance when you heard a loud, high-pitched laugh right next to your ear. A Little D. with orange eyes vanished in front of you and was replaced by the worried expression of Mephistopheles.

“What exactly do you think you are doing?! That’s hot!” He hurried to your side, quickly guiding you to the bathroom attached to the office. “Are you okay?! How much heat can a human endure?” He asked, covering your hands with a wet cloth. “She made a pact with Satan?!”

“What am I doing?? What are YOU doing?!” You didn’t give Mephisto a chance to answer your previous question, removing your hands from his and tossing the cloth at him. “Why are you telling me all of this!?”

“Because I don’t know what’s happening!” He tried to keep his voice low but giving the perfect amount of emphasis. “It is none of your business!” You replied, low voice too, suddenly remembering where you were. “It is if it affects Lord Diavolo!” Mephisto handed you the cloth again, his eyes never leaving yours. “But he hasn’t asked for your help, has he?”

Mephistopheles felt a familiar ache that was too close to that certain wound he had buried deep inside his soul. As if he had winced you retreated, guilt present in the way you crossed your arms and averted his gaze.

Mephisto left the room with nothing more than a small snarl. You sat on the toilet, too afraid to go out and discover that the one demon that had offered you help had changed his mind. You heard the door open with zero delicacy, and Mephistopheles appeared holding a small box that seemed to be a first aid kit. He guided you to sit where you were before, on that pink and flashy couch. He then took an ointment you had never seen before and applied it with so much softness that you barely felt it. “This is not from the human world.” You noticed, feeling relief all too quickly.

“No. I asked the angel for it, in case that something like this would happen. You didn’t think that I would not be prepared for everything, right?” He said, managing to sound both offended and somehow unbothered. “Thank you, Mephisto.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you so angry. You’re right, Diav- I mean, Lord Diavolo hasn’t asked me for help.” He continued to tend your hands. “I’m not doing this just for him.” His confession surprised you, to be honest he looked a little surprised too, as if he had discovered something. A small blush crept to his face, but it dissolved quickly enough for you to ponder if it had been real.

“I don’t know what is troubling you or why you keep reading those… twisted things,” he looked at your hands, maybe reproaching himself. “but I wanted to make sure.”

“Make sure of what?” you murmured. “I know what is like to be replaced, Mc, and I can assure you, they could never replace you.” The violet hair of Mephisto glowed in the white light of the hanging lamp above you. The nobleman shook his head fervently. “I know what you’re feeling. Someone who comes out of nowhere and takes what was supposed to be yours. She seems to be perfect in everything, nothing you do is enough compared to her” You saw a spark of indignation in those green eyes, a spark that wanted to start a fire.

“I know it hurts when you think he’s better than you at something you were specifically created for.” You were at a loss for words, or rather, the strength of Mephisto’s feelings kept stealing them. The demon walked through the room aimlessly, speaking vigorously to the inanimate objects around. “Everything happens very fast and, when you least expect it, he has taken your place. The worst is that after some time, it suits him so perfectly that you begin to wonder if you ever had the right to call it yours.” Mephisto stopped and breathed again.

Although you knew Mephisto was speaking of his own painful heartbreak, you couldn’t help but imagine that fateful scenario. Sc slow dancing with Lucifer, her head resting on his shoulder and on his face, the soft smile he reserved just for you. Mammon hugging her and showing her off as he used to do with you. Sc sleeping between Beel and Belphie, feeling the warmth of their arms and calmly listening to the lullaby of their heartbeats. You could imagine Asmo and Sc, modeling for each other ridiculous outfits they had no intention of buying. Sc lying in Satan’s chest, reading the demon’s favorite book, hearing his charming laugh in her ear and Levi, you could hear him call her “my Henry.” As if you never existed to begin with.

A single tear slid down your face. When he met your eyes, his eyes widened, although it was almost imperceptible. He cleared his throat and fixed his hair, trying to act calmer than he felt. “But please, human. You’re acting like a fool. I know you can’t see their pitiful eyes since you keep your head buried in those books, but you only need one look to see how miserable they are.”

“All these things around us! All these are proof of their devotion to you, don’t you agree?” Mephisto insisted but your attention was in his eyes, how much pain was underneath? It seemed that you hadn’t contemplated them before, and now you couldn’t take your eyes off them.

Because maybe he couldn’t help but made foolish scenarios too. Perhaps he used to picture himself at Diavolo’s side, not as the vice president of the newspaper club but as the vice president of the student council. Surely, he had expected Diavolo to choose, and the prince did choose.

“Whatever, I shouldn’t be saying this. I,” He looked around the office, spoting the elegant folder from earlier. His hands were shaking, although you had to be keen to notice it. “I wanted to ask your help to get Lord Diavolo’s approval for this proposal.” He handed you the folder, eager to change the topic.

“He didn’t replace you.” You said, taking it but completely ignoring its contents.

“What? No I,” He began speaking but perhaps something in the way you looked at him showed him how useless was to keep the act. He had been too obvious letting his heart speak, wearing it on his sleeve. “You may be right. I didn’t have a place to begin with.” Mephistopheles said “You had and still have a place.”

“Yes, I’m Mephistopheles, the vice president of the newspaper club.” He smiled, or at least his mouth tried to. “Mephistopheles, heart isn’t an ownership.” You took one of the arms of the demon, moving closer to him. “Hearts are big enough to allow many inside. For example, you have a special place in mine.”

Mephistopheles would have laugh of your naive words if he hadn’t seen an open door in your eyes. He focused in the white glint that escaped from your eyes, he moved closer, ignoring the tension in your body and the growing nervousness. Your soul was like a precious gem, so white, beautiful and stained… a misty smoke that clouded it. “Mephisto?” You placed a hand on his chest, his nose was already touching yours but his eyes were glued to your pupils.

Mephisto could finally breath in peace, knowing exactly what was happening and why everyone was tense. Your soul was in the middle of a war, that much was clear.

However, in his opinion the brothers were exaggerating, after all you were winning. “How competent, human.” He smiled. “You’re a tough one.” He laughed, his minty breath emphasizing his closeness.

The sudden sound of someone slamming the door open, took your attention away. Neither Mephisto or you moved, instead your heads turned to see the person behind the action. Mephisto was ready to scold them until a pair of well known golden eyes looked at him.

“Am I interrupting something?” Lord Diavolo’s voice had an unsual severity as his eyes alternated between Mephisto and you.

Chapt 20?

Taglist: @yuumaofc @asmolover1234 @gallantys @prefesro @urminebutidontwantyou @fiveofspades @exrellian @kaiserkisser @cutestpatoootie @fandumshippr @frenchmess23yo

#obey me #obey me fanfic #obey me mc #obey me fandom #obey me gn!reader #obey me lucifer #obey me angst #obey me satan #obey me beelzebub #obey me mammon #obey me mephistopheles #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me brothers #obey me hurt/comfort

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verystressedcollegestudent · 7 days

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if there's one thing i hate more than slackers in group projects its goddamn hypocrites

#this guy did jack shit for two full weeks when we're building the damn prototype #but STILL brought up the fact that most of our team blew off a report till the last minute in the beginning of march #*prototypes don't work* “sEe tHis iS wHy wE nEedEd tO hAvE a cOnvErsaTioN aBouT MS3”#like hon you lost the rights to the “y'all need to contribute more” argument the moment you left me hanging for 2-3 FUCKING WEEKS #like excuuuuuse me you been prioritizing extra curriculars all week get off your high horse stop lecturing everyone else about contribution #he made maybe 3 contributions? maybe?#first he 3D modeled an adapter and sent it to someone else to print (couldn't even do THAT himself smh)#then he sent the gc a sketch of an idea i roughly proposed literally the NIGHT BEFORE as his own contribution (that I ENDED UP BUILDING #then he...screwed on a few pipe fittings and called it a project :)#would be a LOT less pissed if he didn't show up to One Thing outside weekly team meetings/class #then apologize for slacking off BUT then launch into a FUCKING SPEECH ABOUT HOW HIM BEING HERE PROVES HIS COMMITTMENT #all because he DOESN'T LIKE GETTING UP EARLY. like sir. sir i am rIGHT FUCKING HERE. i was up till 4-5am working on this stfu #we've been building for three weeks and he's come into work on stuff wo me there ONCE for an HOUR #for context id spent about fifteen hours in the shop alone working on the fucking thing that WEEK #like im trying to be understanding ik tech week is hell #but i took “stepping back” as “i only have a few hours here and there to be in the shop and will do the writeups”#NOT “won't show up outside meetings AND we're splitting slides and writeups 80/20”#like id been in the lab all fuckin day and notice we have an assignment due (missed a SINGLE meeting due to exam)#and i ask him if theres anything i can do (and im thinking like look it over maybe add a spec or two)#and this fucker has the AUDACITY to ask me to write the full four paragraph summary cause he #*checks notes* copy-pasted some specs from milestone 3 so of COURSE its only fair that despite the fact I've been in the lab ALL DAY #that i write the four fuckin paragraphs too #course we're troubleshooting and he's like “did you clean the pump? did you disassemble it and rinse it?” like yes???#i did EVERYTHING i could think of before i even bothered texting you cause i know you're fucking useless #and then he raises fifteen different concerns which while valid would have been NICE TO HEAR WHEN I SENT YOU MY INITIAL DESIGNS #y'know BEFORE i spent over fifteen hours of my free time building this damn thing #with slackers i just pick up the work and move on with my life this idiot is trying to gaslight me into thinking that he contributed fairly #when i heard “i need to step back due to play stuff” i thought we'd be splitting it like 65:35 NOT FUCKING 95:5 #and now hes probably going to give ME a poor peer review because I've been passive aggressive with him in the few meetings he showed up to #like i got shit going on too? how the fuck does he expect me to respond to being abandoned to do this shit myself

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sillyblues · 10 months

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𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 𝐱 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

ੈ✩‧₊˚𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: miguel tells you how annoying you are

ੈ✩‧₊˚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: last and second part of annoying is here!! thank you so much for the huge support yall broke my app my notifications weren’t loading properly lmao THANK YOU! this was supposed to be just a short one but here we are with a part two and a bit bigger word count m’gonna need rest and need more time for the preggo fic

part 1

Wordlessly, you left the team. You returned to your own Earth and did your own thing again. There was a slight tinge of unfamiliarity, knowing that you might never work with other spider people, your friends, again, but you forced the feeling down.

Miguel’s outburst haunted you wherever you went. Even as you fought villains that disturbed the peacefulness of your home, even as you mingled with the other civilians and hung out with your friends, even as you laid down in the comfort of your bed, his words would constantly echo through your head, and they would threaten the fall of your tears every single time.

If Miguel thought you were annoying, what about your other friends? Do they think you were bothersome as well? Maybe, you bitterly thought as you brought your knees to your face. Maybe the civilians don’t like you as well. The thought of the people you treasure and care for so dearly, the people whom you devoted most of your life to save, the people whom you risk getting hurt every day for, hating you, left you breathless.

More tears fell, and you gasped. The ache in your heart was too much to bear and seemed to sting your entire being. You clutched your chest as you laid sideways on your bed, pillows and blanket long scattered on the floor. You tried to muffle your cries, but it was useless, as they still vibrated through the room of your apartment.

Oh, god. Please don’t hate me. Don’t hate me, please. Don’thatemepleasedon’thatemeplease—

“[Name]?” the familiar voice momentarily halted you in your weeping. You slowly rose a bit, supporting yourself on your arm and looked towards the source of it. Peter’s worried look greeted you as he crawled himself out of your window.

“Oh, [Name].” you wavered at his heartbroken voice. He immediately rushed in to hug you. He sat on your bed beside you and embraced you. He rocked you back and forth, one hand on the back of your head that leaned into the crook of his neck, and one hand caressed your back.

“P-Peter, I ca– I can’t,” you hiccupped, and with shaking fingers, you gripped his suit tight. You felt your heart would burst with the way it was beating so fast and hard, ringing in your ears. “I can’t— I can’t breathe.”

“It’s okay, [Name]. I got you. I’m here, okay?” his voice was slightly muffled by the top of your head, but you could still hear him. “I want you to listen to me. Stay with me, yeah?”

You tried your best to respond, but it felt like your body wasn’t listening to you. He pulled back a little and held your face in his hands. You look at his eyes full of undisguised concern overflowing, and you desperately hope he doesn’t hate you too. You gathered what was left of your little strength and nodded weakly.

“Can you tell me three things around your room?” you try to look around as you cling to his arms. You looked away from his eyes and looked around you. Your old lampshade provided you with dim lighting in your dark, cold room. Your messy books were in disarray on the table. You saw a mirror. You saw yourself and how miserable you looked. Your face was wet with tears, and your eyes were red. You also saw how Peter looked at you with such solicitude, and you want to cry all over again.

“Um, lampshade.” You said and winced at the painful scratch in your throat and your hoarse voice. “Books. Mirror.”

“Good job. You did well. Can you move three body parts for me?” you unclasped your hands from his arms and tried to clench and unclench them. You wiggled your head out of his hold, embarrassment starting to creep onto you being seen so sticky and so wet and such a mess. It was fortunate that he understood and he chuckled. You were silent for a moment, and you didn't know what else to move so you settled on headbutting Peter.

“Ow! Of all things, really? Can't believe this is what I get,” he grumbled as he rubbed his forehead. You giggled at his exaggerated expression and unknowingly to you, your tears had stopped flowing, and only hiccups remained.

“Are you feeling better, [Name]? You can talk to me, my shoulder is vacant for you. Or do you want me to just stay quiet? Because yeah, I can do either. Just tell me what to do,” you chuckled even more at that. “I’ll even give you a pass for laughing at me.”

Seeing Peter comfort you like that, there was a sense of relief wash over you. It was obvious he was being genuine with you and if he wasn't, he most likely wouldn't even have the patience to sit with you and let you cry on him.

“It's nothing, um, it's just that,” you sighed as you weakly played with your fingers. The words are lodged in your throat, and you slowly breathe out. He looked at you with encouragement to take it slow, to breathe and you did. “I found out people at the headquarters think I talk too much and they didn’t really like me. Then I made Miguel mad, and I learned how I was annoying him. He probably hates me. And, uh, it got me thinking, what if you and Jess and Hobie think the same way? What if everyone thinks the same way?”

There was an urge to cry again, but it felt like you had cried it all out. There was none left for you to cry anymore.

“Wow, I knew Miguel was all bite and no bark, but I didn’t expect he’d bite that deep. What the hell is wrong with him?” the genuine disbelief made you sputter and chuckle.

“First of all, whoever doesn’t like you is automatically wrong. I mean, who could not like you? You literally make everyone’s day. Jess loves gushing with you about her husband, and Hobie loves talking about how his punk stuff and fighting the literal government which I think it’s really pretty cool of him don’t tell him that he’s going to tell me I should do it as well and I just can’t,” he said. “And I love talking to you because you’re funny and so positive you just know how to make me cheer up. Besides, I’m talking too much now, aren’t I? Always have been. But did you think I was annoying?”

“No! I never once thought you were one.” You replied without a beat.

“Exactly. Us either. Look, [Name], everyone loves you. Trust me when I say that.” He said with confidence and finality that you had no choice but to believe him,

“But, Miguel..”

“He's stupid. I know. Don’t mind what he said because it’s all bullshit anyways.” He grins. “Lyla told me what happened. I’m not taking his side because what he said is just wrong and I get you, you know? Having to hear all of that hurts. But from the bottom of my heart, I think Miguel did not mean what he said. Like, all the pent-up stress got to his head and boom, it suddenly burst out. I’m not saying that it was a valid reason, no. I just wanted to let you know that he doesn’t truly think you’re annoying, you know?”

“Besides, from all the time I knew him, I had never seen him genuinely enjoy his time with someone nor mope so bad when you didn’t come to the headquarters anymore.” He said with a deadpan expression at the end.

“Pfft, really?”

“Yes, really.”

There was a pause, it wasn’t awkward but it made you appreciate him more for coming here for you. He smiled at you and you did too, leaning on his shoulder for support. He hugged you sideways, one arm rubbing the side of your arm and you closed your eyes.

“I missed you, [Name]. We all did.”

“...I missed you all too.”

The decision to come back to the headquarters was a bit hard but you took it slow with Peter’s support. He never rushed you nor forced you to come back which you really appreciated and when you did return, you were sure you didn’t regret it. Jess and Hobie immediately latched onto you, they hugged you tight and told you how much they missed you so bad. They asked you how had you been, if you were alright, if were you hurt, and all that. Seeing their sincere worry for you, you smiled hard enough to hurt your cheeks and slowly you were going back to the old, happy you.

What changed right now was that you avoided Miguel. When you first returned to the headquarters, Miguel was there a bit far away from you. You could feel his earnest gaze at you and you looked at him briefly. The bags underneath his eyes seemed to be bigger and you wonder if he had gotten a bit bigger too. A reminder of his words rang instantly through your head and you breathed deeply silently. You quickly looked away as soon as you laid your eyes on him and that remained true for a couple of weeks.

During the briefing of your missions, he would look at you expectantly as if you would stand beside him like you always did. But you usually stood nearby Hobie who was at the entrance of his office. Sometimes you stood beside Jess and Peter which was a bit near him but not quite so.

“You’re not gonna be near him?” Hobie once asked as he lay down on a flat surface. He nudged his head in Miguel’s direction who was looking at you a couple of times as he talked about the mission details. You smiled bitterly.

“Aight, guess I got more time to catch up with you, huh?” the tip of his lips lifted up, “Wanna leg it and come join the protest in my home?”

“Oh no.” you silently snorted.

“What? It’s fun and we’re doing the right thing, you know.”

“Hobie, are you listening?” Miguel’s voice interrupted you both. You look away, not yet keen on looking at him.

“Yes, big boss. Ears open for you, don’t worry about me,” he stretched his arms before he folded them to lay his head on his clasped fingers. You wondered why he hadn’t called you when you weren’t really listening to him as well. Maybe he targeted Hobie on purpose to make you feel uncomfortable? You bit your lip. No, that can’t be. Peter said Miguel didn’t hate you and you trusted him so despite the voices haunting voices once more, you decided to believe in him.

