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kel-lance · 21 hours

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Sub!Choso x Reader

MDNI——collars leashes whip’s edging stomping humiliation blindfolds restraints gags overstimulation pegging taunting slapping blood play period sex {all mentioned}

Premise: Choso walked in on you and (bonus:) your date (sub!Nanami) and begs for his own collar.

Making it home after another morning shift, you’re stopped in front of your apartment door to punch in the numbers to the automated lock. You push your way in and thank your district manager finally let you have an opening shift. You swear people get dumber as the day goes on and by the end of the night your patience has worn thin.

You’re still a sweetheart though, everyone knows you as being the mediator. The person to come to to see both sides and even additionally your own view of it to let them think over their problems, or options. Either way, you’d always keep things light.

Any form of confrontation or conflict made you want to help fix it right away. But what do you do to help with the anger? Surely there was something else you’d do, like a hobby or something, to release the stress of harboring the most open mind, and basically know how it will go with the way you’d observe them silently.

Not many people would know about your fun pastime, not until choso walked in on you and you date one night.

He surely was still trying to understand what he saw. That wasn’t a dream? Because it would make more sense if it were a dream, he knew for a fact. But it was something he just couldn’t stop thinking about, it had his balls blue.

If he were to think about it he’d swell up immediately, the blood rushing to his cheeks and sadly but quickly creating a mess in his pants, he’d curse how much of a mess you now made of him.

His quiet and caring roommate looked so out of place, but it was their room… “(Y/n)’s a sadist?” Just having him walk in on you was torture on him enough. You two knew each others schedules, and Yuki’s too as she’s the third to share the large studio together. Their brother-sister relationship, and you and her friendship, and you and him just being caught up in her world, living together just made things easier. Really it saved gas.

It wasn’t like walking in on you while you were talking a no clothes shit. Or if you just got in the shower and the glass or mirror hasn’t steamed up yet. This was your best friends brother walking into your room, while you were dressed up in just pleather straps, having recognized that that was his youngest brother’s teacher, blindfolded and on his knees in front of you.

You wonder if he was still going to act weird about it. The best way to relieve yourself was just power play in general. You already knew it all, all possible ways situations can play out, you could tell what people will say, what their next action could be, it was already enough to make you so bored, or go crazy.

It wasn’t like you were feigning your consideration towards others, but it’s the fact when they don’t listen. You tell what the next moves are, by the patterns of things and taking chances on how some days just don’t go as planned. That there will always be an element of surprise just when you thought you got the pattern down.

You can talk and talk and talk, and explain finally what you mean, maybe you talked too much and it confused them… “That’s on them for not paying attention.” The supremacy you secretly held was upsetting. It was just fantasy, something that you had to figure out how to fix, “Maybe they just like to be hurt.” You thought one day, and that’s when it started.

You’ve secretly become a sadist, it just made sense. Trusting you to carry out their most wicked fantasies and you love to help, making the experience fruitful by learning how bodies react to certain things. As they taught you what they liked, you found yourself domineering the sessions, and most of the time they don’t object. (Half of them are gagged up anyway.)

And with all that time, sure you may have thought about it once or twice but knew it’d be rude to be the one to ask if Yuki could third wheel in her own house. “It couldn’t be me to ask, and I shouldn’t anyway.” Even though you two were close, you still held out consideration for them to not ruin the dynamic, but the sight in front of her older brother had stopped him in his tracks. Your small pleather get up was something he couldn’t even dream seeing on you.

Your leg was up in the bed, your date was kneeling, blindfolded and clothed but exposed. His dress shirt unbuttoned at the top with bites and hickies under his collar and his pants still on but his erection bouncing and begging for your touch. His mouth was open and waiting, tongue begging to taste you while you hold his blonde hair back, he silently thanks you for taunting him.

Choso and your eyes met, but you didn’t move. It was kinda hot, no, it was really hot seeing him blush immediately. With how red he got, you were hoping he be brave enough to join.

You weren’t embarrassed, that wouldn’t make sense of your dominating energy in the room. The mouth under you was panting into you, the heat hot on your other mouth, the wetness coming down your legs, you were enjoying the sudden intrusion so much that you pushed Nanami’s face into you. Not breaking eye contact with choso, his deer in the headlights look on his face while you were riding another man’s face just 10 feet away from him, it happened so fast get it took him forever gather himself to leave.

You could only chuckle as you know this was gonna be a weird talk later. Nanami was fucked stupid now. His rigid face was soft and teary. The rise and fall of his chest was so fast, not helping the oxygen going to his head. So drunk for you, mindless and trusting, he wanted it so bad but couldn’t take another whip or edging session. Though your dates were always bliss for him and you just loved your pets so dearly.

————

You were sitting on the couch and he comes up to the doorway. Not looking up, you stay sitting at the couch in the living room. Anytime you’d go into your room again, it was almost like choso was just trying to prove himself wrong with what he saw. He was like a puppy who saw their owner in a mask, got confused and scared, and now is wondering if “that person” is ever going to come back. You were just finally showing him that this was you; Your cool attitude about all this made choso realize you were always like this.

Competitive when the reward is high, loud and domineering in rooms when control is needed, usually calm and quiet like him but he thought, he thought you really were like him.

He wasn’t weak, but he didn’t like to call the shots, he didn’t care to unless it was for his family. But everyone grew up and he was already content, visiting them whenever they could and living with you and your friend, his “sister”, Yuki.

You’ve always wanted him under you like this he was such a boy failure literally clung to his sister at the hip, her being such a flirt to men but her girlfriends find it funny when she beats them up if they ever got mad, like hey they never asked her. To which she’ll make up silly things to taunt the poor fuck who thought they could fight her.

Choso though just always was the coolest. His piercings and new tattoos every other month were just so hot. But you weren’t gonna ruin him. That wasn’t your call, he didn’t know that about you but you could tell he was perfect. Whatever he thought of you is what has been holding him back from a world that was ready for him.

————————————————

“Please,” You let him suck on your fingers as you work and pulled away when he got too greedy. He stopped afraid you’d pull away and be not in the mood anymore. You just reposition yourself opening your legs which he knew to get in his knees.

He’s crying again and thanking you for finally letting him eat. He’s been waiting for so long, it's probably just been a week and since he saw you and his brothers teacher, and then it took him (almost) 48 hours before he was trying to ask you to do that with him. He just couldn’t flirt for the life of him.

His tears make his face so wet and sloppy and his hair is a mess. His make up, you applied it over every time he messed it up, even when you didn’t touch him but he’d always find a way to make a mess. His sobs had his cheeks glowing, crying while you laugh bc it tickles, “That feels so good.”

His cheeks were soaked that he could close his mouth and basically motorboat the inside of your thighs, his lips rubbing on every part of you, side to side, while his cheeks stimulated the side of your innerds, touching you everywhere, enhancing the whole body feeling.

His hands were around your hips to keep you from moving, which, he hopes you’ll punish him for later but he just needed it so bad. The needy whiny man was in front of you, just wanted a taste, and recieved the whole thing. Something tells you this would be the longest he’ll ever holdout for again.

“You’ve been so good Choso,” You lean forward to give him a kiss on his wet cheek. You make sure your hand is dry before lightly fixing his hair, your fingertips sending shocks throughout his starved form. “I wanna see you under me, get on the bed.”

He almost begs for another kiss before listening to you, going to lay in the middle of your bed, head on the pillow, but you look at him bored. You motion for him to sit up, as you cage him in on your knees, straddling the air.

Choso almost bucks his hips forward just to feel your soft skin, just the smallest touch to know he wasn’t dreaming, or better yet he wanted to squeeze his own thighs together to create some kind of contact. His aching erection wanted nothing more than you, but placing a hand on his chest, tracing it down and tickling him, he arches forward at your touch, to which you slap his thigh sharply.

“Hmm? Speak up baby, I can’t hear you.” You cooed. Now we’ve lost him, the man was babbling to himself, almost heaving and hyperventilating at the same time. His pants were long and drug out, and he couldn’t move. Subconsciously fearing you’d bring out the whip, like the one he’s seen on your bed, he freezes to just enjoy his situation a bit longer. “Come on, Choso,” Your fingers pinch his chin to face you. “Use your words.”

You can only look down at him, he’s still crying, he can’t even speak, you don’t let him. Grabbing greedily at his waist, pulling it towards you, lifting his legs and spreading him open was such a treat.

You knew to never have expectations of others bodies but his was better than you could have imagined. The muscle and tattoos on his upper thighs were so hot, you get a good read of his body, the number of tattoos just confirm his masochism.

You notice his face before he started to let loose. You grab at the sides of his throat and squeezed, cutting out his whimpers. It was amazing, those cute noises really ignited your hunger, you were surprisingly becoming satisfied.

You smear at and pick up his cum with your hand, using it to palm at his sensitive parts. He careened into your hand as you kept him hard and even rubbed under to get his balls. He gasps back and starts crying again. “Hey, pay attention.” He almost cums again as he watches you use the rest of his cum from your hand to wipe along your slit, to add to your wetness. You stare into his eyes. “Do you want to go first?” He uses this chance to flip you around. He hastily plunges into you and is so pathetic with his stroke game you laugh at him, he thanks you for letting him cum in you.

You push his face off of you, grabbing him by his messy space buns you spit in his face and smear everything around. He pants and is so pussy drunk he’s only staring at you longingly after you keep a grip on his cheeks, finding a few seconds before he could find and stay focused on your eyes. As he was coming back, you decide to dig your fingers into his arms, enough to draw blood. He pants as it added a bit to his dying orgasm. You grip him and think how was life going to be like after this?

Well that’s exactly what you asked him. He, being shy, and fucked silly was trying to regain the feeling in his face before remembering that this was just the beginning:

Sub!Choso waiting for you to come how everyday after work.

Sub! Choso who usually knocks on your door lightly but with a raging hard on that he really needs you to help him out with.

Sub Choso who stays in the straps and keeps the toys you share in or stimulating him until you come back home.

Sub! Choso melting at your touch and never letting you do anything around the house again.

Sub Chose who wants to have sleepovers and you two had to explain to Yuki that its just you two sleepover.

Sub choso begging for you to touch him after a week bc of the last hasty move he did the other day had you decided to hold off and lock him out of your room.

Completely abandoning him, bringing Nanami and another back to your room in front of him,

teasing him with wearing almost nothing around the house when yuki’s gone, you were going to ruin him,

that was the goal now If he just can’t hold back then you shouldn’t either.

You who pinches Sub!Choso’s sides and nose when he comes off too needy, he cries for you and you honestly don’t know what you got yourself into.

Sub choso who insists on doing everything with you, showering, being in the kitchen with you, and if you do allow him in your room, hell sit on the floor and wait to see if you want to use him.

Sub Chose who really likes to fuck you on your period bc that’s blood magic and he dabbles tf in that

Its basically a love spell, and he doesn’t care. He thinks it's a way to get closer to you without hurting you, not the way you’d claw at his skin or even lightly cut him sometimes just to lick up the wounds.

Sub Choso always lowering himself around you bc he’s used to looking up at you

Sub Choso who gets jealous and asks why isn’t he enough to which you didn’t know his feelings were that deep so you two talk about your other pets, and what rules and other stuff going forward

Sub Choso who decided to act out out one day, knowing that you would be holding off for a bit after how crazy the last session went, he was begging for your attention.

Sometimes you liked to see such a pathetic beautiful man beg for you at the end of a long day, but when you held off, he would become a mess. Not the kind to melt all over the floor, but he'd be more desperate for your touch, eyes always on you, almost like a stalker that you'd almost want to call Nanami back to show him what will happen if he keeps bothering you when you're trying to work.

That day he fucked up, you were on your way out to have some time to yourself. Maybe just sit at a cafe, or at a park, maybe even just find a high hill and watch the sky, but Choso was blocking your path

Sub Choso asking where you were going as it was your day off and you hadn't said anything to him about your plans for the day.

You tell him to be good and to let you have an hour or so to yourself. Hearing this he freaks out a little bit, his fists ball up and his voice was trying to leave his throat. "You're gonna go see him again aren't you? I don't like this game, that you can have as many and use them whenever."

I know you hate waiting Choso but its not like it's your turn and his turn. And by the way I'm not going to see him, but you could always find another mistress.

Sub Choso who refuses the very thought and walks towards you, grabbing at your hands desperately that it hurt, "No!" He turns his head to hide his face and holds onto you, not letting you leave.

You're very quiet, enough for him to finally look back at you and he realizes he cut you with his nails. The grip he had on you created semi purple blotches on your wrists, and you stood there not moving.

Sub Choso realizing what he just did and releasing your hands before falling down to your feet. He kneels as he watches your face, knowing what you do to him unprovoked already had him both excited and frightened, but this time he didn't even know how badly his body wanted you.

As he submits and shudders at what he's done, you make a rain check on that walk and drag him back to your room by his collar.

You had choso kneeling on the floor as you restrained his arms to his back, ignoring his pleads and sorry's. Your pets don't touch you like that. They don't do whatever they want without your approval, Choso knew that and acted accordingly, even if it got annoying sometimes. His dependency was so rich, it was like getting a new puppy.

In this case you were going to need the muzzle. This was no time for bargaining, he will learn what he did was wrong.

"I'm- (y/n), please, I'm sorry I just wanted you so bad I-" You slap him hard, fingers slapping against his cheekbone. He grunts as it stung, and continues his sorry's. "I really didn't mean to!"

You put the damn muzzle on him, having him bite down on the gag inside, you tighten the straps as Sub!Choso looks petrified, though still accepting his punishment.

There was nothing holding you back now, you were pissed. Your hands were your money makers, not to mention if one of /them/ start to overpower you, you could lose the title altogether. Like you were going to let a tantrum denounce you.

You have him strip and kneel again, whipping out his back and silently watching him wince and recoil at each thrash. You wanted his back red, this was just your warning.

Pointing his chin to look up at you, you place your foot down on his crotch and stepped forward. He hisses and throws his head around, his eyes finding your cold ones, pleading again with more than his usual frenzied state.

You draw your foot back and stomp on him this time. Tears formed and flowed, he sat there, still, taking it.

While his eyes were cringing to the horror happening to his privates, you take a fist full of his hair and yank his head forward, trying to make a judgement of what he deserved next.

You take your foot off his poor wood, but granting him no relief as you whipped at his chest and exposed thighs. The noises he made through his gag should have at least been enough to crack a smile out of you, but your wrists were still a little red, and when you get angry you're usually one to give them back what they dished out, and sometimes even more when you're feeling generous.

