X Reader - Blog Posts

Masterlist

For Joanna:

Synopsis: Nikolai has been trying to find the right person to repair his beloved helicopter for a while too long, now. And then, he meets you.

Status: Completed!

Part One

Part Two

Part Three

<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><

Watcher 1-1:

Synopsis: You used to be a star member of the Task Force 141. Good things never seem to last, and change paves over your old friendships. Now, the only issue is that those old friendships are staring at you across the table, with anger in their eyes.

The Mistakes That Have Been Made

Synopsis: Sometimes, things don't work out. Sometimes, you're going to be the idiot on the wrong end of a deal. It hurts the most when you're training the next idiot in line.

Valentines

Synopsis: You've been on the team for a while now. It's been a task to get used to, but you've been getting on just fine with the boys. Or maybe, juuust maybe... better than fine.

Drabbles: Winding Down

Fiber Arts S/O!

Wisdom Teeth

Breakup Day (Johnny)

Damaged, but not beyond repair

For Joanna (pt. 3/3)

Warnings: Nikolai is a less-depressed bisexual man! kiss on the cheek, kiss on the mouth (yes, in that order), Joanna finally gets to rest peacefully in her hangar.

Good things can't last forever.

Nikolai knows this. You know this too.

Still, you've exhausted every last avenue before finally admitting that there are just somethings that are no longer fixable.

It's a slow trudge to your apartment, one that apparently wakes the sleeping bear that is your favorite Russian, napping on your couch like he didn't have your full (repeated) permission to use your bed.

Nikolai perks, but his brows furrow when he sees your slight exhaustion.

"механик?" His voice is soft, gently probing just how badly you've managed to overwork yourself in the few hours he's been unconscious. Judging by the new scrape on the elbow and the small burn on the side of your palm, far too much.

He sits all the way up just in time to catch you as you fall onto him, grunting in response to the new weight but handling it well, all things considered.

"I'm sorry, Nik."

There is no question that this single moment is solemn. In some silly way, you'd also grown attached to Joanna, busted as she was. She was your best project yet, your most impressive feat.

It was also the project that introduced you to your best friend, and that was something you couldn't ever replace.

Still, Nikolai holds you to his big, warm body, sighing heavily as he nestles his chin into the nook between your neck and shoulder, taking in your warmth and gently scratching the skin with his dark stubble. Just a bit longer than usual. "I know. I shouldn't have taken her to you, just the scrapyard."

He's quiet, too quiet, and it prompts you to maneuver backward, brows set in a firm line.

"Woah, woah, Nicky-boy, don't get too far ahead of me. Not yet."

He raises a brow, prompts you to continue. There's a sparkle of hope in his eyes.

"One last flight. You can give her one last, gentle flight."

God, you're a fucking angel. Nikolai feels his pupils turn into what might as well be cartoon hearts at the news.

He squeezes you so tight that something in your back cracks. The little squeal it pulls from you makes his heart thrum in his chest terribly fast.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nikolai could swear he had never set up for a flight so quickly as he did today.

He was just a man, one who was very much weak to finally getting you where he was the expert, quizzing you to see just how much you knew was going on when he was in the air.

You were still dead-out on the bed. Well, more like halfway on the bed, considering your whole left side was hanging over the edge, hand most definitely cold in the harsh cold front bringing the chill inside.

Who is Nikolai to do anything but warm it for you? What kind of friend would he be if he didn't tenderly take your hand into the both of his, gently breathe out a puff of air to bring heat back to the extremity.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your eyes open with an incoherent grumble and a glare.

"Whatthe fffuhhhk, Nik?"

His smile is the first thing you focus on, an overly excited smile like he's a child on Christmas, breaking into their parent's room to wake them up far too early, too.

"Up. Fly time."

Your brain takes a second or two to chug back into "able to think" station, and you sit up with a long yawn.

"God, It's like-" You turn to read the small alarm clock on the side of your nightstand, the softly glowing letters are too dull to see without a squint. "It's 0530 hours." Nikolai answers right as you read the digits, and snickers to himself when you groan.

"Contrary to your beliefs, I can, in fact, read."

"Yeah, but you take a long time. I am much faster."

You groan again, just for dramatic effect, before raising up the covers to get ready.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Being behind the wheel (?) of one of these things is something you can admit you haven't done in a damned long time.

Still, Nikolai looked so... excited, who were you to not let him have this little thing? Of course you hopped on, let him narrate your way into the air.

Your only qualm was the music, really. Nikolai, he is truly a wonderful, wonderful man, but that fucking metal is godawful. Saying what needs to be said of not distracting your helicopter pilot, you reach over and change the station anyway.

Everyone likes Queen anyway, it's not like Nikolai will care that much.

Wrong. Apparently, the universe is plotting against you, because right as the new song starts, a very familiar piano backing track and one Freddie Mercury is singing about gay longing again.

Goodness dude, now?!

When Nikolai grunts in your general direction, tenses a bit in his seat, you shrug.

"That garbage metal is a risk to your fucking person, Nik. Eyes forward."

You try to bark the order, but you're smiling, and so is he.

"Sure, but this one? Are you trying to send a message, perhaps?"

He's got this stupid, shit-eating grin on his face, but you don't bat at his shoulder like you usually would, for fear of actually throwing him off (you know you won't, but you still worry).

"Ssssshhhhhh, quiet. Focus."

You can see Nikolai rolling his eyes, but he smiles, keeps on flying.

It's... perfect, really. Your hand fits comfortably into the hold, but you don't use it, because you trust the man piloting this thing with your life.

The scenery is dark, illuminated almost entirely by the moon, but the first rays of the sun are already spilling over the horizon in their beautiful rivulets, staining the sky with oranges and pinks, tattooing the undersides of the wispy, feather-like clouds with their hues.

For the rest of the flight, there are not words exchanged, just the quiet sounds of the music and the rotors, muted by the thick headset Nikolai had given you so the noise wouldn't be overwhelming.

That made your chest warm, you can admit it. You were in no drought of little favors and good deeds, not with your Russian hanging around so much.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Still, none of those things could have prepared you for landing.

Sunrise was in full swing, and you figured it's be cute to watch it with Nikolai, but he seemingly had other plans.

The second he helped you out of Joanne's seat, he pulled you close to his chest, wrapped you up in thick arms, and pressed a firm kiss to your cheek.

He feels your cheek heat beneath his lips, craves it like nothing else, but Nikolai still pulls back sheepish, smiling halfway like he was doing anything wrong.

"And... what's that for, Nik?" You question through a smile, not even taking a moment to question it. Just excited to finally have this moment, to finally get it all out there.

"You are–" The tips of his ears are red, he knows it from how you giggle, and he grumbles the rest of it "You are good, механик. Too good."

You seize the opportunity the second it's presented to you.

It's a snappy motion, but a smooth one, as you manage to capture Nikolai's lips with your own, slotting your mouth to his without hesitation nor remorse. No more pussy-footing around this.

Seemingly, fortune does actually favor the bold, because Nikolai melts like butter in your hands, crouching just to lift you up into his arms, not once breaking the connection between you two.

There is no heat. No pressure. No want for anything but each other.

When he pulls back, it's a moment Nikolai truly mourns. He could have died right then, and died happy. Still, seeing you like this, bundled up in his arms and smiling, he knows he's got a lot more living to do.

Not just surviving. Living. With you, if you'll let him (spoiler: you will).

"I'll make breakfast, механик." He lets the words leave his lips in a lovesick sigh, so dreadfully weak before his darling engineer, a simple man aching to finally have them as close to him as possible.

"Oh, you're only getting better." When you coo down at him, you pretend to be much more confident than you are. You know, though, you're no better than him, a lovestruck idiot so hopelessly caught in the snare that you're enjoying your time here.

You hope he never lets you go. Nikolai hopes for the same.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You don't learn until years later, long after Joanna is decommissioned and a small scrap of her metal lies around both your and Nikolai's ring fingers in a thin band, that you learn he still names his planes.

His new thing, still fresh. A C-130 Hercules. Much too big for your space, but you also don't do very many repairs for your fiancé unless it's basic woodwork, either. Metal work gets tiring fast, and now that you had someone to take breaks for, why shouldn't you take them?

It's a casual dinner when he brings it up, tells you that you do have a plane named after you, actually, and that it's his, too. Beaming so bright he could rival the sun.

"Mhm? What do you call it, Ласточка?"

He could melt at your voice speaking his mother tongue, but he finishes the thought anyway.

"неразлучник."

For Joanna (pt. 2/3)

Warnings: Nikolai is still a depressed bisexual man, google-translated Russian because I am writing this after two exams, in other news, reader finally figures out what feelings are and why they keep experiencing the pesky buggers. In other news, my hand is hurty and currently in a brace, but I refuse to fully rest it, so I'm writing anyway, but there might be minor spelling errors as my usual typing speed and rhythm is very much off.

Having a friend is... a new experience that you really happen to like.

Nikolai doesn't hang out often, but he's on the same wave as you when he is. Drinking slow and chatting, sometimes taking turns poking at the other's music taste because really, Nik? What is that shit? It's not "rock", I'll tell you that.

It's new, yes but... easy, so you let him closer than anyone else. When he brings his crackers, you bring your own snack in turn, an old favorite from the only corner store in your hometown that carried the brand, it used to be something you only ate with family, only on holidays. Now, you share it with Nikolai. And it's–it's not bad, not at all.

You'll admit, you're getting used to him. You like having him in the shop now, quiet or not.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ So, it turns out, you are far too stupid to know how to have a friend, even months into befriending your favorite pilot.

Granted, you've never been... the brightest, when it comes to social matters. And you know that, you accept it. But that doesn't make it any easier when another joke you had tried to give the Russian at your side in jest makes him pull back again, makes those pretty brown eyes point toward his glass instead. Calling it a glass is charitable, that thing is dirt cheap and made of plastic, your idiot brain adds, in some vain hope to not think about the fact that you seemingly bruised your best friend's feelings with the playful barb (Yes, Nikolai was your closest friend as of right now. No, you wouldn't be saying that aloud if you could help it).

You really didn't know why it seemed to make Nikolai recoil so hard so fast, to you it had just been a simple joke, because god, that English guy with the beard sure did talk nice about you, huh, Nik? I wonder about that sometimes. And seemingly, that had been squarely the wrong thing. So, you did the very best you could to backtrack when you saw him put his hands on his knees, almost dropping the glass in your hands as you race to meet him as he stands.

Maybe he doesn't see the panic in your wide eyes, maybe he chooses to ignore it because you've seemingly done so wrong by him that he'll just leave forever and never talk to you again, and- "мне пора идти, пока." You, admittedly, haven't picked up very much of his language yet, but you know that last part means goodbye and some part of your brain simply cannot let that happen. Nikolai doesn't say his goodbyes like this, he pats you on the shoulder and smiles, sometimes winks as he closes the door behind him.

His face is flat. It scares you.

So, you being the fool you are, grab his arm like he owes you money, take the cracked leather of his jacket into your hands, feel the dry texture because he forgot to take care of this one (it had since become his de-facto flying jacket) and hold. "Wait, Nik, please, whatever I said, I didn't mean to, just-"

You are not a person who sounds desperate. You are independent and you are a sharp bastard. So why are you stand here like a kid on their first day of school, desperately clinging onto your only lifeline to the outside world? You were supposed to like being a hermit, you've been fine for years now.

Nikolai seems to see this, and, despite his better interests, he pauses before he talks. Still flat, like he's barking out an order. "Do not speak of that. Not of John, and not like that." Ice water replaces every last cell of blood in your veins. What did you do? How did you get Nikolai to flip from being the single friendliest person (at least, an asshole like you) to the icy, distant tone that you knew you deserved?

You'll never say that you deflate under his pinning stare, but you know you did, to some extant, mentally riffling through every memory you had of the captain and all he said of the pilot. Nothing.

At least, nothing that would imply Nikolai was this willing to seemingly entirely cut ties with you because you had tried to make light of it.

Your brain never catches what's going on around you when you think like that. It doesn't catch the way he sighs or the slight remorse in his eyes at shutting off so hard, seemingly sending you into a tailspin. черт возьми, right. The Russian scolds himself for that in his mind. The mechanic is not often socialized. He takes a minute to stand, watch the emotions play across your face. Can't hide a thing. The touch of a callused hand pulls you from your thoughts for long enough to look back at him, and then at the big hand on your shoulder.

"Apologies. I have neglected to inform you of something personal to me."

To your shock, you aren't socked in the jaw, but rather, gently herded back into your (garbage) lawn chair (in the garage) and then Nikolai is before you, and he tells you a long, long story.

Of being young and in the military, before he branched off and did his own thing. Of falling head over ass for squarely the wrong person. Not because he had been bad, but because John was a man who knew his own values, and didn't make exceptions.

By the time the solemn tangent is finally concluded, you feel like hot garbage. In some part, because your friend is suffering under the weight of early-twenties feelings at least a decade later, but mostly because you dug that hurt back up. Unknowingly, yes, but you reminded Nik of love that wouldn't ever be given to him.

You've never been the sort to handle words. This whole incident proves that, so, instead, you reach out slowly. It isn't often you hug people, even less often you do it without them explicitly asking, but Nikolai seems to like hugs. You give him more than enough time to back out anyway.

He doesn't.

Instead, for a length of time that is between you two and the higher being (or lack thereof) of your choice. You hold each other in the shop.

"I'm sorry. I wouldn't have ever said it if I had known, I don't want to hurt you, Nik, I just-"

You're choking on words and apologies, some needy, selfish-feeling plea to just hold on to your friend, keep him around and not upset with you.

"I understand. Simple mistakes, yes?"

It's a heavenly mercy that is extended to you in that moment, Nikolai holding you by the shoulders just to pull back enough to smile at you, cheeks rounded and eyes crinkling at the corners, warming the lovely dried-mud color you'd grown attached to.

"Yeah, simple mistakes." Your voice contrasts his, a bit more shaky, still unsteady as you pull your mind back together.

In the silence, momentary and short, you decide there is one more than that much be said. You blurt it out before you can do any better thinking on it.

"You're a friend to me, Nikolai. A good one."

There's a soft chuckle, and a hand tenderly splaying over the small of your back as you're pulled close, flush to the warm oil-and-engine smell that always seems to hang on Nikolai more than you, despite this being your literal job.

His voice is warm again, you can feel his smile even if you can't see it.

"You are a friend too, механик. Very good."

When the worst comes to pass (Part One: Johnny)

WARNINGS: Reader dies! YES, there will be written gore and YES, the boys will be very sad. (vomiting, bleeding, guts, choking, drowning, all of it) Hurt/no comfort.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Everything hurts. That's the first thing Johnny notices when he manages to open his eyes, flat on his back on a cobbled road, smeared with blood that isn't just his.

When his mind comes back to him, Johnny feels his stomach both drop and slingshot into the stratosphere.

Fuck. The building, the objective, this was bad.

He scrambles to his feet so fast that his head pounds that he nearly misses an incoming transmission on his radio. It's Ghost, roaring into hie ear as he runs somewhere.

"What the hell was that, MacTavish?! The rookie's in there!"

Everything in the world quiets for a dragging moment as those words finally make it to his (probably bruised) brain. The rookie. How could he have forgotten the rookie was in there? Oh god. The rookie was in there. He hadn't known that when he blew that shit sky-high to finally clear it out.

Still, when he looks to the steaming rubble, so hot that some of the glass is melting, he knows it's a hopeless endeavor.

He knows it's hopeless, but that doesn't stop him from screaming your name, callsign, anything, trying to get a response.

Even as Ghost yells his ears out over comms. Even as Price joins in. Even as Gaz reports that he's at exfil, injured but okay, shaky-voiced like he's barely holding it together.

His knees sizzle and burn when he's on all fours, hopelessly scraping at the concrete and steel, overturning everything he can in some prayer to a god deaf to this moment to find you.