Sometimes, you two would meet outside the building on his favourite Mexican stand outside the building. Maybe it was a habit formed over the time you knew him that you would buy him his empanadas. Now that you couldn’t bring yourself to talk to him just yet, you bought some for yourself. You could not deny that you missed buying his food, only to eat half of it yourself.

“Ah, it’s [Name]! How have you been? I haven’t seen you in so long!” Mrs. Flores exclaimed as soon as she saw your walking figure towards her. You two have gotten close a bit back then and has since then insisted you to call her ‘Abuela’. “Have you lost weight? You’ve gotten smaller since I last saw you!”

You didn’t think you did but before you could deny she was immediately cooking some empanadas, “Just wait, I’ll cook some for you, okay? No need to pay.”

“Abuela, thank you, but I can’t accept this without payment. Please, let me pay,” you opened your wallet and took some money but she wasn’t having it.

“No! I told you I don’t need any money! Do I look like I need some, huh? Don’t make me angry,” she threateningly pointed her clamps at you. You just sighed, knowing full well that her stubbornness was stronger than any villain you had fought. Suddenly, a figure crept behind you and you paid it no mind, figuring it was some other customer but the voice surprised you.

“Buenas tardes, Señora. Lo de siempre por favor.” You looked at Miguel in reflex. He wore a plain white shirt and trousers and oh, he was so close to you. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something but hesitation dripped from him so you took the opportunity to look away and stepped to your side to create some distance between you.

“Oh, ¿es tú novio, [Name]? ¡Lo sabía! Why didn’t you say so? He’s been the one buying empanadas instead when you were gone.” You choked on your own saliva and embarrassment immediately crept up your cheeks. You coughed it out as she side-eyed you. Miguel was silent and you wonder if he wasn’t going to clear this misunderstanding up.

“You had a fight, didn’t you?”

“No, Abuela, he’s not my boyfriend—”

“He isn’t? ¡Qué hombre más estúpido! Are your eyes not properly working? What are you still waiting for?” she snorted at him. The bubbling noises from the oil fill the silence as you didn’t really know how to respond in this situation.

“Well whatever, you will fix it, won’t you?” she glared at him. In that moment, you felt loved once more and you were starting to truly believe that those who said you were annoying were wrong. You bit your lip. You did not deny to yourself that you were expecting to hear his answer.

“I will.” He replied with such determination and resolution as he looked at you. Your heart throbbed, you saw how much he wanted to fix things right with you and you didn’t know how to feel. Glad? Happy? But you also felt upset at yourself because you almost wanted to smile just because of that and it felt like you were too easy in forgiving him even though he hurt you so much. You quickly dismissed the confusing feelings down and when Abuela gave you the empanadas, you hurriedly slipped some bills while you took the food and almost ran off.

But everything would have to come to an end, including this avoidance of yours of him. You sorted out your thoughts, and your feelings, each day as you avoided him like a plague after numerous encounters because you feared that if you saw him one more time, you would burst out and say things that you didn’t mean like he did.

On the day that you decided to finally stop everything and just talk to him, you were beaten to it by Miguel. You were looking through the windows in the building and stared at the beautiful blue skies and the white clouds that decorated it. The flying cars and the mega train running vertically were like the birds and the beam of sunlight back in your home and you were reminded of the differences you and Miguel had.

“[Name],” his voice was so soft, so unlike the tone he had the day he yelled at you. You admit you had gotten comfortable with the pain you felt since that day that you still wanted to evade his gazes and attempts to reach out to you. But the rational part of you, the one that grew from the pain, knew you had to meet his eyes this time. To let him reach you this time. And so you did. You looked at him, you looked at his eyes that were looking at you so desperately, so hesitatingly.

“Can we talk, please? Just the two of us,” he said but to you, it felt like he pleaded with the way his eyebrows furrowed and his jaw was clenched, awaiting your words that seemed like it would decide his fate.

“Okay,” you breathed out and he did too. The crease on his forehead slowly thinned out and his shoulders moved back. You knew that if someone different saw Miguel like this, they would think he was normal and that he wasn’t acting differently. But you knew better. Despite the tough shell he portrayed, there was a man vulnerable just like you. You just had a soft shell.

You two went to his office and the door closed behind you two. He asked Lyla to not let anyone enter for at least a while so nobody would disturb you both. She saw you and waved brightly at you. She then nodded and finally disappeared.

“Before you say anything, can you honestly answer this one question I have? Just one, please,” you asked him, nerves started to creep onto you and you wanted to look away so bad but you have to search for the truth in his eyes. You have to know his answer to your question.

“Sure, yes. I’ll be honest, I swear.” He promised you.

“Did you ever really think I was annoying? That all I do was nothing but cause trouble for you?”

“Never.”

“Liar.” You were disappointed. You were not as stupid and oblivious as others thought of you. There was a part of yourself that knew that you were bothering them. That you were bothering him. But you couldn’t help it. You cared for him and if talking too much, if bothering him would make him distracted from the grief and the pain he had from Gabriella then you would gladly do it.

“No, I wasn’t lying, [Name]—” you looked away. He couldn’t even be honest with you. Were you that unworthy of honesty? That was all you had asked. You clenched your fist and let your nails dig into your palm. “Listen to me, please.”

You start to walk away.

“[Name], por favor,”

You were nearing the exit.

“I— fuck it, yes! I didn’t like you because you were so annoying. I hated you.” You immediately looked back at him. Disbelief was obvious in your face and tears fell from your eyes. You felt a sense of betrayal at this. If he hated me so much, then why did he let me so close to him? Were you just a show to him? Were you entertaining? He was approaching you and strength had left your legs from the shock at what he said but you remained still.

“I hated the way you talked so much I felt like I was losing a part of myself because I wanted to know more about you and listen to you talk. I hated the way you know so much about me. I felt like you could see through me and I was so scared that you would hate me if you knew what I truly am. I hated the way you cared for me like no other because I cared for you too and I was so terrified to lose you too. I hated the way you’re so reckless, you don’t care if you get hurt as long as it’s for others.” He stopped in front of you and tears were also coming out from his eyes. “I hated the way you captured my whole attention whenever you’re there by my side because I can’t look at anything else anymore. I can’t work properly anymore. I can’t think properly anymore and– and I, oh fuck.”

What?

“You’re so annoying because you distract me so much. I hated you because I fell for you and you’re all I could think about and I just don’t know anymore,” he shakily breathed out. His figure was so big but at this moment, you felt like he was so small. His tears ran continuously like a furious stream and you were sure yours were too.

“When you left, it didn’t feel right anymore. I missed you talking to me. I missed you eating my food. I missed you annoying me. I missed you so much it hurts.” His voice turned hoarse and you finally moved. You caressed your hand on his cheeks and he leaned his face against your touch. “Lo siento, [Name]. I really am. Es la verdad, por favor créeme. Por favor…”

“Are you stupid? Why didn’t you tell me?” you cried out as you wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tight. But you couldn’t really blame him. Because he was the same as you. Despite his flying cars and vertical running train and your birds and beam of sunlight, there was still the same blue sky and white clouds. Despite his tough shell and your soft one, you two were just as vulnerable as the other.

“I’m sorry, don’t hate me please…” he croaked out and gripped onto your suit tight. You leaned back a bit to hold his face in your palms. His face was wet, his hair was a mess, and he looked so haggard. You lean your forehead against his.

“I don’t, I promise. I could never hate you and I hate you for it as well,” you giggled amidst your tears.

Really, he was such a stupid man and you were so annoying.

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#blue writes! ✧˖*°࿐#spiderverse 2 #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #spiderman 2099 #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #atsv angst

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chococolte · 8 months

Text

☼ — pietas maris

♱ : my take on sagau childe

including ☆! — him as a worshiper, and his reaction to being your lover ⛧

word count. 5.6k

୨୧ — ꒰ cw. yandere, unhealthy relationships, possessive & obsessive thoughts/behaviors, religious + cult themes, cult au, g/n reader. i do not condone yanderes irl. ୨୧ — ꒰ a/n. now time for me to disappear back into the aether for another 6 months

The abyss is cold.

It is unfeeling, lacking warmth and passion. It is relentless, cruel, and unkind. It corrupts, ruins, and does so freely, without remorse or thought. It leaves you clinging to the hot blood in your veins, curled up and hidden in the dark reaches of its void.

Childe had always been versatile; quick to adapt, even at such a young age. He grew used to the emptiness, the swelling numbness, and the eventual gnawing loneliness left in his abdomen. They became a part of him as his lungs, as integral as air; to be without felt odd, foreign.

The glimmer of your existence kept Childe company. He did not know who you were, or how lucky he was— only that you brought him comfort, like an old lullaby, or a blanket worn from overuse. He reached for you when the darkness grew too much, too heavy a burden on his small shoulders.

He came to you with little offerings; small trinkets, tomes of unreadable text. Useless to him, but perhaps you would take pity on him in exchange, and let him take comfort in your presence for another day. Childe came to you with rubble shaped in hearts, the gentle breath of his voice as he spoke of his anxieties. He did not think of them as offerings then, merely gifts— pleadings for you to stay a little longer.

His hands, then unruined and soft, made you a makeshift altar crafted out of whatever he could find. He made sure to build it where he felt your whispers were strongest, where your light entirely overwhelmed the darkness overhead. Childe didn't think of it as an altar then, just a place to settle his findings, where he could pretend his sad, little effigy made of you was actually you.

The idol didn't look much like a person at all, and at the time, he didn't think of his behavior as odd. He desperately clung to you for survival, and with no other warm body besides his own, you were the only one he could talk too.

At times, he thought he was going insane. There was a pleasant buzzing in his ears whenever he neared your doll, as if it were calling him. Despite the fact that he had made it, proven by the tiny scars on his palms, he still felt as if it was yours.

In the darkness, Childe whispered to you. He said everything his mind could think, childishly exaggerated tales in hopes of impressing you. A foolish endeavor, considering you were a God— but he still hoped that maybe you'd think of him kindly, and let him bask in your protective glow for just one more moment.

He couldn't hear your words, but he could feel them. The twinkle of your laughter was like a soft whistle in his ears. When you were pleased, the air would lightly ruffle his hair. Despite how agonizing his loneliness was, at least he had you by his side.

Childe's innocence, as all things do, eventually withered away in that malevolent black.

He thought of you as his teacher; a guiding hand that trained him, molded him to fit against your palm. When he struggled against the abyssal beasts, he could feel you— a soft brush against his hand, a firm hold on his back, keeping him focused. You taught him when to still his blade and when to strike.

In the arches of his sword and polearm, in the taut and tense pull of his bow, in the whirlwind of his catalyst— you were there, shining from beyond the thin veil separating you.

When Childe was ripped out of the abyss, so was his connection to you. Like a thread snapping, he could no longer feel you; not in the darkness overhead, not in the grip of his blade, of the depths of his soul. You were gone, and he was once again nothing but a boy, lost and alone. Friends and family surround him, thankful for his return, but his mind is still reeling, still stuck in the abyss and the sudden emptiness left in your wake.

Despite himself, Childe had hoped you would have stayed, even once he was out. He thought he was done with being naïve, but that clearly wasn't the case.

He can’t feel you anymore. Where did you go? Why did you leave? What did he do wrong? Questions swirl in his head like whirlpools of thought. Childe feels like he's drowning, suffocating in the mess of his mind. His breaths come out short, quick and sharp. His throat squeezes, constricting his airways, as he realizes what's unfolded.

You left him.

He should've known better. On that first day, all you had done was take pity on him by letting him linger in your light. It was his fault for ever believing that he would never have to be alone again. That even if he had no one else, at least he had you.

This was the result of his own failure. If only he had proven himself worthy.

When his family found him, they found him gripping a small, rudimentary doll. Even when they reached their home, Childe was still clutching the thing as if possessed. When they tried tugging it out of his hands, saying it would help him eat better, he ripped it from their grasp, holding it to his chest.

Childe couldn't accept that you had left him so easily. At night, back in his warm bed, Childe tries to whisper to you again. The familiar warmth sinks into his pores, but it's nothing like yours. He nuzzles closer to the doll, ignoring how it tears into his skin.

"I'm here," he whispers.

Maybe you got confused. He knows you're a God, but even the Seven are not omniscient. When he was torn from the abyss, it was possible you hadn't meant to so cruelly cut the connection between you. Maybe you couldn't find him, and so he just has to tell you where he is.

So he whispers to you in the dark, just as he has so many times before.

Only this time, he's met with silence.

In the years that pass, you linger at the forefront of his mind, haunting him like a wraith. Childe can't bring himself to be rid of you, despite how it hurts every time he thinks about you for a little too long. He's still stuck, perpetually waiting for your return, despite how he knows you've long given him up.

Childe becomes Tartaglia, the 11th Harbinger under the Tsaritsa. He takes a new name, a new mask— he executes her orders dutifully, and he does his role perfectly. He acts as if she's you, despite how desperately he wants to believe otherwise. If he closes his eyes for long enough, he can pretend that the cold that seeps into his bones in her presence is yours.

But no matter how many names and identities he takes, he'll always just be your Ajax; the boy who still misses you, despite how short your time together was. And that fact is what burns him the most.

Maybe he should be angry. He knows he has every right to be. Angry that you left him, that you discarded him as if he was nothing. Maybe he should hate you— hate you for leaving him alone, as if you weren't the only thing keeping him sane. Hate you for leaving as if his love didn't matter to you.

He comforts himself by thinking of the time dilation he experienced in the abyss. You cared for him so much that you spun three days into three months. He likes to believe he meant something to you; he must've, because why else would you lengthen your time spent together?

Childe knows it isn't true. He didn't matter enough for you to stay, after all.

At night, Childe finds himself listlessly thinking of you. It's a silent mourning. Quiet tears fall down his cheeks, soaking the pillow beneath his head. He chokes down every heaving sob that threatens to break from his throat; clenches his jaw when they claw too close to his lips. He slaps a hand over his mouth when he's too loud, biting his fingers until they're bloody and marred by his teeth. What would you think if you saw him this weak? Saw the boy you built up crumble, all because he can't feel even the softest traces of your presence anymore?

You would find him pathetic. All he's done is prove that you were right in abandoning him.

When the memory of you is too much to bear, he clutches the effigy in his arms, squeezing it against his chest until it's sharp edges dig into his skin. Even after all these years, he's still kept it close. He tries to feel the visage of you that was once attached to its bearings, whispering for you under the night sky, hoping it'll remind you of your time in the abyss— hoping that tonight he will feel you again, ruffling his hair with tendrils of wind.

He never does.

Childe barely sleeps, but when he does, he dreams of you. You have no body, no face— he can't even begin to imagine what you look like, and he doesn't dare too, even when he knows he has nothing to lose.

He's back in the dark, but you're still there with him, providing him light and comfort. If he knew that leaving would entail being without you, he never would have left at all. Better to be with you than to die without.

Sometimes, he dreams of you staying with him even after he escapes. Your warmth is ever-present. He gifts you riches, now. You have a voice in his dreams, and he can hear you speaking to him. You're kind, and gentle, and he wants for nothing. He has you, and there is nothing more to want.

He dreams he never lost you at all. It makes reality all the more painful.

In a way he knows is pathetic, Childe hopes you at least found him fun. He hopes you found him entertaining, despite how the thought twists his heart and guts into little knots, until he feels vaguely nauseous at the notion. At least then you would have reason to remember him. At least he could say he meant something to you.

In a hidden corner of his room, there sits an altar for you. His wealth as a Harbinger means he has no lack of resources, and so he bejewels the altar until it glimmers even without light. It's obnoxious and opulent to the point of vanity, but he figures that if you like it, he'll earn another whisper of warmth from you— in the vain hope that you hear him at all anymore.

With his hands, now calloused and worn, he carves sigils into whalebone. He doesn't know what they mean, but they were numerous in the abyss; and so he etches them into bone, hoping that whatever they mean, it reaches you.

Childe pushes himself more than he should. His back aches from all the weight he carries on his shoulders, but he trudges forward despite how it hurts. He is more fervent in conflicts, and spectacular scenes of blood and viscera follow him every time he walks onto a battlefield.

His tongue forms words of devotion for the Tsaritsa as he slays another enemy, blood staining his fingers, but in his heart, he only ever speaks of you.

When he fights, Childe can lose himself. He can focus entirely on the movement of his feet, the precision of his blade. He can ignore how badly he misses you, and how in the back of his mind, he desperately hopes that the more blood he sheds with your teachings, you'll find him satisfactory.

Adrenaline rushes through his veins, and once again he lets himself be drowned by the rush, letting himself forget all of his pain.

Childe is proud of the way that no one can recognize his style of fighting. It is exact and sharp— every strike hitting its target with ease, filled with vigor and intensity. He enjoys the gazes of jealousy, but remains silent when asked. My teacher taught me, he says. He sheds no further light on the matter, and any instance someone shows interest in learning from him, he instantly refuses. Childe wishes to keep you close to his chest, a guarded secret known only to him.

Childish, perhaps. He knows it is. But if he can't have you, then he will have the knowledge of you. He will keep it to himself, and there it will stay, safe in his tight grip.

It drives him insane, the way sees you in everything. When night falls, covering the sky in a blanket of stars, he wonders if you're staring at him from above. When the tides of the sea brush against the shore, he finds himself thinking of you as the moon— you are what anchors him, despite the fact that he hasn't felt you in so long. In his eyes, there is nothing you could not be, and with every breath, he only ever misses you more.

It's during his mission in Liyue that he feels you again. Childe is unable to breathe when he meets the Traveler, sensing you watching from their eyes. His heart thunders in his chest, tempestuous as a storm over the sea.

For a moment, he's happy. You're finally back. He wants nothing more than to run to you, to ask you why you left for so long, to ask how he can make you stay, but then he feels you— a familiar pressure bearing down on him, forcing him to say anything but what he wants to.