Easing your heel back onto him, having him hold his breath as he doesn't know if you were to stomp at any moment, torturing him with the anticipation as your head was somewhere else.

You havent tried this one thing, though you thought you would have by now. Stepping off again, you go to your closet and place a big enough leash on the poignant bastard and tugging him towards your bed.

You sit at the edge, bending him over your legs, you place a blindfold on him as well, not letting him know what you were about to do.

You grab the bullet, coating it with your spit before sliding it into his ass. The new sensation had him squirm, sensitive to how your fingertips traces the small of his back, he was getting a bit overwhelmed, not being able to see or yell out, much less move his arms still, you plunge the small machine further in him, "As long as its past his prostate." You thought. "I'll push it this time."

Sub!Choso is completely at your mercy, tied up, silences, bent over, whipped over and over, he was loving it. Scared at how quiet you were but this was the level of manhandled he would fantasize about.

It wasn't anything wrong with the way you did it before, but you still cared just a little bit, he felt your hesitation and wanted you to be as free as you wanted, proving right now that you're capable of leaving him bedridden for days.

Sub!Choso who yelps and gurgles through his gag as you turn the vibrator on. You test it out, pulling at the string to slowly bring it closer and closer to his prostate. You sure were going to tease the fuck out of him this way before putting on the strap.

Sub!Choso who lays on you, hugging you as tight as he could while recovering from the beating you gave his contemptible hole.

Sub!Choso who whispers his thanks, his appreciation, his admiration, just loving babble as he slips from this to sleep.

You tell him to shut up as you hold him closer to you.

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archiveikemen · 2 days

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Ellis Twilight Main Story: Chapter 3

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Warnings and FAQ

Ellis: Bodyguards?

At breakfast, Victor was talking about the unexpected incident that occured during my first job as the “fairytale keeper”.

Victor: That’s right! If Jude and Ellis protect Kate, our secrets will be kept safe too.

Victor: At the same time, Kate will also be able to observe the two of you up close and write everything down in her records…

Victor: It’s like killing two birds with one stone!

Victor: What do you think, Ellis?

Ellis: I’m fine with it if Kate is.

Ellis: Just because no one was hurt yesterday doesn't mean that sort of thing won't happen again… I want to be by Kate's side in case.

Victor smiled in response to Ellis and turned to Jude.

Victor: Of course you'll take this new responsibility seriously, right, Jude? You hate doing favours, don't you?

Jude: Tch…

(I feel safe being near Ellis, but…)

Ever since having my life threatened because I was with Ellis and being mistaken for “Jude Jazza’s woman”, I couldn't help but feel wary of Jude.

Jude: Don’t you start wailing when you get caught in a scary situation, princess.

(He’s so intimidating… but this was a good suggestion from Victor, so I mustn't chicken out.)

Kate: I’ll be fine. I’m surprisingly tough!

Jude: … Hah.

Jude snorted and went back to reading the newspaper.

Ellis: Then it’s decided. I’m looking forward to working with you, Kate.

Kate: I look forward to working with you too.

Unlike Jude, Ellis returned a soft smile.

Ellis: By the way, you can be more casual with me.

Kate: Huh…?

Ellis: You could say “yeah, me too” or something.

Kate: Y-Yeah… me too.

Ellis: Mm, much better.

I felt comforted by Ellis’ warm vibes.

Victor: Administrative matters aside, now let’s talk about your mission.

I straightened my back and listened attentively to Victor’s words.

(This will be my first real job as the fairytale keeper.)

I bear in mind that this was important in helping me gain their trust.

Victor: — Truth is, there is something I want you to collect information on.

Victor: It’s regarding the series of kidnapping cases happening all over London.

Kate: Kidnapping…?

That dangerous word brought back the same anxiousness I felt when I met the members of Crown for the first time.

Victor: Correct. The victims’ ages ranged from infants, to adolescents, and even grown adults.

Victor: One thing they have in common is that the adults were either prostitutes or street performers.

Victor: Popular songstresses from taverns have gone missing… many of them lived unstable lives without proper residential addresses.

Jude: Because the victims weren't people of high importance and mostly didn't have fixed addresses, no one reported them missing.

Jude: As usual, the police aren’t going to do anything about it either.

Unfortunately, like Jude mentioned, people who worked in the entertainment district were often looked down upon.

In that world of glitz and glamour, they were treated like pieces of trash in a garbage dump.

Victor: So, about the mission…

Victor: Have you heard about the ongoing art fair in London, the one with a few performers gathered there?

Kate: Yes. The scale of the event is not as big as the social season, but it’s rather crowded.

Victor: I want Jude and Ellis to go to that art fair and collect the necessary information.

Victor: These people may be vagrants, but they’re more bonded than you think.

Jude: Why do I have to go? This is useless.

Victor: Remember the human traffickers you dealt with in private? They might be connected to this case.

Victor: This has gone too far, don’t you think? Besides… today's your first day off in a long time.

That sounded like information Victor wouldn't be aware of, unless someone told him. Jude shot a glare at someone…

Jude: … Ellis.

Ellis: He asked, so I answered honestly. Sorry.

(The power balance between these two might surprisingly be of equal level…)

Victor: See you!

Victor sent us off with his cheerful voice and we headed for our mission.

…

(The fair is even more crowded this time round…!)

Colourfully decorated stalls lined the venue of the art fair and delicious aromas wafted through the air.

The people were entertained by not only the food, but also the street artists painting and performers showcasing their talents on stages around the city.

Walking around the fair, I couldn't help feeling immersed in the lively atmosphere.

(Oh no, I’m getting too carried away… I must focus on our mission.)

(Right. I should ask him now.)

Kate: Ellis. Jude. Could you tell me about your curses?

Ellis: We haven't told you yet?

Ellis: I have the curse of the “Briar Bushes”, and Jude has the curse of the “13th Fairy”.

Ellis: They’re based on a motif called “The Thorn Princess (Sleeping Beauty)”.

(Curse of the briar bushes and the curse of a fairy…)

The 13th fairy was an antagonist who placed a deadly curse on the princess out of spite for not being invited to her birthday party.

(I know that's the fairy’s sin, but…)

(What sin did the briar bushes commit?)

As I thought hard about it, Jude suddenly stopped in his tracks and turned around languidly.

Jude: We don’t need a party of three. You go in the other direction to search for information.

Ellis: What about protecting Kate?

Jude: You’ll be fine doing that alone.

Without another word, Jude disappeared into the sea of people.

Kate: … Does he hate me, by any chance?

Ellis: I don’t think so, he treats everyone like that.

Ellis: His intention was probably to protect you from danger by avoiding being seen with you.

(Hmm, I don't really think so…)

I swallowed those words that I almost blurted out.

Kate: … If that’s the case, he’s actually rather kind-hearted, isn't he?

Ellis: I wouldn't say that. He loves hearing the people he hates scream in pain.

Kate: …

(It scares me how easy it is to imagine that…)

Ellis was the total opposite of him, showing kindness to everyone he met.

As though to prove me right, people all around us started approaching him the moment Jude left.

Flushed Man: Oh, you over there! Thanks for taking care of me that day!

Ellis: You’re welcome. Remember to drink in moderation today.

Kate: This is…?

Ellis: I found him passed out on the streets the other day, so I piggybacked him home. I don't know his name.

Kate: Eh!?

(You brought a random stranger home and nursed him back to health!?)

That wasn’t the only thing that left me in shock—.

Furniture Artisan: Business has been booming thanks to Ellis promoting my works to people!

Bespectacled Student: I’m so glad to run into you again! Um, I’d like to repay you for helping me fix my bike, could I have your contact information…

Cat: Nyaa.

(Even a CAT thanked him…!?)

(Or should I say, judging from the number of people who thanked him as we passed by…)

I could tell that Ellis did many good deeds on a daily basis.

Kate: I’m a postwoman, and yet you’re even more well-known than I am…!

Ellis: Really? I think this is pretty normal, though.

Ellis smiled gleefully as he watched the people smiling around him.

(Everything Ellis did for me yesterday is without a doubt just a usual thing for him.)

Someone who spreads joy.

Watching Ellis’ interactions with the people in town brought those words to my mind.

(Does someone like him even have any “sins” I can record down…?)

(Rather—)

(Why would someone this kind-hearted work for an assassination organisation or with Jude?)

Despite having personally witnessed his kindness… that question surfaced in my mind.

Ellis: Kate, Kate.

Kate: … Oh, I’m so sorry! I got lost in thought.

I came back to my senses and noticed Ellis peering into my face up close with his head tilted in puzzlement…

Ellis: Were you thinking about me?

Kate: …!?

Our eyes met at a close distance like a pair of lovers gazing at each other, sending my heart into a frenzy.

(Ellis doesn't seem to be conscious of it, but… this is too close.)

The situation was the same as when he went to see me in my room the morning after I came to Crown’s castle.

It was the second time seeing his twilight coloured eyes up close.

Feeling my cheeks turn red from the embarrassment, I turned my eyes away from him.

Ellis: Ah, hit the nail on the head.

Kate: How did you know?

Ellis: Hmm… just a hunch, I guess?

Ellis handed me a steaming mug with a smile.

Ellis: Here, I bought this milk tea from that shop over there while you were lost in thought about me.

Ellis: This is to thank you for helping me with my mail the other day.

(... Ellis is awesome…)

Ellis’ eyelashes lowered and he lightly blew on the cup of milk tea before taking a sip.

Ellis: If there’s anything you want to ask me, feel free to.

Kate: … Understood.

Ellis: Just “okay” is good.

Kate: … Ellis, why did you join Crown?

Ellis: Victor recruited Jude to join Crown, then Jude said OK and I joined too, I guess?

(You joined just because Jude did…?)

Kate: Why are you always with Jude?

Ellis: You have many questions, huh.

Ellis smiled and held his mug in both hands.

Ellis: My life was a mess before I met Jude. I moved from place to place, never having anywhere to settle down.

Ellis: When I came to London, I met Jude by coincidence.

Ellis: Some stuff happened, and we made a deal.

Kate: A deal…?

Ellis: That I’ll work for Jude, and he’ll comply with my request in return.

Ellis: So… we’ll be sticking together until the time comes when he fulfils his side of the deal.

My next question gave me a feeling that something might happen if I heard the answer, causing a stir in my chest.

Kate: What request did you make…?

Ellis: It's—

Performer with Flashy Hat: What is going on!?

(...!?)

The sudden yelling made me jump in shock and look in its direction.

Behind us, in the back of a temporary stage, a performer was scratching his head in distress.

Performer with Flashy Hat: Two people can’t make it for the performance… this is a DISASTER…!

(Two people… two performers… could it be?)

Kate: Ellis.

Ellie: … Yeah.

— “The victims of the serial kidnappings were often prostitutes or street performers”.

We exchanged looks and headed towards the distressed performer.

…

Kate: Um, excuse me.

Flashy Hat: Hm? Oh. My apologies, Miss, but my show has been postponed by another 10 minutes!

Ellis: We heard you saying just now that two people can’t make it to the show…

Flashy Hat: My buddy who is supposed to perform with me has gone missing without a word.

Flashy Hat: Geez, lots of people have been disappearing into thin air lately… it’s starting to get suspicious.

(Multiple people… going missing…)

(If we ask this person more about the disappearances, we might find something.)

Ellis: If it's alright with you, could you please tell us more?

Flashy Hat: Sorry, but I really don't have the time for that right now! Even if I have to do it alone, I must think of what to perform up on stage.

The performer shooed us away… but stopped and looked at us again as though he had just gotten an idea.

Flashy Hat: If you guys help me out with the show, that’ll be a whole other story.

Flashy Hat: Haha! I’m just kidding. Being short-handed is one thing, but it's a strict rule to never allow amateurs on stage.

He shook his head, seemingly to dismiss his suggestion as an impulsive one.

Ellis took a step closer.

Ellis: Help? What kind?

Flashy Hat: Haha! You’re serious about this? I was merely joking.

Ellis: But you said that you’ll tell us the details if we help you, didn't you?

Flashy Hat: … What? Hey man, you guys got a problem or something?

His friendly face twisted.

Flashy Hat: Giving out information about my buddies puts them in danger.

Flashy Hat: I can’t guarantee that you two don't have ill intentions. We're strangers that just met.

Kate: How can we earn your trust?

Flashy Hat: Let me think…

Flashy Hat: If you guys are willing to be used as a target for knife throwing, or tied up and thrown into a tank…

Flashy Hat: I’ll trust you.

(Target for knife throwing…!?)

Ellis: Okay. I’m good at that stuff.

Ellis unhesitatingly proceeded with the negotiations while I stood there, baffled.

(Ellis is so confident when it comes to negotiations. It must’ve come from his experience in working with Jude…)

Ellis agreed to help the performer with the show, but negotiations didn't go as we expected.

Flashy Hat: Tch tch tch… you alone isn’t going to be enough. That lady has to help out too.

Kate: Wha…!?

Ellis: … Why?

Flashy Hat: Perform, of course!

Flashy Hat: Just think of it. A tragic story about lovers being torn apart, building up and coming to a tear-jerking finale! The audience will definitely love it.

(... Knife throwing… being tied up in a tank…)

Ellis looked at me worriedly when he noticed my face turning pale.

Ellis: Kate, you don’t have to do it if you don't want to.

(Victor has done this knife throwing thing before, so Ellis will be fine with that.)

My physical abilities were nowhere nearly as good as Ellis’, and yet…

Whether or not we would get information from that person depended on me.

(I have to trust them and just go for it…)

Kate: V-Very well. I’ll help.

Letter

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #otome #cybird otome #ikevil main story #ellis main story #ellis twilight

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the-lark-ascending69 · 3 days

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Near-future, black mirror esque AU in which Nancy, stressed college student with loads of childhood trauma, gets recommended by her psychologist to get an emotional support robot. That's what they're called, yes. They're sold to very lonely people to pretty much look after them emotionally. Nancy has always hated the idea, and doesn't really like androids or robots of any kind. Plus, she thinks it's quite sad that she's so lonely she needs an android to keep her company. She also couldn't possibly afford it.

Her friend Steve, though, who hasn't seen her in a year despite living 15 minutes away (she has a tendency to isolate herself and use her studies as an excuse), got her one. It's a second-hand unit, a slightly older model that's seen several repair shops in the past, but it works, and it was half the price of a new one. He shows up to her apartment with the box, looking smug and proud of himself. If anything, Nancy feels insulted.