You, who'd stumbled ass-backward into this team and managed to root yourself down like a dandelion, so tenacious that even the usual harsh treatment had been anything more than an obstacle, another checkpoint in the game-ified quest system that you used to organize your life.

You, who'd been the first person to grab Johnny by the collar and scream so loud his ear had popped when he had knowingly slighted you to look better at the end of your first op.

You, who made him work for your time, who hadn't been scared to tell him straight to his face that you hated his guts.

You, who warmed up slowly.

You, who had become Johnny's very closest confidant, because you weren't afraid to call him on his shit, but always tried to understand.

You.

And now, like always, Johnny has done something too fucking rash. Made the wrong call, blew the bomb too soon to keep himself safe and now you're under the rubble of his mistakes, being crushed under the weight.

But he'll fix it. It doesn't matter that his skin is peeling back and singing off in his hands, or that one of his nails was pulled all the way out from a burr in the steel getting caught on it. It doesn't matter that Johnny knows he smells too much burnt flesh for it to just be his own. It doesn't matter that he can't see your form yet, because he knows that if he digs long enough, you have to be in here. And you'll be hurt.

But you'll be okay.

You'll be on his ass about this for years, and you'll chew him out when he patches you up, but you'll be okay.

He's not sure how long that frenzied state lasts. Not really, but he knows there's a hand on his shoulder when he tears a window from it's frame, cutting his hands.

It's Simon, standing over him. Johnny doesn't look back, but he knows, because it's too quiet.

"...Johnny. Exfil."

His voice is mercifully soft. Gruff, but soft, because Simon knows this stings Johnny far more than it does him. You'd been... good. He didn't let you close, but he knew he wouldn't have regretted it if he had.

You would have been a good soldier. Much better than him or Johnny. Fuck, maybe even better than Price if you really buckled down like you wanted to. You had been smart, just stubborn enough.

Kyle was already a mess in the helicopter, halfway to snapping as Nikolai talks him back down. Johnny was far more stubborn.

"No. M' gonna find 'em, Simon, m' gonnae fuckin' find 'em because they've gotta be in here somewhere an' I cannae just leave them behind-"

It's now that Johnny realizes he's been crying. The drops are fat and heavy, rolling down dirtied cheeks and cutting clean pathways, drawing lines of his own tanned skin.

He hears Ghost sigh, and a loud crack as the butt of a pistol is slammed into his head, and his thoughts are cut off.

The introduction

Gay people, rise up. It's Hobie time.

Warnings:

-swearing

-Miguel O' Hara

(This takes place around two and a half years before the main story, I'm working on organizing it into a masterlist rn)

You don't know exactly where you are.

That's getting more and more common these days, though, so you don't hold it against the very upset-seeming Latin man or the weird asshole hologram lady, and look forward to the small camera before you.

"I'm- I'm really sorry, what is it I'm supposed to be doing again?" Your hand finds the textured, plastic back of the chair, and you run a thumb over the grain to soak in the feeling. The man whose name you're already forgetting scowls, and he steps forward.

"Can you just- Lyla, can you do the thing?" He sounds annoyed. It makes you shrivel in on yourself, smile sheepishly as you pray that you'll make it out of today without having to deal with him any more than this.

"What thing?" Lyla, as you find out her name, seems to revel in that question, cocking out her hip in that too-big jacket and grinning as she responds.

"The information- explainy thing. You know what I mean." Lyla crossed her arms, and stuck her tongue out a little bit.

"Hah, you're talking about a different thing. You know, for someone with such thorough naming conventions-"

"I know! I understand, I get it, ay-" You've just been sitting there this entire exchange, borderline shaking as you try to understand what the fuck is going on here.

The screeching on a loud guitar makes you jump, and cover your ears. The frustrated man glances for a second, before nodding ever so slightly to Lyla, who seemingly makes a note somewhere.

"Sensory sensitivity, got it-" She speaks as you lower your hands, eyes wide and anxious like a feral cat trapped in a corner.

The big man seems to soften his posture a bit more, but he balls his hands into fists before stomping off in the direction of the guitar.

"Alright kid. Let me help you out a little here." She swoops through the air until she stands behind the camera, and gives you a seemingly more considerate smile.

You hear the shutter open.

"Introduce yourself." You don't think you pulled a face at that, but the way Lyla reacts, you simply must have. She sighs, but remains patient.

"Like your name-"

"My name??? No, no, no, no, no. I wanna do this my own way." She steps back, puts her hands up causally, before she seems to blip out of existence again, seemingly content to let you work this out on your own.

The camera is, in fact, scarier alone, but you swallow down that fear and start to talk.

"Uhhh- Hi. I'm- I- I- I-" Words seem to evade your idiot mouth as you look down the lens of the camera, before you pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Motherfffff-" You cut yourself off at the "f", remembering the single, beady eye scanning you, the piercing vertical eye of the moitor at it side that likely shows you there, too. So you correct yourself. "I shouldn't say that."

"Y- Ugh, goddammit. Webs, spider, you get the gist. Call me Orb-" Before you can finish your poorly-planned little clip, the door opens, but the cadence of the footsteps are different.

There's a stupidly lanky boy there, with a guitar on his back and adorned in spikes.

Twists stick out from his scalp, honeyed a nice yellowish at the ends, and he wears a lip ring and earrings, though they don't go up past the lobe very far.

He seems to be made of some sort of collage, infinitely shifting snippets of newspaper and color in his little backdrop as he changes color. Currently, he seems to be sticking to gray. It's neat, but you don't yet know how it works and that only sours your already confused mood further.

You frown a little, he seems to catch it.

"Oi, mate. Who're you?" Wow. He is stupid British. Some part of your brain lights up with that, chews on the way that voice rings through the space.

Not rich, from the slang, and he's clipped, so you guess somewhere South-East, judging by the jacket, near Camden.

The punk seems to squirm a bit, and he less confidently says "Wot the fuck's up with you? You're starin'"

You feel your cheeks heat with shame, but you speak up.

"Not staring, just… observing. It's different." He raises a brow, but lets you finish.

"I like your twists. Very… cool."

He pauses, before taking one of them into a gangly hand. You see the corner of his lip twitch up but you don't know why

"Thanks."

There's a moment of dead air, but you both ask the same question at once.

"Do you know why we're here?" "Do ya know why we're in this shithole?"

You meet his eyes. They're a nice brown, your brain supplies, but they would look much better in warmer lighting.

He starts to giggle. You think his laugh is funny, and chuckle too.

"Right, I guess we should get to know each-other if we're stuck here, yeah?" He's walking over now, asking that question like you know what you're doing.

"I'm Hobie. Hobie Brown." He doesn't offer a hand. You're grateful for that, this has all been too much already.

"I'm Orb-weaver." Your voice is flat enough to make him raise a brow, but he shrugs, seemingly fine with dismissing that as just how you are remarkably fast.

"All business, huh?"

"No. My name is just on a need-to-know basis right now." You answer, and he leans on the edge of your chair, smiling.

"What if I-"

"You don't need to know." His lips lose some of that smile, and, for a second, you flounder to fix that, at any cost. But you can't tell him your name.

"But… I appreciate your tenacity." It's a compliment, one of the rare ones that you give, and Hobie seems to register that, because the papers surrounding him shift again and he turns… pink. Huh.

"That sounds like a label, mate, I don't do those."

"What?"

The recording stops.

The conversation doesn't.

Winding down

Synopsis: A mission's end is always an odd thing to live through, but you've found ways to manage, WARNINGS!: depiction of injury, pain, description of gun sounds and bullets. Canon-typical violence (mission) Little notes: Hurt my thumb (big typing finger for me) so if there are any errors with spelling, please don't mind This blog is still very much new to me, so if you have any little silly comments or requests for bonus stuff, send an ask! It'll make my day :) enjoy! (but only if you wanna)

---------------------------------------------------------------------------- There was dust in the air, swirling like a typhoon that simply ached to consume you and all you held dear. It doesn't throw anyone off, though, you've all been trained better than that. Price's voice is in your ear again, biting out the order to "get out of there, you dolt, bomb's off in thirty seconds." It's nothing you've never heard before, you know you've cut it closer and got out fine, so you wait until you have to reload to push the button on your radio and bite back a response. "Give me ten, Cap, and I'll be clear. Stragglers." You can hear him growl under his breath, but quiet. Some part of you would smirk in satisfaction, tease the old man over knowing damn well you could pull your weight, but there isn't time for that now. You're on the clock, and it ticks much too fast The familiar, satisfying click soothes any remaining thought as you slam the gun's magazine into your thigh to push it in the rest of the way, peek out from behind your cover to unleash another spray of shots into the idiot who was trying to creep up on you. Fifteen seconds

If your ear serves you right, only one left. if you take him out in five, that leaves you ten to get out. Risky, but the odds aren't zero. Your radio buzzes back to life, but now it's the other John yapping at you, something something "Get out of there." and then your name. Johnny doesn't use your callsign, but your name. It pulls you back from the edge of bloodlust just long enough for your mental count to hit ten. "Right. Clearing out." That's all you bother with before setting on your mad dash for the exit of the decrepit concrete rectangle that is this building. West's compromised, too piled with bodies to be a safe bet for running, and East is blocked. So you run North, through unfamiliar, winding hallways, for your life. Six seconds

The thumps of your boots aren't alone. You were right, though, there's only one more soul in this nasty shit-hole. Five seconds You hear a magazine getting knocked into place, cuss to yourself and push even harder, try your damnedest to get out of this unscathed. It isn't looking good now. Four seconds A bullet tears through the wall right next to your head when you turn the corner with a resounding crack. Fuck. The thrum of adrenaline is the only thing that supports you as you continue the mad dash for the door, see it at the end of a long, straight hallway. Three seconds This is getting worse by the second, and you know it. This fucker has good aim, there's no space to zigzag or dash in a random direction like a flighty, scared animal. Two seconds Time to run the gauntlet. Glass crunches beneath the soles of worn boots, you fly through the hallway as fast as your legs will allow, silently screaming a prayer to a god you know never listens. One second

Right as you cross the doorway, there's another crack of a bullet, but it's drowned out by the bomb finally going off. The shockwave is so intense that it launches you into the air (it feels much higher than it is), and, all at once, you turn to get a look of who almost managed to put you in a box. They're all dolled up in tac gear, but you know the look in their eyes the second you spot it. It's the same determination that drives you forward, raw and feral and it's tinged by the rush of adrenaline you live for. Young, too, they couldn't be older than you were when you first joined the task force. Then, when the ceiling above them cracks and stars to come down, it's fear. Your memories of the minutes after are loose at best, but you try to piece them together. You know that, at some point, you rose to your feet, made the jog back to the evac point with that rookie's blood sprayed on the vest that caught their last bullet. It would have hit you right between the ribs. You know that Kyle wordlessly sets a cigarette between your parted lips, pulls you in by the neck to light it with his own, hazel eyes focused as he calms himself back down. You know that he's there, next to you, like always, it warms you, if only slightly. Kyle doesn't press, doesn't try to talk, but he makes a point to show you that he's there. You know that Johnny breathes out a plume of that weird vape shit he's been swearing by (it smells like a public restroom if it was mint flavored), makes a bad joke about "butt fucking" because that's what they call bumming a light in Scotland. You think his friends just picked it up from shitty American movies and lied to him. You know that, when you finally take a drag, the nicotine shocks your systems back into full function. You know that when you open your eyes again, the world is clear. You see Price trot forward and let out a breath of both annoyance and pride. He used to tear you a new one every time you pulled a stunt like this, but now he knows better, knows you operate at your best in the split second between like and death. So now, you feel his hand pat the shoulder of your vest, resigned but proud. You feel your cheeks round with a small smile when you finally pull the cig back from between you lips, finally yourself again. "Not bad, ain't it? All targets neutralized." Your voice is just a little raspier than normal, tinged with the fading of your adrenaline high. From the corner of your eye, you see Ghost, leaning on the helicopter's side. He nods. "Aye, that was feckin' pretty, ye stupid lil cunt!" Your snort seems to make Johnny beam even wider than before, you feel the warmth of his side as he pulls you into a firm, one-armed hug. Out of sheer habit, you retch jokingly, and shove him back. "Gross! You're fucking sweaty, Soap, don't muck up my good shirt!" Your 'good shirt' is torn at the bottom hem, has a fine spray of blood on it, and is half-covered in concrete dust from the former building that is now a pile of smoking rubble a few hundred meters away. It'll all come off in the wash, just like today's sins will spiral into the drain of a weird-smelling communal shower room. And you know, come tomorrow, you'll be training with your boys once more, trading quips and barbs and soaking in camaraderie. For now, that's more than enough.

does anyone else find the concept of writing fan fiction for real-world people (like celebrities) weird? Especially if they’re on the internet a lot and might see that stuff related to them. Like I used to read hella bts fanfics but then I realized that 1.) I don’t know how they really act outside of the public eye- and likely neither does the writer, and 2.) writing smut???? Imagine you go on the internet to find thousands of people imagining you in that way without ur consent….like 😭

LIKE IF YOUVE EVER SEEN THOSE VIDEOS WHERE YOUTUBERS READ FANFICS ABOUT THEM AND THEY CRINGE??? that got me to stop reading that typa stuff fr

1- There is a case involving, a whole bunch of girls going missing from your dorm. The BAU came to investigate, and Spencer and you reunite.

2- You come visit him at the BAU

3- Spencer gets called to pick up your kid from daycare because you are unavailable due to having turned off your phone to sleep. So the team finds out that Spencer is an uncle.

4- ✨It's a surprise ✨

If you have a request send them in.

"Movies" Marito x Outa (NSFW)

I haven't just the spelling bc im lazy sooo here you go smut with no plot lol

Marito and Outa lounged on the plush couch, their bodies sinking into the soft cushions as they watched the horror movie unfold on the large screen in front of them. The flickering lights cast eerie shadows across their faces, highlighting their sharp cheekbones and piercing gazes. Marito's lime green and black hair cascaded down his back, the strands gloing under the dim light of the room. Outa's dark blue eyes were fixated on the screen, his muscular physique tense with anticipation. The movie reached its climax, the two actors engaging in a passionate love scene. Marito let out a low chuckle, turning to look at Outa with a smirk on his face. "Looks fun, doesn't it?" he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Outa raised an eyebrow, his gaze never leaving the screen. "You think so?" he asked, his tone low and husky. Marito's heart skipped a beat at the suggestive tone in Outa's voice. He leaned in closer, his lips brshing against Outa's ear as he whispered, "I bet you'd look even better doing it." Outa turned to look at Marito, his dark blue eyes blazing with desire. He leaned in, capturing Marito's lips in a searing kiss. Marito moaned, his body responding to Outa's touch. Without breaking the kiss, Outa stood up, pulling Marito up with him. He led Marito to the bedroom, his movements confident and sure. Marito followed, his heart pounding in his chest. Once in the bedroom, Outa pushed Marito down onto the bed, his movements rough and demanding. Marito's heart raced as he looked up at Outa, his piercing green eyes filled with desire. Outa wasted no time, stripping Marito of his clothes with rough, urgent movments. Marito's body was bared to him, his muscular chest and abs on display. Outa's gaze raked over Marito's body, taking in every inch of his exposed skin. Marito's cock was already hard, throbbing with need. Outa wrapped his hand around it, giving it a firm squeeze. Marito moaned, his hips bucking up towards Outa's hand. Outa leaned down, his lips finding Marito's again. He kissed him deeply, his tongue exploring Marito's mouth. Marito moaned, his body writhing underneath Outa's. Outa broke the kiss, his gaze locked onto Marito's. "I'm going to fuck you," he said, his voice low and husky. Marito nodded, his body trembling with anticipation. Outa reached for the lube, slicking up his fingers before slowly inserting them into Marito's ass. Marito moaned, his body adjusting to the intrusion. Outa worked his fingers in and out of Marito's ass, preparing him for his cock. Marito's body was on fire, his cock throbbing with need. Finally, Outa was ready. He positioned himself at Marito's entrance, his cock throbbing with need. Marito looked up at him, his green eyes filled with desire. Outa thrust into Marito, his cock filling him up completely. Marito moaned, his body adjusting to the intrusion. Outa began to move, his thrusts rough and demanding. Marito's body moved in time with Outa's, his hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. Outa's cock hit his prostate with every thrust, sending waves of pleasure coursing through his body. Marito's orgasm built up inside him, his body trembling with need. Outa's thrusts became faster and harder, his body slapping against Marito's. Marito's orgasm hit him like a wave, his body trembling as he came hard. Outa followed suit, his cock throbbing as he filled Marito's ass with his seed. They lay there, their bodies spent and sated. Outa pulled out of Marito, collapsing onto the bed beside him. Marito turned to look at him, a satisfied smile on his face. "That was... amazing," Marito said, his voice hoarse. Outa chuckled, pulling Marito close to him. "I told you you'd look good doing it," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction. Marito smiled, snuggling closer to Outa. "I'll have to take your word for it," he said, his eyes closing as he drifted off to sleep.