Childe watches the Traveler's back fade as it finally clicks for him.

You abandoned him for someone else. You left him... for this. The thought sends him reeling. You left him, just to go spend time with someone else— to give them the same company you gave him, to give them the same guidance you gave him— was he merely replaceable to you?

Was he just a test for you?

He should be angry. And he is, but the heartbreak overwhelms him. He's left choking, battling for air. The agony of having been tossed to the side, of having it be affirmed in front of his eyes. He wants to scream and cry, beg for you to return; but his throat squeezes every time he meets the Traveler, and the words die on his tongue.

You don't want him to speak. He's meant to play along.

Childe had waited for you for so long. Even after all this time, he couldn't get rid of the painful hope that you'd return. He had done his best to bottle his emotions, to keep them shut and locked inside, so that you wouldn't be disappointed in him upon your arrival. Proud that he never doubted you for a moment.

But he had. He had doubted you, cried at the lack of your comfort. Afraid of what it meant to be without you. Fearful of living, never getting to gleam your existence for a second time— and now you want him to pretend as if he never knew you.

As if he can't see the slight smugness in the Traveler's eyes.

His fight with the Traveler is personal. He bares his teeth, snarling like a rabid dog. His every strike is fast, precise with the intent to kill and maim. Childe hopes his emotions reach you, that you know of his bitterness and acrimony. That you know of how long he wished for you, how long he yearned for you to come back— how his frustration has twisted into pure rage, turned into a fine point.

He just has to simply show you how he's better. He has to show you that he's superior in every way to your choice. That you should've chosen him over them.

They are undeserving; watch how he rips through them like they are nothing, slicing through them like they are mist over sea. They are unworthy; see how easily he beats them into submission, how easily they crumble at his feet. The matter of the Gnosis is nothing to him, now— only whether you see how he should be the one you prefer.

It's then that he feels it. Your rage. Your anger at having been battered and bruised. The Traveler stands back up, but something is different now. Their strikes are fluid, prowess and skill increased by an outside force.

You.

Do you hate him that badly? Detest him so much, to go so far as to bless another with your strength so they can prove themselves to be his better? Even in his Foul Legacy form, Childe is forced to retreat; forced to bow his head in defeat, weakened by the burden of his transformation.

The realization leaves a bitter taste in his mouth. He's done the exact opposite of what he set out to do. All he's proven is that your right.

Childe feels your crushing weight bearing down on him. He spits the words out, calls them 'friend' through clenched teeth. He dances to your whims, just as he had previously. Unnatural, stiff movements and words that speak the opposite of what he means.

And then you're gone, left along with them. He stares at their fading back. He can almost imagine you beside them, walking by their side just as you once did his.

It hurts.

The next time he feels you, there is no sign of the Traveler. Only a tight pulling in his chest.

He doesn't know what it means, or what it entails. But he follows, sensing you at the end, waiting for him. Childe doesn't allow himself to hope; that maybe, you have come around. That maybe you do care. That maybe, you never hated him— not truly. That you missed him just as he missed you.

Maybe he meant something, after all.

When he reaches you, he feels it. You're happy. You're happy with him. He feels you reaching out, tickling him with strands of your will. You brush against his skin, burrow deep inside. Childe lets you, still unable to breathe.

He wonders if this is really happening. Have you come back to him, truly? Have you finally realized how much better he is? He feels you graze his soul, reaching deep within. Childe feels you envelop him, swathing him in warmth and comfort.

You're home, you whisper.

He only hears the ghost of your voice, a chime in the wind; but he hears the intent, the meaning behind your unintelligible words, even though he can't understand them.

Childe breaks.

SANGUINE NATUS ; first meeting/as a worshiper

If even just your breath could leave him weak, then seeing you for the first time makes his knees give out underneath him.

It's a foolishly embarrassing display, but Childe can't find it in himself to care. He falls to his knees quicker than his mind can catch up, unconsciously posturing himself to make himself seem as small and harmless as possible— anything to make you stay, even if it means sabotaging his image.

He tucks his shoulders inward, struggling between looking at you until his eyes burn and your image is seared into the back of his eyelids, or averting his gaze because just touching you with them feels like he's sullying you somehow.

His breath comes out short and sharp, his entire chest heaving with each shuddering, raspy exhale. Before he can even manage a sound, he's sobbing, crumpling to the floor— there's no care taken to your perception of him now, only the wailful cries of one lost in the weight of your eyes. Childe knows he's being pathetic, a mess of airy desperation and red eyes; everything he was when he felt the ghost of you leave him, and everything he wished you'd never see. But it's you, and for the first time, he can truly feel your eyes on him.

It's all too much to bear.

"I-It's you, it's you—!" Childe manages to choke, wet tears caking the apples of his face. His eyes strain, burning to see the visage of you through the blur of his vision. Nausea bites at him, his abdomen a sudden storm from the tears that lick at his cheeks.

Childe has always been austere in his worship; strict, solemn in how he acts out every religious rite. There is an icy silence unlike him as he moves, particularly whenever your sanctity is involved. His fingers still tremble despite his stiffness, the desperation loud in every twitch of his limbs. The desire to see you, after all is said and done.

Seeing you for the first time feels as though a wave has overtaken him, drowning him in brine and the cerulean of muddy waters. There is no hiding what he could barely contain before— jerky movements filled with need and the dolor of one disappointed before.

Childe no longer finds himself able to veil it by lies and rushing fights of adrenaline; now, it lies bare, and there's no burning ache to keep it hidden.

His fervor is relentless; a feverish desire to please you coalescing until it's unbearable for his skin. Your reaction to his cries could have been cruel or kind, and it wouldn't have bothered him; all that matters is whether he has finally proven himself worthy of standing by your side.

His worship is eager words spilling from his lips at night, the echo of your name a murmur from his mouth like the sigh of the ocean's waves-- his blades stained red, limp at his sides-- the burning in the back of his throat that comes from years of pleading.

You're here now, even if he can't be with you at all times; and that knowledge leaves him whispering to you, uttering every thought without a moment of reconsideration. It is a ceaseless endeavor, as every word is listless praise and endless adoration. There isn't a moment where he isn't thinking of you in some way, and the mere thought of the opposite leaves him feeling vaguely sick.

He wants to think of you all the time. Though it's such a small thing, in his mind, he has you all to himself— in the sense that there is no one else to take your eyes off of him— there, he can make you happy; there, he can make you proud of him. In that world, you have no reason to be rid of him.

Childe's always kept his habit of crafting you makeshift gifts. They're rugged, imperfect things, but laden with his fingerprints and the palms of his hands. Before, he could only set them still on his altar for you, and hope that it pleased you somehow. He was only ever met with silence, but he could pretend you were happy with him, and the idea alone was enough.

When he catches sight of a sea conch, its pale marks swirled across its smooth surface, he can only think of handing it to you. It's a beautiful thing, and so simple and crude a gift; but maybe you will find worth in such a thing, the simplicity of its nature, and praise him for it.

He gives them to you physically now, unable to shake the urge to do so. His hands always tremble when he hands them over, his knees threatening to buckle underneath him whenever your fingers brush against his. He will never fail to drown in the sensation, allowing everything that he is to become thoughts of you.

Childe has always worshiped you in bloodshed. In the past, he hoped it would leave you satisfied enough to come back; now, it's to prove how much better he is than everyone else. His fear runs deep, like cracks in the earth far below the water's surface, and the sickening feeling of dread whenever you praise someone else suffocates him.

It's unreasonable, he knows, and he has no reason to fear, not anymore— but his heart still quickens at the thought, and his stomach still twists.

It's an all too familiar feeling. When he was first torn from you, he felt as though his heart had been ripped right out of him; and the panic he feels only reminds him of it.

When he's inevitably forced away from you on another mission, he deals with it as quickly as possible, no matter how bloodied or bruised he leaves it. He is brutally unkind in his workings, his words always terse and clipped; a slight edge that never really seems to go away until he knows you're somewhere nearby.

It's when he's forced to stay away from you for a longer period of time that he breaks completely. Upon his return, he is instantly back at your side, heaving sobs and ugly tears running down his face. He can barely think, and a flurry of slurred words leaves his lips— begging to never leave your side again.

Childe knows better than to think he is deserving of your kindness, but he’s desperate to at least stay in your shadow. There, he could stay near you, even if he was swathed in black— even if his only glimpse of you was your back, he would be in bliss. To be near you in some form is all he could ever ask of you.

For all of the power you have granted him, it's only right that he use it for you. A mere word from anyone that isn't pure praise has his grip on his weapon tightening, the tendons on his hand taut and his knuckles pale. He remains entirely oblivious to any moral ambiguity in your actions— whatever you do is right and just; as you are the only one worthy of judging yourself, he does not dare too.

Instead, Childe draws his blade in judgement of others— he will act as your hand and executioner, the arbiter of your faith; it's with only vigor that he hands out punishment, a ferocity bold and true.

AMANS IN SPINIS IACET ; as your lover

Childe's dreams have begun to take a sudden turn.

It's not anything he can control, despite how hard he tries too. They pleased him at first, even though he still couldn't help the way his heart tightened at the idea of you somehow knowing. At that time, they weren't occurring enough for him to be worried, and the content themselves were innocent enough for him to think nothing of it.

You held him close to you, pressing benign kisses across his freckled cheeks, playing with his hair with soft fingers; little things that he could believe meant nothing at all, just a desire to feel your affection in the only way his mortal heart knew how.

The dreams turn nightly, and Childe finally realizes it's much more than that.

It begins at signs of your favoritism. Glances that last more than they should, summoning him to your chambers more frequently; Childe does not deny you, and he can't help the faint giddiness that clouds his mind every time he feels your gaze linger on him. It's a euphoric sensation to know that he is the one you are looking at; no one else. Only barely does he manage to rein in his emotions every time.

You speak much softer to him, and your touch is more affectionate. He turns drunk on your approval, willingly dancing to your whims if it meant having your fingers coiled in his hair for another moment. Before he can stop himself for even daring to think it, Childe lets himself believe he's special to you— and that is where the problem arises.

The thoughts don't stop. Even if he screams to drown out the noise, they still manage to be so loud. The dreams are relentless, more loving, more vivid. He can feel the warmth of your palms as you caress his cheeks, the weight of your breath when you draw your head near; they feel so real, that for a moment, he thinks you're the one sending them to him.

He feels as though he's dirtying you in some form, as if he is the one committing an unforgivable sin against you; somehow managing to desecrate you with just his thoughts alone. The idea sends him into a panic-induced frenzy, kneeling before his altar with rushed, unintelligible apologies on his lips.

Despite his self-hatred, whenever he wakes from one, Childe is left blissfully dazed, nuzzling into his pillow with hazy clarity— pretending that it's you, instead. He wonders what it would be like if his dreams were real, if he could really be so special to you in such a way; entirely irreplaceable, entirely yours.

It doesn't take long for his will to be eroded by his desperation. His desire to resist was already hanging by a thread, and as the dreams persist, any resistance on his end is lost. He falls ever deeper into an abyss of his own making, allowing himself to be undone by his own creation.

Childe has always been needy, but as his feelings rear their ugly head, it only grows worse. He has always loved you— and he had been struggling to choke his own feelings down for as long as he could, fooling himself into believing that they didn't exist in the first place. In his eyes, it's only right that you be the one to shake the foundation he lay; making him crumble until every dark part of himself is laid bare in front of you, only for your eyes.

There's a drastic increase in his desperation to be near you, and any lack of refusal on your part only exacerbates it. He neglects his duties entirely in favor of staying by you in some way or another, be it either by your side, or following you from a distance like a lost puppy.

Your admittance of feelings only makes Childe more fervent. He can barely hear himself speak, his heart fluttering against his ribcage like a caged canary. He can barely believe anything you're saying, and for a moment, he wonders if he's lost in another dream of his.

At your assurance, Childe doesn't dare to doubt you any longer. He falls entirely into you, allowing you to consume his every thought. He doesn't think to fight back, letting you envelop him until his every breath is coated in your name. He is yours, and he has no desire for anything more.

His desire for your approval now emboldens him. Childe's always acted out of an interest in garnering your attention, and though he now knows of your feelings, it does nothing to satiate him; instead, it leaves him hungrier, greedy with an eagerness to please.

He doesn't take from you without asking, but he asks enough for it to be a nuisance. Your affection is everything to him, and he can't bear to go a moment without it. He asks to lay his head in your lap, for you to play with his hair— the loss of your touch is the loss of himself, and sends him reeling back to memories of when he was without you.

The first time you kiss him, his legs instantly give out underneath him, a small groan leaving his lips. Childe doesn't bother to dull his reactions; you deserve to know how easily weakened he is by your touch, with even a brush of your fingers enough to leave him breathless and wanting.

As your favorite, Childe is quick to be rid of any competition. Whether or not you see them as possible suitors doesn't even cross his mind— the fear that snakes around his heart is ever-present, and if they're better than him in some form, it only grows in persistence. He doesn't hurt them, because surely that would upset you, and any devotee of you is worthy of respect— but he is quick to showcase his superiority, and to do so broadly without shame.

Childe grows used to his new status, and uses it to stay by your side constantly. Any attention you give to others is met with instant jealousy, seething glares sent to whoever stole your gaze, even if they only preoccupied a second of your mind.

He could never be mad at you, as clearly the fault lies within himself.

Any signs of your likes and dislikes are instantly noted. If you compliment someone for their behavior, he begins to emulate it, or at least he tries too. If you like Zhongli for how well he executes your orders, then Childe will be the same; only he will do it better, quicker, and prove himself still deserving of your love.

If he were perfect, then you would have no need for anyone else. If he were perfect, he would never have to worry about whether you'll grow bored of him the moment he stops being entertaining enough.

The thought of you with another leaves Childe sick without fail. He knows he has no control over you, and that if you wished to be rid of him, he would willingly walk into whatever punishment awaited him— but now that he has tasted what it feels like to be so utterly yours, he can't bear to imagine another sharing the same treatment.

You kissing another, holding another, letting someone else lay against you; all of it only serves to further blur his vision. Even if it is sinful of him to feel, he can't stop the emotions from swirling in his chest.

You are everything; the earth laid beneath his feet, the foundation of which he relies on. To be without you is to fall, to be without you means death; and if he must carve his skin and bone to fit the picture you want him to be, then he shall.

#[🦇] — my writing #genshin impact #yandere genshin #sagau #yandere male #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #genshin x reader #self aware genshin #yandere childe #sagau childe #self aware childe #genshin cult au #cult au childe

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sukunasteeth · 1 month

Text

Marks

Sukuna doesn't understand the hold you have on him.

He's never particularly been a people person. In fact, people annoyed him. This has held true ever since he was a child with his twin brother, Yuji. That is, until Yuji brought you home one fateful day in middle school, claiming to have met a new friend.

You, with your sweet little smile, and your boundlessly generous heart. You with your giggle that chimes through his darkened soul like a golden bell. With the innocent rosy lips that he'd dreamed of having his first kiss with until high school, when it finally came to fruition. You had been irrevocably his ever since then, and it had been almost seven years.

So why does it still feel like you're the one with all the power here?

Why does it feel like you could create a monster out of him if you truly wanted to? Why does it feel like he's constantly at your beck and call? Why are you the one person on this green earth that reduces him to the feeling of an emotion as pathetic as helplessness?

"'Kuna...hurts..."

He'll admit, he takes it out on you.

Like now, when you're lying naked beneath him (his favorite spot to have you in) and begging him to take it easy on you. He's got you covered in sweat, exerting you to your ultimate limit. He loved to see you train until failure, after all. Adored the way your legs quivered when he relentlessly made you keep riding him, despite your exhaustion. Cooed at the way you begged him to be gentle, even though he knows you prefer it rough. You were quick to submit when he had you behind closed doors, despite how independent you appeared outside of them. Sukuna knew you better. Knew how much you loved following his direction. Receiving his praise.

You were lucky you were such a good girl.

Sukuna was torturing you now already, and you hadn't even disobeyed him. He can't imagine what he would do if you were unruly. Actually, he can. And the thought has him salivating even more as he sucks relentlessly at the nape of your neck. You're covered in marks from his teeth or the raw scrape of his tongue. Your throat has been tormented by his worship to the extent that he's even broken skin in the spots where he can feel your pulse beneath his lips.

Even Sukuna has to admit that you didn't deserve this abuse. You hadn't done a thing out of line, besides selfishly tearing the heart out of his chest for good. It was yours now.

The thought makes him growl against you.

God, you weren't even trying.

Your victory over him was so effortless.

It pissed him off.

He doesn't realize that he's bitten you particularly hard until you're suddenly recoiling away, burrowing yourself into his pillows with a small yelp. Your hand has sprung up to press your palm over Sukuna's mouth in some weak attempt at getting him to stop. Your other hand holds your throat as you purse your lips at him, which have also seen a good amount of Sukuna's biting that day.

You looked good in his teeth marks, what can he say?

"Are you mad or something?" You're blinking up at him like a confused little deer. Sukuna can't help that it makes him hungry. You were a perfect prey to him and he would be chasing you to the end of this lifetime. He could tell solely in the way that your stupid little nickname for him makes his heartstrings snap.

He takes a frustrated breath through his nose over your hand, nipping at your fingers over his mouth like a muzzled dog. Before you can pull them away, he's grasping your wrist tightly, his unforgiving grip a warning in itself. Easily, he pins it to the side of your head, rendering you halfway useless.

"Don't interrupt." He murmurs, his gaze burning into yours.

A helpless sob escapes you, but otherwise you stop trying to squirm away from him. You allow the onslaught to continue without a peep, bracing yourself each and every time a new hickey is being bruised into your skin. He doesn't offer you any words in terms of praise, but his grip on your wrist eventually loosens a bit. He never fully lets you go, though.

While he appreciates your cooperation, you eventually go almost too quiet and Sukuna thinks for a moment that maybe he's pushed you too far. He pulls away from your neck to look at you, finding your pink little face screwed up in an intense mixture of pleasure and agony. He feels a content smile spread across his face but it's cut short when his eyes hone in on your lips, which you're currently biting hard enough to draw blood from.