She doesn't touch the box for a few weeks, and doesn't get rid of it either, because her studies take her so much time, she can't bring herself to keep her apartment clean. When her mother visits and sees the mess she's living in, with a perfectly functional android willing to help her, she finally caves, and as soon as she's alone, she decides to see if this thing can at least help her clean up.

It surprises her that it looks so... human. Its skin is soft and warm, with all the natural imperfections of a human's skin. Same as her hair. She's dressed in old worn-out clothes, and she curls into herself, in fetal position, inside the box. Only the button under her skin on the back of her neck reveals her as an android. Nancy reads the instructions, presses there for 10 seconds, and waits.

Or she planned to wait - eight seconds in with Nancy's fingers pressed on that spot, and the android's eyes flew open. She cried out, screambled out of the box and looked around, breathing heavily and hugging herself. Her eyes fix on Nancy, look her up and down with a frown, and asks:

"Who are you?"

Nancy opens her mouth to reply, then looks down at the instructions, hoping they'd say something about this kind of scenario, and that her new robot didn't go rogue and try to kill her.

"Wait, are those my instructions?" The robot asked. She looked down. "I really don't mean to complain about my living situation going from extremely fucked to simply fucked, but that is not my original box. Mine was smaller, and it had a bunch of little dots on the side. Did they sell me again?"

The instructions said nothing about this possibility, so Nancy decided it was time to improvise.

"I... my friend got you at a garage sale, I think."

"Oh. Well, that is low, even for me," the robot said. She rubbed the back of her neck. "Should my neck hurt this much?"

Nancy blinked.

"Shouldn't you know that?"

"Honestly, I don't even know what levels of pain are normal for me. It always hurts just a little bit somewhere, like, right now, my whole spine really hurts." She laughs. "At least I think it's supposed to feel like pain? I don't think we're wired to feel pain, exactly, I mean, that would be just sadistic. Talk anti-natalism to me. But I swear this spot right here just feels really really bad. Or maybe it's anthropocentric to... perceive it as pain, don't you think? It's very existentialist, actually, the whole... perceiving thing - I bet Berkeley wrote something about it, at some point, but I haven't read him in ages."

"You read books?"

"What? Oh. Oh, uh... I - I think I'm offline? Like, I don't have access to the database, so I kinda have to do it the old-fashioned way if I want to learn somethin," she said. "It's cool, though! I like reading a lot."

"...Okay. So, um... here it says your model is..."

"Robin," the android said. Nancy looked up.

"I'm sorry?"

"That's my name," she said. "I came up with it, I - I thought it sounded nice. Do you like it?"

Nancy stared at this... thing, a million thoughs coursing through her head. The first one was a newfound understanding of her low price.

She made a movement with her head that could be understood as both a shake and a nod at the same time.

"Yeah, yeah, sure" she said, brows knit together. What the hell did Steve get her into? "It's... nice."

"Oh, thank God, because Mom and Dad hated it."

"Mom and...?"

"My first owners - Richard and Melissa, I always called them Mom and Dad. They... they, uh, they hated that, too."

Jesus Christ.

"So... Robin," Nancy said. "I was wondering if you could help me put away some of my things while I study."

"Oh! Yeah, yeah, yeah, sure." She stood there, eyes wandering, around, until they fell on Nancy's bookshelf "Holy shit, you have Dostoyevski! Is it in Russian?"

Nancy blinked, opened her mouth, took a step back and shook her head. Robin was already striding towards her bookself, tracing the spines of books with her fingers.

"Actually, why don't you read after you clean this up?"

Robin turned to see her, eyes wide and a growing smile, like a kid in a candy shop.

"I - I can read all of this?"

Nancy was going to kill Steve.

She shrugged and shook her head.

"Sure," she said. "After you clean this mess."

"Aye aye, cap!" Robin chirped, making a quick salute with her hand and getting to work.

Nancy was, for certain, going to murder Steve for making her responsible for this... thing. There was something wrong in her system, and that was very much obvious. She looked down at the instructions manual - surely there would be a way to turn her off for the night. She wouldn't want Robin to murder her in her sleep, or worse - wake her up at 4 am to talk about books.

Or she could just tell her to shut up. She was a robot, anyway. It's not like she could feel anything.

#ronance #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #Android Robin AU #my posts #wake up baby new AU just dropped

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tgmsunmontue · 2 days

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Caring, Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide 2/?

Maverick is unknowingly surrounded by Transformers. He knows something is up though. Just not quite what it is exactly.

Bradley and Jake, having never met, are embarking on their own journeys and will have to learn to deal with the fact that they've both been adopted by Transformers.

Despite having years more experience, Maverick is no help at all.

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

Bradley knows his car isn’t normal.

The fact that he has never once had to buy gas is the biggest red flag if he ever saw one, except it’s not really red, because his car never stops working. Only works for him in fact, which he had thought was a joke that Maverick had started jokingly when he was younger. Except his car refuses to start for anyone else. No one can borrow it. He’s tried all of one time, handing the keys to one of his college friends when they’d asked if they could borrow his truck to move. He hadn’t thought twice about saying yes. And then they’d come back over an hour later saying it just wouldn’t start.

So now everyone thinks his car is either cursed or possessed, in a joking way, the same way Maverick had, except Maverick had sometimes eyed it like he believed something else. And as much as he hates Maverick, he also doesn’t think he’d have let Bradley get into something that could potentially hurt him. Had seemed glad that it had started for Bradley, and Bradley alone. He hadn’t thought the car was maybe sentient or something until he’d lost the keys and thought he’d… beg.

“Will you start for me buddy? I can’t find my keys and I really need to get across town to my classes…”

He knows that later he’s going to think he imagined the wave of shuddering his car gave, like it was shrugging its shoulders or something. Except of course his car doesn’t have fucking shoulders, but it still starts and the radio flares to life and he doesn’t recognize the song playing at all, but he listens anyway… It's things I do for you, In return do the same for me. Okay. He doesn’t know what the hell that means, unless he’s meant to take the things I do for you literally.

“I’ll give you a really good wash and polish okay? Oil wherever you want…” Bradley says, and he feels a little stupid, talking to his car, rubbing a hand along the dash, but his car just started because he asked it to so he’s past the point of thinking himself crazy. God he wishes he could talk to Maverick about this.

… … …

When Jake’s accepted into USNA his family are all proud of him, then he gets into flight school, his dream of becoming an aviator one step closer. He has his degree in mechanical engineering and he knows better now. Knows more now, about how things are meant to fit together. How things work. This plane he’s been working on, playing with, since he was a kid doesn’t fit any of the stuff he’s learnt and he wonders if he simply fucked it up that badly as a teenager trying to do it up.

He goes on a bit of a fact-finding mission. Talks to his uncle, finds out the original body came from a fair distance away, up past the Arctic circle in Canada. The fact his uncle had it transported all the way down to Texas is impressive, but his uncle is a truck driver and has travelled the breadth of the continent. He runs his hands over the body skeleton, knows he’s imagining the humming vibration beneath his fingers even if he wishes it were true. He’s been gone for years, away at USNA, and then flight school. While he’s been gone more bits of scrap have accumulated beside it, and no one knows when or how it got there. He hasn’t had time to dedicate to trying to fix her up properly, but looking around it’s almost like all the pieces are there.

Hell, it’ll give him something to do while he has time to kill between deployments, his parents won’t mind storing it in an old barn if it means he comes home. It’s not like he has anything better to do.

“You realize it’s never going to become airborne…” his father says, coming to stand beside him as he stares at it all, somehow just as big as it had seemed when he was a kid.

“I don’t care. It’s good practice for me, and I enjoy it. No harm right?”

… … …

The first time the Bronco reappears at the hangar Pete nearly has a heart attack. He definitely has a panic attack and has to breathe through it before grabbing the phone and ringing Ice.

“Bradley. Is Bradley okay?”

“Mav? What’s wrong?”

“Just… I know I told you not to tell me. But can you just tell me he’s alive?”

“Yes. I know he is. He left on his first deployment yesterday. Five months.”

He breathes easier, thanks Ice for sharing that information with him and then turns to just look at the Bronco. It’s a bit dusty but it looks well maintained. Shiny and well cared for. A little before five months later when he wakes up the Bronco is gone and Pete finds himself more than okay knowing where the car’s true loyalties are.

… … …

Bradley doesn’t believe in magic.

Magic doesn’t exist.

Any yet sometimes he wonders.

Because he doesn’t know how to explain it.

He’d left his car in Virginia Beach, fairly certain that it was going to be there when he got back. It’s not like anyone else can even drive it, let alone steal it. Although a part of him wonders what would happen if someone tried to steal the tires. And if he could film it.

Getting off the carrier in San Diego he’s heading toward the transport to take him to base. He’s organized a flight back to Virginia Beach, and he’ll take his leave on the East Coast. Except the sound of a car horn has him looking and this, this is why he thinks his life is somehow got a touch of the eldritch or something. The Bronco is sitting and waiting. Waiting for him specifically, windows down, because no one else can drive it.

But it can apparently drive itself and it came to pick him up.

It’s a hell of a homecoming and he kisses his fingers and then taps the fingers to the dashboard as he gets in.

“Good to see you buddy. Missed you.”

He hopes no-one sees him talking to thin-air, but he’s also pretty sure his car can not only hear him but understands him. It occurs to him that he now has to cancel his flight transfer back, and he still somehow has to get to himself and his car to Virginia Beach, because he doesn’t want to be hanging around San Diego and bumping into anyone.

… … …

“Thanks for the new bike…”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Love you too.”

Tom frowns. Are people just dumping their old junkers at the hangar now?

Well. At least it’s keeping Pete busy.

… … …

“I don’t want you driving that late at night when you’re that tired. We aren’t in our twenties any more Pete…”

“So you bought me a trailer? So I can sleep at the hangar?”

“Well, not just sleep…”

“Ooohhh… yeah okay. Let’s go give it a test drive huh?”

“Sounds good.”

… … …

Jake is tired. That has to be why he’s seeing a giant walking plane staring down at his plane, his do-it-upper that he’s had for over fifteen years now. He thinks and dreams about planes and flying so much he’s now seeing them when he’s awake. He should probably go back to bed. Then the thing is turning, bearing down on him and snarling.

“You. Human. Did you do this?”

“Holy shit…” Jake says.

“Answer me!”

“Did what exactly? Build it? Yeah. That was me. I’m trying to fix him up. Who are you? What are you?”

The machine’s eyes flick over him, clearly assessing or looking for something and Jake stands where he is, scared shitless but refusing to show it.

“Who I am does not matter, but my name is Starscream. This is… my friend. Jetfire. What happened to him?”

“Uh. I don’t know. I’ve been collecting pieces and rebuilding it… is… Is Jetfire like you?”

“Jetfire is better than I. I failed him. He will need his wings and some power.”

Jake looks between the pile of pieces which form a very rough body of a plane fuselage and then at the towering body of… Starscream.

“Wait, are you saying he can be bought back to life?”

“Of course. We will finish rebuilding him.”

“Holy shit,” Jake says again. “You’re serious. What are we going to need?”

Starscream looks at him, and he doesn’t look happy.

“We…” he looks even more disgusted at the word. “Are going to need help.”

And yeah, okay. Jake can appreciate where he’s coming from.

#Caring Keeping and Collecting Transformers - A Guide #hangster #Top Gun Maverick #AU #TF and TGM crossover

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coincasual · 9 months

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princess and queen🖤

#ever after high #eah raven #raven queen #evil queen #some old sketches i was thinking about #from a comic idea about raven having to get ready for one of her mothers parties and she gets really overwhelmed and has a breakdown #her mother does try to help calm her down but she’s a poor communicator and gets frustrated easily so the ravens dad comes to talk to her #ravens dad in my head is from a line of ‘good’ kings but they all have something they are really proficient at and he is an excellent #communicator and he’s really empathetic and he and the queen used to talk a lot about why she is doing what she is doing and he #kind of supports her because he wants her to be herself and be the best she can be.. but it makes him upset that she wants/has to hurt so #many people to get what she wants #he also loves to be there for raven! he’s such a cool and emotionally supportive dad and person!#so don’t worry if you see raven crying in a fix or something at some point #she has a great support system!!

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pastadoughie · 2 months

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many people were confused about some of my previous posts, so for the sake of clarity i am condensing everything! tumblr has extremely transphobic moderation practices, often flagging completely innocent posts as explicit, solely for containing trans women in them or mentioning transgenderism. while letting untagged porn in sfw tags (ive literally seen porn tagged as "sfw agere") and blatent hatespeech, especially twards trans people (just look at the "gender critical" tag) go completely unchecked recently the CEO of tumblr had a big public hissyfit about people (rightfully) calling him transmysogenistic, going into random trans womens dms to harrass them, and saying that predstrogen saying she "hopes he explodes with hammers and then explodes again and hammers fly everywhere" is a death threat and saying he is calling the FBI on her (repeatedly misgendering her and calling her "it") and many bloggers, apon speaking out about it or even making harmless jokes (one trans woman posted a picture of a car and a hammer with the caption "reblog to scare matt" and got nuked for it) and many are very very angry (rightfully) about this whole affair and tumblr in general. if you would like to look into it i reccomend scrolling the "predstrogen" tag as she is the case most people are talking about at the moment. So, what can we do? this is clearly an ongoing issue, and, dispite having lost a lawsuit about their transphobic moderation in the past (see : https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/21274288-tumblr-nycchr-settlement) its clearly not gonna stop with just user complaints, as staff members are perfectly content to just go scorched earth on users who even so much as lightly poke fun at them well if you want to help you should contact the human rights commision (i will give clear details further down) ! you dont have to be in the US, nor be an adult to file, and it only takes a few minutes. this is the best and most effective method to fix this, because it hits tumblr where it hurts. human rights acencies have a lot of legal and financial power and tumblr CAN NOT just ignore them, and given that this will be the seccond time this is happening, the commisions shouldnt be playing nice anymore eaither. its really important that AS MANY PEOPLE AS POSSIBLE FILE, and with different examples! while maybe your case might not be enough to prop up a lawsuit on its own, we need to prove a general trend. so every little bit counts! to respond to another question abt this ive gotten, as for what exactly to report, you should a) write about an act of discrimination youve recieved on tumblr that was eaither administered by a staff member OR that staff refused to give adequate moderation action in for example : a terf posted some blatent hatespeech targeted twards you, and you reported them, and staff looked at the issue and refused to persecute it. example 2 : you were unfairly flagged, deleted, or otherwise punished by a staff member and you are queer ( AND the post they banned you for has some kind of tie to your gender, ex : a sfw transition progress photo ) OR b) if you have not personally recieved something like that, please look for other peoples stories (THEY SHOULDNT BE HARD TO FIND, within the last couple of hours trans people have been being banned LEFT AND RIGHT for trying to speak on this. i would reccomend checking some of the tags related to what happened with predstrogen) and you should describe that incident as best as possible (be sure to disclose that you are speaking for someone else, ideally you should tell the story of someone you know, if possible.) you can also mention any reports you have made twards people posting blatent hatespeech that, opon reveiwing tumblr refused to prosecute dispite it being very obviously against terms of service. just so nobody gets confused about the filing process, im laying it out in more plain languadge!!

first you should email the SF HRC (san francisco human rights commision), at [email protected] and say something along these lines :

Hello, I am [full name] from [country or state] and I am filing a complaint against Tumblr, witch is owned by the parent company Automattic Inc. located at 60 29th St, San Francisco, CA 94110.