Interrogation Ghost x konig x male reader (Slight NSFW) Your name is Zhenya <3

Zhenya sat in the dimly lit room, the single overhead bulb casting harsh shadows on his face. His wrists were bound to the metal chair, the cold steel biting into his skin. He had been captured under suspicion of treason and collaboration with enemy forces, charges that could lead to a fate worse than death.

The door creaked open, and Zhenya's eyes flicked up to see two imposing figures step inside. Ghost, his skull mask gleaming menacingly, and König, a giant of a man whose presence alone was enough to instill fear.

Ghost approached first, his demeanor icy and unyielding. "Zhenya, you've got a lot of explaining to do," he said, his voice a low growl. "Caught red-handed with intel that could sink our entire operation."

Zhenya's heart pounded in his chest, but he forced himself to remain calm. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied, his voice steady.

Ghost's eyes narrowed, and he slammed his fist onto the table, causing it to rattle. "Don't play games with us," he snapped. "We've got evidence, and you're going to tell us who you're working for."

Before Zhenya could respond, König stepped forward. His height and build made him tower over Zhenya, and his cold blue eyes were void of any warmth. "You think this is a joke?" he said, his voice deep and resonant. "You think you can just lie to us and walk away?"

König's hand shot out, gripping Zhenya's jaw with bruising force. "You'll speak, one way or another," he hissed, his breath hot against Zhenya's face.

Zhenya's resolve wavered under König's intense gaze. He could feel the fear creeping in, but he knew he had to stay strong. "I'm not a traitor," he insisted, his voice trembling slightly. "You've got the wrong guy."

Ghost moved behind Zhenya, his gloved hands sliding over his shoulders. "Is that so?" he murmured, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Then maybe you need a little persuasion."

Without warning, Ghost's hands tightened, his grip turning painful. König's fingers dug into Zhenya's jaw, forcing his head back. The cold and ruthless nature of their interrogation left no room for mercy.

König's lips twisted into a cruel smile. "We're going to enjoy breaking you," he said, his voice a chilling promise.

Zhenya's heart raced as he realized the depths of their intentions. They were determined to extract the truth, no matter the cost. And in that dimly lit room, surrounded by shadows and fear, he knew he was at the mercy of Ghost and König's unrelenting cruelty.

You sound so retarded and ignorant, who are YOU to tell someone they need help because of some words on a FICTIONAL STORY?? And you talking about "people getting harassed for having opinions" like what??? And yk it's targeted towards someone so stop the bullshit, be mature, and speak tf up you idiot.

And so it begins..

Firstly, I understand the offense to the "get help part", but truth hurts sometimes. If you fantasize about anyone fictional or not committing real crimes and imagining people of the same blood having SEX then you should really get checked out. It's not normal, and it's not okay. But as I said it's whoever's blog and I'm not going to go and attack and hate on their works for it, that's just my blatant opinion on that matter.

Secondly, the people getting harassed part for having an opinion is 100℅ true (take your actions right now as an example.)

And thirdly, I don't "target" posts to anyone, if I'm talking about them I'm going to make it clear it's them I'm talking about.

Good day, Anon!

𝑰 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖. // 𝑾𝑪: 2.2𝑲

— feat. disassembly drone N x worker drone reader

synopsis. Since disassembly drones need oil to keep from overheating they kill other drones to consume it. But.. ever since the alliance between Disassembly and Worker Drones its been a bit difficult to acquire..It’s not a problem for V to randomly kill someone off but it’s a different situation for N now that his views have changed. AKA…reader supplies him with oil :DD

— content warning. Nothing 18+ just a few kisses, neck biting and N being in pain.. gulp?

— authors note. I fear this x reader is a bit..cringe then again that might just be me overthinking it..ANYWAYS tried my best for this, and still have no idea how to write for a robot. (N might be a little mischaracterized I’m not ENTIRELY sure)

At the end of science class, just when everyone was packing up to leave, you noticed N fidgeting more than normal at his desk.

"Is everything okay, N?" you asked.

He laughed nervously. "Who, me? Pshaw, never better!" But when he spoke, he looked anywhere but at you and the others.

Thad snickered. "Maybe his circuits are loose again." Lizzy giggled. "Lmao, he probably fried something.” Just as V was about to comment on his behavior..

N got up from his chair abruptly; he swayed unsteadily before catching himself upon another classroom desk.

By the time you registered what was going on, N had already ducked out of the classroom door, stumbling down the hall. "N, wait!" you called after him, hurrying to catch up. N was unsteady on his feet, swerving from side to side as he tried to put distance between the both of you.

His limbs shook with every step he took.

"G-Gotta...g-get a-away..." he muttered, though you weren't sure if he was even aware you could hear him. His eyes flickered erratically, barely being able to focus straight ahead as he tried to get away.

You picked up your pace, power walking down the corridor after him. "Slow down!!" you yelled out, but N was quicker, and before you knew it, when you reached the next corner, you lost him completely.

Your concern for N grew by the minute, so you started tracking him down since something was clearly wrong, beyond a normal glitch.

An hour had already passed since you last saw N, yet here he was in the maintenance unit stumbling blindly, crashing into something every few steps.

"S-sorry!" he slurred after bumping into a support beam for the third time. An unnatural static fuzzed the edges of his voice. Stubbornly, he scrambled back on his feet and lurched forward without seeing where he went.

Was he malfunctioning? But his murder drone programming should have kept him sharp, no?? Seeing him this disoriented was alarming.

You trailed him at a distance, hiding behind a variety of things as he walked on ahead. Where was he heading in such a panic? His vents were roaring torrents by now, and visible condensation soaked his frame.

Finally, he collapsed behind a supply crate, crawling the last few feet. Had he sensed you following? No, his optics were unfocused, so he couldn't have had.

Gingerly, you peeked around the crate to see N weakly clawing at his chest clearly in pain.

If you didn't act fast, he would shut down permanently. Steeling your nerves, you crawled to his side.

"N? Hey..hey! It's me, Y/N. Are you okay??”

When you gently called his name, N got startled so badly that his claws scraped sparks from the metal flooring he sat upon. His optics flashed wildly before settling on your face with a look of panic. "Y-Y-Y/N! S-sorry, but I don’t think you should be near me right now…”

N let out an alarmed wheeze that trailed off into a pained whine. It took visible effort for his optics to focus on you. You could tell he was losing some sort of control over his strength, but why??

"You don’t look so good..”

N broke into a hacking series of rushed laughter that ended in a groan. "Me? Pssh, n-no way! I'm t-totally fine, like I said earlier. Now please just leave me, yeah?” He waved dismissively, or at least tried to, but his attempt ended up flailing limply.

He knew he wasn't doing a great job at reassuring you when you glared at him.

"N-nothing to worry that pretty l-little processor of yours over, really.”

N's dismissive act was crumbling faster than his resolve. Another hacking laugh turned into a groan as his eyes started to flicker erratically once again.

"N, please. You're clearly not alright." You took his flailing claw gently in your hands. His plating was so hot it almost burned to the touch.

A whine slipped, “Crap..crap. It h-hurts,

Y/N. M-My core, it h-hurts so F̵̬̏́̏͆̀͝ų̸͙͋̿̃̌͋́̈́̆͑̕͠c̶̜̜̼̥͓̚k̷̫̺̝̈́̀̿̇͐̐͑ḭ̸̧̻̞̻͚̳̘̩̣͋̀̃́̔̊̋̚ň̵̞̪̯̼̟̗̩͈̖́g̸̩̤̩̼̘̪̀́͊͗̋͐́̇ much."

You've never seen N this vulnerable before…

"What can I do to help? There must be something." N trembled, fighting some inner battle. Finally, he met your gaze, his optics showing an agony of want behind the discomfort.

"T-there is s-something, b-but I shouldn't..." Strangely, another sound intermingled with the strain in his voice now.

Was that...hunger?

Stroking his plating gently, hoping to soothe, you pressed, "Please, tell me what you need." His vents hitched wildly. Then, in a strained whisper, he cracked.

"Y-your oil...I ne-need…it."

A shiver visibly ran through his frame. His optics darkened as they focused intently on your physic, more so your neck and wrist.

"I..." he began weakly, then stopped to swallow. His claws clenched tightly as if fighting the urge. You waited patiently for him to continue, showing concern but no sense of alarm.

After a long pause, N dragged his gaze with an effort to meet your face once more.

“T-tell me to stop," he whispered, his fangs peeking out as he talked.

"I so badly n-need it, but I don't w-want to hurt you.” His claws lifted toward your face but stopped only by his wavering will. You knew this would be the only way for him to cool down.

You looked deeply into N's eyes, past the haze of glitches that overtook his screen.

"I trust you," you said calmly without fear. His breathing became more ragged at your words.

In a flash, his restraint broke—but instead of lunging at your throat as you'd expected, his claws tangled in the fabric of your shirt, yanking you flush against his overheated frame. You gasped at the contact, feeling the waves of heat pouring off of him.

N buried his face in the crook of your neck, fangs tantalizingly. "P-please..." he stammered once more, sounding close to genuine tears. Raising a hand, you gently clasped the back of his head, threading your fingers through his silver hair.

"Take what you need," you told him firmly yet tenderly..After yet another hesitant pause, his screen displayed an X. Then, with a grunt of gratification, his fangs smoothly penetrated the sensitive wiring of your neck.

Your breath became unsteady as N's fangs pierced you. It didn’t hurt as much as you thought it would—just a little bit of a pinch. His hands gripped your shoulders for support as he drank deeply, allowing the oily fluid to course through his system.

For several moments the only sounds were his gulping intakes and your own measured breaths; you kept still so as not to disturb him. You watched as the pained lines on his face slowly eased, his eyes returning to normal. His plating, which was boiling hot only moments ago, cooled down to a much safer temperature against you.

N withdrew his fangs from your neck, making a small trickle of oil leak from your wound.

He leaned back in hastily, swiping his tongue along the twin marks. You shuddered at the foreign yet not unpleasant sensation. But N paused, a flushed look appearing on his screen. “Ah g-geez, is this w-weird?”

He glanced away, clearly embarrassed  "What I mean to say is, um, my saliva can help the wounds close up faster? If, uh, you're okay with my germy mouth touching the injury I c-caused? No funny business, I swear! J-just bros being bros, p-patching each other…um up.”

N winced, realizing how that sounded. "N-not that we're actually b-bros, unless you want to be? Biscuits. Just—just let me do this, kay?”

With your consenting nod, N gave a short awkward chuckle and leaned back in. His tongue swiping over the wound. It began to tingle as the mark he had left slowly began to close up.

"It's strange to think your spit has healing properties," you remarked softly, not wanting to break the intimacy of the moment. N hummed in agreement, laving one last swipe across the bite mark before drawing back to assess his handiwork. His optics flicked up to meet yours, searching for any sign of discomfort.

"How does it feel? Are you in any pain?" he asked, his tone laced with concern despite his own drained state. You shifted experimentally. "Stop worrying. Just a slight tingling.“

N searched your face anxiously. "Are you sure? Nothing else? No dizziness or discomfort?" His optics roved your features, taking in every subtle reaction. When you reassured him again that all was well, the tension melted from his shoulders—only to be replaced with guilt.

"Y/N, I could have seriously hurt you," he said quietly, horror creeping into his tone. "My systems went haywire; I had no control. If I had bitten down any harder..." He shuddered, unable to complete the thought.

"But you didn't," you said firmly. "You fought off the urge just enough to get the help you needed. I trusted you, N." He shook his head sadly. "Your trust may be misplaced in me. The overheating....what if next time I can't—can’t stop.”

N shuddered again at the dark thought. Seeking to ease his distress, you shot him a playful smile. "Well, if it happens again, we're in this together. At least now I have a cool vampire drone friend!! The whole sucking my oil thing was pretty vampirish.”

He cracked a hesitant chuckle. "Yeah, maybe I'll sparkle in the sun too." Feeling bold, you leaned in with a faux-dramatic voice, "I vant to suck your coolant..."

N actually snickered at that. You beamed, glad to lift his spirit, even if it was only for a brief moment. His smile faded as reality set back in.

"But seriously, what if next time I really hurt someone?” On impulse, you threw your arms around him in a hug.

N's eyes widened as you suddenly hugged him close. For a moment he sat stiffly, caught off guard. Then slowly, oh so carefully, his arms came up to return the embrace.

"Y/N...if anything happened to you because of me, I don't know what I'd do," he said quietly against your shoulder. You squeezed him tighter for reassurance. "Hey, it'll take a lot more than some murder instinct to take me out. Have a little more faith in me, will you? Stop being so edgy.”

“Edgy?" N scoffed, "Sorry, nearly ripping your throat out put me in a gloomy mood."

"Ripping my throat out?” You echoed with a wry grin. "Well, luckily that didn’t happen, did it?”

N huffed, “Maybe. But what if next time I lose it?"

You opened your mouth to respond, but he quickly shushed you.

“You just leaped right in like it was nothing. Do you have any idea how badly this could've ended?" He gestured vaguely to the drying wound on your neck.

"You drones are so..so fragile. One wrong move and I could've—" He cut off, unable to say the word. His arms flexed unconsciously, as if longing to wrap around something and squeeze. To protect, or destroy? Even he wasn't sure.

"You'd never hurt me, N. I believe in-"

Your words halted as he glanced up, his eyes searching yours with raw, wavering emotion. An urge welled within you, sprung from compassion more than reason. You leaned in to press your lips to his in a soft kiss.

"Mmmph?!" N made a muffled sound of surprise, his body locking up stiffly. Your tongue briefly caught the tang of the lingering oil before you pulled back with a slight grimace.

His faceplate shone a distressed yellow blush. "I-I'm so sorry, I should have wiped my mouth better!“ he stammered.

But you simply smiled and leaned in again, pressing your lips gently to his once more. Then, slowly, he began to relax into the kiss.

His screen switched to a loading screen. In that moment, all his train of thought derailed off a cliff. N's screen flickered back online, and one of his hands floated up to gently touch his mouth, eyes wide and staring blankly.

"Bwuh-wha...you...kissem—I mean, I kissem-no, we...kissed?" he sputtered

"We k-kissed. You k-kissed me," he whispered, his optics shrinking to pinpoints before dilating wide again. A nervous giggling burst out of him.

"Oh biscuits, what d-does this mean? Are we like..” his tone lowered to a soft whisper.

“Dating n-now?”

"Well, uh, I guess you could say we're kind of sort of datingish now," you replied bashfully. "If-if you want to be my boyfriend, that is."

N's entire face lit up. "Boyfriend..Awhh Y/N!! Id love that." He hugged you tightly, lifting you off the ground and spinning you around in excitement.

"N set you down gently, his optics still shining with unbridled joy. However, a hint of seriousness crept into his expression as he looked at you intently.