His free hand reaches up and grasps your chin, pressing his thumb below your bottom lip and forcing you to relinquish it. You blink slowly, your logical brain having exhausted itself up until this point. You easily let him pry your teeth apart, panting in his grasp.

"Mouth. Open." He commands.

You squirm in your overwhelming frustration, whining. "It hurts, 'Kuna!"

Sukuna hums in a mock sympathy, watching you suffer with a satisfied grin. You would have these marks for weeks. There were so many now, some more intense than others, and he wasn't even close to being done with you.

"You're being cruel." You accuse, watching your own hardship twinkle back at you in the reflection of his eyes. Your pout is purple and bruised from your attempts to keep quiet. Sukuna leans in closer and presses the sweetest kiss to your lips, as soft as the brush of a feather.

What was cruel was the fact that you had broken down everything Sukuna had ever known about himself. His strength was putty at your feet. His hatred for the world was a joke in your presence. His pride, a mere memory at the touch of your fingertips against his soul.

"You think this is cruel?" He whispers, mocking you. His voice is the taunt of a devilish trickster. "I think I've been going too easy on you. Allow me to rectify that."

There really is no curse more cruel than love.

#jjk #ryomen sukuna #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk smut #fluff and smut #I love a good mark #especially a bite mark oof #smut #barely smut really #my writing #jjk x reader

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dughole · 2 months

Text

radiohead’s complicity in israeli-occupied palestine

my feelings on radiohead are complicated these days, as i’m sure they are for many. i'm using this post as a method of sorting out my own thoughts & to provide sources.

for me, the bottom line is this: radiohead is both a brand & a musical group. the brand of radiohead has always had deep roots in the israeli colonial project - they have played many, many shows there throughout their career. their breakout single - creep, was intially only a hit in israel (x, x) & the personal choices of some of radiohead's members remain just as involved. jonny greenwood met his future wife - the israeli artist, antivaxxer & vehement zionist (x) sharona katan - at a show radiohead played in israel in 1993 (x). jonny consistently collaborated with zionist musician shye ben tzur & his projects continue to tour in tel aviv as recently as last september. as for jonny himself - his only statement in regards to the war on gaza has been in mourning for the israeli concert goers on october 10th - w no such empathy spared to the 100,000 palestinians dead, injured, or missing. as for thom, while he’s thrown a few bitchfits (x) through the years abt criticism of radiohead’s shows in israel, he has imo - only paid lipservice to the criticism, saying “playing in a country isn’t the same as endorsing its government” going against the pleas of his peers & coworkers in the music industry. as well as the pro-palestine activism undertaken by his long term friend micheal stipe (x & x). (note: stipe stood by radiohead’s performance in israel in 2017, but his current political choices suggest his understanding of the situation has evolved). even his own son - noah yorke, a fellow working musician, has voiced his opposition to the genocide in gaza via instagram stories. as for the other members, rhythm guitarist ed o'brien has called for a ceasefire, as well as making a few tweets about "solidarity with palestinians & israeli peacemakers". while bassist colin greenwood reportedly refused to accept letters of dialogue from the fan-run organization radiohead fans for palestine. drummer phillip selway's commentary is similarly brief but defensive, saying radiohead's 2017 tel aviv concert "felt right"

to me, this paints a picture of a band who's members stances on israel range from abhorrent to simply not enough. & as a brand, their particular combination of action & inaction amounts to a fundamentally zionist perspective. you cannot separate radiohead as artists from radiohead as a brand name.

i've loved radiohead since i was 14. i was brought into it by another longtime fan. i cried & danced when i saw them live back in 2017 - it was, & remains, a moment that allowed me to live through the hardest parts of my life. i felt for the longest time, that radiohead's music & political positions encouraged my empathy - my questioning of conservative political authority. & while all celebrities are failures in some sense - it is still heartbreaking to know how wrong i was.

i don't think it's possible to disconnect the decade of connection & love i have for their music - I won't ask that of myself or anyone else. & the idea of scrubbing one's taste of the "morally impure" is useless effort & an inappropriate simplification of both art & our conceptions of what makes someone "bad". but i can say with certainty - i will not be giving them any more of my money, whether that be streaming their music or buying their merch - & i encourage you to do the same. silence is complicity - this is beyond silence.

in the words of nina simone - "an artist's duty, as far as i'm concerned, is to reflect the times. how can you be an artist and not reflect the times? that to me is the definition of an artist."

#love yall.#radiohead #palestine

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luvhughes43 · 6 months

Text

is it over now? | jack hughes

part two of the beginning

au masterlist⭐️

note: i switched to first person pov for this story just to test it out. Inbox me if you’d want to go back to 3rd person.

warnings: pregnancy, birth

word count: 4.7k

the doctors waiting room is cold and uninviting. i stare up at all the pregnancy posters that litter the walls, and soon my gaze falls to all the mothers and all the fathers. they all sit, talking quietly amongst themselves. the women are gorgeously radiant, and if this were any other time i’d compare their beauty to mine.

instead, i linger on the way they interact with their husbands, boyfriends, whatever. small touches, whispers, and smiles all burn into my mind like a useless cd.

“y/n l/n?” a nurse in all blue interrupts my thoughts, she gestures for me to follow her and i do.

like the waiting room, the small room i’m brought into is cold. i wonder briefly what jacks doing right now. if he had gotten my message or if he’s still asleep. i try to imagine his reaction but i can’t bring myself to conjure up an accurate depiction of him. everything is off - and i fear if i keep trying to imagine this man who’s not my jack, that i’ll somehow forget the real one.

“we’re just going to do some tests, all very basic things. i need to know your medical history, and i’ll have to do a complete physical assessment,” a doctor walks into the room, clipboard in hand. she doesn’t look at me as she speaks, but I absentmindedly nod to her words anyway.

“Okay so, is this your first pregnancy?” the doctor asks.

“Yes” i nod.

“And, do you have any medical history I should be aware of? Past procedures, family history, etc” the doctor looks up from their notes and i pause.

“Uh, i -” my cell phone buzzes in my purse and i quickly reach for it. Its a notification from sephora, something about how there’s a last minute sale and that i should buy some overpriced body spray.

“I had my tonsils taken out when I was five, but other than that i’ve had no other procedures” my words come out shaky, as if i’m confused. i turn my phone over again, willing for another notification to pop up. It’s 11:40am, and jack is definitely awake by now.

the doctor calls a nurse in to prep for the examination. everythings a blur as i lean back. the nurse, short with reddish-blonde hair, has to ask me to lift up the bottom of my shirt twice.

“And if you look over here, this is where your baby is,” the doctor is confident in her speech as she shifts the little wand around my stomach.

the appointment was nightmarish.

the nurse sent me home with a little packet of information sheets, all different colours and all about different things. i don’t want to look at them, so i shove them into the bottom of my purse when i get out of the office.

⋆ ★

vivienne always made sure to wake up an hour before jack. she liked to make herself a fancy coffee with her espresso machine, and she liked to plan out her events for the day. she had decided that they’d go to the grocery store sometime before noon, hit the mall for an outfit to wear to dinner, and then of course dinner with viviennes friends at 7.

after her coffee, Vivienne tiptoed her way back into her bedroom. she was proud of the fact that Jack liked to stay here. she made sure her bedding was always fresh and clean when he was over, and she made sure to spray a little bit of her perfume on his pillows so he’d get used to falling asleep to the scent of her.

Vivienne grabbed a hold of Jack's phone on his nightstand, and slowly slid it off the side of the table and into the palm of her hand. she turned it over, bombarded with the amount of notifications that littered his phone screen. she slid up, quickly typing his passcode. she had to be mindful of her next moves. she didn’t have long to do her routine digging.

“It’s not really fair for you to be with vivienne if you still have feelings for y/n”

“will you drop it? you were the one who told me to go for viv”

“Jack-”

“No! Dawson, you were the one who begged me to move on. I am. What happened with me and y/n-"Jack cuts himself off. “what happened.. It’s done now. leave me alone”

Vivienne recalled the conversation she overheard a few weeks ago and she couldn’t shake it from her mind. So, she did what any girlfriend would do and searched the girls username on instagram.

She hadn’t thought y/n would be any type of problem in hers and Jack's relationship. That was until Jack and Vivienne were laying in bed, with Jack wanting to show Vivienne a picture he had taken a while ago on a roadie. He was scrolling past his photo albums when she saw it. The “it” being a photo album titled “❤️” filled with pictures of jack and y/n at art galleries and whatnot.

Ynuser: 1 dm request

Accept | Delete

Vivienne clicked onto the dm, and when she saw the words pregnant and yours her blood ran cold. She angled her body away from Jack, and with his reassuring snores clouding her mind, she reread the dm again.

Jack, I don't even know how to tell you this. It doesn’t feel right. But, I took a pregnancy test and it came back positive. I’ve booked an appointment with my obgyn for tomorrow and they’re going to confirm the test for me. You're the only person that I've been with since we’ve gotten together so it’s for sure yours. If you need a paternity test or anything at all just let me know and we can sort it out. Please reach out and we can talk about this in person. I’m sorry.

“Fuck” Vivienne cursed as she clicked Jacks phone off. She turned around and stared at the man in question while debating her options.

Letting Jack find the message on his own was the most obvious answer but… would he still want to be with her when he found out about the baby? If it even is his, Vivienne rolled her eyes at the thought.

The next logical option was to delete the message and block the girl. Jack would never have to know, and Vivienne would just have to be the perfect girlfriend for the next little while. She’d make him his favourite foods, dress extra hot, and do everything in her power to make sure he forgot about his ex.

Vivienne turned Jack's phone on again, and without a second thought, swiftly declined the message request before blocking the girl.

To make sure her tracks were completely cleared, she searched the girls name up in his contact list and blocked her there as well.

And, just as quickly as Vivienne had picked up her boyfriends phone, she had set it back down.

⋆ ★

After the appointment, I was stuck in meetings for the rest of the day with no opportunities to check my phone. During my appointed bathroom breaks, I was too anxious to check. My hands trembled as I hovered over the instagram app, too nervous to see if he had read the message.

I thought about the next message that I would send all day. Would I send the doctors confirmation? My next appointment date? The reason why I found out about the pregnancy so late?

When I got out from work, I decided to walk the 45 minutes home instead of taking the Subway. I hoped that the semi-fresh air would clear my mind.

By the time I unlocked the front door of my apartment, it was 6:45pm. Jack would have gotten out of practice, and he would probably be at home grilling himself a piece of chicken while his rice cooked.

I pull my boots off and wander into my bathroom. i shut the door behind me, giving myself some privacy from my own space. When I close my eyes, all the memories of Jack and I flicker through my mind like one of those plastic children's cameras.

I take a deep breath, before finally pulling my phone out of my pocket and turning it on. I click into instagram and my stomach drops.

jackhughes

No posts yet

User not found

what the fuck was i going to do.

⋆ ★

“Claudia!” my voice was hoarse from crying as I pounded on my best friend's door with my fists. I had run all the way to Claudia's apartment, and luckily someone was walking into her apartment complex so I didn't have to buzz in.

Claudia's door swung open, and she immediately pulled me inside and into her arms. “What's wrong?” she practically cooed, not a stranger to my breakdowns.

“J-jack he-” I couldn't stomach the rest.

“Babe, slow down… breathe..” Claudia stressed as she started doing breathing exercises for me to copy. I followed her movements, and when I was deemed calm enough she moved me over to sit on her couch.

I take a few minutes to recover before explaining what happened.

“I’m going to kill him” Claudia sneered after I had explained the pregnancy, the message, and how my ex boyfriend-turned-baby daddy had blocked me.

“What am I going to do?” I was crying again. I was bordering on exhaustion as I leaned my head against the back of Claudia's couch and wailed.

My hand found its place at the top of my stomach, where the faintest baby bump had begun to form.

⋆ ★

vivienne just added to their story!

vivienne

liked by jackhughes, trevorzegras, alixearle, and others

vivienne mr nhl man

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user01 VIVIENNE HAS A BF??

user02 viv baby who is it

user04 vivnation lost

user05 jack and trevor liking ohhh wow…

user06 is it jack?

user07 i thought jack has a gf?

user06 he was seen out with a girl a few times months ago but that was it lol

user08 the nhl girlies lost

⋆ ★

ynuser

liked by claudia, and others

ynuser my baby🤍

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claudia im a proud honorary aunt❤️

user00 congrats!!

user01 Congratulations on your pregnancy sweetie! We have to get together sometime soon😘❤️

⋆ ★

the pregnancy was lonely. It was all long hours at work, quiet doctor appointments, and late nights binge sessions watching gossip girl with whatever craving plagued my mind.

I tried my hardest to stay away from social media, my heart cracking a little more every time jack came across my feed with his rumoured new girlfriend. of course, i knew it wasn’t a rumour, which just made everything more miserable.

“Do you want to know the gender?” the ultrasound tech asked as she shielded the sonogram screen away from my view.

I nod, “yes, please”

Claudia squeezes my hand. “Are you sure? I can throw you a gender reveal party if you want? Or we can do something with just the two of us?”

I didn’t want to hurt Claudias feelings, but it wouldn’t be the same without jack.

I must have took too long to answer though, because the ultrasound tech looked at me with pity filled eyes as she said, “i’ll put the gender info in an envelope for you to take home”

All i could do was nod.

⋆ ★

“Im sorry, blair.. But you lost the baby”

“where’s chuck?”

“B, he lost a lot of blood, and he never woke up”

Gossip girl season 5 played in the background as I picked at my newest pregnancy craving, strawberry cupcakes from a bakery off seventh ave.

i sighed heavily as i continued watching the show. this has got to be the saddest episode… i thought as blair started praying for chucks survival. As the scene went on, tears pricked my own eyes as i thought about the past five months.

i was almost done with my 2nd trimester, and i was still refusing to acknowledge my pregnancy. I felt as if i were walking through water, i was restricted in all of my movements and my mind was cloudy like i had just spent all day in the michigan summer sun.

The episode finished, with blair telling chuck that she loved him but that she couldn’t be with him and that she couldnt tell him why.

When the screen turned black and i was faced with my reflection, i started sobbing.

Heavy tears rolled down my cheeks and fell onto my duvet, which turned the cream coloured blanket into spots of grey.

Without thinking, I rolled out of bed and threw on a thick sweater that I found strewn against a chair backing. I wandered out into my entryway, shoving on a pair of my mini uggs as I searched high and low for that stupid little envelope that my tech gave me.

It was in my purse, hidden behind a hundred other little things. Once the envelope was grasped firmly in my hands, i ripped open my door and rushed down onto the street.

I didn’t have a lot of time to think this through. If i placed the order now, everything would be okay and fine...

Truth be told, i was afraid that if i didn’t order a gender reveal cupcake that i would be doing my baby a disservice. I promised to myself that i would be able to do this without jacks support, and yet here i was crumbling under the pressure of motherhood.

The bakery shop chimed with my arrival, and then i was in the small line up to make an order.

“Hey, what can i get for you tod-”

“Can i get a gender reveal cupcake? Or one of those little cakes?” i ask, thrusting my envelope into the guy at the registers hands.

He looked taken aback before responding very politely, “i’m sorry, you’re going to have to make an order online”

“Oh,” my shoulders sag in disappointment. I hadn't thought far enough ahead.

the guy stared at the crumpled up envelope in his hand, and then back at me. “Why don’t you go sit down and i’ll figure something out for you,” his voice was kind as he noticed my dishevelled state.

I nod, and then move to an empty seat in the corner of the bakery. Another employee was sweeping the floors, and i realize that the store must be due to close soon. I need to pull myself together…

About ten minutes later, the guy from before walked over with a little white box in his hand. On top of the box sat my envelope which was now cleanly cut into.

“It’s not the prettiest thing in the world,” the guy chuckled as he placed the small box in front of me, “but it should work”

“Thank you,” i stutter, pulling a crisp $10 bill out of my pocket and handing it over to the guy.

At first he shakes his head in an attempt to decline the money, but I insist he takes it anyway.

back at home, i get comfy at my kitchen table where i finally open up my box. It was a vanilla cupcake with white vanilla frosting.

I take a deep breath before taking a small bite, and when i swallow, i see the remaining pink icing that filled the inside of the cupcake.

“we’re having a little girl,” i whispered, tears sliding down my cheeks as i rub my bump soothingly.

⋆ ★

Jack Hughes was stuck. He felt bad for Vivienne and he felt bad for himself. It wasn’t Viviennes fault that his attention was elsewhere because on paper, Vivienne Aiden was probably who most would consider his perfect match.

Vivienne was gorgeous, she had an online career going for her, and her apartment did smell amazing… but something just wasn’t right.

When she fell asleep beside him, Jack would pull out his phone and scroll through his photo album full of pictures of his ex-girlfriend. He would wonder what she was doing, what new journalist piece she was working on, and most importantly, if she was happy. He couldn’t bear searching her up online, for fear of seeing she had moved on (which, let's be honest, is very hypocritical of him), so Jack settled with his photo album.

When Jack finally closed his eyes for the night, he imagined the sleeping figure next to him was his y/n. Vanilla scent was swapped with coconut, a windy spring turned into an endless summer, and the lingering emptiness felt like coming home after a long roadie.

And in the morning, when y/ns lovely green eyes woke him up, he would blink to find Vivienne staring back at him, and whatever relief he had accustomed himself with in sleep came crashing down again.

⋆ ★

ynuser posted on their story!

jackhughes posted on their story!

Vivienne posted on their story!

⋆ ★

Vivienne wasn’t an idiot. she could feel the small shifts in Jack's behaviour. He was slowly distancing himself from her and she wouldn't allow that to happen.

Therefore, she sent him a teasing photo, planned a romantic dinner at her apartment, and took care of business.

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User: user257483475

ynuser

Dm Request

User257483475: how does it feel knowing that you’re going to be a single mom?