Tumblr has had previous issues with the NYC DHR for their moderation being unfairly biased against trans women (see : https://www.documentcloud.org/documents/21274288-tumblr-nycchr-settlement).

Despite a legally binding agreement with the NYC DHR, staff members still regularly harrass users based on their gender or sexual orientations. For example : on [date of most recent infraction] [describe incident] (if you are describing an incident that did not happen to you specifically, say something like) This incident involves the user [username] who I am not affiliated with (or/) who I am filing on behalf of.

I can be reached for further inquiries about this incident at [email you want to talk over] or [phone number you want to talk over]. (if you would like to be anonymous) However, In the event of legal prosecution against Automattic I would refer to be kept anonymous, where possible, in court proceedings. alternatively, you can also call the SF HRC at : 415-252-2500, you can use the above text as a starting point for this as well, next you want to fill out the form for the NYC DHR (new york city department of human rights) here : https://www.nyc.gov/site/cchr/about/report-discrimination.page for company you wanna put : Automattic and/or Tumblr for address you wanna put : 770 Broadway, New York, NY 10003 for phone number you wanna put : (646) 513-4321 and for category of discrimination you can put : Discriminatory harassment and basis of discrimination you can put : Gender; Gender identity you can then use a similar script on the written section of the form. when describing a specific incident, you should attach as many screenshots and links as possible! (for links, include both a live link and an archival link, so take a capture with the internet archive and have that as an alternative, incase a staff member gets petty.) this should only take a few minutes at most, and it helps alot! you can fill this out if you are a minor, and you dont have to be a us resident, please please take the time!!! and, just to clarify because there are many posts going around that are confused about this tumblr moved offices to san francisco recently, so their main HQ is at : 60 29th St, San Francisco, CA 94110 they DO still have an office in new york city, and thats where their PREVIOUS HQ was, the address is : 770 Broadway, New York, NY 10003

#art #my art #mspaint #rowens liddol guys #mspaint animations #the beast speaks #important shit #transgender #trans #predstrogen

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amu-says-hav-says · 9 months

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I can’t believe I went through all of Season 2 assuming Nina was the stand-in for Crowley when you actually pay attention it’s so CLEAR that she’s Aziraphale. I was tricked by her spiky, sarcastic, cynical outer shell and lulled into a false sense of security by Maggie’s bubbly optimism and wholesome goodness, because on the surface they reflect the ineffable husbands perfectly, in their personalities, their aesthetics, even many of their actions and morals. but not, and this is the real key, when it comes to their “relationship”. but those first impressions really had me damn fooled.

I missed the blatantness of Nina’s “we’re just friends. actually we’re not friends. we barely know each other.” the same thing Aziraphale said in season 1. the way he still struggles to quantify their friendship when Nina asks. Nina’s sarcasm when Crowley asks about rain and awnings because it worked for him (we all know it LMAO). hell, that whole convo the girls have in the rain is so AziraCrow (“I know. I’m not your type” “...You have no idea” hits so much harder the second time, help meeeee.) “Lindsay” maybe being symbolic of Heaven and Aziraphale’s toxic relationship with them and their abuse? (the handwritten text messages in red pen make me think of angry notes on paperwork, anyone else?) because Crowley has never actually cared about what Hell thinks of him, just not getting into trouble (or him or Aziraphale getting hurt). Maggie is always chasing Nina. NINA NEVER GOES IN THE RECORD STORE. Just like Crowley always goes to the bookstore, to Aziraphale, Zira NEVER WENT TO THE FLAT (apart from The Swap but that doesn’t count imo). Crowley has always chased Zira, not the other way around. Always there to rescue him, always going to him for company, always relying on their shared connection, always US. OUR SIDE. All through season one, he comes to Zira every time to work together, never trying to work alongside Hell in any way that isn’t to save their skins or Earth, while Zira hides things from Crowley because he STILL thinks Heaven is ultimately good and will do the right thing if he can just show them. fix it from the inside.

Maggie working up the courage to finally say something, to put herself out there, while Nina is utterly oblivious and then when she does realise Maggie has feelings, becoming standoffish, putting up that barrier, fighting it, denying it, ITS SO CROWLEY AND AZIRAPHALE IN THAT ORDER. the way I was fooled into thinking Nina’s trust issues are Crowley because he does have trust issues ofc he does BUT Crowley has ALWAYS TRUSTED AZIRAPHALE. has always relied on him. has always been hurt when Aziraphale doesn’t immediately reciprocate the way he expects (the holy water request, the bandstand, the “off in the stars” etc). he’s always the one putting himself forward. Aziraphale has always been the one to second guess everything, to fight their connection, their similarities, their friendship. the girls really made me think it was going to be okay when they sat Crowley down, even as my inner sirens were going haywire about Metatron interfering, they were telling Crowley he just needs to open up and it’ll all work out BUT HE’S ALREADY AT THAT POINT. he may not say it, and by gosh is that part of their damn problem, but he’s always SHOWN IT. he’s not Nina who needs time to heal and recover from her broken trust, he’s always been Maggie believing it doesn’t matter, they’ll end up together in the end anyway AND I WALKED RIGHT INTO THE TRAP THAT THIS MEANT THEY WERE GOING TO BE OKAYYYYYYYYYYY

#good omens #good omens spoilers #good omens season 2 #good omens 2 #GO2 #GO2 spoilers #ineffable husbands #not me going to my basically unused sideblog that isn't GO related because I NEED TO YELL THIS SOMEWHERE #I mean outside of the relationship thing there are so many ways #that Nina and Crowley line up and Zira and Maggie #but the girls story isn't about them as people #it's about this relationship the boys are tryna push on them and what that relationship reflects about the boys #anyway I'm on my first rewatch for all the clue I missed #so I imagine I'll only spot more clues to berate myself about as I go #HOW DID I FALL FOR ITTTTTT #I can't believe I was so blind #OFC the Disaster Puppy Lesbian was Crowley #and OFC the Emotionally Abused Tortoise was Aziraphale

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tacticaldiary · 7 months

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A Fighting Chance

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"When was the last time you kissed me and meant it?" Her voice drops into something akin to defeat.

And Simon...Simon feels like the rug's been pulled from under his feet.

Part 2, Masterlist,

"What're those?"

"Papers."

Ghost pauses halfway through opening the document, glancing up at the curtness of her voice. "Papers? She doesn't meet his eyes, gaze fixed on the table of the little booth they're sitting in.

The ice in her drink is long gone, watering down her coffee into something that tastes as bitter as her heart.

It had taken months for her to finally make this decision. Days of talking with her lawyer, crying alone at night and coming to the gruelling acceptance that this was for the best. It was best for both of them.

There's not many things that unsettle Simon. He's had blood stain his hands; his own, his comrades, and his enemies. Had almost any injury you could think of marring his skin, been prodded and ripped into, been the one on the opposite end of the knife.

But as he slides out the documents, turns them over, Simon's never felt more apprehensive.

He stills, reading the first few lines, clenching his jaw. "What is this?"

"I want a divorce."

And something in him crumbles at her defeated tone. Like she's already decided. Like he doesn't even have a chance to ask why or talk it through.

"No." He says tightly, putting them down and crossing his arms.

Her gaze shoots to his. "You can't just say that."

"I did. I won't sign them."

"I want this." She argues, and Simon swallows back the lump in his throat at how utterly tired she looks.

"I don't."

She's the light of his life, the one good, untouched piece of joy he gets to see. Something other than the bloodshed and violence he lives in.

"Simon," She says, shoulders sagging forward. "I can't do this anymore."

"This isn't the solution, love." He feels like his skin is crawling, the beginnings of unfamiliar panic clawing at his chest when she doesn't react to the pet name.

Doesn't smile, doesn't flush that beautiful red, doesn't squirm.

When she doesn't respond again, tight-lipped and clammed up and so determined to not look at him, he asks the question burning a hole through his tongue.

"Why?"

Deep down he knows. Knew this was coming but that part of him is buried under the thudding of his heart, and the rush of blood in his ears. Everything feels deathly still and moving too fast at the same time.

"Why?" She repeats, something in her stirring at the question. Her brow furrows and she switches from a cautious indifference to disbelief and frustration quicker than Simon can process. "Are you serious?" She huffs out an incredulous laugh. "You're away for months at a time and I'm supposed to what? Wait for you at our doorstep and wag my tail all happy when you finally come back to me?" Her grip tightens on her drink.

"Even when you are home, it's never about us. Never about me and you. You lock yourself in your study with your work, don't talk to me unless you come out for dinner or lunch. When was the last time we went out?" She demands. "When was the last time we went on a date? The last time we slept at the same time in the same bed?"

Simon clenches his jaw but says nothing, at a loss for words. It only encourages her to keep going, spewing thoughts that have been boiling over for the past few years.

"You barely look at me when we're home, I had to drag you out of the house to get here! You left halfway through our anniversary dinner last year because work called you in. Sometimes...sometimes I feel like you're only with me because it's easier than leaving and starting over, and that fucking hurts. It hurts when you can't bear to spend five minutes with me away from work. I've been telling you this for ages but you just...you don't listen to me." She leans forward, drink completely forgotten and hits the final nail in the coffin.

"When was the last time you kissed me and meant it?" Her voice drops into something akin to defeat.

And Simon...Simon feels like the rug's been pulled from under his feet.

"I never even know if you're coming home to me." Her voice cracks, and she hugs her middle, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "So yes, Simon, I want to separate. I'm not happy, not like I was when I met you." A sheen of tears she refuses to let fall.

"You can focus on work like you love to, and I can...I can move on."

It was so good when they started out. She found him endearing, dry humour and brooding and all. It was special, those first few years, and she'll always care about him but this...this waiting, this hurting, laying in bed at night alone and cold and crying...it wasn't right. It wasn't what she wanted and she wouldn't force Simon to want it when he clearly didn't want to.

"Fucking hell, I love you." Simon says quickly, stumbling over what to say. He reaches out for her hand on the table, but she pulls it away before he can grab it. It stings more than he can convey, makes the reality crashes down onto him.

He's about to lose her.

Because he couldn't fucking bear to pull himself out of being 'Ghost'.

It was always a rough couple of weeks during his leave. The adjustment to civilian life was a slow one for him, but that's not really an excuse at all.

"I don't think you do."

Simon blinks at her like she's slapped him. "You...you don't think so?" He repeats, running a hand through his hair. She nods, one nod, quick and so sure that it makes his chest ache.

Fuck. He's absolutely messed up.

"Everything's finalised on my end." She says. "You just need to sign them." Her voice is soft, almost like she's coaxing him.

If there's one thing he knows, it's that he's not touching those fucking papers. He's not losing someone he loves again.

"I'll take time off." He says, the intensity of his gaze makes a shiver run down her spine. "We can work through it, yeah? You can't spring this on me and not give me a chance to protest."

She shakes her head, "You're only taking time off because I'm upset." She tries to explain. "What do you think is going to happen? We spend a month together doing what we used to, and when everything's a little more stable you leave again. Distance yourself. Shut me out. Then we're back to square one."

"Won't happen." He says like he hasn't been doing it for the past few years already. "You...I can't lose you, darling." He leans forward. "Let me make it better. Give me a few months-"

"Simon-"

"A week."

"A week?" Her eyes widen. "A week to...what, prove that you'll change?"

"One week."

She worries her lip between her teeth, considering. One week wasn't a long time, but hope was dangerous in a situation like this.

"I'm not letting you go over something like this." Simon says. "I can't."

"This isn't about you." She crosses her arms. "You really think you can turn just...reverse the past few years in a week?" Maybe it's foolish of her to want him to say yes, to fight for her and realise that she's been hurting, but goddamn doesn't a small part of her scream at him to do it anyway.

"Not trying to reverse it." He folds his arms, and she can see the tense line of his shoulders as he takes in the situation, gears turning in his head as he plans how he's going to work his way out of a situation so precious and daunting as this.

Part of him didn't think it would ever come to this. Yes, he can be cold and aloof but Simon thought she knew that he loved her through it all. No matter what.

When was the last time you kissed me and meant it?

Fuck if that doesn't tear through his chest more painfully than any caliber bullet ever could.

He takes her in quietly for a moment.

The woman he fell in love with. The person that gave him a reason to keep going, a motive to feel anything other than the cold efficientness of loading a gun and firing. Soft touches and warm smiles, something so at odds with the rough life he's used to.

Sitting there in front of him, she looks more beautiful than he remembers, and it only proves to make his stomach sink like a stone at the notion of seeding any doubt about his feelings in her heart.

A right fucking bastard he was for it.

"I'm sorry." He breathes out, much softer than the gruff voice he's been using with her. "I'll do better. Just give me a chance, yeah?"

For one horrible moment, Simon thinks she'll decline. That she'll slide over the papers again and demand he sign them.

But she considers his words for a moment before nodding once.

And it's all he needs.

A fighting chance.

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Part 2

(11/10/2023)

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miserycanary · 1 month

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MY HELL FOR YOUR LOVE ᡣ𐭩

♡⃛ ‘A Fixed Heart in Your Hand' alternative ending

pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley & fem!reader

synopsis: alternative ending because I feel bad for hurting y'all

tags: hurt/COMFORT, fluff

"Sir? Sir!”