"This doesn't mean I'm not mad at you for what you did," he said, his voice low and eyes narrowed slightly. "You could have been seriously hurt, or worse. You really scared me back there."

You sighed and nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I get it. Next time, I'll call V or someone else—I won't try to handle things on my own and potentially get myself killed." You paused, then added with a wry smile, "I promise."

N's stern look softened, and he hummed contentedly. "Good!" Reaching out, he took your hand in his larger one and gave it a gentle squeeze.

© yammpi3 2024. All work belongs to @yammpi3. You can repost if you want to support my blog/writing! Please don't modify, translate, or plagiarize in any way on ANY platform.

༘☆* ·˚꒰𝑾𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒈꒱ ₊˚ˑ༄

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Just a tiny reminder that this is a 17+ blog!! I will write suggestive content from time to time [smut] You as the reader are in charge of the content you consume. <3

⊹ ⋆｡˚ ( YAMI ) she/they. xvi. intp. witerally shigarakis loser gf. Multifandom blog. Semi-active, pls request!!

☆ about me. masterlist. rules and info. taglist.

" come back and haunt me . . . "

LATEST RELEASES. one. two. three.

ᱬ ࣪𖤐 thoughts of girl dad! suguru meeting reader and possibly wanting to be boy dad! suguru after overhearing his girls talking one night. because why not?

ageless/minors dni. 18+ content on the final few parts including multiple positions, p in v with one intention - mention of breeding kink if you squint. generalised NSFW content. f! reader.

as always, reblogs/likes are always appreciated! enjoy ᱬ ࣪𖤐

word count: 1,068

links: jjk masterlist | masterlist

girl dad! suguru who always manages to lose the twins one way or another at the local market only for them to be brought back by a random young woman every time.

girl dad! suguru who knows the twins are up to something but he can’t quite figure out what as he watches them look around, giggling and whispering to each other.

girl dad! suguru who goes through all the emotions until one day the girls drag back another poor young woman, giggling when they shout out for their daddy only to see your bewildered face looking between him and the twins.

girl dad! suguru who kneels down to scold the two of them only for mimiko to jump onto him, smiling when she proudly announces that she and nanako have found who they want to be their momma as they point to you, bigger smiles on their faces.

girl dad! suguru who almost chokes on air at what he’s just heard, looking up at you from his knelt position as you blink in confusion, girls squealing in delight, shouting out he’s going to do it.

girl dad! suguru who lets go of the breath he's been holding when he sees you smile, letting out your own laugh at the outbursts from the young girls in the middle of the market, drawing the attention of passers-by.

girl dad! suguru who stands up and apologises for the way his girls had behaved only for you to shake you head, dismissing his apology as you explained you found them just standing alone.

girl dad! suguru who watches you bend down and and ask the girls if they would like a sweet treat from a stall you know, adding on “that’s if it’s okay with your daddy”. smiling with a nod as the girls squeal in joy, dragging him as they follow behind you.

girl dad! suguru who, when you all reach the stall, goes to pay for the treats only for you to stop him. “they’re on the house, for these two angels”. who’s worried the stall owner will notice but is shocked when you tell him you’re the owner and you don’t mind at all.

girl dad! suguru who spends a good while watching you interact with not only his girls but with the public, offering sweet smiles and giggles as you engage with each person you see.

girl dad! suguru who finds himself spending more time at the market when you're there, making the excuse that the girls love your treats but who can’t help but find himself falling in love with you each second he spends with you. managing to get your number so he can order stuff from you and totally not to spend more time talking to you.

girl dad! suguru who, after quite a while, bites the bullet and asks you out on a date, half expecting you to turn him down as he has kids, only for you to accept because you see him for him, and not as a dad with baggage like most others had called the twins.

girl dad! suguru who not only spoils his girls but you as well, everything seemed to click perfectly when you entered their lives and he didn’t want this to end. taking you out on cinema dates, romantic meals, and stay-at-home dates where the girls would be involved in things like helping you brush and braid his hair - you loved every moment, and so did he and the twins.

girl dad! suguru who eventually asks you to marry him with help from the twins. you couldn’t help but cry at everything you saw, from the homemade banners to the meal to the dark purple ring nestled snugly in an open box in the hand of the man you loved.

girl dad! suguru who, along with your help, makes sure the girls are involved in every single bit of wedding planning and ultimately, your big day when you both become husband and wife.

girl dad! suguru who loves how you throw yourself headfirst into being a momma for the twins, taking them shopping, dropping them at school, parent's evenings, the works all while keeping your baking business running.

girl dad! suguru who one night, overhears you, nanako and mimiko talking about things while you put them to bed after a story, mainly how the girls wanted to have a baby brother because they wanted to be big sisters. hearing you say they’d “need to see what daddy thinks of the idea first”, making sure to step away from the open door the second you turn and walk through, closing it softly.

girl dad! suguru who smirks at the look of shock on your face from not expecting him to be there, before bending down to throw you over his shoulder, laughing at the squeak you make as you grip onto the back of his t-shirt, making sure to keep a loving grip on your waist.

girl dad! suguru who places you gently on your shared bed before hovering over you, peppering your face with kisses until he stops at your ear, hot breath fanning against your skin as he mutters words of love and adoration.

girl dad! suguru who smirks when you suck in a breath when you hear him mutter “i heard what the girls said to you princess, so let’s get to work on giving them that baby brother, yeah?”.

girl dad! suguru who wastes no time ridding you both of your clothes before pushing himself between your legs, groaning out at the feeling of your walls clamping down on him tightly, not wanting to let go.

girl dad! suguru who fucks you relentlessly in a variety of positions with the desire of pumping you full of his cum, until you can’t take no more. until you're stuffed so full while being a blabbering mess beneath him.

girl dad! suguru who fucks you relentlessly in the nastiest mating press you’ve ever felt with the sole intention of breeding you, making your figure rounder and breasts full with milk as you carry his child, a child that’s half you and half him.

girl dad! suguru who has every intention of becoming boy dad! suguru as well that he’ll always fuck another child into you should your first one together be a girl - not that you, or your puffy pussy mind one bit.

© springismss 2025 - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.

The Scarlet Witch - JJK Masterlist ᱬ

The final pages sat in front of you, waiting to be seen as you took a moment, wondering if you should be peaking this far into her life. It all led to these pages, the final chapter of her life as the most powerful witch.

Sucking in a quick breath, you looked down and took in the final form of Wanda, the chaos and corruption oozing from these pages was strong. Was she gone or was she still alive after all?

‟ You know, the hex was the easy part. The lying, not so much ” | ‟ The Scarlet Witch is not born, she is forged. She has no coven, no need for incantation ” | ‟ I was meant to rule everything ”

ᱬ Satoru Gojo ᱬ

𖤐 needy husband! satoru | nsfw female reader 𖤐 you needy? | nsfw female reader 𖤐 toying around | nsfw female reader 𖤐 tattoo artist! satoru | g/n reader 𖤐 butterfly | g/n reader 𖤐 lipstick | nsfw female reader 𖤐 cosplayer! satoru | g/n reader

ᱬ Ryomen Sukuna ᱬ

𖤐 rockstar! sukuna | sfw female reader 𖤐 rockstar boyfriend! sukuna | nsfw female reader 𖤐 rockstar fiancé! sukuna | nsfw female reader

ᱬ Suguru Geto ᱬ

𖤐 girl dad! suguru | nsfw female reader

masterlist

Tested by Time - Chapter 2🌻

series summary; what happens when time suddenly decides to feed you snippets of a life you can't remember living? a life filled with joy and happiness that was cruelly ripped away - your mind plagued with just that. when a certain spirit is plagued by these memories as well, he’s just as confused as you. two hearts brought together through many millennia find they’re connected in more ways than one.

pairing; Yami Yugi/Atem x female! reader

reblogs/feedback/likes are appreciated & encouraged. DO NOT repost/steal any of my works.

chapter warnings; implied sexual content

chapter word count; 2.2k+

chapter summary; when you think things couldn’t get more “real”, you were sadly mistaken. the next memory you have feels slight more real that you could have ever imagined. plus, when a request from help comes from a familiar face, who are you to refuse?

a/n; after a long wait, here’s the newest chapter of Tested by Time. first posted to Ao3, this comes a few weeks later. as always, hope you enjoy!

links; series masterlist | prologue | 1 | 3

Letting out a yawn you stretched and rolled over, grabbing ahold of your phone as another message alert rang out. Thanks to the constant back and forth from the people in your friend group, specifically two people, you were up earlier than you would have loved on your day off. Unlocking your phone, you quickly scanned your messages and rolled your eyes, what was supposed to be a conversation about what you were all doing for the day ended up with some back and forth between Tristan and Joey, who ignored what others were saying to them. Typical as always.

Letting out a sigh, you pulled the covers back and got out of bed. You needed to freshen up for the day and no doubt you’d be done before a plan was made. After selecting your outfit and placing it to the side, you grabbed everything you needed and made your way to the bathroom. Turning on the taps for your bath. Warm began to fill the air as the mirror up from your sink started to steam over, causing your reflection to slowly distort. For the past few days, your dreams had been normal, nothing out of the ordinary and for that you were thankful. You didn’t think you’d be able to handle any more.

Shutting the water off, you stripped out of your bedclothes and slowly stepped into the bath, letting out a content sigh as the water wrapped around you. If it was one thing you loved about being at home after a long week, it was your bath. Sure, showers proved useful but sometimes all you wanted to do is relax. Slipping down a little, you rested your head against the edge of the bath and closed your eyes for a moment. Enjoying the calmness.

Soft chatter died down as a door was shut, a lone figure sighing out as they leaned against it. The day has been as long as it has been busy and the Queen was ready to relax with a bath. Pushing off the door, the young woman walked forward and glanced around, smiling softly at the various items left on the side for her. Lifting her hands, she pushed the straps of her outfit down off her shoulders and allowed the garment to fall to the floor, pooling around her feet. Stepping out, the Queen bent over and picked it up, placing it to the side as she took off some of her jewellery, the bigger items being laid gently to the side, smaller items being kept on her figure.

When she was bare, she stepped forward and slowly walked into the large pool, the cool water a welcoming feeling on her warm skin. With all the madness going on in the palace, times like this felt like a breath of fresh air, especially when she already felt out of place. Stepping further into the pool, the young Queen took a breath and held it, plunging herself underneath for a few seconds before emerging and wiping her eyes. Repeating the process a few times before she was satisfied with how much she had cooled down. Looking around, she turned her body and moved gently towards the side, sitting down on the steps that she walked down. Unaware of the eyes that watched her closely.

She didn’t know how long she’d been sitting there in her own world, tuned out of everything around her, as the feeling of the water shifting beside her made her look. Letting out a small yelp of surprise, she pushed the shoulder of the other person and smiled, lying her head on the place she pushed a few seconds earlier. “I was wondering how long it would have been before you joined me, my love”.

Looking up, she saw the visible tiredness on the male's face and sighed softly. She hated seeing him so worn out, he needed a break as much as the next person. Of course, he had things he had to attend to, being the Pharaoh meant he had duties, a lot of them but he needed time off now and then. Sitting forward, she shifted herself so she knelt behind him, hands rubbing small circles across his back as she felt him relax. “That’s it, feels so great am I right?”.

Leaning over his shoulder she looked at him and smiled, placing a small kiss on his cheek before moving back to what she was doing. The feeling of him relaxing more made her smile humming softly as she continued for a few more minutes, moving to sit by his side when she was finished. The two of them sat in comfortable silence for a moment.

The water began to move as the young Queen turned her head, tilting it as she watched what her husband was doing. In a second he was behind her, hands resting on her hips as he pulled her close to him. Looking to the side, she opened her mouth to speak before giggling at the look she saw. A look that only she got to see made itself known on his features before disappearing as he lowered his head to the nape of her neck. “You know, (e/n), I could think of better ways to relax or ways you could put those fingers of yours to use”.

The heat she felt creep across her face was similar to the hot days Ra provided. They’d been married for a good while now but he still made her blush with the words he spoke to her when they were alone. The feeling of fingers slowly trailing over her skin made her shiver, biting back a small moan when his touches moved lower. The Pharaoh would be her undoing, making her fall apart as she lost her mind to the throes of pleasure, bringing her back to earth with a crash when it was all over, and right now, this was no different. “Here of all places, ———?”.

Looking as best as she could, she saw the desire in his eyes before their positions changed, her new perch being the bare lap of her husband as she felt just how much he wanted her. His eagerness was hard to hide. Fingers moved further down her body slowly moving along her slit, threatening to slip into her core at any point, his other hand reaching up to cup her breast, pinching her nipple. The chuckle that echoed at her moans made her push herself closer to her other half. “I think we both know we’d never make it back to our chambers before I took you again today, besides~”.

The hand on her chest moved, causing a small whimper to sound before she felt her face being cupped slightly. Forced to look into amethyst-coloured eyes, the Queen tried her hardest to resist the building desire in her gut. They’d already been close to each other earlier in the day before they were both caught up in their duties. A loud moan sounded as fingers pushed past her lower lips, slipping into her throbbing core. “~I heard water makes for good pleasure. I guess we should try it”.

Opening your eyes you sat up and panted, some water splashing on the floor as you breathed heavily. Looking around you saw you were alone, your heart beating erratically as you tried to calm down. Of all the visions, dreams, whatever you wanted to call them at this point, this one felt the most real. The touches, the voices everything felt so real. Looking down at your body, you could still make out the trail the fingers took before blushing slightly, shaking your head to rid yourself of those thoughts. “I’m losing it”.

Deciding it was best to get out you pulled the plug and stepped out of the water, wrapping a towel around you. You had to get out of your bathroom, even if it was for a minute to gather yourself before you set foot back inside. Walking out to your bedroom you reached your bed and grabbed your phone, seeing a few tags in your group chat asking if the plans were okay with you. Tapping out a quick reply that said anything was fine with you, you sent another letting them know to go ahead you’d catch up.

Placing your phone down you took a moment to sigh out, trying to think of anything else other than what had just happened. As you turned around and began to walk back towards the room you had come from, the sound of your phone pinging again several times caught your attention. Part of you told you to ignore it, it was just the group chat but another part of you willed you to check it out. Listening to that half, you walked back to your bed and grabbed your phone only to see several messages from Yugi.

Tilting your head in confusion, you unlocked your phone and read through what he had sent.

Starfish:

Hey (y/n), before you go and meet the gang, can you stop by mine?

We’ll go and meet them together, plus I have something I need to ask you!

You’re the only one who can help in this situation.

Blinking a few times, you reread over the message a couple of times, seemed a bit out of the ordinary but you weren’t one to ignore a friend in need.

Butterfly:

YUGI!

Hey, of course, I shouldn’t be too long but I need to get sorted first.

May or may not have fallen back asleep D:

I’ll let you know when I’m on the way!

Locking your phone, you placed it on your table and grabbed your clothes, getting ready within a matter of minutes. Before long, you were finished and heading out. Checking your pockets once more you nodded to yourself and closed your front door, grabbing your phone and shooting off a message to let your smaller friend know you were on your way. Of course, you had to keep yourself in check and not let what had happened get to you. You’d figure it out another day. Right now it was about having fun with your friends.

The sound of a message pinging alerted the owner as round eyes looked at the content, smiling a little before locking their phone. Looking over their shoulder, they looked towards the corner where another figure could be just made out floating in the air. Standing, they grabbed their jacket and placed it on, getting ready to head downstairs and bid goodbye to their grandpa.

The floating figure took notice and vanished, only to reappear beside the smaller figure when he made it outside. Out of these visions he’d been having the one that had just happened felt the most real one yet. The poor spirit wished the world would swallow him whole when he caught his host poking at him, or where he was meant to be. After all, he was making some strange noises, noises even the smaller boy had never heard before. “Yugi, was this really necessary?”.