User257483475: must be tough knowing that the daddy doesn’t want it

User257483475: if i were you i wouldn’t even try

Read

⋆ ★

“I can’t believe you're having a little girl!” Claudia squealed as she met me at the front of a baby store. I was now 6 months along, and I hadn’t done any of the necessary baby shopping yet.

We walked into the store, light pinks and blues and purples clouding my vision. “I can't believe it either! A little girl…” I smile, picking up a little onesie.

Claudia gets a basket, and we start to make our way through the store. “Have you thought of any names yet?” she asks as she holds up what might've been the cutest baby dress i’ve ever seen.

I placed the dress in the basket. “I’ve been toying with a few names but it just feels strange” I pick up another little dress and put it in the basket as well. “I’m sure once I see the nursery all together it’ll feel a little more real and i’ll be able to pick something out”

Claudia smiles at me sympathetically before taking the shopping basket out of my hand and guiding me towards the furniture section.

“I was thinking-” my phone buzzes causing me to pause. I pull out my phone, only to see a few instagram notifications.

User257483475: viviennes so pretty, i bet you're real jealous huh?

User257483475: jack didn't even want to post you publicly and now he wont even acknowledge his baby… he never loved you.

User257483475: i wish you the worst xx

Read

“y/n? What were you thinking?” Claudia asks, immediately noticing my pause. She walks over to me, one hand on my shoulder as she tries to gauge my facial expressions. “Are you okay?”

I don't want to speak, and so I thrust my phone into Claudia's hands.

She gasps when she reads the first message from a few weeks ago, and I can feel her tense beside me as she lets her hand drop from my shoulder.

“What the fuck!” she seethes as she stares at all the messages littering my phone.

“How do they know the baby’s Jacks? How do they even know I'm pregnant? My account’s private!” I utter as I close my eyes.

“Who’s Vivienne?” Claudia asks as she switches out of my dms and onto the search page. I watch her type in Vivienne's name.

“She’s Jack’s girlfriend,” I reply just as Claudia presses on her instagram account. The newest picture on her feed was of her and Jack at some cafe… I felt nauseous.

“Well, she’s obviously the one sending the messages” my best friend states firmly. Great I thought. Could my life get any more fucked up?

That night at home, I easily verifiy that it was Vivienne behind the account. For all the scheming she liked to do, she wasn’t very good at covering her tracks.

First, I used my laptop to try and log into her main instagram account. When I got the password wrong, I clicked the option for instagram to send a code for password resetting via email. The email, half unblurred, showed up on screen. Then, i moved onto the account who’s been sending me nasty messages. Repeated the process, and wouldn’t you know! Vivienne Aiden didn’t doesn’t know how to make a fake email for her fake account, that she uses to harass her boyfriend's ex! Nice.

With that little confirmation, I blocked both her and the account she’s using to send me messages.

⋆ ★

My baby’s nursery is painted a soft pink. Her crib is a beige wood, and there’s white flowy curtains with a blackout curtain set underneath. flower prints decorate the walls, and my baby’s name is highlighted on a beautiful homemade blanket which was gifted to me by one of my coworkers.

“Are you ready, baby?” my mom asks to which I nod. I watch her silently as her hands weave between different sets of baby clothes.

She’s helping me get the nursery finished for babygirls birth next month.

“I’m nervous, but i’m ready,” I smile, waddling over to the blush pink rocking chair that sits in the corner of the room.

⋆ ★

“i’m not ready! i need jack!” i cry, squeezing my eyes shut tight as pain overtook my body. i could hear the nurses faintly in the background of my own thoughts, shouting something about an excess of blood.

a group of nurses stand around me, all shouting different orders to one another. “ma’am you’re bleeding-“

“i need, i just need-“

a sweet looking nurse cut me off. “sweetie, you’re going to be alright. just breathe, i’ll be right here with you this whole time!” she grabs ahold of my hand to which i squeeze tightly.

the room spins and my whole body feels cold. I could tell that the nurses started going about their business from all the pinching and poking that was going on, but i couldn’t figure out where all the pain was coming from.

⋆ ★

“Mommy?” I whispered. My mom whipped her head in my direction upon my words.

“Oh sweetie,” she coos, tears lingering in her eyes as she sits on the edge of my hospital bed. she grabs ahold of my hand.

“Is…” I start to ask about my daughter but a cry falls from my lips.

My mom grabs my hand tighter and brushes my hair out of my face. “She’s in the NICU, but the nurses say she’s doing well”

“Can I see her?” my voice is hoarse. My mom jumps up from the bed and fills an empty paper cup with water. She passes the cup to me, and I gratefully drink its contents.

“I’ll go get a nurse, okay? She’ll tell you everything you need to know”

I had been asleep for roughly ten hours after my daughters birth. The doctor told me that the pain I woke up to last night was from blood clots, which is the reason behind all the blood and the premature birth. Luckily though, I was pretty close to full term, and I got to the hospital at the perfect time therefore babygirl would only have to stay at the NICU for a few short weeks to monitor her development.

“what’s her name, sweetheart?” my mom whispered softly to me while her hand ghosted across hairline.

“Leighton Rowe LN,” I replied sleepily as I stared at my baby in my arms. Leightons sweet face suddenly made all the pain worth it.

my mom brushed my damp hair out of my face. “that’s beautiful,” she cooed, and when she gestured towards the baby I tiredly nodded.

as my mom took my baby out of my arms to coddle, i let my eyes close and then i softly drifted off to sleep.

⋆ ★

It was a few months later when it happened. claudia was at my apartment, watching leighton while i ran around the city to get some much needed errands done. i stop at my favourite coffee shop, a place that i hadn’t been to since jack and i broke up.

i order my usual, a mocha to go, and when i turn to leave jack had just opened the door. I stumble back, not prepared to see jack in the flesh. He looks familiar and yet completely different.

“y/n,” he greets me, his tone uncertain as he takes a step towards me. How dare he.

“If your girlfriend sends me one more fucking text i swear i’ll ruin her life” i start, my words threatening as i let the weight of viviennes words fall onto my shoulders. for months shes been creating new accounts and messaging me, and despite hitting the "block all and future accounts" feature she still managed to harass me.

“I get that you don’t want to have a baby, but she’s here, and I'm capable of doing it without you. I have been doing it without you. So get your girlfriend to stop harassing me or i’ll press charges,” i spit out, pushing past a shell-shocked jack and storming out onto the street.

⋆ ★

“I have a baby!” jack shouts angrily, kicking one of vivienne's wooden dinning room chairs. “You hid my baby from me!”

Vivienne stares, glassy eyed as she watches her boyfriend stomp around her apartment. “Jack, i didn’t mean for it to go this far i-”

“You what? What was the plan here?” he shouts again, running a hand frustratingly through his hair. Jack stops, whipping around to face vivienne again. “Show me the messages.”

“What?” she cries.

“y/n said you were sending her messages. Show me them” jack repeats, causing vivienne to jump up in alarm. If he saw even half of the things she sent…

Jack storms up to vivienne who immediately pulls her phone out of her pocket. She switches onto one of her many burner accounts used to send y/n messages.

Jack sat on the couch, hunched over while he read through every single message. He felt sick.

he hates you

It must suck knowing that your child's dad doesn't want her

Jacks going to be the best daddy to our future baby… its too bad he didn’t want that for you.

“Jack we can fix this, i swear i’ll do better and-”

Jack stood up abruptly, letting viviennes phone tumble to the ground with a loud thud. “We’re- we’re past done. I don't even know what to say to you,” jack stutters, tears falling steadily down his cheeks.

“Baby, i’m so sorry” vivienne cries. she tries to reach out to jack, be he swats her hands away.

Jack backs away, and without another word he leaves viviennes apartment with the slam of a door. he had to make this right to y/n and his... baby.

part three

#journalist au!#jack hughes x reader #jack hughes blurb #jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl fic

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6gumi · 8 days

Text

scandalous!

synopsis ﹒bllk men reassuring you that all those useless false scandals and fake news online are false ! ( in a rather . . peculiar way than normal reassurance . . <3 )

pairings﹒ michael kaiser, itoshi sae, oliver aiku x f!reader

cw ﹒nsfw MDNI. unedited ( mistakes might be present ) 、 blowie ( oliver aiku ) 、dirty talk 、riding ( michael kaiser ) 、small titplay ( itoshi sae ) 、mentions of cheating but it doesn’t acc happen, promise ! 、v4ginal fingering ( itoshi sae ) 、use of feminine terms ( girl, gf (?) etc) 、 more tba !

note ﹒hello every1 ! ! :,3 wrote this while working on my art project lol ! ! ! first bllk work i believe ? ? i hope there isn’t too many mistakes in this one i’m very very sleepy trying 2 make my art look nice . . :,3 | reblogs r highly appreciated, feel free 2 send me an ask ! — millie ♡

୨୧ 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐋 𝐊𝐀𝐈𝐒𝐄𝐑

“come on, mein liebling . . is that really what you’re worried about? i assure you . . these pathetic scandals aren’t true anyways.” with a firm grasp on your hip, he guided you on his cock with such elegance and ease, wanting to fuck all worrying emotions lingering beneath that pretty face of yours. “speak to me, liebling. do you seriously believe all of those rumours going around about me? about us?” his voice was addictive . . your head was completely empty . . filled with nothing but his damn voice. even so, these stupid rumours and scandals . . . as reassuring as he is, you can’t help but think maybe there’s some truth behind those rumours.

sweat glistened his well-fit body and yours, mingling the intoxicating fragrances within the air. squeezing your breasts in his hands with a lick of his lips, his fingers grazed down your spine, grunting at his own sharp and desperate thrusts. you rode him with the same amount of desperation and arousal he had. your passion filled him with both satisfaction and hope . . hope that you believed you were his only, utterly dependent and devoted to you. the blonde’s fingers dug into your soft flesh as every movement brought you both closer into harmony, each groan echoed against the walls of your shared bedroom. “that’s it . . .” he whispered hoarsely into your ear, his breathing ragged from exertion. "ride me hard, beautiful.”

your face contorted in pleasure as you slammed yourself down against his cock, feeling the tip kiss your sweet-spots as you struggle to speak up, the mere feeling of his cock was enough to send you to heaven itself ! just then, your mouth opened to speak. “i—it’s not impossible,” you murmured, “what if you’re lying to me . .” “oh baby . . . do you really think i’m not telling the truth?” kaiser’s face grew serious, snapping his hips upwards against your pussy. he relished the feel of your warm body against his, wanting to fuck those precious thoughts out of you. he was telling the truth, those stupid articles . . were only trying to ruin his image. his large hands gripped your hips tighter, his nails practically digging into your skin with a sense of desperation . . wanting to prove himself to you.

“mein liebling . . . seriously. i’m telling the truth. i’m telling the truth when i say this pussy is mine and mine only. and i’m definitely telling the truth when i say this cock is yours to fuck yourself dumb on.”

“ . . you, mein blume . . . have nothing to worry about. my cock belongs to you.”

୨୧ 𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐀𝐄

“i mean it, [name].” sae whispered against your ear, sending streams of electricity through your spine. his renewed determination to reassure you became his goal for the day, pressing his nose against your neck again, inhaling the scent of your fragrance. he had you seated on his lap, his hardness pressing close against your ass . . . trying his best to hold it in when the time comes. his fingers darted out again, swirling around the sensitive nub. “y—you don’t mean it . .” you protested, which only made things more harder for sae. he hated when you doubt his words, his movements growing more confident and skilled with each passing moment . . mind focused solely on pleasing his pretty girlfriend who was all worried about these articles that weren’t even true.

“i do mean it.” your boyfriend’s heart pounded in his chest, free hand reaching out to touch your breasts. his fingers brushed against your nipples, making them harder than steel. "hm. what can i do to make you believe me?” he grips your hips, pulling you towards him, erection straining against his shorts as he struggled the urges to fuck himself balls deep into your pussy. “those articles aren’t always true, angel-face. i mean it. i’m telling the truth, okay?”

grinding his cock against your lower back, he pushed another finger inside. your walls trembled, gripping his digits with pure vigour, you could almost feel his cock throb ! “mmh.. but the article . . .” your whimpers were music to his ears, pleasure dancing across your face, replacing the looks of uncertainty and concern. an absurd wave of protectiveness washed over sae then— the idea that these people were making up false and uncouth claims and lies filled his heart with sick dissatisfaction. their declaration of his infidelity was another layer to his coldness, he hated all of them, he wanted you and you only . . . was that not obvious ?

“i know, angel, but they’re not true.” he whispered huskily, holding your heavy breasts steady. “fuck . . . you always say such pretty things," he murmured against their your damp hair, fingers lightly grazing down your labia as he thrusted them back in, wanting to make you cum and lose your mind completely. “please, you know those articles are just bullcrap trying to put our relationship at risk. but i’m not letting it happen.” there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes as he pulled out from within you, leaving behind an echo of fullness in your core.

“you know i love you, angel-face. is that in your head yet? or do i have to fuck it into you?”

୨୧ 𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐀𝐈𝐊𝐔

“oh fuck . . baby, you’re suckin’ me good.” oliver bit back a grunt, eyes drifting shut. he was supposed to be reassuring your pretty little head that he only had eyes for you, but it feels too fucking good. too tempting. he hoped and prayed you wouldn’t blame him later for wanting your mouth. the way your wet heat surrounds him sends him in a frenzy . . . your tongue swirling and dancing around was enough to drive him absolutely insane, he wanted to push your head down further onto his dick, thrust inside and give you all of him . . show you just how truthful he was being at this moment. “m—mmf . . listen baby, all those articles are just tryna’ ruin people’s images of me, of us. they ain’t real and will never be, kay?”

the sensation of your soft mouth enveloping him sends electricity straight to his body, wanting more of your mouth. desire raced through his veins, drowning out rational thought. your warm breath, soft moans . . he can hear all, feel every stroke of your tongue. your small sobs, and even those pretty tears. ohh . . . those tears. he loves them. gripping the armrest, fighting to maintain control. your precious tears streaming down your face . . . it only aroused him further, his dick twitching in your mouth.

you sniffled, trying your best to accommodate his size. “baby, i’m really telling the truth. all those cheating rumours . . . those pictures are photoshopped— ah fuck . . baby you gotta’ believe me.” oliver groaned loudly, mouth curling into a satisfied yet concerned smile as he watched his dick go in and out of your lips, his hips slowly moving on their own as he slammed himself against you, forcing you to take more of his cock. “i’m tellin’ ya, baby doll,” his voice rasped hoarsely in the air, swallowing a lump in his throat. “does my cock being in ya not prove anythin’? you’re the only one i imagine suckin’ me off so perfectly like this . .”

oliver couldn’t help but grin cheekily at the slurping he heard from you, “damn, you’re takin’ it all, baby. always knew ya were my girl . . never thought i’d end up with such a pretty girl like you . . don’t believe those dumb rumours, kay?” a low groan escaped your beloved boyfriend, hands running through your hair tenderly, guiding your movements until he could take it no longer. “just like that, darlin'. make me yours, again and again."

“can’t wait to be inside ya tonight. provin’ to you that i only want my dick to be inside this pussy.”

#millie’s writings ✔︎#kaiser . . sae n oliver >< i luv them so muchies #bllk talk w/ millie :3 #blue lock #bllk #blue lock smut #bllk smut #bllk x reader #sae x reader #bllk x you #kaiser smut #oliver aiku x reader #oliver smut #sae x you #sae smut #michael kaiser x reader #kaiser x reader #kaiser x you

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sukunas-wife · 11 days

Note

Can we get a longer fit on meeting Sukuna's dad🥹

I tried 🤍🤍

“No,” he was judging the woman tying the obi on your waist, “No no no, you’re doing this all wrong woman, move..” You wanted to laugh at the situation, especially when she started talking to him in her mother tongue and he answered back just as snappy leaving her speechless.

You smiled looking down, shaking your head, “I didn’t know you knew more than one language Sukuna.” You looked in the mirror, he was focused, face angled down, you could feel his hands moving, the rustling of the fabric was soft. It was a small shop that hadn’t changed much, its traditional sliding shoji doors, the classic wooden and simple decor, the snappy lady at the front desk scribbling away in her book. All the fabric that was on display or folded away in their respective boxes. Oddly enough it felt like you belonged here in this moment, you looked over your shoulder, Sukuna had stepped back looking at you through the mirror, his eyes fell and met your eyes over your shoulder as you smiled at him. There was a faint tug at his lips, “charming.” You broke out into a grin at his single word before he settled your debt much to your dismay and pleasure as soon as you learned how much the fancy fabrics would’ve cost.

He helped you into his car, a classic black Mercedes S-class, it wasn’t his first choice but his mom beat his safety into him, snapping that if he wanted to risk his life in a flattened down Italian sports car or some useless motorbike he would have to buy it himself. When he had saved up the money to buy his motorbike on his own, his father had sat him down, “Ryomen, listen to me. I would never try to control your life, but I will tell you this, your life is not always lived for just you. On your little bike you could risk your life all you want, but think of the day you meet a fine young lady and want to take her out. It takes one rain, one slide, one bad driver to not only hurt you, but someone you care about deeply.” He smacked his boys back with a heavy hand, “Now, save your money, I’ll let you think about your choices a little longer, don’t tell your mother I’m doing this but considering you have worked hard enough to prove your dedication to this dream of yours.” He gave Sukuna the keys to one of the Sedans, “Don’t tell your mother.” He gave Sukuna a serious look, “I’m serious, you know how she gets it.” Sukuna smiled with a nod, “I really appreciate this, I’ll take the time to think over what you said.”

Of course the first thing he did was go see you in his car, the thought always lingered in the back of his head when you awed over his car. Would he ever put your life at risk for one of his dreams?

“You okay?” Your hand covered his fingers that were tapping away on the middle console, he looked over at you before looking at the road, he nodded, “‘m alright.” His hand stilled under yours turning to hold your fingers in his hand. In his head he was thinking of those American cars where the front seat was built as a single row, he would’ve pulled you into his side if he could’ve. “Ready?” You looked up at him with a small smile, “I’m ready.” It was a lie, you were nervous and it only got worse when he pulled into the Shinden-Zukuri.