Ghost flinches as he realizes he’s been spacing out, the florist now looking at him with furrowed eyebrows. “Are you going to buy something or not?” she snaps, motioning at the display of bouquets. “Uh, yeah. Give me something with hyacinth and baby breaths,” he mutters, handing her a 100 bill. “Hyacinth? Never thought I’d see a day where a man knows a different flower aside from roses, tulips, and sunflowers,” the vendor chuckles, arranging the flowers neatly and covering them with a brown printed paper tied with a twine. “Ah,… if I know something, it’s about her.” The florist smiles, handing Ghost the bouquet and his change while saying, “Well, I can see that you love her dearly.” With a soft smirk, he replies, “That I do.”

You’ve always had a love for flowers. Going as far as to even beg him to make you a flower bed. Ghost didn’t like doing physical labor with him already getting beat from training at the base, yet when you flashed him that smile (and gave a toe-curling blowjob), how could he refuse? Since then, flowers as gifts have been rare between you two. Instances where he’d give you one are when you’re on a terrible period day or during milestones (the flowers coming from the patch he secretly planted months before).

It’s been two days since you’ve left the apartment, staying at your friend’s house, but Ghost insists on having you keep some of your stuff in the unit because, “well, you technically have ownership of the place since we shared the payment for this month.” It was a poor excuse, really, but it worked. Ghost knows you well enough to know that you haven’t broken up with him despite what you said. Leaving and staying somewhere else is something you do when you’re hurt and need space, and he knows that deep inside, you’re waiting for him.

Don’t get him wrong. He doesn’t think you’re “easy to get” and he did really regret everything. The last 2 nights without you knocked some sense into him. The night felt colder, somber, and… lonely. Something he thought he would never complain about. I mean, this man has been through worse situations and he prefers solitude, but not if it’s solitude without you. You’re the one thing he can’t live without.

He has sent you multiple voicemails, messages, and even money as an apology. He’d always drop off by your friend’s place with some poorly attempted home-cooked meal of your favorite dishes. Sometimes he’d be able to steal a glance at you when he saw you coming up to the unit right before he arrived, sending flutters to his heart and butterflies in his stomach like a high school boy with a crush.

Now he stands by the door, hoping he’d leave the place with you in his arms, and him in your heart again. Three knocks (you always say less or more than that are for psychopaths) and a call of your name. Simon couldn’t help but chuckle when he heard your familiar cry, probably from rushing and stumbling. The wooden door cracked open, and the adrenaline that rushed through his nerves just from seeing you again could knock the man dead. He couldn’t even say anything except literally melt and give you the warmest smile. “Hi,” he softly greets, pulling the bouquet out of the paperbag and handing it to you with another gift. It was a charm... a tree bark with your initials engraved. You chuckle, pulling out the letter sticking out.

One thing you learned about your Simon was that he’s not entirely good at conveying his feelings. I mean, that’s literally the reason for this fight. Yet he got out of his comfort zone, wrote you a fucking letter.

You look at him, tears in your eyes before jumping into his arms.

“I fucking missed you, pretty girl,” he mutters, holding you up by your ass and pressing a deep kiss on your lips. God, you taste like heaven; you taste like salvation. He tangles his fingers in your hair and pushes you closer, afraid you’ll slip from his fingers again.

From that day on, Simon learned one thing. That he would rather go through the depths of hell (talk about his feelings) than go through a day without your love.

| The letter:

‘To my darling flower, I’m sorry for even hurting you. I’m sorry I was a shit-ass about how I processed my emotions and got you involved. You’ve always told me that you’re there for me but I didn’t want to burden you. I always want you to be happy but my actions just did the opposite. I’m sorry that I didn’t say anything that day. That I didn’t even ask you to stay. I’m sorry for being a coward. I’m sorry that I let you go.

With this letter, I ask for your forgiveness and for you to have me back. I will be better because I cannot afford to lose you for you have my heart and soul. You are my whole life. You are the thing that makes surviving each day worth it.’

꒰ა ☆ ໒: Now you guys know why Ghost calls Y/N ‘flower’. This the comfort alternative ending because it was also requested. 📩

dividers by @cafekitsune

Please reblog!! Ask is open!

⟢ taglist: @softestqueeen

check out my other works in the masterlist: ୭!

#simon ghost x you #simon riley fluff #simon riley cod #simon riley call of duty #simon ghost x reader #ghost x you #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #cod modern warfare #cod x reader #ghost riley #simon riley #canary’s symphonies #canary’s melodies

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f1goat · 1 month

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more than friends ; lando norris + part nine

In which your best friend is going to help you to gain more sexual experience and say goodbye to your insecurities, but he's quick to discover that he never wants to share you and your new experiences with others - the only problem being, him having to confess his feelings.

masterlist - playlist

fem!y/n x lando norris

warnings: smut with a plot. minors dni! probably grammar or spelling errors due to english not being my first language.

requested: yes, based on this request: something with a driver sister that’s still a virgin & lando (her bestfriend) suggests to teach her things

part one / part two / part three / part four / part five / part six / part seven / part eight

You don’t even know what you’re doing here and why you’re spending your time like this. Lando and you flew back to Monaco only yesterday, just to flight back to the last race of the triple header tomorrow. He insisted that he wanted to go back home for a bit, so you naturally followed him. Today he told you he needed to fix some Quadrant things with Max, meaning you’d be left on your one. A bit weird since you normally join them when they’re doing stuff for Quadrant. Not wanting to do nothing for the whole afternoon, you asked some friends to lunch together. Which is why you’re sitting in a small lunchroom in the centre of Monaco.

You shouldn’t have asked them for lunch. The last time you saw your friends, they kept going on about their sex life and the non-existing one of you. This time it’s almost the same, expect that they don’t stop about yours.

“You really should just get drunk, find some guy and let him fuck you,” one of your friends state. It’s too bad that it’s too early in the afternoon to start drinking, because being drunk sounds as a solution to make this lunch ‘date’ better. Another friend of yours laughs, “You’d feel better with a bit of experience,” she says. You don’t know what to reply to them, you simply roll your eyes.

You remember what Lando told you when you were drunk and he picked you up. According to him boys would like it, maybe even preferred it if you’re a virgin. You wonder why he said that, was it to make you feel better or is there a truth hiding under it?

“Guys stop,” another friend says. You didn’t even pay attention to the rest of their remarks. Not that you have to hear them to know what they’re saying. “Why don’t you ask Lando to do it?” Your friend asks, “He seems like he’s pretty vanilla during sex, so he probably won’t hurt you,” she adds. It causes you to let out a soft chuckle. They should know.

“Why is everyone so concerned about my virginity?” You ask annoyed when they still continue to make jokes about it, “It’s not even that I’m this concerned about it.”

“It’s just that probably no boy wants someone who’s as inexperienced as you,” is one of the answers you get within seconds. Your friend gets slapped on her arm by someone else for being this direct. “Maybe some guys like it,” you sigh as a response.

“Girl, no boy likes it.”

“When you finally find some guy and act al prudish with him, he will probably cheat on you in no time,” another friend adds.

“Prudes get cheated on.”

Reality crashes down on you. Annoyed but mostly sad you get up from your chair, you walk up to the register and pay for you own lunch before turning back to your friends. You can barely stop yourself from crying. Fuck, why are you even friends with them? Lando told you multiple times that they don’t deserve your kindness. “I’m leaving,” you state before turning away from them and walking out of the cafe. No one stands up to follow you, not that you’re surprised of that.

When you walk further away from the place, you realize that you have no idea what to do now. All of your stuff is still at Lando his place, since you’re sleeping at his. But Lando isn’t home, right? You sigh. A couple tears run down over your cheeks. Should you just call him? Maybe he can pick you up as well. Without further thinking about it, you search for Lando his number and call him.

“Hey babygirl,” Lando greets you within seconds of you calling him. You don’t know why, but when you hear Lando his voice more tears start to roll down on your cheeks. Before giving Lando a proper greeting, you can only let out a sob. “What’s going on?” Lando is quick to ask you, “Did your friends say something mean?” He doesn’t even need to ask, he already knows. You let out another soft sob.

“Can you come get me?” You ask Lando.

“Yes, yes of course,” he replies, “Send me your location, I’m already walking towards the car.”

Lando doesn’t know what to say, or maybe how to express his feelings and thoughts into actual logical sentences. You’re sitting next to him in his car while he’s driving back to his apartment. Since he picked you up, you haven’t said anything about what happened. He can only guess, but his best guess is that your ‘friends’ said something completely unhinged and mean what caused you to get like this.

When Lando parks his car and opens your door for you, he doesn’t know what to do. He wants to take you into his arms and cuddle you until you feel better, but he has no idea if that’s what you want as well. Today was suppose to be ‘the’ day. Fuck, now that he thinks about it - his apartment is a mess. He lied to you about his meeting with Max, there was none. He just needed you gone for a bit, so he could surprise you. Before you called he was busy with lighting candles, throwing around rose petals and creating a nice, cozy atmosphere so you would feel at home. He was almost done when you’re called, but left in a hurry to come and get you. Most of it is in his bedroom, but he’s pretty sure that you can find some hints in the living room as well.

Together you walk inside of the apartment. “Want to talk about it?” Lando asks you.

“Not yet,” you answer honestly, “I’m taking a shower first.”

Lando shows you a simple nod, giving you your time while cursing your friends in his head. He presses a small kiss against the top of your head, before he lets you walk off to the bathroom. Lando wachtes when you walk away from him. He wonders what your friends said that causes you to be sad like this. He can remember multiple times that this happened, last time it was about your sexual inexperience but before that it could be about anything. That you weren’t making time for your friends, that you didn’t treated them nicely enough and he can go on like that.

When you walk into Lando his bedroom to grab some clothes for after your shower, you don’t know what you’re seeing. There are lit candles around his bed, rose petals on the floor and on the sheet and a slow song is playing. The atmosphere seems cozy. You wonder what this is about. Before you can say something, Lando is already showing up behind you.

After watching you walk away, Lando decided to walk to his bedroom and do the last finishing touches. Hoping he could still show you it, without expecting anything back from it. That you’re not in the mood right now is pretty clear and he understands it. When he walks to his bedroom, he almost bumps into you. You’re standing in silence and watching the room.

“Fuck,” Lando mutters when he sees you, “This wasn’t how I planned it.”

“What’s this Lando?” You ask, “Did I interrupt something when I called?”

Lando takes a few seconds to think about your words. Are you suggesting that he was here with another girl? That this was for another girl? Fuck. He doesn’t know if he should become mad or sad with you.

You don’t dare to watch at Lando. You can only wonder about what this meant. Was there another girl here before you came? Did Lando do this for someone else? You can only think about the words from your friends about being prude and what will happen. Were they right? Lando and you aren’t dating, but there was a understanding between you two about not doing anything with others. Tears are rolling down on your cheeks again. You let out a loud sob.

“Fuck babygirl,” Lando mutters, “Of course not.” He hears your sobs and decides to leave the remark for what it was. “I wanted to surprise you,” Lando explains, “I thought that I could surprise you with dinner tonight when I picked you up from your friends at the time we discussed and then when we would get back, I could surprise you with this. And if you were ready, I uh I thought tonight could be the night.”

“You wanted to surprise me?” You ask Lando confused. “Why?”

“I wanted to make your first time special,” Lando confesses.

“Is that why we’re in Monaco?” You continue to ask. A blush is spreading on your cheeks and tears are still rolling down. This time not because of your so called friends and their comments, but because of Lando. Your best friend. God, you don’t even know how the universe ever thought you deserved someone as Lando but you’re thankful for it everyday.

“Yeah,” Lando admits, “I didn’t want your first time to be in a hotel.”

“But you have the most luxurious hotel rooms,” you laugh.

Lando shrugs. “Go shower baby girl, we’ll talk after.”

You grab the clothes that you came for and turn back to get to the bathroom. Lando is still staring at you. You show him a small smile. “This is the sweetest thing anyone has ever done for me,” you tell Lando. Before walking off you press a small kiss against Lando his cheek. Lando doesn’t take that as enough, he takes you into his arms and presses his lips against yours.

All flustered you walk to the shower.

+++

“Did you lie to me?” You ask Lando without any sort of context. Lando shows you a confused look, waiting for you to continue your question. “You told me that some guys would even like it that I’m a virgin, did you mean that?” You continue to ask.

“Yes!” Lando is quick to exclaim, “I meant that.”

“Would you like it?” You question further. When Lando doesn’t answer quick enough, you continue to talk. “Suppose I’m your girlfriend and you find out that I’m a virgin, would you like that or think it’s weird?”

“Baby,” Lando sighs, is he really going to confess this to you? “If you were my girlfriend and I would find out that you’re a virgin, I would be fucking happy.”

“You would be happy?” You ask Lando.

“Which guy wouldn’t be happy if his girl wasn’t touched by any other guy?” Lando asks you, he knows he sounds possessive right now - but he really can’t help himself. “It’s okay if she’s not a virgin, but I always liked the thought of having a virgin girlfriend more. There’s something about exploring everything together. Being the only guy who she’s going to do those things with.”

“Promise?” You ask. “Promise,” Lando answers directly, “but now you’re going to tell me what your friends told you because I think that this has something to do with it.”

It doesn’t take you long to get everything out in the open. All the remarks your friends made about you’re still being a virgin. Lando knows how to react perfectly, he lets out a couple annoyed huffs and mutters some remarks about how pathetic they are. When you tell him what they said about prudes, he feels himself fill with rage. “That’s bullshit,” he states, “not that you’re a prude and even if you were a prude, I’d never cheat on you.”

For one moment he forgets that he isn’t your boyfriend and that your friends have no idea about what’s happening between the two of you. He feels personally attacked, not because your friends thought he was vanilla at sex, but because they are filling your mind with their awful opinions. If you were his girlfriend, he wouldn’t even know what cheating meant. Who would cheat when they have you?

“Maybe we can watch something in bed?” You eventually ask Lando. You’re done with talking about it and want to relax for a bit, tomorrow you’ll have to leave early for the flight. Lando shows you a nod and takes you with him to his bedroom.

The both of you forgot for a moment how the bedroom is looking. You still can’t believe that Lando did this for you. Lando lets out an awkward chuckle, he also forgot about this. This day went a whole other direction then he thought it would, but he’s fine with it. Al though, having sex with you still would be the best outcome of today.

“I’m sorry for fucking up today,” you tell Lando softly, “It’s so sweet that you planned this and I really fucked it up.”