Looking to the side, the smaller figure smiled and nodded his head as he waited for their friend to appear. “Trust me Yami, (y/n) will be able to help, I know it!”.

As the mention of the name, another figure turned the corner and smiled waving to the lone figure standing outside the game shop. Looking up, the spirit could only blush slightly, coughing as he excused himself back into the walls of the puzzle. Much to the enjoyment of Yugi. It was time to get to the bottom of everything, even if a certain spirit was reluctant.

Walking briskly you came to a halt in front of Yugi and smiled, placing your hand on your hip and you fanned yourself from the slight heat. “Right, I’m here. You ready to go?”.

With a nod of his head, the two friends began to walk and talk about things. Enjoying the other's company, one of them completely unaware of the eyes on them as they walked. “Say Yugi, what was it you wanted to ask me earlier?”.

Oh yeah, the young male had forgotten about that. Coming to a stop, he looked at you and hesitated for a moment before deciding it was time to bite the bullet, asking you outright. “Oh yeah, so you know the spirit of the puzzle? Well, I was wondering if you would go to the Egyptian exhibit at Domino Museum with him? He’s trying to learn more about his past and I know how much you love history. Seems like a win-win if you can help him find something there”.

Looking to your side, you pondered on his words for a moment. You guessed it wouldn’t hurt to agree, it would get you out of your room and on a plus side, it was all about Ancient Egypt. A place that you seemed at ease about the more you learned, a place where you felt like you had belonged once in a past life. Letting out a small hum you nodded your head and smiled. “Sure, can’t turn down a good exhibit can I?”.

Your words seemed to delight the young male, a happy smile bright on his face as you both continued to walk to meet your friends. The spirit watched as he pondered over your words, a smirk appearing on his features. He guessed it wouldn’t hurt to give you a chance to help him, Yugi trusted you immensely with major stuff in his life and besides, he couldn’t shake the feeling that you were familiar to him in some way.

© springismss - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.

Tested By Time - Prologue 🌻

series summary; what happens when time suddenly decides to feed you snippets of a life you can’t remember living? a life filled with joy and happiness that was cruelly ripped away - your mind plagued with just that. when a certain spirit is plagued by these memories as well, he’s just as confused as you. two hearts brought together through many millennia find they’re connected in more ways than one.

pairing; Yami Yugi/Atem x female! reader

reblogs/feedback/likes are appreciated & encouraged. DO NOT repost/steal any of my works.

chapter warnings; implied death

chapter word count; 1.5k+

chapter summary; when dreams of what has happened to the once queen of Egypt have been plaguing for months, each one feeling more real than the next - this one, the most real one yet.

links; series masterlist | 1 | 2 | 3

A gentle hum of chatter carried on the soft breeze in a bustling Egyptian village. Vendors sold goods of all kinds from food to clothes, and everything in between. The laughter of children could be heard ever so slightly above the chatter as they ran around, carefree of the life they lived. Making the most of who they were with and what they had.

The smaller child of the group looked up towards the palace that stood like a fancy decoration against the blue sky, more so to the balcony where the Pharaoh and his new Queen had been presented only a week ago. The festivities had only just died down, much to the disappointment of a few as they could go on for many more moons to come. Their eyes caught a glimpse of a figure standing there, quietly observing the village and everyone below.

"Hey! Look! It's the Queen!".

The other children that were running around stopped in their tracks and gazed up in the direction their friend was pointing, cheering and waving to the figure. From her position on the balcony, the new Queen tilted her head slightly before she let out a small giggle and waved back, much to the delight of the small group.

It had only been a week since she and the Pharaoh had wed and had been presented as the new King and Queen of Egypt. To say she couldn't be any happier even if she tried right now was an understatement. She was adored not only by her husband but by the people of their country. Something that warmed her deeply.  The feeling of strong arms wrapping around her waist caused her to shift her gaze, blinking in surprise when she met another's eyes. An ever so soft and small kiss was placed on her cheek causing her to smile, leaning further back into the body behind her. "Here you are my love, I thought you were hiding from me".

The words made her smile as she turned, coming face to face with the person who had joined her, her hand resting on the male's chest. Leaning up, she placed a soft kiss on his lips before resting her other hand on his arm. Taking a moment to enjoy the feeling of being back in her lover's arms and away from the bustle of the palace. "How could I hide from you my Pharaoh? Call me selfish but I wanted to see the view again. Besides, I think I made some children very happy".

The young King tilted his head in slight confusion at her words before he found himself guided to look at the village below. The same kids were still waving as the pair waved back, earning louder cheers as the small group ran off. Much to the delight of the Queen. No doubt they were off to tell their parents what had happened. "See, I told you. Aren't they adorable? They get so much joy from seeing us acknowledge them".

The silence around the pair was comfortable and felt right. Soft kisses soon littered the young woman's neck as she bit her lip, chewing back the sinful sounds that wanted to escape. Her hand slipped down and gripped the side of the tunic the young King wore. Her eyes closed for a moment as she felt herself starting to slip, and once that happened, they both knew it wouldn't be long before they were disappearing from the sight of others. "Hmmm, what seems to be the problem, my King?".

The kisses soon seized as the head of the young King rested on her shoulder as he hummed out for a moment. An inner battle made him wonder if he should tell her or not. Of course, they'd known each other for many years, playing together as children and watching the other grow into who they were now. Yet this though was one of the more nerve-racking ones he had. "I was just thinking about the kind of mother you'd be to our children".

A soft yet playful elbow in his gut made the Pharaoh laugh as he turned his wife around to face him, arms holding her close as he took in the fake shocked look on her face.  "Are you suggesting you'd like me to be with child, ---?".

The young male blushed and stuttered a little, trying to find a way to justify his words or find something else to talk about causing his wife to giggle at his sudden shyness. The sheer delight she had in her eyes made him relax, words were no longer needed as they both stood looking at each other. "———, relax please. I told you I'm ready whenever you are. Nothing would make me happier".

Gentle kisses to her forehead made her smile, her eyes closing to enjoy the closeness again. Everything was perfect. She couldn't have asked for a better life even if she tried. Sure there were those who still objected to the two of them being together, that the young King deserved some Princess from another Kingdom as it would not only strengthen the bonds of the Kingdom but ensure the bloodline remained pure. Of course, their words got to her, given she was a lowly commoner until a few moons ago when she was introduced as the soon-to-be wife of the Pharaoh. None of that mattered right now as long as she had her husband by her side. Not their words, their cruel remarks, their looks. She had everything she needed and more in front of her.

The sudden rumble of the ground caused the two to quickly part, cracks slowly becoming visible beneath the pair. Soon pieces of brick began to fall, creating a gap between the two lovers.

A sudden low yet loud rumble of the ground caused the two figures to quickly part, eyes glancing down as cracks slowly became visible beneath the pair. Pieces of brick began to fall, creating a small gap between the two of them. Eyes cast down as the rumble seemed to shake the young Queen to the core,  her eyes widening as the flooring beneath her gave way.

Everything seemed to slow down as she felt her body falling, everything passing in a blur as her hand reached up, fingers brushing with the hand she tried to cling to. The last noise she heard above her screams was the agonising cry of her husband who slowly vanished from her view until all she saw was the darkness. That darkness that they had been told about since time began.

The scream seemed to echo around you as you jolted up, sheets gathering loosely around your waist as you breathed heavily, heart racing wildly threatening to tear through your very chest with each beat. Placing a hand over where your heart was you tried to calm yourself with deep breaths as you closed your eyes again. Trying to make sense of everything that had happened. Just like the dreams you'd have falling asleep, where you felt like you were falling and jolt suddenly, this one had felt a little too real at the end.

For weeks, if not months, you had been plagued by these dreams each one seeming more real than the one before it. Each night you had one, you'd wake in a mess, panting and sweating with whatever you had covering you in a crumpled mess somewhere between the lower half of your body and the bottom of the bed. At first, you thought it was down to the heat in the room as well as an overactive imagination but the more it happened, the less plausible your idea seemed. It was hard to describe but each one seemed physically real. Like you were there then you weren't. The actions of the person whose eyes you were looking through were your own but at the same time, they weren't.

Another strange thing about these dreams was the male who you often saw. You couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was someone you knew yet, for whatever reason, he remained a stranger to you. Then there was his name, whenever you seemed to speak it in these dreams it came out in silence. That struck you as odd but the male seemed to respond to it meaning he heard it every time it was spoken. Letting out a soft sigh, you pushed what remained of the blankets back and slipped out of bed, walking over to your desk. There lay a journal, a journal that you kept all of the recent happenings in to help you try and make sense of what was going on at some point further down the road. Grabbing a pan, you quickly jotted down a log of what you could remember before closing the cover and placing the pen back.

Glancing at the clock on your table you noticed it wouldn't be long before you had to get ready for your day. Stretching you sighed softly at the small pops and cracks you felt, your mind and body feeling more awake as you decided to get ready and make a head start on what was to come. As you dressed you hummed a tune to yourself your mind forgetting what had occurred during your sleep.As you walked out the door, you locked it behind you and made your way to school, unaware of another being haunted by dreams of life once passed.

© springismss - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.

Tested By Time / Series Masterlist 🌻

series summary; what happens when time suddenly decides to feed you snippets of a life you can’t remember living? a life filled with joy and happiness that was cruelly ripped away - your mind plagued with just that. when a certain spirit is plagued by these memories as well, he’s just as confused as you. two hearts brought together through many millennia find they’re connected in more ways than one.

pairing; Yami Yugi/Atem x !fem! reader

series word count; 5.5k+

series warnings; strays from anime/manga, language, mention(s) of/implied blood, mention(s) of/implied death, manga/season 0 canon violence, gore, mention(s) of/implied sex, sexual harassment, drinking, generalised nsfw content

a/n; an old series that i first published back in my wattpad days. i fell out of love with the fandom due to some stupid stuff but over time, i rejoined and decided to bring this back. will be updated whenever i can. enjoy!

link; masterlist

❦ prologue

❦ chapter i

❦ chapter ii

❦ chapter iii

iv - coming soon

series playlist; coming soon

© springismss - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.

Sweet Dreams - a. alnazar

a/n; everyone loves this magician, so what would nighttime and falling asleep next to him be like? this little headcanon post is what i imagine it would be like.

pairing; Asra Alnazar x !gender neutral! reader

reblogs/feedback/likes are appreciated & encouraged. DO NOT repost/steal any of my works.

warnings; n/a

word count; 470

headcanon; Nighttime/Falling Asleep

image credit; yakina (via deviantart)

links; The Arcana Masterlist | Masterlist

© springismss - don’t repost, copy, translate, steal or modify.

Likes to have a cup of Sweet Sleep tea, especially after a stressful and long day. Says it to help him relax but you know it’s not - he’s terrible at sleeping when it’s been like that.

His voice is softer than normal when talking to you during this time. Which is something you’ve grown to love because it makes you relax more than your normal routine.

Loves to give you back and shoulder rubs to make you more relaxed than is physically and mentally possible. Tries to slip in a few touches in places he knows will help more.

Finished his massages with fingers stroking through your hair. Both temple and cheek kisses linger for a second with soft lulling hums.

Lip kisses that linger for a few seconds longer than normal as your chuckles sound out. With warm arms encasing you in a loving embrace, fingers drawing patterns on bare skin.

Loses himself in conversation with you, talking about both your days and what the next one holds for you both.

Wraps the blanket around you a little more than you already are. He doesn't want you becoming cold or sick. Not that he or Julian wouldn’t be able to help cure you but he’d much rather you not get sick in the first place.

Smiles as his familiar, Faust, flicks her tongue out in your direction, a small bop on your heads as her way of saying “goodnight”.

A soft smile appears on his face as wraps an arm around you. Closing his eye with a soft last hum. His familiar curling up at the bottom of you both. “Good night, Faust".

Rests your head under his chin as he pulls you closer. Savouring the feeling of your body fitting against his. Despite what others say about him, he's happy just cuddling you.

Waits until he knows you’ve fallen asleep before he allows himself to give in to his own tiredness. Would stay awake all night if his body would let him.

Dreams are filled with all the plans and hopes he has regarding you two and your future together. Some are downright cheesy. While others would rot your soul, in a good way.

Isn’t much of a mover in his sleep. Does twitch occasionally while he talks/mummers.

Says he’s a soft snorer but you disagree. Poor Faust has slithered away to a quiet area just to get some rest.

Asra with bed hair is the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen, even though you do tease him about it whenever you get a moment to.

Could stay in bed all day if he was allowed to. He just wants to stay in your company with no care in the world.

Always wishes for the day to hurry up so he can fall asleep with you again.

⋆˚࿔ morning hues

waking up with the mha boys !

— includes : kirishima, kaminari, sero & shinsou (in that order)

contains: f!reader implied, around 0.3k words each,fluff, established relationship (sorry i’m a sucker for romance) suggestive if you squint, usage baby + babe used, light swearing

authors note: my first drabbles ever guys how are we feeling ! can you guys tell who’s my favorite lolol

also here’s a link to the pose kirishimas is cus idk if i described it well enough haha

⋆˚࿔ e.kirishima

eijiro is a light sleeper. so whenever you begin to shuffle in your sleep, your eyes slowly fluttering open, so does he.

when he finally does find himself fully conscious he immediately pulls you closer to him, yearning for your warmth. his big arms wrapped around your neck and his body pressed flush against yours.

“goodmorning baby.” his voice is rugged, eyes still closed as he places a delicate kiss on the outer shell of your ear.

you maneuver your head up so you can whisper out a small “morning.” before placing a kiss on his forearm. he flexes, pretending to choke you with his muscle. you giggle as your hand moves up to caress his biceps, a sign of appreciation.

he’s smiling, though you can’t see it, you just know. “how’d my girl sleep?” he asks, like he has been every single morning since you’ve gotten together. you’ll never get bored of it.

this is how you spend most early mornings. in bed together, waiting for the sunlight to stream through the bedroom window.

eijiro releases you from his grip, moving to gently rubbing your back as you recall the dream you had that night. you boldly explain the actions from your dream as he passionately listens, making additional comments along the way.

“hmm, yeah? that’s nice baby.” he coos into your ear as his hands rub up and down your shoulder, kisses being periodically planted on your skin.

when the words “i have to get ready.” would eventually escape your lips eijiro would insist you stay in bed a bit longer, he’d even ‘fight’ you for it.

his arms are propped up on either side of your face as he peppers kisses over your giggling face. “eiji, please,” you say between short breaths “i have to get ready for work!”

“i don’t want you to go,” he’d whine, only promising to let you go if you give him another kiss 🩷

⋆˚࿔ d.kaminari

“denki.” you complain for the fifth time. the golden haired boy, whose head is resting on your upper chest, remains still. you watch as his chest rises and falls with every breath, his brows occasionally furrowing. you sigh.

denki is a deep sleeper. usually he wakes up in the early afternoon (though if you two had a long night he could sleep until the late afternoon!!) he’s doesn’t like to admit it but you both know that his sleep schedule is so ass.

“babeee.” you groan. though you really enjoyed the view you also really had to get to work.

finally, he moves. “hmmm?” a low groan escapes his lips. he turns, attempting to bury himself into the crook of your neck.

you take time to drink in the image of your sleeping boyfriend as he nuzzles himself into you. you let out another sigh, this one holding less tension than the first. “kami.” you say, sweetly. your hands find their way to the base of his neck and your fingers slowly climbing up to play with his hair. his grip on you tightens, fingers digging into the side of your waist.

“i have to get up now, okay?” you place a soft kiss onto his sun dyed hair.

you wait a few seconds for a verbal reply and to your surprise (not really) you began to feel a wet patch forming on your neck. “denki.” you dead pan.

“yes y/n?” his eyes are sparking as he looks up at you, feigning innocence.

“that’s not going to work on me again dumbass.” you sit up and ruffle his hair, laughing sweetly at his attempt to keep you in bed.