He sat you in his room throwing his shirt over your face as he changed so you wouldn’t see him. You sat there nervous but with a small smile on your lips wanting to giggle at his little “Give me some privacy pervert.” When he was the one that brought you into his room after you had said you could wait outside his room.

It all played out well, he brought you to the room where his dad could usually be found drinking tea and unwinding after a long day.

When the doors opened and you saw a larger more profound version of Sukuna you froze. He was a handsome man, square jaw, cold calculating eyes, his hair was a paler pink thanks to the greying hairs. He had a bit of scruff, his eyes were a bit paler with age, his brows dropped in judgement, the choko in his hand was minuscule, his robe was partly open exposing more chest, as he sat there. The thought passed through your head, ‘if that’s what Sukuna was born to be, I WILL marry him..’ it took less than 10 seconds for you to grow a little girl crush on his dad, until Sukuna cleared his throat. Signalling you as he said he would, you snapped back to reality bowing and introducing yourself in the most respectful and put together way you could, your inner child was squealing in delight but you were nervous now. You didn’t see the exchanged looks between Sukuna and his father, until the elder let out a rumble of laughter, “Stand up girl, and then sit. You are an interesting character.” Sukuna wanted to laugh, your practice had flown out the window, at least you had remembered enough to not insult his father.

The three of you sat there, “Well then Y/n,” He looked down at you, a smug look on his face, “I must say you must be quite the character to catch this young man’s attention, I’m interested in how you became involved with him, of course that’s a story my wife would like to hear also I’m sure.” Your eyes widened, “I-“ you swallowed as you looked at Sukuna who looked blankly at the table, “It’s an interesting story so I'd love to share with both you and your wife Sukuna-san.” He smiled bigger, “Sukuna-san? I’m sure if my son is presenting to you he must have other intentions so get comfortable, call me Ryomen.” You looked at Sukuna almost in disbelief, “You have the same..?” The elder laughed, “He’s my only son, of course he’d have my name. Branded him the day he was born, that’s my boy and everyone needs to know it.” You smiled at how his dad seemed to be enjoying himself so openly, you were more confused than ever still when Sukuna spoke with a smile and sigh as he nodded, “My father Sukuna Ryomen, The Man of two faces.”

Soon conversation fell into Ryomen Senior telling you stories of how his little Ryo was a destructive boy. Going as far as to send one of the servants to bring a book which made Sukuna sulk and frown slightly. It was a large leather album, the elder opened the book showing you realistic hand painted pictures and photos of Sukuna as a child, more often than not with bandaids and scrapes, “His mother never liked to put her hands on him, so she found another form of discipline. He loathed standing still considering he was an active child. So when he would cause trouble or get himself hurt with his actions, even getting into fights. She would bring him home, stand him right outside in the garden and have someone come and paint his picture forcing him to stand there scowling for hours.” You were flipping through the book Aawwing and cooing, his father watched proud when you’d ask about certain pictures that had no caption. His answers were lively and entertaining, voice getting louder when he’d begin his stories leaving Sukuna slightly embarrassed at his past. “Look at that boy, embarrassed, it just means it worked to break his bad habits.” He laughed and quickly stopped when he heard the door behind him open. He sat up cleaning his throat. “Oh? We have a guest?” Your eyes moved up the lady's beautiful kimono, she was more filled out in a beautiful manner, her hair was long and dark, her eyes a vibrant red. She was beautiful, you looked at his father thinking in the war of genes he proved to be dominant. “Mom.” Sukuna locked eyes with her as he moved to sit by her husband who was now sitting in a more appropriate manner pulling his robes a little tiger, “This is L/n Y/n.” She looked away from him, staring at you intently, you locked eyes with her you almost felt vulnerable under her stare until she closed her eyes with a soft smile, “It is very nice to me the young lady that has my son huffing at his phone when he gets no messages.” You broke into a grin turning to look at Sukuna who was giving his mom a look and you started to laugh, “Here I thought you didn’t like when I bothered you so much.” “I-“ hsi mom cut him off, “I’ll tell you a story, there was a week during the summer when we left for Kyoto. That poor boy was constantly laid over the table or floor just staring at his phone tapping it off and on to see if anything happened. He even persisted in checking to make sure we had paid for cell service many times. I had become worried he became involved with drugs or something worse until I peeked over his shoulder one day and saw he was continuously refreshing a conversation with a girl” she gave you a look of disbelief, “a girl! Do you know how much disbelief I was in to see my little Ryo was talking to a girl and more importantly patiently waiting for a message? I was astounded, I tried to see a name or picture but he locked his phone, sighed and laid his he’d on the table and scared me, with his little ‘I know you're looking. It wa just something I couldn’t believe, so I knew he either had to bring someone home, or he was just going to leave one day in the middle of the night and I’d have to track him and his little loose woman down and beat the sense into the both of them before dragging him home weather he liked it or not.” Your smile was there but the blank look in your eyes was fear, “ah, I understand entirely, my father is the same way.” She smiled again, “Well, I’m glad you’re the former and not the latter, you seem like a very lovely girl y/n. You can call me Akira, there are too many Sukuna’s here as it is.”

She turned to look at her husband who had an elbow propped on the table, chin resting on his fist while he stared at her, there was a small smug smile on his face, his eyes were lidded, that’s the same look you’d caught on your Sukuna’s face on occasion. You turned to look at him. He was making a face at his parents when his mom brought her hand to hold his dads face. That face was the same face one of your friends had made when the both of you had unintentionally recreated the scene once. You smiled nudging his hand under the table was yours, he looked at you with that same face before he shook his head, his fingers slowly taking yours in a soft hold, his thumb ran over your knuckles and you did your nest to squeeze your hands, oblivious to the way his dad’s eye brows rose motioning to the both of you with his eyes, his wife turned her head slightly. The serene smile on your face was rare for a lady to have around her son considering how much of a brute or cold he could be, what pulled their attention more was the soft look in their son's eyes matching the small smile pulling at his lips. They looked at each other, the silent conversation between the two in an exchange of looks and small head tilts, until his mother let out a hushed laugh. Your both turned to her becoming flustered when you had seen both of his parents were staring at the both of you, “oh-I’m sorry-“ you were about to apologise for falling silent until she waved you off mid sentence, “It’s alright, but my husband here was telling me before I walked in you were going to share the story of how the two you became involved.”

You looked at Sukuna with a grin, “It’s simple really, It was our last year of junior high and during the end of the school year festival, some of the students were running booths to raise money for a school trip before we were let out for break. My friend's father runs a small pet store so we set up a goldfish toss, and everything was going great, kids, adults, couples, everyone loved being able to win a prize to take home.” You sighed, eyes looking away “Then came Satoru Gojo. He's not troubled, just spoiled in my opinion. My dad says the same, he says no one corrected that boy or put hands on him when he was growing up and it shows.” Sukuna’s dad chuckled, “I agree.” You smiled at him, “Well he came along with his friends, his friends were polite when they took their turns, but Gojo,” you made a face staring down at the table, and empty cup, “He kept leaning over the counter and I kept telling him to lean back because it was literally a flimsy folding table, and he didn’t listen and kept leaning further trying to score a fish bowl to take one home but he’s as coordinated as a bat in broad daylight. Just as my friend signalled a teacher the table flipped he tumbled over and knocked into me, we both fell into the table where the fish bowls were and everything came crashing down,” his mother gave a sympathetic look and his father was looking at him pick pick at his nails, “My friend and I rushed to find a decent broken bowl and try to get as many fish as we could back into the water Gojo and his friends ran off when the teacher didn’t do anything because he’s SaToRu GoJo” you shook your head in a sassy way, “It was Terrible and my dads a modest man so I kinda grew up wearing longer skirts and it was a struggle trying to not get wet and save fish and my friend turned to me “Maybe we should just leave them? It might not be too bad?” I wanted to cry because I don’t like the thought of someone or something losing its life as the consequence of some idiots actions, then came Sukuna jumping over the table mumbling something and picking up gold fish left and right throwing them into the bowl we managed to find and I was so grateful, I offered him any of the prizes or fish prizes ended up taking all 13 fish and paid as if he played 13 times even though I persisted it was enough that he had helped but he walked off fish in hand. Just waving me off.” You missed the way his parents shared a look, “Since our booth was broken we just cleaned up and went off to enjoy the rest of the festival. Until the end of the day when I had to take the folding table back to the teachers who had let us use it. I came across Gojo and Sukuna in a standoff in the shoe locker room and I turned a deaf ear to convo after some things were said I kept walking after seeing Sukuna land a punch right on Gojo’s face, I was satisfied seeing it happen and told myself “I won't say anything, that priss deserves what he got.” I turned in the table and made my way out of School just to see Sukuna walking down the school path and I screamed “Hey!” I didn’t know his name, he was kinda scary, and he just stopped. It’s funny because I could physically see him sigh before he half turned to look back, and asked “WHat” kinda intimidating but I managed to catch up and thank him for his help and he just shrugged, and we kinda walked- no I walked you followed me.” Sukuna cut you off, “fine fine he walked and I followed him to the bus stop and we waited for the last bus in silence, I asked what he was gonna do with thirteen goldfish, he stayed quiet, then the bus came. I got on first and he didn’t, I turned around to ask him and he had a stupid smirk on his face, “I’m gonna feed them to the Koi.” The bus door closed, I felt my face drop, and he just started laughing. Anyways, after that, I kinda just kept pestering him, saying hi and trying to talk to him after that day to the point he just accepted I wasn’t leaving him alone. Now that I think about it, he never actually asked me to be his significant other, it just kinda fell into place.”

You finally looked up at his parents, they were nodding, his mom staring at you with a soft smile, his dad more curious “So, how hard did you punch him?” He turned to his son who cracked a smile. “He had a bruise for the next week and a half.” His dad laughed, clapping his hands, stopping and clearing his throat when his wife gave him a look. “Ryo, I’ll leave you to talk to your boy, Y/n will you accompany me?” She stood and you rushed to stand, “I will.” You looked at Sukuna who rolled his eyes letting his head fall to the side with a lopsided smile, before he locked eyes with you, you could almost hear him say “go, you’ll be alright.” So you went, following his mother out onto the engawa into the cool air. You both walked in silence as the crickets and frogs started their symphony. You looked over the garden, zen ponds, zen gardens, lush greenery and plants. You stepped down following her through the zen garden to a red bridge. There were three Islands in the large pond connected by bridges, “My Sukuna…” She trailed off, “He has strong character and a difficult heart, he’s complex in ways no one is able to understand, a bundle of twine no one has found the patience to untangle. Somehow you managed to find a single end and pull it free to see he’s not the bundle of twine, but a gold thread.” You were nodding along, not entirely sure until you made it to one of the islands. “We have a koi pond, but this isn’t it. Take a look.” In your head as you knelt to look closer your brain screamed, ‘She’s gonna PUSH US IN AND KILL US.’ Still you looked at your reflection, it was hard to see without the sun's light, so you pulled out your phone and turned on your flashlight. Looking harder until you saw the flash of colour. “I thought it wasn’t a koi pond?” You asked and she hummed, “It’s not.” You watched as she knelt beside you, she pulled a sleeve up moving her hand into the water and you watched as a light lit up, the bundle of Gold moving in the water caught you by surprise, “Those are-“ she cut you off, “The goldfish he brought home that day. He didn’t tell us where he got them from, or why, he only showed up and asked if he could use the empty pond. Of course we allowed it, it was interesting to watch him empty the fish into the pond, watching him struggle to find a decent food, putting lights into the pond and planting this tree to keep the birds from so easily diving into the water to snatch them up. They’re the original thirteen you know, the others he freely released into the bigger pond.”

You looked up at his mother with a soft smile, she smiled at you, the crinkles by her eyes made it genuine. “GET OFF OF ME OLD MAN!” You heard the struggle behind you and you both turned back to look, there was the elder Ryomen hugging his son in a bone crushing hug, the younger trying to escape, “Let! Me! Go!” You watched as he squirmed with every word until you heard “Alright squirt.” Your Sukuna tumbled unto the water while his dad stood taller, arms crossed over his chest with a burly laugh. You watched as Sukuna sat up in the water, dripping sleeve smacking him in the face as he tried to push his hair back. You laughed with his mom as you both approached. She moved to her husband's side, smacking his chest and scolding him. They watched how you kicked off your shoes getting ankle deep in the water to help Sukuna stand despite his protests and telling you to stay out of the water. How you took his face in one hand pulling him closer when he leaned unto your hand, taking the handkerchief tucked between your body and obi before gently wiping his face, “Ryomen Sukuna you are one of the most complex men I’ve ever met.” A grin grew on his face as his hands came up to grab your wrists, “You love it.”

“RYOMEN.” You flinched at Sukuna’s dads voice, Sukuna tensed up and smiled at you, “You got me into a lot of trouble you know.” You tilted your head, “Yeah?” He leaned in close whispering, “he got onto my ass about never asking you to actually be mine.” You smiled and laughed, “So will you?” You hummed, the smile on your face made your eyes squinty, “I dunno, not to sure I wanna be Y/n Sukuna.” He gave you a look and you closed your eyes shaking your head with a smile, “You’re such a brat.” You pulled him closer and kissed his cheek, “You love it, but yes, I will.”

Tag List: @sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira @princessluvz @furiousblacktiger @anyaswlrd @shytastemakerthing

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cordeliawhohung · 8 days

Note

Hey, hi, hello!

So hear me out...

Pornstar! Gaz who's director decides it's the reader's turn to top Gaz because that's what the porn industry has been turning towards. Gaz is a little skeptical because how can his sweet girl do anything but be pliant for him? But he goes along with it anyways.

Flash forward and his body is shaking, eyes rolled back as he desperately fists the sheets until his knuckles turn pale. Reader is a better top than he thought she would be! Poor boyo is so overstimulated that he's a whimpering, crying mess and reader is just riding him without a care in the world, maybe thinking about giving him a lil prostate torture while she's at it. <3

Anyways, that's all I have. Good day.

ps!gaz masterlist [unedited because i'm tired just enjoy the horny thots]

"Beg."

All Kyle sees when his pretty brown eyes flutter open is your grin. Usually he thinks your smile is cute, but right now the only word that pops into his mind when he sees it is devilish. He would hate to admit that he underestimated your abilities when the director said you were supposed to be dominant that day, but he certainly never expected this.

Your sweet cunt sucked him in the moment you lowered yourself onto him, and you refused to let him do any of the work. Pawing his hands away from you like he was nothing more than an annoying cat, you bounced on his cock like you owned it. Owned him. Fuck, you brought him so close to heaven that he had completely forgotten the two of you were filming until he saw someone shuffling in the corner of his eye.

But now, as he lays there and stares up at you, his mind is blank. Up until now, you hadn't really spoken much. Just took the lead and rendered him a writhing, sweaty mess underneath you. It didn't help that you had stopped right as he felt he was about to come. It renders his brain completely fried. His brows pinch together as he attempts to catch his breath.

"Huh?" he pants.

Your grin only grows wider at his cute confusion, and you slowly roll your hips back and forth. It's a painful dance, the way your walls clench around him. It only leaves him wanting more, and yet instead of asking, the only thing his body is capable of giving you is a strained groan and his eyes rolling into the back of his head.

"I said beg," you repeat.

It's clear with his heaving chest and fluttering eyes that Kyle's completely useless. You've never seen him so fucked out before, and it's a masterpiece that you know you won't forget anytime soon. Still, the film is running, so you take your hands and gently slide up along his feverish skin. Goosebumps rise along his chest in wake of your fingers as your hands cup either side of his head, forcing his full attention on you (as if he could put it anywhere else).

"Do you think I let just anyone come in this pussy?" you ask. You lean forward to press a chaste kiss against the corner of his mouth before nuzzling your nose into his cheek. "No, only good boys get to do that. And do you know what good boys do? They beg."

Kyle's mind finally makes sense of what you're asking of him, and you feel his cock twitch inside of you as he groans. Every muscle in his body contracts as he attempts to hold himself back, to keep himself from seeming pathetic, but you've brought him so close to the edge, tortured him for so long he's not sure he cares anymore.

"Please, doll," he says in a whisper. Your lips are so close together that you can almost feel the way the words form on his mouth.

"Can't hear you," you goad.

"Please," he tries again. "Fuck, thank you f-for makin' me feel so good. I just- please, I need more. Just a little more, please doll, I'll be good I swear- fuck."

Your chuckling cuts him off as you push yourself back. The view of the muscles tensing in his neck as he looks at you through heavy lids is nearly enough to make you fold.

"Look at you," you croon. "So lovely for me, aren't you?"

There's no time for him to respond before you're back to riding him, hips slamming against his with such fervor it steals his breath away. Kyle's head wrenches back into the mattress as his fingers nearly tear holes in the sheets. The only thing he can mutter between breaths is the phrase thank you over and over and over again.

"Good boy."

#pornstar!gaz #gaz x reader #gaz x reader smut #kyle garrick x reader #kyle garrick x reader smut #kyle gaz garrick x reader #gaz smut #kyle garrick smut #f!reader

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hysteria-things · 29 days

Note

reader making nate jealous and him putting her in her place😵‍💫

"YOU JEALOUS?"

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!nate x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: your boyfriend nate isn’t fond of the gesture you’re doing for your work friend.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY SMUT, swearing, slight arguing, possessiveness, jealousy, spanking if you squint, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be stupid!), marking, choking, stomach bulge, overstimulation, hair pulling, edging, dacryphilia, a little degradation, cream pie, ROUGHHH

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,171

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: ALL THAT NATE TALK LAST NIGHT >>>>

so, ask for a nate fic… get a nate fic!

the aroma of chocolate chip cookies makes the kitchen smell delicious.

smiling widely, you watch through the window of the oven at the dessert, the ticking of the timer getting you even more excited.

after five or six more ticks later, the timer goes off. you clap, grabbing an oven mit and opening the oven. you carefully grab onto the pan and place it on the stove to cool.

you wipe your hands on the pink fabric of your apron. moments later, the front door clicks open.

nate’s been out with the triplets all day, but he always finds time to see you as much as he can. “smells good.” he exclaims, taking his jacket off and putting it on the hook.