“You didn’t,” Lando quickly replies, “If anything, you can’t do anything about what happened.”

“I could stop being friends with those girls,” you sigh.

“That sounds like a good plan.”

You let out a soft laugh. It’s no secret that Lando doesn’t like them and now you can state that he’s more then right about it. The both of you are laying in Lando his bed, casually clothed and ready to watch some dumb YouTube videos. But you change your mind about that, you move yourself closer to Lando so you can feel his body against yours. Why would you let your morning stop how the rest of the day is going?

Lando is silently watching you. He knows nothing is going to happen for the rest of the night, but he can’t stop thinking about the way today was supposed to go. He shouldn’t have brought you to your friends, maybe then it would have gone better. Lando lets out a soft sigh. Since he came up with this idea he has been horny. He can’t stop thinking about how it would be to have sex with you. How tight would you feel around his cock? Fuck, he needs to stop thinking about this.

“Lan?” You ask suddenly.

“Yes babygirl?”

“I’m still ready,” you confess.

“What do you mean?” Lando asks confused. Do you mean what he thinks? Are you talking about having sex? Now?

“Maybe we can still continue with your plan?” You suggest, “We might have missed the dinner part, but it would be a shame if you put on all those candles for nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Lando asks surprised. “Yes,” you answer him, “I want you to take my virginity.”

In no time Lando is hovering above your body. He looks you in your eyes while asking the same question again, this time you still answer him with yes. “I don’t want you to regret this,” Lando continues, “Are you really sure?”

“Lan, I’m sure and I swear to God that if you ask me that again I’ll call Pierre Gasly to come here and do something about it.”

Lando firmly grabs one of your tits underneath your clothes, squeezing it until you let out a soft yelp. “Don’t say that ever again,” he states. He releases your breast. You wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull him down onto yourself, getting close enough to properly kiss him. Lando smiles through the kiss. Is this actually happening? He feels himself getting more excited then ever before. Crazy isn’t it? He had sex with the hottest models, the most famous influencers, but he has never been so excited to fuck with someone as he is right now.

“Lan?”

“Yes?”

“You’re going to be careful right?” You ask a bit unsure.

“Of course baby girl,” Lando replies honestly, “We can stop anytime you like, just say the word.”

“You’re the best,” you say with a relieved sigh.

It’s a sign for Lando to continue. He pulls your shirt - or better said his own shirt which you’re wearing, up and removes it from your body. He presses multiple kisses on your neck, shoulders and keeps moving lower until your nipple is in his mouth. He feels it stiffen in his mouth. In the mean time he lets his hands wander around your body. He toys with the waistband of your sweatpants. This time you’re the one who pulls them down, causing you to lay in only your string for now.

“Eager babygirl?” He asks you.

“Maybe,” you confess.

Lando slides his fingers over your string. Making sure to tease you a bit. He moves himself lower on your body, slowly he presses some kisses on your stomach before lowering himself even more and kissing your more private parts. It doesn’t take long before you let out the first couple of moans. When Lando hears the moan falling from your lips, he can’t stop smiling.

“Don’t tease,” you mutter when Lando is still toying with your underwear.

“Want you as wet as possible,” Lando replies. You grab his hand, move away your string and let his hand feel the pool of wetness between your legs. “I don’t think you have to do much for that,” you tell Lando. You move your own hand towards Lando his private parts, slowly tracing the outlines of his boner through his sweatpants. He grunts lowly and finally pulls of your string. Lando lowers himself again, causing you to lose the feeling of his boner on your hands.

He takes a minute to look at your vagina before pressing his lips on it. Multiple soft kisses are pressed around your pussy before Lando gives his attention to your clit. Slowly he laps onto it. His goal is to make you as horny as possible, so you might even cum when he fucks you. It doesn’t take him long before you’re close to your orgasm. It’s his cue to stop. You let out a soft whine when Lando removes his mouth from your pussy and looks at you.

“Still sure?” He asks you while pulling down his sweatpants and underwear. His boner springs free, you notice how it softly slaps against Lando his stomach. You wonder if you have ever seen him this hard. Lando on the other hand knows for sure he has never been this hard. The things you’re doing to him, without actually doing something, are insane.

“Yes,” you state. You look at Lando trying to grab something out of his nightstand. When you see him with a condom wrapper, you slowly shake your head at him. “Are you clean?” You ask Lando. He is fast to tell you a yes, “I’ve never done anything without a condom,” he adds. “Then this will be a first for the both of us,” you reply. Lando asks you a couple more times if you’re sure about it, which you keep answering with yes and green.

Then he throws away the condom and moves closely to you. Gently he spreads your legs. “You can tell me to stop anytime,” he softly says. “Please just fuck me already,” you whine. It causes Lando to let out a deep chuckle.

He positions himself in front of your entrance. In a weird way he’s nervous about this as well. He wants to ask you if you’re ready (again), but you’re already nodding at him. It’s the sign for Lando to start with slowly pushing himself inside of you. When he you clenching around his dick, he almost loses it. As soft as he can manage he pushes his dick inside of you. You don’t say anything. Lando closely watches your face, but doesn’t spot many signs of discomfort. When he’s fully inside of you, you let out a soft moan. Lando does the same, but only a lot harder.

“Fuck babygirl,” he mutters, “You feel so fucking good.”

You show Lando a small smile.

“Can I move?” He asks you.

“Of course Lan.”

Lando slowly starts to move inside of you. You feel him pulling back a bit before going all the way in again. He does so a couple times. His movements are slow but steady. It doesn’t hurt, but that can also be because of Lando who’s distracting you. His lips has found their way back to your tits. He sucks on them, leaving all kind of marks. When he moves his lips higher and starts to make a mark on your neck as well, you wonder how you’ll ever hide that during the race week in another hot country.

“You can go a bit faster,” you eventually tell Lando. He is quick to act out your instructions. When he increases his pace, things are starting to feel better and better.

“Fuck, it’s insane how good you feel around my dick,” Lando mutters. He isn’t surprised that he already feels his orgasm coming close to him. This has been on top of his mind for the last weeks and now he finally gets to feel you like this. Your pussy clenches on his dick. It causes him to let out a hard moan. “Such a good girl,” he tells you, “taking me so well.” He increases his pace a bit more, asking you for your color after doing so. When he hears you almost moan out the word green, he increases even more.

You feel your stomach tighten. Everyone always said that the first time wouldn’t be a nice experience. You’ve always been afraid for it, maybe that’s why you waited this long. But Lando, fuck, Lando takes away all the pain. Maybe it’s pure because he is the one that it doesn’t hurt. Nobody knows your body as well as Lando does, he can surprise you with what he does. When he increases his pace, you let out a soft moan. You’re close. For the first time you don’t ask Lando for permission, you don’t tell him that you’re close. It just happens. Your orgasm crashes over you, leaving you in a state of pure bliss.

Lando is quick to follow. “Can I cum inside you?” He asks. You tell him a yes, you’re on the pill so it’s fine. That’s all it takes for him, you feel him empty himself in your vagina. When Lando slowly pulls back, you let out a soft whine.

“Was it okay?” Lando asks you. You turn yourself a bit more towards him, laying your head on top of his chest. “Yes,” you confess, “more then okay.”

You start to doubt about what will happen now. Will this be the end of your lessons with Lando? You certainly don’t hope so, but what if he thinks it is? You start to get a bit nervous. How will things ever go back to normal? Is that still possible? You’re head over heals for your best friend, but you have no idea how he feels. Maybe this was just sex for him and the chance of it being done now is kinda big. You want to ask Lando how things will continue for now, but you can’t find the right words.

“Fuck,” Lando mutters, “I can’t wait to feel you around me again.”

That makes your worries go away for a bit.

part ten

a/n; it finally happened!!

taglist: @booksandplushies @dinodumbass @formula1mount @words-are-cheap @allywthsr @inejghafawifesblog @chonkybonky @formulas-bitch @harrysdimple05 @vildetry06 @wherethefuckisthething @nonameishere @lauralarsen@meadhbhcavanagh @obliviatevamps @shy4turcs @fix5idiots @nightlockcornucopia @marialovesf1 @kapsylia @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @lanando4 @lauralarsen @leclercdream @agentadhd @rewmuslupin @allsouls-emma @iamshiningeuw @teenagedreams-cl@kiskso @loxbbg @vellicora @thomaslefteyebrow @avg-golden-retriever @amorydsmt @killjoynotes@barelytolerabled @starmanv @changetyre @kami10471633 @2bormaybenot @httpmrklee @buendiabebeta @aliceespector@ryiamarie @mickslover @sop-hie092 @miniemonie2001 @greymarvelskaikru @kapsylia@swiftiedrafts @thatchickwiththecamera @formulas-bitch @venisvendetta @t3a-3njoy3r @landowecanbewc

taglist p2: @chezmardybum @booksandflowrs @mineandneveryours @strawberryy-kiwii @noneofyourfbusinessworld @secretgal66 @trinity2058 @evieepepi08 @shutupmymomsc4lling @smiithys @nanamilkbread @hellowgoodbye @annie115 @random-1927 @sadmeal444 @christianpulisic10 @peachiicherries @toppersjeep @lovingaphroditesworld @kiskso @silentreader128 @lauralarsen @scopeiguess @trinity2058 @shy4turcs @moonlight-girls-posts @xjval @saachiep81 @leclercdream @adalynneva @swiftiedrafts @oscahpastry @customsbyjcg-blog

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris x y/n #lando norris imagine #formula one #ln4 #f1 #lando norris imagines #lando norris smut

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gaysindistress · 2 months

Text

What if Simon didn’t listen when Price told him to apologize to his girl before she does go off and find herself a better man?

a/n: This is technically part two for this list. You could read them separately but I really think you should read them both so you can fully feel the angst.

non-mcu characters masterlist

Taglist: @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries this is one is for you girl

Price stalks over to him and grabs him by the front of his vest, not caring that everyone can see what’s going on. “You call and apologize to her right now, ya hear me? It’s unacceptable for you to lie to her like that and I should have your balls for it. You fix it before she does go off and find herself a better man.”

Now let’s say that when Simon got back, things were….different. You rarely fought but now you’re bickering about every little thing and having full on battles of the will that leave you crying in the bedroom while he’s storming out. The connection between you two feels strained and distant where’s before it was warm and comforting. You barely look at each other and sometimes you think he’s straight up ignoring you.

Even the dogs have started to notice that there’s something off about mom and dad. Most nights you’ll sleep alone with the dogs by your door while Simon is on the couch. It feels like they’re laying in wait, ready to spring into action if anything were to happen. They don’t go to him as much as they did before and your female dog, Echo, refuses to leave your side. She’s become glued to you while your other dog, Zade, keeps you within eyesight at all times. It really pisses Simon off because Zade is supposed to be his dog and the mutt won’t even look at him (Simon’s words, not yours).

It all comes to a head though one night when Simon is trying to get Zade to come with him on a walk and the dog just stares at him. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t blink. He just stares into Simon’s soul and judges him for how he’s been treating you.

“Zade! Come here now!” Simon grumbles in a half shout but the dog doesn’t move a muscle. You’re in the bedroom with Echo at your feet and she glances over at you with a look that says ‘let’s go’.

What happened next is a blur. Echo barely makes it into the living room before she’s growling and placing herself between you and Simon. Zade is up and stalking closer to his sister’s side while Simon is growing more and more angry. You don’t think you even had the time to say anything before Echo and Zade tackle Simon to the ground. You know they wouldn’t hurt him but it’s still a terrifying sight and you’re doing everything you can to get the dogs off of him. You manage to get them off but they refuse to go to their kennels and keep tucked behind you, still ready to protect you if needed.

“Simon, oh my god are you okay?” You ask him in a panicked and high pitched voice as you try to help him up. He shoves your hands off of him and accidentally uses too much force which sends you to stumbling into the dogs.

Everything is absolute chaos with his anger, the dogs trying to protect you, and now you’re crying while trying not to tell him off. At this point you grab the dogs by their collars and pull them away as tears are streaming down your face. When they hear your sniffles, they immediately give into you and let you pull them to the bedroom. You don’t hear Simon as you start to pack as much as you can. The weeks of being on edge have finally gotten to you and you’re done.

You refuse to be in a relationship with a man who isn’t willing to communicate with you.

You refuse to be in a relationship with a man who used to be the most loving and devoted man you’ve ever met but now he can’t acknowledge your presence.

You refuse to be in a relationship with a man who’s come so far and has forgiven himself for the things he’s done but now he’s slipping back into his old self destructive ways.

You refuse to be in a relationship with a man who can’t be honest with himself and admit that he’s wrong.

You refuse to be in a relationship with a man who’s become Ghost.

You’ve tried having faith in him after he broke up with you but it’s rotting you from the inside out. It’s eating away at your heart, gnawing at your ribs with your flesh stuck in its teeth. This faith is liquifying the kindness and patience you once had. It’s changing you into an anxious shell of a coward who can’t stand up for yourself. Change is alright but this is not. This change is making you cruel and hopeless while it waits for you to become a faithless savage who devours whatever light touches you.

It’s only when you come back into the living room with your bags packed and the dogs ready to go that Simon says something to you.

He questions what you’re doing.

He doesn’t apologize.

“I’m leaving. We’ll figure out everything tomorrow,” you tell him as you find your keys.

“What do you mean?”

You stop. You stare at the front door with completely blank eyes. They flicker to him over your shoulder.

“I’m leaving you. I’ll call you tomorrow and we can figure out how to make it a clean break then.”

He doesn’t say a word. Neither do you after that.

He lets you walk out the door. You don’t ask him to fight for you either.

He lets you leave him. You don’t turn back either.

You meant to drive to your friend’s place but somewhere on the way there you pull over and cry until you feel like you’re going to pass out. Zade and Echo watch from the backseat of your car with their heads on your center console. They want to comfort you but there’s not exactly room for two 100 pound dogs in the front seat so they stay put. Your friend calls you frantically because she’s not home but tells you that you should come meet her wherever she’s at. As nice as it might be to get away, it’s not appealing to you at the moment so you call the only other person you know you’d be comfortable with right now.

A part of you knows it’s a mistake to call him and if Simon finds out, he might very well almost kill his captain a third time. The other part of you knows that John would be understanding and the calm presence that you want right now. He already checks on you regularly so would it be a huge surprise if you showed up on his doorstep?