“but baby-“ he starts to whine as he sits up as well.

when you get off your shared bed you finally see how disheveled he is. his shirt is a wrinkled mess, not to mention it’s slightly riding up his stomach. he’s blinking his eyes, very clearly trying to wake himself up. you bask in his beauty, a smile creeping up on your face.

“i have to get ready, really denks,” you try to put on a stern voice, but it’s hard to leave your boy.

“can you at least turn around before you go?” he ask as with a pout.

your brow cocks at the question. though it is a weird request, it’s your boyfriend request. so you oblige. “happy?” you ask, glancing back from your shoulder to examine the expression on his face.

his eyes are lit up and locked onto your body. “yeah,” his says, a dorky smile on his face as he lays back down. “so happy” he giggles, his voice dreamy.

he falls back asleep not too long after that, his dreams full of you.

⋆˚࿔ h.sero

when you sleep with your boyfriend, hanta, you often find yourself waking up comfortably tucked into the corner of his elbow.

surprisingly, hanta is an early bird and is up with the sun on most days. he likes to spend mornings getting ready together so he usually finds himself staying in bed scrolling on his phone while waiting for you to wake up.

when he sees your sleeping figure finally rise to life he can’t help but tease you a bit.

you attempt to rub the sleep away from your eyes as you turn over on your boyfriend's arm. when you finally open your eyes you’re met with a big grin plastered on the raven haired boy's face.

“look who’s finally awake,” he sings, his tone is teasing, but holding no real sting to it. he tucks his arm in, bringing you closer.

“goodmorning to you too hanta,” you say in a low voice, not being awake enough to play along with his playful attitude.

his face tilts to your reaction, noticing your low energy. he lets out a low hum before leaning to bite your cheek “sorry ma,” he mutters as he pulls away. “i meant to say, goodmorning beautiful,” he corrects.

you can’t help it as a smile creeps up on your face. he always knew exactly how to cheer you up. you bite the inside of your cheek as the outside burns a crimson color.

“such a tease,” you pout as your body moves to hover over his. you tilt your head up to kiss along his jawline, ready to get payback. he lets out a satisfied hum as his hand makes his way to your lower back, possessively laying there.

“y/n,” he starts, his voice is soft. he closes his eyes as his eyebrows knit together. you travel from his jawline down to his neck. he shutters when your soft lips touch his skin, as if you put him under a lovestruck spell.

“hmm?” you mumble from his neck. he opens his eyes to see yours locked onto his, their reflections toying with innocence.

he bites back the smile on his lips as his head falls back onto his pillow, his eyes falling closed once more.

when you pull away from his neck he lets out an airy laugh. “evil,” he says, peeking down at you as you laugh at him.

“that’s what you get,” you giggle.

his hands quickly find their way to you. he’s now holding your face in his hands, “you’re cute,” he breathes out as he squeezes your face, finally leaning in for a proper kiss.

“ready to get up now?”

⋆˚࿔ h.shinsou

hitoshi knows the tell-tale signs of you waking up. he’s seen it so many times before. the way your face scrunches when the sunlight hits your eye. the way your lips fall open while intelligible mutters slip from your mouth.

so hitoshi waits. he doesn’t mind waiting anymore. not when you're lying on his chest, practically on display just for him. it’s all finally worth it when your muttering comes to a stop and your eyes slowly open.

you tilt your head up, your sleepy eyes meeting hitoshis. your boyfriends typically weary eyes are soft and tender as his gaze dances down your body.

“goodmorning,” he says in that deep voice that makes you feel so weak. he rubs your arm as you let out a relieved sigh.

“morning toshi,” you reply with a small smile. “switch?” you offer him.

hitoshi was quick to nods so you switch positions; toshi now sprawled out across your chest as you laid on your back underneath him. your hands raced to his hair, pushing his lavender locs back and massaging his scalp. the soft mewl of contentment he lets out makes your skin feel hot. “you sleep at all?” you ask, mostly to calm yourself down.

“like three, maybe four hours?” he said with shrug as if he was trying to downplay the situation. he dipped his head low, not knowing you could see the tip of his ears color themselves pink.

“not bad,” you say, placing a kiss to the crown of his head.

okay, maybe he hadn’t told you how he’s been sleeping way better because you're by his side. maybe he couldn’t handle hearing you say how proud of him while you kiss him all over. maybe he couldn’t handle how cute you’d look with a smile that big on your face.

yeah, he definitely couldn’t handle that. not yet.

he’s not new to your shared morning routine, but for some reason seeing you tousled up next to him in bed, early in the morning, still manages to make his heart race.

"Thirty More Minutes..."

a/n: this is my first drabble/fic (?) im a little scared but we ball so... hope you enjoy

p.s: the smut felt so stiff so I got rid of it T_T

“Babe.” 

“Thirty more minutes.”

And yeah, you would've been fine with ‘thirty more minutes’ if this hadn't been the fourth time Choso had said it.

You loved Choso with all your heart, but god you wished you had never bought him this new gaming setup.

At first it was nice, Choso was loving up on you more than he usually did (if that's even possible) in the first week of him receiving his gift but after that it just went…downhill.

It started off with him staying up later into the night, and then it became you waking up to him not even in your shared bed.

You were getting ticked off. You can't even remember the last time the both of you had even had a semblance to a make-out session. Nothing.

“Choso.” You said slowly but loud enough for him to hear through his headphones.

Without even looking up from his game he swiftly slid one earphone behind his ear and sat up slightly, “Huh?” He hummed out, faint clicking from his mouse could be heard as well.

“I want you to get off the game soon, please?” You said with a slight whine beginning to arise in your tone.

He cleaned his throat before mumbling something along the lines of “Be right back…” into his mic before letting out a sigh and swiveling his chair around to face you.

“M’ sorry baby, just been playing around with Satoru and the rest of them.” He mumbled before taking the opportunity to stretch in his chair with a deep groan.

Your lips quirked up slightly in the newfound attention you've received, “Come give me a kiss right quick?” You asked sweetly with a sly undertone.

He nodded in approval before getting up and leaning in, planning to give you a small peck before heading back to his game. Planning.

Before he could pull back you took the opportunity to deepen the kiss with a content moan.

Choso’s brows raised before he smiled slightly into the kiss and placed his hands on both sides of your body on the bed.

“Baby”,  kiss , “Thirty more”, kiss ,”Minutes.” He stated in between your peppered kisses.

You stubbornly shook your head and placed your hands on both sides of his jaw, “You've been saying that all day. Let me have this.” You said softly with furrowed brows.

His face softened before he let out a small laugh, “I know… but just one more ga-” Choso was cut off by your swift movement to resume your make-out session, this time sticking your tongue out and brushing it against his lips, as if you were silently asking him to open up.

He let out a muffled moan before sighing slightly and leaning into the kiss, opening his mouth and proceeding to suck on your tongue.

You let out soft moan and wrapped your arms around his neck happily, your breathing getting heavier.

He let out a quiet groan before pulling back, “Okay just -” He turned back to look back at his monitor.

“Mm…I’ll call it a night…” He murmured quietly before planting a gentle kiss on your forehead and getting up.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him walk over to his pc and shutting it off; a sly grin beginning to grace your face.

Finally.

blowin buggy and afterwards your tongue is stained like blue raspberry

gotta spit out the bits of sand after giving croccy a nice succ

mihawk-tuah

Hi koli i saw your request were open and was wondering if you could do a Tokyo revengers x reader (final timeline) where they have a baby and they say their first word with preferably: chifyuy, kazutora, baji, mikey, izana, rindou, shinichiro and any others you would like to include

۶ৎ. Babies First.

Tokyo Revenger Boys.

۶ৎ auth: ahhhh omg my first request in like so long, I’m actually so excited to work on this!!! Feel free to request any anime, show or movie, and any character!! :) I might make a taglist.

۶ৎ Summary: After so much back and forth to fix the feature, you’ve finally settled down—and finally had a baby. The joys of parenthood only continue and your baby says their first words.

۶ৎ: sfw | scenario | fem reader | babies/parenthood | fluff | time skipped | implied poc reader, though you could ignore the information that doesn't fit you.

۶ৎ Characters Included: Chifuyu Matsuno, Kazutora Hanemiya, Baji Keisuke, Manjiro (Mikey) Sano, Izana Kurokawa, Rindou Haitani, Shinichiro Sano, Kokonoi Hajime, Ken Ryuguji.

۶ৎChifuyu Matsuno

It’s an ordinary evening, and Chifuyu sits with the baby on his lap, his calm, logical demeanor softened by the tiny bundle in his arms. His black undercut, neatly styled, contrasts with the gentle warmth that radiates from him as he softly coos at the little one, a sense of peace enveloping the moment. The baby’s big, curious eyes stare up at him, the faintest glimmer of recognition in their gaze.

You’re nearby, watching quietly from the kitchen, as usual, keeping a close eye on the small family gathering. The baby shifts slightly in Chifuyu’s arms, their little hands reaching out, exploring, unsure of the world but finding comfort in the familiar presence of their father.

Chifuyu looks at the baby, a tender smile creeping across his face. He’s normally so composed, always the steady one, but this… this softens him, makes him feel an unfamiliar kind of warmth. “Come on,” he murmurs softly, “say something for me.”

The baby babbles incoherently for a moment, small giggles escaping their lips as they grab hold of his finger, wrapping their tiny hand around it like it’s the most important thing in the world. Chifuyu chuckles, shaking his head softly. “You’re as stubborn as your mom,” he says under his breath, smiling at the thought of you.

Then, suddenly, the baby’s little voice breaks the silence. It’s not a full word, but there’s a clear attempt to speak. “Da-da!” the baby declares proudly, their voice high-pitched but full of delight. Chifuyu freezes for a moment, his face lighting up with surprise, a hint of pride showing in his usually calm features.

You, hearing the unexpected word, laugh softly from your spot, watching the exchange. Chifuyu’s usual composed self cracks for a brief moment as he stares down at the baby in awe. “Did… did you just say ‘Dada’?” he asks, though it’s clear he’s delighted.

The baby repeats it again, this time with even more enthusiasm, “Da-da!” Chifuyu shakes his head, a small laugh escaping his lips. “Guess I’ll take that as a victory.”

You walk over quietly, your heart swelling at the sight of Chifuyu, who’s always so composed, now with the smallest of smiles, cradling their child with complete adoration. The baby, seeing you, reaches out with their tiny arms, making a soft noise of recognition.

“Looks like you’ve got competition,” you tease, leaning against the doorframe, your voice light and playful.

Chifuyu’s face turns slightly red, his calm demeanor returning, though the smile still lingers. “It’s just a fluke,” he mutters, though it’s clear he’s overjoyed. The baby giggles again, the sound filling the room, and Chifuyu leans in, pressing a soft kiss to their forehead. “I can’t believe you said ‘Dada’ first,” he murmurs, his voice low and full of affection.

The baby, oblivious to the momentous occasion, just giggles again, content in the safety of their father’s arms. It’s a simple, tender moment, but to Chifuyu, it’s everything.

۶ৎKazutora Hanemiya

The air is still, heavy with the calm that comes with the evening as Kazutora sits on the couch, a small, fragile smile on his face as he looks down at the baby resting in his arms. His long, black hair, streaked with yellow, falls lazily over his shoulders, the strands a contrast to the tenderness with which he holds the child. There’s an unfamiliar peace in his expression, a quiet moment of solace after all the chaos that’s filled his life. His usually volatile demeanor seems distant as he looks at the little one, their soft breaths the only sound between them.

You’re just a few steps away, your presence like a gentle echo in the background, keeping watch as Kazutora carefully adjusts the baby in his arms, the kind of delicate handling that surprises even him. He’s never been one for softness, always pushing against the world with a hardness that left little room for gentleness—until now. He looks down, eyes tracing the baby’s tiny hands, the little fingers wrapped around his own with surprising strength.

The baby stirs, their wide eyes blinking up at him, and Kazutora’s breath catches slightly in his chest. For a moment, it’s as if everything else—the turmoil, the chaos, the memories—fades into the background, leaving only this quiet exchange between father and child.

Kazutora’s voice is soft, almost hesitant as he speaks to the baby, a far cry from the manic energy he once carried. “Hey, little one… can you say something for me?” he murmurs, his voice filled with a quiet kind of longing, though it’s not for the world outside—it’s for this fragile connection he never thought he would have.

The baby, in their own way, tries to respond, making gurgling noises that grow into more distinct sounds. Kazutora watches in silent anticipation, a rare, genuine smile creeping onto his face as the baby’s mouth moves again. It’s almost as if they’ve been waiting for the right moment to speak.

Then, with a bright, innocent giggle, the baby suddenly blurts out a word, though it’s not what Kazutora expected. “Dada!” they say, the sound coming out in a clear, high-pitched tone.

Kazutora freezes, his eyes wide in disbelief for a second. His heart lurches unexpectedly in his chest, and he looks down at the baby as though they’ve just given him the most precious gift. His expression softens, a deep and almost bittersweet tenderness settling in his gaze. “Dada…” he repeats under his breath, as though trying to wrap his mind around it. There’s a tremor in his voice, something raw and vulnerable that he doesn’t often let surface.

You can’t help but smile as you watch the moment unfold, the baby’s innocent giggle filling the room, unaware of the weight they’ve just placed on Kazutora’s heart. Kazutora’s fingers twitch slightly as he holds them closer, his past, his pain, his regret all swirling beneath the surface of this simple, unexpected moment.

The baby, sensing the comfort of Kazutora’s embrace, reaches up with their tiny hands, trying to grab at his face. Kazutora laughs softly, the sound foreign yet warm as he leans into the baby’s touch. “You’re gonna make me soft, huh?” he mutters, though there’s no bitterness in his words—only a quiet affection.

You step forward then, offering him a soft, knowing glance. Kazutora looks up, his eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, everything between the two of you seems to settle. There’s a flicker of something deeper in his gaze, something that says more than words ever could.

Kazutora’s voice breaks the silence, still low and almost tender. “I never thought I’d be here, y’know? This… this feels different.”

You smile gently, watching him with the baby in his arms, a sense of peace settling over you both. The moment is fleeting, but it’s a reminder—Kazutora, despite his past, is finding something he never thought he deserved.

۶ৎBaji Keisuke

The night is quiet, the soft hum of the streetlights casting a dim glow in the room where Baji sits, his wild, untamed jet-black hair falling to his shoulders in loose waves. His usual grin is absent for the moment, replaced by a look of calm as he watches the baby in his arms, who is squirming lightly, their little hands reaching up as if trying to make sense of the world around them. There’s an intensity in Baji’s eyes, but it’s not the usual fire of a fight—it’s something softer, something that only surfaces when he’s with his family.

You stand by the doorway, leaning against the frame, quietly watching the scene unfold. Baji, who is always full of energy, the type to jump into action at any given moment, seems almost frozen in this moment, the wild spark in his eyes replaced by a rare tenderness as he holds the baby close to his chest.

The baby gurgles softly, their small face scrunching in curiosity as they look up at him. Baji’s lips twitch into a small smile, but it’s different than his usual mischievous grin—it’s something warmer, more protective. “What’s going on in that head of yours, huh?” he murmurs, his voice low and warm, though a hint of his usual playful nature is still there.

The baby babbles in response, their little voice almost a melody as they stare at Baji with wide, innocent eyes. And then, as if on a whim, the baby utters a word. It’s clear and unambiguous, the word they’ve been practicing, but it’s not what Baji expected.

“Dada!” The word rings out, not perfectly clear, but undeniably present.

Baji’s eyes widen, and for a moment, his usual grin falters, replaced by something almost vulnerable. He looks down at the baby, his hand resting gently against their tiny back, and the slightest breath escapes him. His fingers twitch as if unsure how to react to the sudden surge of emotion he didn’t anticipate. His heart pounds, a rush of warmth flooding through him, and despite all his bravado, there’s a crack in the tough exterior.