“i made cookies,” you say as he walks into the kitchen and kisses you on the cheek. he rubs his hands together, going to grab one before you swat his hand away. “they aren’t for you.”

he blinks, standing there for a beat before speaking. “then who are they for?”

“you know that guy i work with?”

he snarls. you tell nate everything about work and one of your coworkers is always brought up in the conversation. “yes.” he says coldly.

“well, it’s his birthday tomorrow and the team is throwing a party for him. i thought i’d contribute and make some cookies as a gift.” your boyfriend stands there with his arms crossed, not looking very happy. “what?”

“is this the same dude that eye-fucks and flirts with you every chance he gets?”

rolling your eyes, you place a hand on your hip. then, you smirk. “you jealous?”

“no.” he lies, but you can see right through him. he’s not fond of your idea of a gift.

sighing sympathetically, you untie your apron slowly to take it off. “okay. then i’ll just pack these up and give them to—”

in the blink of an eye, you are now dangling over his shoulder. despite him being shorter than the average male, he’s still strong. a hand makes contact with your ass a few times while he goes up the stairs to where your bedroom is.

he throws you on the bed, wasting no time to unbuckle his pants and remove his shirt. “you think you’re so damn funny.”

a hiss comes from your lips when he rips off your panties and throws them on the floor. he licks his lips when he realizes how wet this is making you. “does my girl like to be thrown around?” he asks, pulling down his boxers.

you pout, moving your head to the side before you gasp when a hand wraps around your neck. “did you hear that? my girl. not his.”

you pout again, moving your hands down to his dick, desperately wanting him inside you. before you can reach it, he takes the hand that’s not on your neck and pins yours above your head.

he chuckles. “i’m not even fucking you yet and you’re already speechless.”

your breath hitches once you feel his tip move up and down on your slit, but he keeps it that way. you start to squirm beneath him, his grip tightening on both your throat and hands which causes you to stop.

humming, he leans to suck marks onto the top of your breasts, before moving down and sucking at the spot you’re most sensitive. on top of that, he’s still teasing your entrance, and this alone can make you cum.

god, you feel useless.

“i think… i’m—”

“no,” he says harshly, leaving one final hickey on your tit. he hovers his face over yours, noses touching and lips only centimeters apart.

his hips start to thrust into you, your face contorting into different looks of pleasure, and he makes sure to watch it all happen.

the way he snaps harshly into your pelvis has you moan loudly. thank goodness your parents aren’t home.

“faster,” you whisper, nate listening and going quicker, causing him to hit deeper than before. your legs spread wider, whimpers and squeals exiting your mouth with each thrust.

that’s when your eyes start to roll back, but he doesn’t like that. “look at me.” he demands, releasing pressure on your throat when you listen.

finally, he releases his hand and moves it to your stomach, pressing down on the bulge that’s protruding.

the sudden pressure makes you twitch and moan. “feel how deep i am in this sweet cunt? might have to fill it.”

you nod pathetically, making sure to not look away from his eyes, the blue in them darkening the more he ruts into you.

the way both of your bodies rock have the headboard banging loudly on the wall. your eyes start to water, and that makes him even more turned on.

you clench repeatedly around him, silently saying that you’re close. instead, he lets go of your hands and pulls out, flipping you over on your stomach.

pulling your hips toward him, he rails into you like before. if not faster. “nathan! o-oh, nate. ho-holy shit!” you yelp out, grasping for dear life onto the comforter.

he forms a makeshift ponytail with your hair, pulling your head up. “sorry, who? i couldn’t hear you.”

a sob of pleasure loud and clear rolls past your lips, the air in your lungs getting knocked out of you. “n-nate.” you whimper embarrassingly.

“that’s right.” he says, letting your head plop back onto the mattress. “i’m the only one who can fuck you this good. do you understand?”

you sob once more, the pleasure hurting but feeling amazing at the same time. your poor clit is puffy and red, so badly wanting a release. “yes, fuck.” you drag out both words, eyes crossing and mouth hanging open with no sounds coming out. drool drips down from your chin to your neck.

your brain is turned off, specks of white flooding your vision. tears stream down your cheeks. trying to get out of his grip, he notices instantly and holds your hips down to arch further.

and he found a new spot.

you bite down on a pillow, muffling your screams of pleasure. “too late to run from it now, baby. you’re going to keep taking my cock like the pretty slut i know.”

the way you squeeze around him tight has his dick twitching, the thought of filling you with his cum making him closer to his high.

you’re so brain-dead. you can’t think about what’s happening anymore, but it has your toes curling.

“going to stuff this perfect pussy with my cum. how does that sound?”

you moan incoherently, feeling nate stop behind you and pump ropes of cum into your tight hole. “see? look at that.”

he watches as you swallow his release, before pulling out causing some of it to spurt out and onto the sheets.

it takes you a bit to come back to your senses, but you realize something; although you could see the punishment coming from a mile away.

nate never let you finish.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

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#✎ ⤾ haleigh’s requests!#nate doe #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nathan doe #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo imagine #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo smut #nate doe fanfic #nate doe smut

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show-your-fangs · 9 months

Note

What about a teenage!Jack where his friends are over and keep commenting how his Mom (reader) is attractive and Aaron finds it funny but Jack is mortified?

this is fucking GOLD. enjoy another installment of moments au

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x f!Reader

Words: 665

CW: nothing, cursing mostly.

Tags/warnings: jack's friends being pervs, cursing, jack defending his mom and dad.

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

Aaron honestly couldn’t blame them. He honestly found it funny, how their cheeks would flush every time you walked past, seconds away from catching them saying the most inappropriate things about you. He knew they didn’t know he could hear them from his office, the angle keeping him hidden as he tried to work while also allowing for their voices to carry down the hall.

Jack had brought his friends over for a pool day and he’d requested that the two of you leave them alone, that they could fend for themselves. But as much as he’d pleaded, you were still unable to stop yourself.

You’d made them snacks, prepared a homemade ice tea, would check in every so often to make sure they were doing okay. And every time, without fail, his friends would pretend to be utter gentlemen, thanking you profusely until you left them alone once more and they turned from the kids their parents through they were into the horny teenagers they really were.

It became clear to Aaron immediately why Jack didn’t want you around. It had nothing to do with his independence but rather the fact that his friends clearly didn’t know how to act around his mom. They’d made every inappropriate comment a teenage boy could come up with, and every time Jack would groan or roll his eyes or politely ask them to chill. But every time you showed your face the comments would start up again.

It was after lunch when shit hit the fan. You’d ordered a big family meal style delivery, had set up the large containers in the kitchen, with the boys’ help which they were eager to give, and had made a plate for yourself and Aaron. They thought you couldn’t hear them in the kitchen, thought they were being so slick, but they should’ve known better than to not wait for you to exit the room.

“I still don’t know how your dad bagged her,” Eric started, clearly teasing. “She’s just so—”

“So out of his league,” Dylan finished and the two of them snickered together.

“If I had a step mom like that…” Nick sighed and the other two chuckled, no words needed for the four of them to know what he wanted to say. Jack couldn’t help but cringe, the mere thought of his stupid friends thinking about you this way appalling.

“You boys need anything else?” you said loudly from the kitchen, a cue for them to stop talking as you pushed the door open with your hip.

“We’re okay, thanks mom,” Jack’s voice was chipper like it always was with you, always soft and kind. His friends’ immediately perked up at your requests, their eyes sparkling with what you could only imagine were requests that you definitely didn’t want to know about.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hotchner,” they practically sang in unison, their teasing only getting more pronounced as you walked down the hall, desperately trying not to give them anything else to talk about, but apparently that was completely useless.

“Check out her ass—”

“Shut the fuck up, dude,” you heard Jack groan, his patience finally running thin. His friends stilled in an instant, your instinct to fix it slowly creeping up from your heart to your brain. But Aaron was quick, his hand wrapped around your waist before you could move. “How would you like it if I talked about your mom like that?”

Silence.

“That’s what I thought,” he stated, confident. “So can you please just stop it?”

His words were followed by a string of mumbles and murmurs in agreement, ashamed apologies and admissions of guilt.

You couldn’t help but chuckle, Aaron quickly pulling you into his office so the two of you could erupt in a fit of giggles. It was cute, almost too adorable that the boy you’d met so long ago was now defending your honor to his friends, was standing up for his mom, for his dad, for his family.

okay i'm trying to get through some of the requests. i apologize for not being as active, you know how fanfiction authors' lives go off the rails sometimes.

i'm going to try and post a few of these before my "taking some time off" announcement. i've got a big week coming up but know i am trying.

tag list: @ssamorganhotchner, @canuck-eh, @cr1minalskies, @xladyxdreamer

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner blurb #jack hotchner being a cutie #show your fangs hotch blurbs #show your fangs moments au #show your fangs writes #moments on ao3 #show your fangs asks #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner

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winkwonkwankwenk · 3 months

Note

hey girlie it’s me asking for that football player choso x nerd reader smut who offers to tutor him😉

I had so many ideas for this but in the end, I wanted to write him as a whimpering mess corrupted by reader!!

☆*: .｡.Summary .｡.:*☆

Choso is a star athlete who's still virgin- and has no clue about sex. Not a shocker that he's also failing anatomy, which is where you come in to help. What better way to teach him than hands-on ;)

Word count: 1.8k

SFW/NSFW

Pairing: Dumb Jock!Choso x Tutor!Reader

He’s not what you expected.

Choso sits beside you with a quiet nod, fidgeting with his fingers as you pull out a textbook. The two of you had met through your teacher, both of you in the Anatomy class your college offered. You were the one of the students with the highest grade, he was the student with the lowest. You had actually been given an academic accomplishment aware the day you met him in your teacher’s office. He was just as quiet then as he is now, eyes down as if they weren’t up when he was on the field a few days before. What he lacked in book smarts he made up for during games. Thanks to him, your college was going to the College Cup. Maybe if you brought that up you could get him to talk.

“So…congrats.”

“On?” His voice is a rasp, barely above a whisper.

“On all the wins, I've gone to a few games. You’re incredible.” You smile softly and his cheeks flush pink. Cute, you didn’t expect someone so popular to be so bashful.

“T-Thank you.” He sinks in his seat a little, eyes on his lap. He’s used to compliments but they sound different coming from you. “Congrats to you too, on the award I mean. You’re really smart, I wish I was.”

“Thanks, and you are.” You put your hands on his, squeezing them gently. “Sometimes your brain just needs a bit of help.”

“Then I’m glad I have someone like you to help me.” Damn that smile, it’s like his face is as bright as the sun.

He’s a fast learner, clinging to every word that leaves your lips. You catch him staring at them but before you can ask, he jerks his red face away. Weird. He’s acting like he’s never been this close to a girl before, like a first grader on valentines day. You laugh quietly at the thought, there’s no way you’re the first girl he’s been around. He’s handsome, small eyes and thin dark brows with jet black hair cascading down his shoulders. There’s a mark on his face that drags across his nose, maybe a scar from football. You try not to look at it much, but it’s the only blemish you’ve found on his face.

“Y/N, what’s a clit?” He curiously looks at you, pointing to words on the page. How’d he even get that far?! You zone out for five seconds and he’s read through ten chapters! “It seems kind of useless.”

“Useless? It’s literally the best thing to play-” Your face burns and you quickly close your mouth. “Let’s just flip back the chapter before, okay?”

“Is it something weird? Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked…”

“No, no, it’s fine. I’m just surprised-” You move your hands from his to your lap, “-You’ve never…?”

“Never what?” God, he can’t even finish the sentence. Did his parents never give him the talk? He was the same age as you, he had to at least know something but the way he looked at you was so curious and oblivious.

“Choso, are you a virgin?” Normally, you’d think the question was too pervasive but how else were you supposed to ask it?!

“What’s a virgin?”

“Have you ever had sex?” Your voice is a whisper, the library quiet enough for it to seem like a shout. “Hooked up with someone?”

“No, I thought people only did that to make babies.” He says it so casually, shrugging a little. “Why else would someone do that?”

“For fun.”

“...Fun?”

Choso’s never thought of it that way, he’s never really had to. Unlike his peers, when puberty hit him he didn’t run to release it. He kept to himself, focused on sports like his father wanted and grades like his mother pleaded. He had always been well behaved, not an ounce of rebellion in him. College had introduced him to new things like Alcohol and porn, but he wasn’t that into any of it honestly.

“Is something wrong with me?” His shoulders slump, tears in his eyes. His football friends always talked about doing it but he hadn’t really thought much about it until now. “Am I supposed to have done it?”

“No! It’s up to you when you’re ready to!” You scramble to comfort him, cupping his face and smiling. “You’re the one who gets to decide. I didn’t mean to upset you, it’s totally normal to not have done it yet.”

“How do I know when I’m ready to do it?” He says in between sniffles.

“Well, when you like and trust someone enough I guess.” You shrug, “I don’t even really remember my first time. I was pretty young and the guy was one of my first boyfriends. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal…” He repeats.

You finish studying a few hours later, leaving the library side by side. He’s quiet, eyebrows furrowed and focused on the sidewalk. You give him a gentle nudge and he jumps, apologizing frantically for zoning out. Cute, you didn’t mean to call him it out loud but it slipped out. His face reddens and he thanks you, hands in his pockets as his thoughts churn. Whenever he’s ready? With someone he likes? What if he’s just curious? Is it okay to do it then?

“Y/N?”

“What’s up?” You glance up from your phone.

“Can we…do it?”

And that was how he ended up where he is now, whimpering and sobbing under you as you slam down on his bare shaft. Tight, so tight, it feels like there’s a rubber-band around his cock. Your hands are planted down on his chest, groping it as you suck up every sound that dares to leave his mouth. He’s drooling, head thrown back as his fingers dig into your thighs. Soft, it’s like squeezing a pillow. Weightless, he feels like he’s floating, mind numb as you bounce up and down on his cock. He’s never felt so hot, like he’s going to melt away when you clench around him. He cries out, cock jolting inside of you before spurting a sticky load. You don’t stop, you don’t give him time to recover. His neck is covered in dark red and purple marks left by your mouth, barely any of his pale skin left untouched. Your glasses hang from the bridge of your nose, button-up only halfway buttoned, leaving your bra and breasts exposed. Your room is humid, air thick with the scent of sex.

“What would your parents think, hm?” You taunt, tongue tracing the scar on his nose as he shudders. “Their precious little son, filling up a woman he met only a few hours ago.”

“Y/N, ‘m sorry, I‘m sorry~” His voice is a choked sob, eyes rolled back as he cums again. So he likes being degraded? You can do that. “Please, please, please~”

“Please what? You wanted to ‘do it’ remember?” You slowly stop, sliding his cock out until his tip is nestled in your cunt. “You came crawling to my apartment tonight in nothing but gray sweats and a tight compression shirt like you didn’t think I’d get turned on from that.”

“Y/N~” He cries out when you sit back down, sending his cock back into your warmth. You’re kissing him again, devouring his lips with yours as you grind. His legs are starting to feel numb, vision blurring as his mind fogs. How many times has he came now? At least ten.

“C’mon Choso, don’t go stupid on me.” You coo as if you aren’t crushing his cock between your walls, “Does it really feel that good?”

“Mhm~ good…more…” He can’t think straight, can barely speak. He lets out a sweet little strangled scream when you pin his hands above his head and speed up, “Anngh~!”

You’ve been trying to ignore your building orgasm but if he keeps making those cute sounds you’re going to lose it. His body is so honest, hips arching to meet yours and tongue hanging from his mouth whenever you lean down. God, those eyes are so pretty rolled back. Sweat glistens on his muscles, especially his plump chest and those pink inverted nipples. You want to swallow him whole, suck his soul from his body. You’ll do that next, you’ll take his cock into your mouth and slurp it until it sprays clear shots. Your filthy thoughts are interrupted by your orgasm, pleasure popping in every nerve when his cock hits your spot. You moan into his mouth, his eyes closing as another load spills into you.

“Choso?” You poke him, panting. Your eyes widen when you realize he’s passed out, “Choso!”

“Wet…’s wet…” Is all he manages to mumble, in and out of consciousness.

You laugh breathlessly, slowly getting up to get a washcloth. The cocktail of your fluids string between the two of you, his milky semen dripping from your pussy. You stumble into the bathroom, legs shaking and knees sore. He stretched you out good, thick cock rubbed your walls smooth. You hop in the shower, washing away the stench of sex before going back to your bedroom. He’s still fast asleep, snoring softly and body sticky. You gently shake him away and smirk when his snores turn into low grumbles.

“Hurts…” He winces when you pull him up, his arm on your shoulder as you lead him to the shower.

Your hands are delicate now, wiping him down as he sleeps in the tub. His eyelashes flutter every so often, eyes peeking open as if he thinks you’ll leave him. You kiss his forehead, whispering praises before helping him back to bed. He lays his head on your lap, nose between your thighs. You gasp when he parts them, hazy eyes looking up at you hungrily.

“C-Choso, what are you- ohmygod~!”

“Wan’ taste.” Is all he says before slurping between your folds. Your scent had woken him and his cock up.

Your hands tangle in his wet hair as he gulps down every drop from your cunt. His tongue is merciless, digging inside of you until his nose is buried into your pussy. You moan, rocking against his face. You push his head down, back arching when his mouth moves to your clit.

“You said this was the best to play with…” He flicks his tongue against it and you muffle your cry with your palms.

You’re sweet, sticking to his tongue. He sucks your clit while looking up at you so innocently, as if he doesn’t have a face full of pussy. How the hell was a virgin eating you out so expertly? He twisted and curled his tongue inside of you, grunting when you tugged his hair. Good, so damn good, fuck you just want to push him back to ride his face. A low buzz fills your fuzzy mind and before you know it you’re unraveling in front of him, pussy twitching and spasming around his mouth as you arch into his ministrations. You slump against your bed frame, thighs trembling as you come down from your orgasm.