As if he’s been waiting for this moment, John already has a guest room for you and has the back door open for the dogs to run around outside. They’ve met him before so they feel more secure with leaving your side although they both give him a warning look.

Now it’s important to remember that the entire time you’ve known John, you’ve been with Simon. John thinks himself a gentleman, albeit a bit gruff, but a gentleman no less so you’ve been off limits. Obviously he can’t ignore the initial attraction he felt towards you because you are an utterly breathtaking person and it would be impossible to not notice that. He’s tried to lock away the yearning that tugs at the marrow in his bones when he sees you but it’s difficult. It’s like asking a dog to stop begging; they might listen for a moment but they go back to it within seconds. Also during the course of your friendship, he’s come to know the absolute amazing person that you are and seen that you have the kindness soul he’s ever known. It didn’t used to hurt when he saw you but after that night you texted him to keep Simon safe after he broke up with you, it’s damn near unbearable. Simon told you to find yourself a better man and John knows he could be that man. He wants to be that man but only if you come to him. He won’t approach you or even hint at it with you. It needs to be you who seeks him out. It needs to be you who wants him. It needs to be you who asks him to be that man otherwise John would never be able to forgive himself if it all went wrong.

Nothing happens that night or at all for that matter during your stay with John. It was meant to only be a few days but with losing your house so suddenly and trying to navigate a world Post Simon, it ends up being a few weeks. You feel awful about it and promise that you’ll be gone as soon as you can. John always laughs it off and tells you to stay as long as you need. Secretly he’s growing accustomed to your calming presence and gentle ways. He adores how thoughtful you are when you have to work early and barely make a sound. He appreciates how you make him a plate and leave it in the fridge if he comes home late. He’s thankful that you’re comfortable enough with him to tell him about everything that’s going on.

John made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t bring up anything unless you said something first. Even when he wants desperately to know why you’re crying when you came back from Simon’s tonight, he won’t. Instead he offers you a cup of tea, a warm blanket, and some space while he busies himself in his shop outside. It absolutely destroys him to even think about leaving you alone in the living room but it’s the right thing to do.

Just as he’s getting ready to leave, your small voice stops him.

“Can…can you stay?” It’s unusual for you to not be confident in your words. It causes him to freeze to hear the uncertainty. “If..if you want.”

He smiles at the ground before turning to look at you and nod. You’re curled into a ball on the couch with your dogs at your feet but there’s space for him next to you. You lean away from the arm of the couch and he takes the hint. Settling into the space between you and couch, he tosses his arm over the back and lets you decide how to proceed. Against your logical head, you tuck yourself into his side with yours pulled around yourself and your head on his shoulder. His fingers itch to play with the ends of your hair but they stay tightly closed around the couch cushion.

“Thank you…for everything.”

“No need for that.” He murmurs with bated breath. He knows you can feel the tension, how could you not when you’re practically laying on his chest?

“One day you’re going to accept my thanks. It might not be tomorrow or the day after, but you will,” you say with a snort. He says that every single time and you reply with the same phrase every time as well.

John’s hand betrays him and starts to play with the very ends of your hair. You feel it just like you felt his strained breathing. It’s strange to feel affection from anyone else but from him, it’s…. welcomed. You don’t acknowledge it and he knows that you’re doing that for his own sake.

“Maybe,” he tosses back and his breath catches when you move closer to him. Your arm moves to wrap around his waist and stills when he tenses. It’s your silent way of asking for consent to hold him. “Love,” he starts and moves his hand away from your hair.

You move to look at him, resting your chin on his shoulder. He’s looking at you with such tenderness and warmth it makes your stomach flip.

“Do you have feelings for me?” You ask him directly, unwilling to be tossed around again. It’s abrasive and you know there’s a better way to have asked but it gets straight to the point.

John looks sick and a tight lipped smile pulls across his face as he tries to come up with an answer. “I…love I think you need to rest. There’s been a…”

“No. Answer the question.”

He glances down at your lips and that’s telling enough.

“Now isn’t the right time,” he whispers more to himself than to you. “You’ve just gone through…”

Cutting him off, you say firmly, “and that doesn’t mean I don’t know what I want.”

He can only stare at you with half lidded eyes and pray that he doesn’t break in front of you. His resolve is crumbling and it’s only thanks to his military service that he’s not throwing himself at you.

“I told him it’s over.”

John tries to interrupt you but you silence him with a pointed look. “I told him that I will always love him but that doesn’t mean I want to be with him anymore. I won’t wait around for him to figure his life out. I don’t deserve that. I deserve a man who knows what he wants and will communicate with me.”

Honestly it feels like his world is crumbling around him. You’re here snuggled into his chest and saying all these things which he knows what they mean but he can’t believe that you know what they mean. He can’t trust his own understanding of you and believe that you’d mean that.

“I need you to tell me what you want…now.”

You.

He wants you. More than anything in the world, John Price wants you and you’re asking him to confess that secret.

#simon riley x female reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley #cod x reader #call of duty imagine #ghost call of duty #call of duty #john price #john price x reader #John price imagine #captain price x reader #price x reader #price #captain price #cod price

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intoxicated-chan · 11 months

Note

Okay, so this is more on the soft angst side, but would you be willing to write a Miguel x F!Reader (or gender neutral if you’d prefer that) where Miguel visits Reader’s universe to check in on them since they haven’t visited the Spider Society headquarters for some time now, and he shows up at her apartment right as she’s in the middle of fixing up her wounds after a massive fight. And so he helps patch up her wounds, and after some intense eye contact between the two of them, they kiss (it should be noted that they’ve been pining over each other awhile now, but neither of them have said anything to the other).

And if it isn’t too much, I have these dialogue prompts you can add as well if you need anymore inspiration (you totally don’t have to use them, I just thought they’d fit perfectly with this scenario).

“Are you alright? Where are you hurt?”

“You don’t have to come over here and take care of me you know. I can clean up my own messes.”

“Can I stay? I'll take the couch.”

If this feels like too much, don’t hesitate to decline this ask! I’m just really excited 😅

I Need You to Stay

✿ฺ Paring ➳❥ Miguel O’Hara x F!Reader

✿ฺ Summary ➳❥ Miguel hasn’t heard from you in weeks, he wonders what’s keeping you so busy.

✿ฺ (A/n) ➳❥ Inspired by “Stay” by Ari Abdul. Thank you for the request Anon! I hope you enjoy it and are taking care of yourself. Have a wonderful day/night!

✿ฺ Word Count ➳❥ 887

✿ฺ Content Warnings ➳❥ Female reader, mention of violence, mentions of death, light angst, fluffy, blood, open wounds, light swearing…

Four weeks. It has been four weeks since Miguel last saw you. Normally, he wouldn’t be so worried, but it’s been four days. Usually, if you couldn’t make it, you’d talk to him through a screen but that hasn’t happened in the four weeks. Not a call, not a text, not even a simple message. Heck, even Lyla hasn’t heard anything from you.

Miguel sighs, “I can believe I’m saying this right now…” He looks at Peter B. “I’m putting you in charge until I get back.”

“Where are you going?” Peter B. asks.

“I haven’t heard anything from (Y/n) and Lyla can’t reach her. I’ll be back soon.”

Gwen pops up from behind Peter B.,“Can I join you?” She asks, pulling her hood up as she walks closer to Miguel, “I want to see the person who has Miguel O’Hara crushing on.”

“Excuse me?” Miguel cocks an eyebrow.

“You heard me!”

“No.” Walking away from Gwen.

“Why not?” And Gwen quickly follows.

“Because she could be in danger.” Miguel begins adjusting his gizmo to the correct universe.

“You saw me in action, I could help.” Gwen retorts.

“And I said…” A portal opens up, “No.” Then he disappeared and Gwen scoffed.

“I told you he wouldn’t listen.” Peter B. laughs with Mayday in his arms and Miles right beside him, laughing along.

Miguel lands on the rooftop of your apartment with a grunt. He takes a moment to look around and see if anything has changed, and something did. It was midnight in your universe and the lights to your apartment were still on.

He jumps down and easily clings onto the wall next to your window. With his other hand, he slowly slides your window open and slips in, closing it behind him.

“I know you’re here Miguel!” You call out from the other room, “Heard you since you landed on the roof.”

He chuckles as he walks towards the sound of your voice, “I shouldn’t be so surprised, your abilities have always impressed-” His eyes widen as he looks at you.

You sat at the table, bloody bandages on the table, cotton balls and fresh bandages. But the blood still dripping from the open wounds on your arm made his stomach churn, not in a good way.

He swallows thickly as he comes closer, taking your injured arm in his hand, “Who did this to you?” He growls.

“I took care of it.” You tell him, but it doesn’t stop him from worrying, “Nothing left but cuts and bruises… That will heal.” You try to sooth his worry.

“Are you alright? Where are you hurt?”

“You’re holding the only thing that’s hurting right now.”

Miguel uses his webbing to pull up another chair to sit. He grabs the disinfectant and pours some of his on a cotton ball, you hiss at the contact as he cleans up the blood.

“You don’t have to come over here and take care of me, you know. I can clean up my own messes.” You speak through gritted teeth as it still burns.

“...How strong were they?” He speaks through the awkwardness.

“It wasn’t because they were strong.” You admit, “I got carried away, distracted.”

“By what?”

“The bastard was wearing colors similar to yours. I thought it was you for a split second, and in the second, I was open for an attack and they took it… I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” Grabbing the bandages and wrapping up your arm.

“Don’t you remember the first time you brought me on a mission with you. I got distracted.”

“Of course I remember, what kind of idiot throws themself in front of someone.” He looks over the bandages, making sure they’re on correctly and not too tight.

“I thought you were going to die that day, I thought if I could at least save Spider-Man, then for once I did something good in my life.” Your head hangs in shame.

“We cannot save everyone, no matter how hard we try.” Miguel huffs, “At least…” He cups your face, slowly lifting your head to look at him, “I got to save you.”

“Migu-”

“Can I stay?” He asks, “I’ll take the couch.”

“I’m fine, I don’t need someone looking after me.” You pick up the bloody cotton balls and bandages.

“You’re shaking.”

“My arm still hurts and the adrenaline is still pumping.” You lie.

“Please don’t lie to me, (Y/n). You know how much I hate liars.” He comes closer, “Tell me what’s got you so distracted.”

“Everything about you. From your stupid, lovely hair to you entirely.Which is why I stayed away, I didn’t want to be so distracted that I’d cause the team to fall apart.” He cups your face once more and closes the space between you two. His lips falling onto yours.

It made Miguel’s heart beat faster and faster, and for some reason, the pit in his stomach grew even more. But it disappeared when he felt your arms come around his neck, standing on your toes.

He pulls away, “Distracted now?”

“Very.” You mumble.

“Are you letting me stay the night or will we have to go to my place?”

“Are you sure you want to leave Peter in charge for any longer?”

Oh, shit. He forgot about him.

#x reader #x female reader #fluff #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara #spiderman #spider man 2099 #spider man x y/n #spiderman x you #spider man x reader #spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman x y/n #spider man #spider verse

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yuwuta · 2 months

Text

YUUTA OKKOTSU’S DECLASSIFIED JUJUTSU TECH SURVIVAL GUIDE (AN APPETITE HAUNTING THE HEART)

❝i know this tastes too good to be healthy. the more it melts, the sweeter it gets, so take my heart out because i need all of you.

*this is yuuta okkotsu’s fool-reviewed plan for navigating all things curses, sorcery, and love.

pairings. okkotsu/reader

content, warnings. canon-adjacent, reader has a cursed technique, friends to lovers, smut (uhh... no triggers i think? other than implied virginity loss on yuuta’s part), mentions of violence/curses, possessive/intrusive thoughts... he starts of kinda sweet and weird and then just gets... weirder and worse lol, so mostly yuuta being... yuuta <2

notes. jujustu tech is a college not a highschool, yes i brought naruto in this, i believe in sasuke slander only from a place of pure love, real sasuke ridicule will not be accepted xoxo

word count. 12k i told you i could yap about him all day

playing. candy/baekhyun, untouched/the veronicas, cream soda/exo, lacy/olivia rodrigo, pure honey/beyoncé

#1 — Do NOT touch Maki Zenin’s tools (but if you do, the cute girl who hangs around Inumaki might help to patch you up).

Yuuta hadn’t meant to piss off Maki. He was trying to be helpful, but Yuuta learned the hard way today: do not touch Maki’s cursed tools, at all, for any reason whatsoever. He intended to hand it back to her, but she was prompt in assuming that was part of an attack, snatching it from under his grasp and giving him a jab on the wrist with the dull end of the stick. If the beatdown he’d endured during training put Yuuta on his deathbed, then that hit was the final nail in the coffin.

The crack! sound of his bones made everyone pause their sparring, and Gojo winced the loudest, “Ouch! That one had to hurt, kid!” It was also Gojo who gathered everyone to stand around and look down at him clutching his wrist in pain, before making the executive decision to appoint you as Yuuta’s caretaker.

“This is definitely something you can handle!” he cheered, patting the top of your head, “Take our dearest Yuuta to the infirmary and patch him up, please and thank you! With the way Maki’s been kicking him into the ground, those cuts are sure to get infected sooner rather than later. The two of you can join us for dinner when you’re finished!”

Yuuta tried to refute, on the grounds of “No—no! I—ouch—this really isn’t worth using any kind of cursed energy over!” Which was quickly met with a mischievous raised eyebrow from his teacher, “Oh? Are you insinuating that my precious student doesn’t have the skill to fix a simple fracture?” That prompted Yuuta to spill a flurry of apologies, none of which were coherent, and ended up with him trailing behind you sheepishly to the infirmary with a broken wrist, several bleeding wounds, and probably early heart failure.

Now, Yuuta sits with his feet dangling off of the edge of the examination chair, shivering from the chilliness of the room, and all of his nerve endings rattling at the realization that this is the first time that he’s been alone in a room with you since you’ve met. He winces, first at the sting of disinfectant into his wound, and then internally—mostly out of embarrassment—because his outward reaction made you pause your actions to question if he’s okay.

Okay is relative, he thinks. In the grand scheme of things, he’s okay. Concerning his current injuries, he’ll be okay eventually. Concerning this… whatever this is he feels for you… maybe not so okay.