You smile, stepping a little closer to them, your heart swelling at the sight. “Looks like you’ve got a little fan there,” you tease softly.

Baji’s grin slowly returns, though it’s softer now, not the usual wild energy that so often defines him, but something more intimate. He leans down, his sharp canine teeth flashing briefly as he chuckles under his breath, the sound light and full of affection. “Yeah, I guess so.” He says it with his usual swagger, but it’s evident that something about the moment has shifted. This isn’t a victory he expected, but it’s a victory that matters more than any battle.

The baby reaches up toward his face, their tiny fingers brushing against his cheek, and Baji’s heart skips a beat. He looks at you for a moment, a wordless exchange between the two of you, before he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to the baby’s forehead. “Good job,” he mutters, his voice soft but steady.

You can’t help but watch the moment unfold with a quiet admiration. Baji, the wild, adrenaline-fueled force of nature, has just experienced something that slows him down, something that pulls him out of the chaos of the world and into a simple, pure connection. The baby giggles, their tiny hands grasping for his hair, and Baji laughs too, the sound genuine and full of joy.

For a brief moment, the world outside seems distant, and all that matters is the little family in that room—the wild heart of Baji, softened and made whole in the presence of his child.

۶ৎManjiro (Mikey) Sano

Mikey sits in the quiet of the living room, the soft hum of the clock the only sound besides the gentle breath of the baby in his arms. His short, dark hair is parted neatly at the middle, the weight of the world outside this moment temporarily forgotten. The familiar carefree energy that Mikey is known for seems absent now, replaced by a tenderness he rarely shows. He’s holding the little one close, his hands steady and secure around them, the once-unshakable pillar of Toman now softened by something unexpected.

The baby stirs in his arms, their small face scrunching in confusion as they try to adjust to the world around them. Mikey watches them with a faint smile, though there’s something more complex behind his eyes. The carefree grin that usually defines him is replaced by a quiet focus, a vulnerability that he seldom allows others to see. His heart is heavy with thoughts of the past, of everything he’s lost, but in this moment, the baby offers him something pure, something he hasn’t had in a long time—peace.

The baby’s tiny hand reaches up, grasping for the fabric of his suit, their tiny fingers curling in and out as if trying to touch something they don’t fully understand yet. Mikey’s breath catches in his chest, his gaze softening. He can feel the warmth of their small body, the innocent trust they place in him without question, and for a moment, it feels like the weight of his own burdens lifts just slightly.

“Mama?” The baby says, the word coming out softly but unmistakably.

Mikey freezes. The sound is far from perfect, the baby’s voice still nasally and unsure, but it’s clear enough, and Mikey’s heart skips a beat. He blinks down at the child, his expression flickering between surprise and a strange tenderness, something unfamiliar and soft that he never expected to experience. His hand twitches, fingers tightening around the baby instinctively as if protecting them from the world outside.

You, standing nearby, catch his gaze, the understanding between the two of you unspoken. Mikey clears his throat, the faintest hint of a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he glances at you, trying to regain some of his usual bravado. “Guess that’s not the word I was hoping for,” he says, his tone playful, though there’s a depth to it, a warmth he’s not used to showing.

The baby reaches up again, this time grasping Mikey’s finger, their touch delicate yet insistent. Mikey smiles softly, the usual coldness in his eyes replaced with something warmer, something that speaks to the weight of the love he’s learning to give. “It’s okay, little one,” he murmurs, almost to himself. “Maybe next time, huh?”

He presses a gentle kiss to the baby’s forehead, his lips lingering just a little longer than necessary. The moment feels suspended in time, as if the world around him has faded and all that matters is this—the small, fragile life in his arms and the quiet peace they’ve brought him, in spite of everything he’s carried.

You step closer, watching the scene with a soft smile of your own. Mikey looks up at you then, his expression still soft, but now there’s a flicker of something deeper in his eyes. He may have once carried a darkness that threatened to consume him, but here, now, with his child in his arms, that darkness feels far away, as if for a brief moment, he can just be… Mikey. The Mikey who is a child at heart, who’s capable of tenderness and love even amidst the weight of his past.

With a soft chuckle, Mikey leans back slightly, his hand still holding the baby close as he looks at you with a playful glint in his eyes. “You heard that, right?” he asks, his voice teasing but there’s something vulnerable in it too. “They said ‘mama.’ Guess I’m off the hook for now.”

You laugh, the sound light and full of warmth. Mikey’s grin widens just a little, and though it’s not the wild grin of a fighter or leader, it’s something just as genuine—something that feels like a promise, a reassurance that even with all the darkness he’s faced, he’s finding light again. And maybe, just maybe, this little one is part of that light.

۶ৎIzana Kurokawa

Izana sits in the dimly lit room, the soft hum of a guitar string resonating in the air. His large purple eyes, usually cold and calculating, are softened by the warmth of the baby in his arms. His wavy hair falls gently around his face, the strands catching the light as he adjusts the baby’s tiny body against his chest, the faint scent of plants and the soft ripple of water from the fish tank nearby offering a peaceful backdrop to an otherwise chaotic life. He had never imagined this—holding a child, one so small, so fragile in his arms. His usual detachment feels muted, replaced by a strange sense of responsibility, a sensation he’s never quite allowed himself to experience before.

The baby stirs in his arms, eyes blinking open and gaze unfocused, their small hands reaching out in curiosity. Izana’s usual composure doesn’t waver, but the faintest trace of tenderness lingers in his gaze as he watches the child, something unfamiliar surfacing beneath the layers of bitterness and coldness he’s built over the years.

The baby makes a small noise, a soft whine, their lips twitching as they try to vocalize something. Izana tilts his head slightly, his eyes narrowing, waiting. His fingers gently caress the baby’s back, an instinctive gesture of care that surprises even him. In the silence of the room, a soft and tentative word escapes the baby’s lips. It’s not quite clear, but the intention is unmistakable.

“Dada.”

Izana freezes. His grip on the guitar tightens for a brief moment, his eyes blinking as he processes the sound, the word hanging in the air like a sudden, unexpected shift in his world. It’s simple—just one word—but for someone like Izana, who has spent most of his life surrounded by cold, violence, and manipulation, hearing such a soft and innocent utterance stirs something deep within him.

A flash of his past flashes through his mind—the loneliness, the bitterness that once consumed him. He had never felt a connection to anyone, certainly not like this. He had always been the one to push people away, to make himself unapproachable, but here, in this moment, the baby’s small hand wraps around his finger, their soft grip a reminder of something pure, something he had lost long ago—the ability to care without expecting anything in return.

He exhales slowly, his face betraying nothing but the faintest softness that only the baby could elicit from him. His hand gently lifts the child, their eyes still wide with curiosity, before he leans in close, pressing a soft kiss to their forehead.

“Dada, huh?” Izana murmurs, his voice quiet but not without a hint of amusement, the corners of his lips turning upward in a small, unexpected smile. It’s a rare sight, one that doesn’t appear often, but in the quiet presence of the baby, it feels more natural than anything he’s ever known. “Guess I’m not as bad as I thought,” he adds softly, almost to himself.

You, standing nearby, watch the scene unfold with a knowing smile. Izana doesn’t often allow anyone to witness such moments, but here, now, with the child in his arms, the pieces of his past—the anger, the bitterness—seem to fade into the background, if only for a moment. Izana looks up at you then, his eyes softer than usual, as if silently asking for your approval, for reassurance that he’s doing this right. That he’s not as lost as he often feels.

He doesn’t say anything more, but the warmth in his eyes speaks volumes. The man who once sought power, control, and dominance has now found something far more valuable—a sense of purpose, a bond he never thought he would have. As he looks down at the baby, his grip tightening slightly around them.

۶ৎRindou Haitani

Rindou sat on the floor of the living room, legs stretched out, his back against the couch, the afternoon sun casting long shadows through the windows. His pinkish-purple mullet, with its dark blue roots and tips, was damp from a shower, strands falling messily around his face. He had a lazy, almost indifferent expression as he stared at his phone, absently scrolling, but his free hand rested on the baby seated between his legs, offering a steady support as they clumsily played with a soft, squeaky toy.

The baby babbled, gnawing on the corner of the plush thing, drool soaking it thoroughly. Rindou, ever stoic, just watched, raising an eyebrow whenever the squeak got too loud. His black stud earrings caught the light, a stark contrast to the rough Bonten insignia tattoo inked boldly across his neck.

“You’re gonna drown in your own spit,” Rindou muttered, lifting the baby gently by their underarms, pulling them up into a wobbly stand on his thighs. The child stared back at him, wide-eyed, chubby cheeks flushed. Their little fists grabbed at his shirt, seeking balance, and for a moment, there was a quiet exchange—a softness that rarely found its way into Rindou’s life.

The baby blinked, their gaze fixed on Rindou’s face with intense concentration, like they were processing something far too big for their small brain. And then, out of nowhere, they let out a small, clear sound.

“Dada.”

Rindou froze.

The word was soft, tentative, but unmistakable. His blue-gray eyes snapped to the baby’s face, as though he wasn’t sure if he’d actually heard it. His normally stoic expression cracked, a rare flicker of surprise flashing across his sharp features.

“What…?”

The baby blinked again, almost as if testing the sound, and with a little more confidence, repeated it.

“Dada.”

This time, it wasn’t a fluke.

For a solid five seconds, Rindou just stared. The usual snarky, blasé attitude was nowhere to be found—his mouth slightly open, the baby still gripping his shirt tightly, unaware they’d just done something monumental.

A scoff broke the silence, but it was soft, almost disbelieving. “… No way.”

He tried to play it cool—but there was no hiding the way his lips twitched, threatening to pull into a smile.

“You’ve got shitty taste in first words,” he murmured, lifting the baby higher until their noses nearly touched. The baby, delighted with their new word, kicked their legs happily and repeated, “Dada,” with even more enthusiasm, like they knew they’d hit gold.

Rindou exhaled sharply through his nose, something warm and unfamiliar blooming in his chest. He glanced toward the hallway, as if making sure no one else was around to witness this moment of weakness.

“Yeah, yeah,” he whispered, giving in as he brushed his nose against the baby’s cheek, the smallest, almost imperceptible grin forming on his lips. “I hear you. I’m your ‘Dada,’ huh?”

The baby squealed, a high-pitched giggle, and Rindou couldn’t help the quiet chuckle that escaped him. He was used to fights, to blood and bruises, to commanding fear—but this? This was different. And for once, he didn’t mind losing. Not to them. Not to this.

۶ৎShinichiro Sano

It was a quiet afternoon at the Sano bike shop, the scent of oil and metal lingering in the warm air. The faint sound of a wrench clinking against the concrete floor echoed through the open garage, where Shinichiro Sano sat cross-legged, lazily working on a motorcycle engine. His unkempt black hair stuck out in random directions, and a cigarette hung loosely from his lips, the thin tendrils of smoke curling upward.

He wasn’t in any rush—never was, really. Dressed in his usual pearl-white shirt and light-washed jeans, a jacket lazily tied around his waist, he looked as effortlessly relaxed as ever. A silver chain peeked out from beneath his collar, catching the sunlight every now and then.

Nearby, his daughter sat on a thick blanket, surrounded by a mess of soft toys and teething rings. She was barely old enough to crawl properly, but that didn’t stop her from making every effort to squirm toward her father, her tiny hands grabbing at the air.

Shinichiro glanced over at her, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his thin lips. “You getting bored over there, sweetheart?” His voice was raspy, warm, and effortlessly gentle as he set the wrench down and wiped his hands on a nearby rag.

She responded with a string of baby babble, half-formed sounds that made no sense but filled the space with life. He watched her, enchanted by the simplest things—how her little fingers curled and uncurled, how her eyes, a perfect mirror of his own dull black ones, lit up every time he spoke.

“Hold on, hold on. I’m comin’.” Shinichiro stubbed out his cigarette on the edge of the ashtray, rising to his feet with a lazy stretch. He scooped her up effortlessly, holding her against his chest, her small hand immediately tangling itself in the fabric of his shirt.

“You smell like motor oil,” he murmured with a chuckle, kissing the top of her head despite the mess on his hands. “Not exactly the ideal dad scent, huh?”

As he swayed gently, rocking her out of instinct more than anything, the baby stared up at him, wide-eyed and thoughtful, her chubby cheeks flushed pink from the warmth of the afternoon. She blinked slowly, as though studying him, her tiny mouth opening and closing like she wanted to say something.

And then, soft as a whisper, it happened.

“…Da…da…”

Shinichiro froze.

The word was faint, breathy—so delicate he almost thought he’d imagined it. His heart skipped a beat, a strange, unfamiliar warmth surging through his chest.

“…What?” His voice came out quiet, almost disbelieving, as he pulled her back slightly to look at her properly. “What’d you just say?”

The baby blinked again, her expression pure and innocent, and as if sensing his awe, she tried again, this time stronger, more confident.

“Dada.”

Shinichiro felt something inside him break wide open.

He laughed—not his usual lazy, carefree laugh, but something softer, shakier. “You serious right now?”

Her tiny hand reached up, grabbing at the silver chain around his neck, and for once, Shinichiro felt completely helpless—in the best way possible.

“You’re not supposed to say that yet…” he whispered, though the grin on his face betrayed him completely. His thumb brushed gently over her round cheek, his eyes shining with a tenderness so deep it made his chest ache.

“Yeah… yeah, I’m your ‘Dada,’” he murmured, pressing his forehead to hers, closing his eyes as he breathed her in. “Lucky me.”

The bike shop, the tools, the cigarette smoke—none of it mattered in that moment. All he knew was the weight of his daughter in his arms, her tiny voice calling out to him, grounding him in a way nothing else ever had.

And for the first time in a long while, Shinichiro felt like he truly had everything he could ever want.

۶ৎKokonoi Hajime

The city skyline glittered through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Kokonoi’s penthouse, casting long shadows over the sleek, minimalist living room. The distant hum of traffic blended with the soft jazz playing from the speaker, creating a calm, almost surreal atmosphere.

Koko sat cross-legged on the floor, dressed down in black sweatpants and a plain white shirt, his silver-white hair loose around his shoulders. He had a glass of whiskey beside him — untouched — as he watched their daughter with that same quiet intensity he reserved for high-stakes meetings… except this was different.

She was sitting in the middle of a plush play mat, surrounded by a chaotic scatter of toys, a stuffed bunny half-chewed, and a colorful book she had zero interest in. Her soft hair fell over her round cheeks, and she looked up at him with wide, thoughtful eyes — eyes that mirrored her mother’s so distinctly that Koko sometimes forgot how to breathe when she stared at him like that.

“Pretty, aren’t you?” he murmured, a faint smile touching the corner of his lips as he leaned back on his hands. “Got that from your mom… lucky kid.”

She babbled in response, smacking the bunny against the floor with impressive determination, her little brows furrowed as though she were solving some great mystery.

Koko’s gaze softened, a rare warmth breaking through his usual cool composure.

“You’re really giving that thing a hard time,” he remarked, watching her with a mix of amusement and fascination. “What did it ever do to you?”

She paused, blinking up at him, lips slightly parted, as though she was about to say something… but instead, she dropped the toy with a dramatic flair and crawled toward him, tiny hands smacking against the polished hardwood floor.

He sat up straighter, heart giving an odd little skip — not that he’d ever admit that.

“You comin’ over here?” he asked quietly, more to himself than her.

She reached him, pulling herself up with clumsy determination, her chubby fingers grabbing a fistful of his shirt as she balanced on unsteady legs. Koko’s hands hovered near her waist, ready to catch her if she wobbled too much.

And then, she looked up at him… and with a small, clear voice, said:

“Da…da.”

Koko blinked.

For a moment, he thought he’d imagined it. The word was soft, delicate, but unmistakable. His throat tightened, the glass of whiskey forgotten entirely.

“What… what did you say?” he asked, his voice lower now, almost a whisper.

She stared up at him with the same serious expression, as though this wasn’t a monumental moment — just another part of her day.