“Y/N, I learned a lot tonight.” He whispers with a soft smile, kissing your clit. “Thank you.”

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stsgluver · 4 months

Text

𝐒𝐍𝐀𝐏𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓 𝐏𝐓.𝟑 — gojo satoru

synopsis. nobara is ill and what better way to spend your day off than trying to figure out who your teacher's high school girlfriend is?

wc. 3.5k

tags. gojo x reader, fluff, one suggestive joke, reader is in gojo's class, implied utahime x shoko, only half proofread

a/n. it's nearly midnight and im so tired and I have to be up at 6 tomorrow but I needed to get this done. I hope there's not too many mistakes <3 the ending is kind of shit but idc :) jk i do pls like it

previous part / next part / series masterlist

“are you sure you’ll be okay alone?”

nobara lazily lifted her head from beneath her duvet, orange bangs clinging to her sweaty forehead as she let out a series of harsh coughs. megumi winced from the doorway, inching back ever so slightly - he'd already brought in a couple bottles of water and a box of tissues, he wasn't looking to contract whatever flu-like disease she had caught.

she rolled her eyes at his not-so-subtle antics and raised a weak thumbs up. “go on fushiguro, i know how much you're dying to spend the afternoon with itadori and sensei."

“haha,” megumi uttered with the most sarcastic tone he could muster. on second thoughts, maybe being sick for a week wouldn't be so bad. with nobara gone, there was no buffer for his teacher and classmate to pester. “call me if you get worse, you know the second years are useless.”

nobara gave the younger boy a quick salute and small smile, “yes boss.”

she dropped her head back into her pillow and waited till she heard the door click shut till she slipped a little less than elegantly out of bed. whilst yes, there was no denying that she was definitely sick, she also had a mission she couldn’t give up on.

in the three weeks, four days and an unknown number of hours since she had found the dvd of her teacher in his youth, she had been putting all of her free time into trying to find you. megumi had been a dead end when she’d tried asking him about you again and, although nobara knew he had a soft spot for yuuji, she didn’t trust the pink haired boy to treat this situation sensitively.

initially, she’d even considered asking gojo about it but she decided against that pretty quickly. that could get awkward very quickly and she still had at least two years at the school.

then, she’d moved onto searching through the school for traces of the alumni. all she’d managed to find was a single photo; one that included both kyoto and tokyo students. you were tucked into gojo’s side with your arm around shoko. geto was there too: him and gojo side by side as they always were in their teenage years. all of you were grinning and genuinely happy. where had it all gone so drastically wrong?

nobara wondered if it was geto’s fault that gojo’s class had been all but erased – an effort to forget that the worst curse user to live had in fact once been an aspiring sorcerer.

her next plan (and one she hadn’t full considered the logistics of completely just yet) was to watch every single video on the dvd because surely at some point, there would be some clue of who you were or where you’d gone.

and even if there wasn’t, what else could she possibly do to amuse herself whilst she was on bed rest?

with a huff, she grabbed her laptop and dropped back onto her bed, tucking herself under the covers. opening up her laptop (her password being ‘12345’), she clicked unpause on a video she’d started the evening prior.

“–and that’s it basically.”

shoko waved her hands around, sat on yaga’s chair at the front of the classroom with a blackboard filled with scribbles behind her. it wasn’t anything legible, more like swirls and stars and nobara thinks that, if she looked hard enough, in the corner were two little stick men: gojo and geto. an unlit cigarette sat between her lips as she kicked her legs up onto her teacher’s desk. yaga clearly wasn’t in the room.

“that made no sense whatsoever but woo! shoko!” you clapped, out of frame of the camera but enthusiastically nonetheless. the aforementioned girl narrowed her eyes at you across the classroom.

“that’s why i made a video, for you to look back on duh,” she tsked, nodding her head towards the camera. “plus it is easy. i expected dumb and dumber not to understand but you?” shoko patted away a few non-existent tears, taking on the role of disappointed parent and their once star student.

except you’d never really excelled in a class with two prodigies and shoko actually loved having the upperhand in at least one area of sorcery.

shoko picked up the camera, holding it upwards to give a full view of her outfit and hair – like it was any different to any other day she attended school. she swivelled the spinny chair over to an occupied desk, slotting next to it and moving the camera so that it captured all of you in the frame. gojo was sat down in the seat, glasses propped up onto his forehead as you sat sideways on his lap, unsuccessfully trying to decipher shoko’s teachings on the board.

“understanding reversed cursed techniques is way harder than understanding cursed techniques,” you tried to justify, pointing to the board that showed the squiggles that ‘symbolised’ performing a reversed curse technique. stealing gojo’s glasses and popping them on your own face, you popped a quick kiss to the side of his head, “plus, why waste my energy? you’ll figure it out so i never have to.”

“the things i do for you,” gojo sighed happily, dropping his head down onto your shoulder as his arms looped around your waist. the orange-haired sorcerer could practically hear yuuji’s gasps at the simple displays of affection and she almost felt bad for watching some of the clips without him.

almost.

nobara was never one for romance – drama, such as the fight between gojo and naoya, that was her scene. but even she couldn’t help herself from smiling at the teenage love between the two of you. maybe she should give her teacher more credit – there was more to the six foot two man than just his over the top personality and questionable teaching methods.

“this is meant to be an educational video! be less couple-y!” shoko complained, scowling and shuffling away on her chair again.

“oh, we could make it very educational,” gojo wiggled his eyebrows, the devious smirk on his lips only widening at your flushed expression as you tried to hit his chest. failing, though, as he isolated his cursed technique to uphold a thin barrier between your hand and the material of his uniform.

there was the teacher she knew – keen to annoy even those he loved the most.

shoko must’ve ended the video out of spite after his comment, because nobara found herself staring at a black screen.

all that she’d learnt so far was that you couldn’t perform a reverse cursed technique as a teenager. maybe that was what killed you? if you were even dead, that is. but given the damage that curses can inflict on sorcerers, whether or not you were able to execute a reversed cursed technique could literally be the difference between walking away from a fight a little tired or in a body bag.

nobara coughed several times, picking up the open bottle of water from her bedside table and taking a sip to try and ease her scratchy throat. scrunching up her nose at the slight sting of swallowing, she clicked the next available video, not putting much thought into her choice.

it was you and nanami in frame in a library by the looks of it but if it was on campus, nobara didn’t know where. christmas decorations decorated the shelving units behind you – tinsels of gold, red and green, and hanging snowflakes. you were both wearing your usual uniform but you also had a santa hat on and tinsel lining your jacket.

“we’re the only two on campus,” you said quietly, “because everyone else’s parents loved them–”

“we couldn’t afford to go back for the holidays,” nanami cut you off, without glancing up from what he was writing. being from two non-sorcerer families was a disadvantage normally in terms of status and inherited techniques, but holidays were somehow worse.

gojo had offered to help you out with a ticket back to your parents and had even extended an invitation for you to stay with him but you didn’t want to leave nanami alone (and although he didn’t seem grateful, he was glad you were there).

“it’s fine. academic comeback time,” you held up a book to the screen. being in a class with three exceptional sorcerers meant that studies were often sidelined to try and improve and perfect your techniques. holidays were usually your opportunity to catch up on the missed classwork and homework you’d fallen behind on.

nanami less so – if anything he was reading ahead. tokyo had never been renowned for academic scores until he’d come along.

“i don’t get why the camera needs to be here,” nanami complained.

“to record us study! it’s motivational.”

“sure,” nanami hummed quietly, reading over your shoulder at the work you’d already completed prior to setting up the camera. “that’s wrong. this is simple mutipli–” he paused at the sound of rustling and his brows furrowed as he tried to peer round the bookshelves.

“merry christmas!”

nobara snickered as nanami jumped at the sudden voice and appearance of three people behind him. gojo and geto were capable of masking their cursed energy (and shoko’s) so that they wouldn’t be noticed slipping into the library. although gojo had nearly screwed that up by pulling out a chair trying to trip up geto.

“ieiri!” you slipped out from your seat, running up and hugging your classmate. in the process, the camera got knocked so it was facing the ceiling. nobara frowned as she turned the brightness up on her laptop as if though that would somehow bring everyone back into grame. in the periphery of the screen she could make out just the heads and foreheads of the student sorcerers.

“hi satoru, missed you too satoru, so glad you came to see me satoru,” the white haired sorcerer pouted at the lack of attention and nobara is sure someone responded to him but the audio is muffled by two voices closer to the camera’s microphone.

“here!” haibara slipped into the seat next to nanami that you had occupied moments prior and held up a small wrapped box with red ribbon tied neatly in a bow. “i picked it up on the way. merry christmas nanamin!”

“thanks yu,” nanami smiled softly at his classmate. well that’s what nobara thought he did anyways, his eyes lifted into half crescents but she wasn’t actually sure what his mouth was doing out of frame. she’d never seen the blond so happy from a simple gesture.

she clicked off the video even though it still had thirty seconds left to go. it wasn’t much fun just watching people’s foreheads and she highly doubted that nanami was about to fix the camera’s position.

so you were from a non-sorcerer family and possibly not able to use reverse cursed technique. it wasn’t much but facts were still facts.

there was a little more deliberation before she chose her next video, settling herself back into her cushions as she waited for it to load.

the screen was suddenly very bright and nobara winced, turning it down as the surroundings came into focus. it was the inside of an arcade and the camera was pointed directly at one of those claw machines. inside were different sized plushies of spiderman and haibara was the one controlling the claw.

nobara could vaguely make out everyone’s reflection in the glass – to the left of haibara was geto (who was also the one holding onto the camera), gojo and you, and to his right was shoko, nanami and maybe also utahime? shoko had her arm around a blue haired girl either way.

“no! so close haibara,” you patted the youngest boy on the shoulder gently as the plushie he’d managed to pick up slipped from the claw’s clutches before it could be dropped down the chute and retrieved.

“can i try?” gojo asked and, from the annoyed groans, nobara assumed it wasn’t the first time he’d interjected.

“no, he’ll get it this time,” geto encouraged and gojo flashed him a look of disbelief.

“if gojo wants a go he can have it!” haibara tried to step away from the machine but nanami halted him, slotting several more coins in the machine.

“take your go yu.”

“i’ll get you a slushie if you win,” shoko called out, clapping her hands together as he accepted his fate, hesitantly pressing down on the buttons as he peered through the side of the machine to get a better angle.

“haibara, haibara.” all of them were chanting his name now, and that was enough of a boost for him to finally get one of the plushies over the barrier and down the chute. the camera shook unsteadily as geto jumped and six of them crowded the youngest in a joint hug.

nobara could see yuuji in haibara and megumi in nanami and herself in shoko and she had to stop herself from tearing up. nanami and shoko seemed like strangers these days and she couldn’t even imagine waking up and yuuji not being the first one to greet her outside her room.

we’ve got a mission here, she reminded herself, shaking her head lightly before moving onto the next clip.

“utahime, say hi,” you lowered the camera to the kyoto sorcerer’s height. she was sat cross-legged on the floor with a jacket flung haphazardly over her head to try and block out the sun that beamed down.

“hi!” utahime waved, smiling as you dropped down next to her. in her hands was a partially made daisy chain that she’d started to entertain herself whilst she waited for the tokyo students. despite being in kyoto, she’d always chosen to join yourself and shoko at events over her own classmates.

“who do you think is going to win the exchange event this year?” you asked with a raised brow and utahime grimaced.

“don’t make me compliment him.”

“are you implying that our edge is not because of me?” you looked at the camera with a disgusted expression, like you had the power to outshine the gojo satoru, she rolled her eyes – gojo’s dramatics were rubbing off on you. “for that i’m telling ieiri. you may be her girlfriend–”

utahime hit your arm and her eyes darted around for anyone that could’ve heard (like you were not sat alone in a field together whilst the others warmed up), “shut up! we’re not like that…”

you nodded with a condescending hum. “then kindly could you please stop calling her till three in the morning, some of us need our beauty sleep.”

“you’re only ever up at three am because you’re sneaking back from gojo’s dorm,” she retorted with a pointed look. you opened your mouth to defend yourself

“true,” you jumped at shoko’s voice, swivelling your neck around to find the third piece of your trio standing behind you. shoko gestured towards your uniform jacket, “and if she pulls down her collar there’s a massive hickey i had to help cover up this morning.”

utahime erupted into a fit of giggles and you eyed the camera like it was some sitcom and you were breaking the fourth wall.

“you’re such an asshole.”

shoko pushed in between the two of you to make herself the middle. “you love me.”

nobara frowned as the video ended. while it wasn’t overly helpful, it reaffirmed the seriousness of your relationship with her teacher… but that was obvious from the lovesick heart eyes he constantly had in every video you were together.

although, she would have to show it to maki – the two had suspicions about the kyoto teacher and tokyo healer and this all but confirmed that they were right.

nobara scrolled down till she found a thumbnail of you, geto and gojo sat around a table of food.

“zenin naoya,” you started, chopsticks in one hand as you held a bowl of food in the other. gojo pretended to vomit at the mention of his name. “yes toru, appropriate response, but have you heard about him and the kamo girl?”

geto nodded with a mouth full. “the one who studied abroad?”

“yes! her,” you waved your chopsticks in his direction, “anyways, she cheated on him.”

the dark haired sorcerer made a sound of shock, “they were together together?”

you nodded enthusiastically, offering gojo some of your rice. “mhmm, they got together new years eve.”

“that did not last long,” gojo snickered. nobara peered at the date in the corner of the screen in a retro, yellow font; 15 january 2006.

“best part? it’s not even the first time,” you revealed, picking up some salmon sushi off of gojo’s plate and quickly eating it.

“stop,” geto gasped and nobara was shocked. this man was a war criminal now, and yet ten years ago he seemed so far from it, gossiping like he was a teenage girl.

“which like i don’t get,” you frowned. “i dont know why he’s trying to save face over some two week old relationship. especially if she’s already cheated multiple times.”

“he’s just desperate because it’s the first girl to ever want to actually be with him.”

“oh yeah she really wants to be with him,” gojo uttered sarcastically with a sparkle in his eyes. he would have a party at the downfall of the zenin.

“are they staying together?”

“i think so,” you nodded, holding a hand over your mouth as you spoke and finished your mouthful. “it’s what me and shoko told him to do, well shoko. he facetimed shoko.” you clarified following gojo’s less than pleased expression. nobara didn’t doubt that naoya had caused some tension in your relationship (though she refused to believe it was ever because you had been interested in him) and she wished that you’d switch the topic solely onto that. that was the sort of drama she was after.

“youre telling me he facetimed ieiri to tell her he’d been cheated on?” geto could bearly finish the question without laughing and he shot gojo a look. “odds on him trying to make yn jealous.”

you couldn’t stop yourself from snorting. “oh yeah because hearing all that made me want to leave satoru for that thing.” sarcasm or not, your words were taken literally by your boyfriend who draped all one hundred and ninety centimetres of himself across your body. “oh my god you’re so heavy.”

“it’s just my love for you in physical form. don’t be mean,” he whined.

nobara didn’t even have the energy to laugh quietly at the pathetic nature of her teacher as she felt herself drifting off. it was fine, she thought, only a quick power nap. she’d earned it, watching all those clips expended lots of energy.

“kugisaki?” gojo gently knocked at the young girl’s door. he’d left yuuji and megumi to do laps to check nobara was still alive and well. the illness had made its way through half the school already and while it obviously wasn’t something fatal, he knew better than to take any risks.

he knocked again and waited thirty seconds before he opened the door enough just to peek in and–

“satoru.”

gojo felt his heart drop at the sound of your voice. one he hadn’t heard in almost two years and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so unsteady and thrown off guard. the mere sound of your voice had startled him and gotten more of an upper hand than any curse he’d ever had to exorcise.

although his world had stilled, reality continued on and he was forced to hear himself hum in response. he didn’t have to see the video to vividly remember the day, to remember the smell of the grass and your perfume that were coaxing him into a nap that would make you both late to yaga’s lecture.

“do you think we’ll still be together once high school is over?”

“hope so,” he murmured, half asleep, and gojo wished his younger self was more aware, telling you how much he wanted to be with you, savouring every second he had in your presence rather than sleeping it away.

like that could’ve changed the outcome.

slipping into her room, gojo lifted the laptop off of her sleeping figure (definitely still alive and breathing). with a press of a button, the disk popped out and he set the device onto the ground as he contemplated what to do.

he could break it in half, make it seem like an accident that nobara hadn’t noticed in her ill state. or he could use his cursed technique and completely eviscerate it from existence.

or maybe he could keep it.

gojo gave nobara one last glance as he silently closed her door once more, grateful for the blindfold he wore as he headed back outside to his students.

taglist. @thefictionalcharacterssimp @hana-patata @mor-pheus @leathairs @sh0ek0 @maliakealoha @levisteeacup @g-kleran @stevenknightmarc @n1kimura @darliingyu @saturn-alone @splxtscreen @leah-rose03 @rinshoe @laurenzitaa @patricia142lilian @sabo-has-my-heart @wooasecret @dahliawarner @kysrion @dreamerdeity @mwah-chia @geromiegerald @arminsarlerts @maliakealoha @cherrypieyourface @k4romis @monsieurgucchi @bofadeezs @777userz @polarbvnny @chonkercatto @tenshis-cake @haitanibros0007 @ba-ks @liaurokodaki @urfavvirg0 @lofasofabread @r0ckst4rjk @vee-ai @aiikuraa @melileli0001 @rinshoe @vinivave @yell0wdreams @sukunasleftkneecap @malikazz243 @sad-darksoul @giannitaa @maliciousmace @name-insert @splxtscreen

this tag list is insane ty all for the support

#snapshot #gojo x reader #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo fluff #gojo drabbles #gojo fic #gojo x you #jjk #jjk fluff

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