“Dada.”

The second time, it hit him harder.

A sharp inhale, and then — to his surprise — a soft laugh escaped him, the sound rough and disbelieving.

“You—” He ran a hand through his hair, as if trying to ground himself. “You’re messing with me, aren’t you?”

She, of course, said nothing. Just continued to stare at him, her tiny hands gripping his shirt like she had no intention of letting go.

“First word, huh?” Koko said, his voice softer now, almost fragile. “And it’s me…”

Something in his chest ached — something he hadn’t felt in years. He thought of how, for so long, he’d believed everything important in his life slipped through his fingers, no matter how tightly he held on. But here she was… holding onto him.

“You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?” he whispered, brushing a gentle hand over her soft hair.

She leaned forward, her head resting against his chest in a way that made his heart squeeze painfully.

“I should tell your mom,” he murmured, though he made no move to get up. “She’s gonna want to hear this…”

But he didn’t. He just stayed there, holding her, listening to the quiet rhythm of her breathing, as though he was afraid to break the spell.

“Dada,” she mumbled again, sleepily this time, as if testing the word.

Koko closed his eyes for a long moment, pressing a light kiss to the top of her head, the faintest smile on his lips.

“Yeah…” he whispered. “I’m your Dada.”

And for once, there was nothing else he needed.

۶ৎKen Ryuguji

The rain tapped lightly against the windows, casting soft shadows across the small but cozy apartment. The scent of warm tea and baby powder lingered in the air, a comforting mix that made the place feel lived-in — loved.

Draken sat on the floor, back against the couch, his long legs stretched out, and their daughter nestled comfortably between them. His strong, calloused hands were gentle as he helped her balance, her tiny fingers grabbing at the hem of his patterned jacket with the determination of someone on a mission.

“Steady now, princess,” he murmured, his deep voice softer than usual, a faint smile playing on his lips as he watched her.

She had her mother’s eyes — there was no denying it. That same soft, soulful gaze that could stop Draken in his tracks, no matter how tough he tried to act. The resemblance was almost eerie, especially when she stared up at him with that thoughtful, almost knowing expression, as if she could see right through him.

“You’re gonna be a heartbreaker, you know that?” he teased, running a hand over his buzzed undercut, the dragon tattoo on his temple stark against his skin. “Just like your mom…”

His daughter, of course, was unimpressed. She was too busy trying to pull herself up, grabbing at his jacket with clumsy determination, her chubby legs wobbling as she straightened herself.

Draken arched a brow, watching her with a mix of amusement and quiet pride. “Look at you… tough little thing,” he muttered. “Didn’t get that from her.”

She babbled something incoherent, rocking back and forth on her feet, her lips forming shapes that almost sounded like words.

“Yeah?” Draken chuckled, leaning in closer, his braid falling over his shoulder. “What are you tryin’ to tell me, huh?”

She paused then, swaying slightly before gripping his jacket tighter. For a split second, Draken thought she was about to fall — his hands twitched, ready to catch her — but she steadied herself, blinking up at him with wide, serious eyes.

And then…

“Da…da.”

Draken froze.

The word was soft, barely more than a whisper, but it hit him like a punch to the gut.

“What…?”

She said it again, clearer this time, her small voice filling the room in a way that made the air feel heavier.

“Dada.”

Draken stared at her, his heart pounding in a way he hadn’t felt since his gang days. His throat tightened, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure what to say — wasn’t sure if he could say anything at all.

“You…” He swallowed hard, his voice rougher now, a little hoarse. “You just—”

Before he could finish, she took an unsteady step forward and fell right into his chest, her tiny arms wrapping around him as best as they could.

“Dada,” she mumbled again, her voice muffled against his shirt.

And that… that broke him.

Draken closed his eyes, his large hand cradling the back of her head as he held her close, his thumb brushing over her soft hair. The warmth of her small body against his made his chest ache in a way he wasn’t prepared for — a deep, protective kind of love that scared him more than any fight ever had.

“Yeah…” he whispered after a long moment, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, his voice softer than it had ever been. “I’m your dad…”

He stayed like that for a while, holding her, feeling her small breaths against him. He didn’t call for her mom — not yet.

This moment was his. Just for now.

Yandere Hush (¼)

Word count ; 4.0k

*Edited.

Keep reading

The Sun Eats the Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

(Warnings: noncon, dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, bullying, harassment, one mention of choking, penetrative sex, afab!reader, coercion, forced relationships, implied baby trapping, pregnancy kink(?))

Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.

WC: 9.4k

𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓

You wanted to quit the second you read the name. 

You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place. 

It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now. 

You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?

It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client. 

"Is everything alright?" 

You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke. 

Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired." 

The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited. 

He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics. 

Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention. 

It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice. 

You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps. 

He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes. 

"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."

His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face. 

Nothing. 

Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next. 

"I look forward to working with all of you."                                     

𖤓

If you could describe Gojo Satoru in one word, it would be: celestial. 

He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order. 

But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way. 

Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too. 

"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.

Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you. 

"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?" 

"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks." 

You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours. 

𖤓

The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms. 

You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching. 

He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru. 

You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch. 

It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair. 

Through your blinds, the sun happily shines. 

𖤓

You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.

Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.

He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted. 

You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class. 

It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it. 

"What?" Because you must have misheard him. 

"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official." 

You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours. 

You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop. 

"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine. 

He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore. 

Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

𖤓

It was something minuscule. 

Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always. 

"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector," Higuruma says, over whiskey. 

The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her. 

"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out." 

He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life." 

When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger. 

Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru. 

Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help. 

Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that. 

Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break. 

He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing. 

You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator. 

"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-

"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!" 

Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle. 

The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you. 

When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen. 

𖤓

You don't have proof it was him. 

It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that. 

But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him. 

In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back. 

At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.

There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.

Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down. 

You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.

Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.

Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it. 

“Are you hurt?” Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.

You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.

“That's good,” he says anyway.

You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares. 

You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.

“Take my advice,” he says just before he leaves, “give in.”

He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything. 

“It'll only get worse from here if you don't.”

Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.

You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend. 

Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.

Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.

Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg. 

You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open. 

It's worse than anything you could think of. 

Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you? 

This wasn't bullying. 

This was abuse. 

Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.

You were so tired. 

Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky. 

"Why?" 

Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group. 

"Get lost." 

They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone. 

"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored. 

"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-" 

It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away. 

"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?" 

You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear. 

"Anything, right?" 

You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek. 

"Get on your knees." 

You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little. 

"I-I-Gojo you-" 

"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?" 

He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru. 

To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk. 

You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him. 

"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh. 

"Gojo I-" 

"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems." 

You look down at the grass. Green, soft. 

"Satoru." 

His eyes flash in satisfaction. 

"Open up, pretty girl." 

The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. 

You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you. 

"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought. 

"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?" 

If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame. 

"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you. 

You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth. 

"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me." 

But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world. 

"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?" 

If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it. 

He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help. 

He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time. 

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you. 

So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath. 

"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you." 

His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum. 

(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)

"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something." 

 You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him. 

"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair. 

"My laptop...it's broken." 

You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it. 

Satoru only scoffs.

“that old thing?” You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you. 

(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)

“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”

He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his. 

The sunset is pretty today. 

𖤓

It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied. 

You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from. 

"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?" 

You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf. 

"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait." 

She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts. 

"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her. 

Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright. 

"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting." 

Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs. 

Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way. 

You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-

"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to. 

The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go. 

It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you. 

𖤓

By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable. 

You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework. 

Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips. 

He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever. 

"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom. 

"Thank-" 

"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me." 

He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself. 

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too. 

You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him. 

Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons. 

"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?" 

You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment. 

You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken. 

"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."

On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours. 

Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now. 

"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action. 

You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone. 

He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can. 

Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch. 

"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you." 

He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock- 

Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's. 

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks. 

He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.

You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing. 

Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you. 

"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?" 

He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again. 

"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust. 

You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper. 

"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "’would do anything for you, pretty girl." 

He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.

You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar. 

"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious. 

"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your ‘Toru's right here. Just where you need him." 

His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock. 

"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch. 

"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need. 

You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt. 

You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration. 

"I love you." 

You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.

"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh. 

Fuck three weeks. 

You needed to get out, now. 

𖤓

The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there. 

His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours. 

Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out. 

Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there. 

And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room. 

His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction. 

"You're off the clock, Fimo," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?" 

His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke. 

The door shuts with a click. 

"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward. 

You take one back. He puts his hands up. 

"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?" 

He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood. 

"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody. 

He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too. 

When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes. 

"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules." 

"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked. 

"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent. 

He seems to take an issue with that, regardless. 

"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text." 

 His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake. 

You go to move. 

Satoru's faster. 

Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment. 

"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze. 

It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness. 

"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-" 

"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt. 

You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client. 

Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him. 

When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless. 

You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears. 

"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar." 

He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words. 

"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.

 Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses. 

"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now." 

"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again. 

"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic. 

"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily. 

"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?" 

His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too. 

He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall. 

Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action. 

"That's-"

"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar. 

He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate. 

"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate. 

It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste. 

"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits. 

Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed. 

Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out. 

He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear. 

"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?" 

You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that. 

"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you." 

You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his. 

Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure. 

It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom. 

"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught. 

"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl." 

"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-" 

"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."

"No-I-I-can't-" 

He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled. 

"I'll make sure it takes this time too." 

Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea. 

He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb. 

You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine. 

He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness. 

"I love you." 

You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.

Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran. 

"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me." 

"Not ever again."

There are theories that the Moon once had color. 

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection. 

If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given. 

How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation. 

YANDERE DEKU X READER

🥦he meets you in a very normal public area such as the supermarket. You weren’t doing anything amazing in particular just giving a women her purse back which she had dropped in a rush to grab groceries . Little did you know that the simple act of kindness would cause ripples of disruption in your life.

🥦he was curious about you being a hero wasn’t what he thought it would be and he was loosing hope of human decency . yet you out of know where , give him a glimmer of hope a beacon of light to help him stay on track to his goals .

🥦he dives into finding out everything there is about you from your current life time all the way back to your childhood.

🥦he uses his walls as master pieces pinning information and photos of you all around scribbling notes on and pieces of paper or surface that wasn’t covered.

🥦he was spiralling into madness yet he wholly accepted it. He one day begins bumping into you on purpose more and more until he plucks up the courage to finally ask you .

🥦if you say yes he treats you like a queen/king a goddess/god above all else he hides his obsessive nature from you as much as possible. But if you find out he will beg on his knees for you not to leave him, he loves you too much for you to leave him.

🥦if you reject him it will seem all fine but in this mind he is going to plan B and that plan is full of TRAUMA.

🥦kills anyone and everyone slowly he is a hero and in his head he is doing the right thing I mean how else can he protect you from those imposters.

🥦he leaves little notes in your house for you….

🥦if it is revealed that he has murdered for you he will were it like a badge of honour.

🥦after all know one can stop him . Not even…you.

🥦he imagines a picture perfect life with you and him married a rabbit all of it.

🥦I’d you accept him he may allow you to have a job if you want but it has to be at home where he can monitor you .

🥦you are above everyone don’t forget that even his mother so know matter what you do his punishments aren’t harmful at all more like a slap on a wrist. He is convinced you will learn and you love him.

🥦overall a terrifying yandere but not too bad since punishments are little to nothing 6/10 .

Thank you ❤️❤️

I have so many requests to choose from which one should I do first?

Thank you ❤️❤️

Hii, could you write a Yandere Jacaerys Velaryon with a Targaryen reader? (the reader is Viserys and Alicent's daughter)

YANDERE JACAERYS VELARYON X TARGERYAN READER

🌊 you were the second daughter to alicent Hightower born after aemond . Alicent often spoiled you since unlike your other siblings you were close to normal. Normal in being that you didn’t cause trouble or rumours.

🌊your half sister rhaenyra had brought up the discussion of your betrothal to the small council. Alicent desperately tried to keep you away from your half sister and her plain featured sons however failed to do so and as a way to repair the family you and your nephew jacaerys would wed on your sixteenth name day.

🌊jacaerys wanted a marriage full of love and trust so he tried to find out everything about you. however he didn’t know was doing this would cause him to fall into a pit of infatuation.

🌊his obsession grew quickly and just as quickly as it came the stronger it grew. He began to become possessive demanding that as his future bride you should only be around him and no others since they could taint you. He even brought it up to the council staring alicent in the eyes as he said “I would not want my future bride to be tainted by I’ll willed men and bastards” leaving alicent in a fit of rage . As she knew and everyone knew who the true bastards where in king’s landing.he was left successful so you are no longer around any others other then him and your mother…

🌊he forces you to wear red all green is burned in your wardrobe.

🌊anyone dares look at you will be fed to vermax under suspicious circumstances that they had somehow made there way to the dragon pit and went to see a dragon.( they didn’t jacaerys forced them to go down there and vermax feeling his riders feelings did as he was told ).

🌊as soon as you are married he takes you to dragon stone there you can only have his company he doesn’t allow you to have maids he says “I can’t trust them with you you far to important to me “.

🌊he wants an heir really bad so he gets to work if you can’t have a child for some reason he blames it on your mother and the greens .

🌊he does spoil you loads by giving you jewels and trin keys that you may not need but looks gorgeous.

🌊if you have a dragon he will not allow you to ride it he will only allow you to ride with him on his dragon.

🌊if for whatever reason you have to go in public he showers you in pda and I mean SHOWERS you.

🌊when the dance of dragons begins he is frustrated and the news of his brothers death just adds to it . He will be furious and throw tantrums and will say things like “your lucky little star I got you out of there when I did !” And “now can you see why I must keep you here in this room those ignorant usurpers are traitors and would’ve tainted you without a single thought… I saved you “

🌊he will guilt trip you and manipulate you with every trick in the book until your truly obedient for him don’t get me wrong though he will 100% be loyal to you and anything you wish is yours there are only two rules :

1. Stay with him

2. Don’t ever try and leave him.

🌊he is 7/10 not the worse yandere to have but definitely not the best . Overall good luck …

Thank you for the request ❤️❤️

YANDERE AMARANTHA X READER

👁️she was prettifying deadly like no other she could take out armies and rebuild them with a flick of her fingers. Once she sets her eyes on you there is no going back.

👁️deny her all you want she will marry you and claim you as hers. after all she always gets what she wants . Besides she can always hurt those you love in the most painful ways to get you to play along to her fantasies.

👁️she is full of tricks after all she tricked the high lords, who’s to say she won’t trick you ?!

👁️however she will bargain with you even make a deal if you lose your hers fully if you win then you can be free … but she is a fae and they very VERY rarely ever lose.

👁️she would list over you not love you. Control you. Shape you . Without her your nothing but with her your … everything.

👁️she allows freedom to an extent but not without a price of course .

👁️try and escape and all those you go to will die shortly after and you will wish you were dead.

👁️play along with her and maybe just maybe you might survive the cruel fae.

👁️the only person she ever truly loved was her sister and she is dead she is going to be controlling and manipulating over you after all you can’t survive without her can you?

👁️by all means try not to anger her she is like a hurricane swift and brutal.

👁️will have her family crest burned into your neck and thigh a symbol of her ownership over you .

👁️no high lords will help you after all they are yet trying to stay alive themselves.

👁️lover or love interest forget about them it’s over done . She will hurt them and make you watch if you even think of having a lover that isn’t her .

👁️if you can give her children she will trick you into bed with her after you may regret it but it will be too late after all she swells with your child now there is no escape …

👁️if not and you are a women like her she has powerful magic she can make pregnant it may take a few sacrifices but it will happen you can’t leave them either .

👁️although she may not love the child she will love controlling you .

👁️one of the most horrible yanderes to have she is a sadistic witch and cruel to the bone .

Thank you ❤️❤️