“Sorry,” he stutters, too loud for the atmosphere and proximity of your bodies to each other, and, so, he winces again, cheeks staining red to match his embarrassment, as if he or you needed any confirmation of it. He doesn’t mean to be a difficult patient, but he has an adversity surrounding hospitals and medical care, and that alcohol really does burn, and you’re really close to his face, and—and you giggle a little, but Yuuta hears a chorus, instead; warm, spring-like, with violins and a piano and cellos strumming in perfect harmony, and the buzz of bees and butterfly wings flapping the melody.

“You apologize a lot,” you tell him, a kind smile on your lips. You step forward, just a bit, as you peel off the band-aid adhesive and gently press it over the bridge of Yuuta’s nose. It’s Hello Kitty themed. It makes him want to scream.

“Yeah, uh—sorry about that!” Yuuta apologizes, once again too loudly. He scratches at the back of his neck with his left hand, and his eyes go wide after a few beats, “No, wait—I didn’t mean to apologize again. I just... I, uh... thank you. That’s what I wanted to say. For helping me, you have my sincerest thank you.”

Yuuta dips his head to bow, and when he raises it again, you’re blinking at him owlishly, and he thinks he’s really done it now. You must think he’s a freak, if you didn’t already. He thinks you’re gonna tell him off for being pathetic and a weakling, but instead you laugh again—that precious sound that pauses Yuuta’s world for the better.

“You’re awfully formal. There’s no need for that, or to thank me. We’re friends, afterall,” you reassure him, “Even if Gojo did force you to be my practice dummy.”

It’s his turn to reassure you, his uninjured hand moving from his neck to shake frantically in front of him, “It’s completely okay,” he does his best to give you a smile as warm as the one you give him. It probably doesn’t work, but he tries anyway—he’s always been an awkward smiler, too wide-mouthed and toothy, “You can do whatever you want to me, I trust you.”

Your face seems almost solemn at his declaration, and the panic instantly kicks in again. Yuuta scrambles when his words play back in his head, “I’m sorry, was that weird? I meant that I trust your judgment. You can, uh, fix me up however you best see fit—or just leave it! I’m sure it’ll heal on—”

“You’re awfully self-sacrificing, too,” you cut him off with a laugh, your usual warm nature clicking back. Yuuta shrugs, feeble; you smile wider, “I’m the one who should be apologizing to you. I keep staring, and I’m sorry to have made you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all! You don’t... make me uncomfortable, I mean. You could never,” Yuuta rushes, curling back into himself after his outburst, “You... it always feels really nice when you’re around. I can’t explain it, but everything is calmer.”

Your eyes flutter across his face, before you turn away from him, “I can tell it makes you nervous—I can hear the changes in your heartbeat,” you tell him, opening the cabinet to return the alcohol to its rightful place. You must also be able to hear his thoughts, chiming in just as Yuuta continues to wonder if his heartbeat is really that loud, “It’s part of my technique. I don’t mean to intrude on your heart.”

Is it an intrusion if Yuuta left room for you? If he wanted you to be there? Was it crazy to think that he’d give you his heart to hold and trust you to take care of it, even though you’d only met a few months ago? Maybe it would be easier if he let you squeeze tight enough to put him out of his misery already.

Luckily, you keep talking before he can say something stupid like that out-loud again.

“It’s just that... you remind me of somebody that I used to know. You’re kind like him, and you both share a well-intentioned recklessness, too. I see so much of him in you that it’s hard not to stare sometimes,” you admit, turning back to face him, and gingerly taking his wrist between your hands. When your hands start to glow, Yuuta can feel it—your reversed cursed technique is warm on the surface, but chilly underneath, like a heated blanket on top of perfectly cool sheets.

“I don’t mean to say that you’re just a replacement,” you continue, slowly rotating your hands over his injury. It stings a little, then soothes, “I’m just still in awe of how nice it feels being around you. It feels strangely—”

“Familiar,” Yuuta interjects, “I understand. You feel that way, too. I think... that’s what I meant before.” He understands your words perfectly because you remind him of someone precious to him, too; someone he used to and still loves alot. “You—it makes me happy, that’s why I seem so nervous.”

It seems as though you understand him, too. His heart sings, and you can probably hear it, but Yuuta doesn’t quite mind so much now. What he feels for you is consuming, maybe concerning, but knowing that you know what it’s like to love like him brings him an odd sense of comfort. Maybe he should be jealous that you’ve had someone to love that much before, but he’s not exactly in a position to talk. What matters is that you can hear him and feel him—his heart and his love and his sad and his happy, and it doesn’t push you away.

It makes him want to burst. He owes you a thank you for putting something so precious in his life. He owes you an apology, for ever doubting that you couldn’t handle his symptoms. He should have realized that you can handle his love.

“You feel really warm, too,” he blushes, scratching at the back of his neck with his free hand, “And, uh, not just because you’re holding my hand.”

The twinkle in your eyes turns into confusion, then surprise when you look down to see that the hand below his wrist had moved to rest underneath his palm instead. His wrist was well healed by now, and you’d been, effectively, massaging his skin and muscles with your technique for the latter duration of your conversation without realizing it.

Yuuta couldn’t tell when it went from healing to hand holding, but he’s not complaining—and he doesn’t think he could have stopped it either. Another quality to your technique that he couldn’t understand was how your energy felt sticky, flowed like honey; how it managed to run into broken crevices and bruised dents with a mind of its own. Even if he’d wanted to pull his hand away—and he didn’t, he absolutely did not—he wouldn’t have gotten far from you. He never wanted to be.

“You already have calluses on your palm,” you note, dispelling your healing energy, holding onto Yuuta’s hand only by want now, “You train hard. You’ll catch up to Maki and Toge, quickly, but not if you don’t take care of yourself.”

Yuuta almost chokes when you rotate your wrist so that your fingers are aligned. Your hand is so much softer than his, warmer than his, and maybe he’s idealistic, but your fingers seem to slot perfectly between his when you curl them.

“I’m not always going to be around to fix you up,” you warn him, “So don’t go around pissing Maki off too much, alright?”

Yuuta can feel the heat from your body flow through him. From his palm, up his arm, down into his chest, and everywhere else. It doesn’t feel real. You’re holding his hand, you’re smiling at him, you’re right there and you’re so bright and beautiful, so Yuuta doesn’t know why his thoughts are so gray and dangerous; you wouldn’t hurt him, and he doesn’t want to hurt you, so why can’t he stop thinking about keeping you like this—of stitching your hands together forever to keep you by his side, or letting this heat consume and burn you both.

Yuuta shakes his head to wiggle those thoughts away, but to you it seems like he’s saying no to staying off of Maki’s radar. When he realizes it, he nods too reverently to make up for it; surely looking like an idiot, and then to top it off, he squeaks, “I—yes, ma’am!”

Another foolish outburst on his end, perhaps, but it makes you giggle, fills the room with springtime for a moment, so to Yuuta, it was worth it. “Good,” you nod, release his hand and beckon him off of the chair, “Come on, we should go eat before Panda takes all the good sides for himself.”

Yuuta follows you back to the dorms with his stomach already full of love, love, love. He loves you, and you can hear, and see, and feel exactly what you do to him, and you don’t run. Yuuta thinks maybe you should, even though he doesn’t want you to. Surely you know what he did to Rika when he loved her.

Rika seems to like you, actually, if the humming of her voice in his head as he takes his seat at the table next to you is any indication. He can vaguely make out some of her words as you pass him the dumplings—warm, kind, loyal. He agrees. Pretty, too. No disagreement there.

In such a short amount of time, you’ve shifted Yuuta’s ethos for life. He wanted to die to be with the person he loved before, and never quite understood why Rika would stop him, why she would want him to suffer in this life alone; but maybe this is what Rika was always trying to tell him; that his love was not lost and buried with her, but flowing towards you, his heart, a beacon for you to locate.

You’d mentioned that he reminded you of someone you knew before, that you couldn’t see anymore. Yuuta doesn’t know what happened to your person before he came along; he can only hope that you’ll allow him and his heart to be a vessel for your love someday, too. He won’t disappoint you. He won’t let you let go of him.

It shouldn’t be hard. You already have his heart in your hands.

#2 — Gojo is more than a teacher. He is also the school event planner, once ranked Diamond in Overwatch, and is the only person blacklisted from any and all kitchens on campus. He also gives pretty good (sometimes questionable?) advice. His eyes are kind of scary.

You’re there when he and Toge are nearly decimated by the Grade 1 curse in the abandoned market. He still doesn’t understand much about sorcery at this point, so seeing people like you and Toge in action is awe-inspiring to say the least. Yuuta knows that Toge is nothing short of amazing, but he can’t help but to be drawn into you, you, you—your energy, your fighting style, the seemingly never-ending applications of your technique. Cursed energy in and of itself is still a foreign concept to him, so perhaps it’s that seeing you use the reverse of it so effortlessly is even more novel to him.

He can hear Rika strumming in the back of his mind, an indistinct itch and hum that sounds vaguely like laughter at his self-justification. He chooses to ignore her.

After, while he’s still buzzing with the tingly warm sensation of your technique after you’d patched him up, Gojo finds him, and Yuuta, unable to keep up a façade, pours all his anxious, worried, inquisitive feelings about his mission on the table.

“The way that (_____) can heal wounds... is that something I can learn?” Yuuta questions his teacher, eyes tired but genuine and earnest.

And Gojo, all knowing and absolutely singing at the implications, smiles so wide he’s certain his newest student could see the crinkles in the corners of his eyes, even through the dark tint of his glasses. “Maybe.”

He goes on, leaning back into the old loveseat, one leg crossed over his other knee, “You’ll probably be able to learn to heal yourself with reversed cursed technique, but using it to heal others is difficult and rare. Shoko and (_____) are the only people I know who can do it.”

“Is… did she get to learn it because she’s a Grade 1?” He remembers Maki explaining the ranking system for Jujutsu sorcerers. You and Toge were ranked the highest in the class, and amongst the other Kyoto students; it would make sense that you two have learned more applications of your techniques due to your higher placements.

Gojo chuckles, much to Yuuta’s confusion. “That’s not quite how it works—and if it were, then you’d already know because you’re a Special Grade. You don’t unlock new lessons as you move up, you move up because of how well you’ve learned to control and apply your own cursed technique.”

Right. That makes sense. Except Yuuta knows that his classification of Special Grade is a bit of a cheat because he can’t control or apply his cursed energy half as well as any of his classmates. He has Rika to thank for his immediate promotion, not himself or his own skills.

“In any case, if you do learn it, you’ll never be able to execute it like her, that’s for certain. Reversed cursed technique is complicated to learn and nearly impossible to teach. It’s one of those things you truly have to figure out for yourself when the timing is right—I only got it when I was on the brink of death. It’s 100% effective on the person doing it, but only 50% effective when applied to other people by the user,” Gojo says, “Except for (_____). She was born with reversed cursed energy, which is why she has an almost 100% output on herself and others, so she’s extra special. ”

Yuuta frowns. He never expected to do anything half as well as you, but knowing there’s only half a chance that he could, literally, only ever meet you half-way is frustrating. You can save him time and time and time again, as you already have, and all he can do is be a wound for you to stitch back together.

It must be difficult for you. A similar thought had crossed his mind when he first met Shoko-san, feeling bad for her having to carry the burden of healing others, knowing that she could never receive the same treatment in return. It’s worse for you, though, to be an angel amongst the men on this Earth—it’s not fair that you can give so much to help, and nobody can do the same for you. Yuuta wants to give something to you, he wants to devote himself to you, so at the very least, you have that. If he can’t give you anything else, he can give you himself.

Gojo laughs at Yuuta’s silence, kicking his legs up on the coffee table. “That’s hard for you to hear, huh? Ha! You truly are a lover, not a fighter, Yuuta.”

Yuuta blinks at him. “I, uh... thank you?” He says, even though he’s not so certain that those two things are discernable.

“Right now, the best thing for you to do is focus on controlling Rika and your cursed energy. That way, (_____) can also focus on fighting, and not healing, when you’re on missions together. The stronger you are, the less she’ll have to clean up after you,” Gojo advises.

He puts his feet back on the floor and uses the leverage to lean over, a bit too close for Yuuta’s comfort. “The only thing you can do for her is to learn to help yourself.”

Yuuta’s eyes go wide. He wants to—he wants to help you, wants to help himself, wants to help others, too. There’s a selfish twang for a moment, the thought of not needing you anymore tugging at his heart, but Rika reminds him that he’ll still want you.

Then an even scarier thought crosses his mind. “What happens if I don’t learn to control this? What happens if I curse her instead?”

Yuuta trembles at the thought, breathing and heartbeat erratic, his sensei moving back a bit. Rika is there again, reassuring him that he never hurt her, that his love never hurts, that the only person he’s ever truly harmed is himself by isolation of his own feelings. Trust her, Rika demands, she can handle this.

You can. Can you? You have, so far. You don’t run, you don’t push, you give, and give, and give to him; Rika was kind and playful and took and took and took Yuuta’s loneliness and sickness in stride and he still cursed her, seemingly for all eternity. He wants to love and be loved, but not if it means hurting you—isn’t it bad enough that he’s already inept at healing your wounds? Why should he risk giving you more?

“Yuuta,” Gojo calls him out of his thoughts, “I’m disappointed.”

That truly breaks Yuuta’s cyclical monologue. “I—disappointed?”

Gojo ticks his tongue, shakes his head and points a finger in accusation, “You should know your fellow classmates better by now. (_____) is not that weak or scared,” he chastises, “You’re so worried about cursing her that you haven’t realized that she is the only person so far to have effectively used her curse on you.”

Yuuta pauses, eyes wet with the awful realization that Gojo was right. You have already cursed him; your technique has already gotten past the barrier of his curse. You’ve cursed him. He never stopped to think that it was possible, worried only about himself. How selfish—he shares Gojo’s disappointment in himself.

He’s spent so much time loathing his jealous mind and decaying heart that he hasn’t opened his eyes to see you that you’ve found him. You can poison anything he does, and make the antidote with equal ease; how stupidly naive of Yuuta to think that he could be the one to diagnose or treat you better than you could him, or yourself.

“I’m sorry, sensei,” Yuuta dips his head, and also spares you an internal apology, “I understand better, now.”

“Is that so?” Gojo muses, leaning back into the sofa. His eyes scan Yuuta’s when his head is raised again, that knowing grin creeping back up on his lips. “Well, if you still want to know more about reversed curse technique, or want help learning it, it’s not an entirely lost cause. I’m definitely not the person for this lesson, but, you know who is?”

Yuuta feels a sense of whiplash from the change in Gojo’s demeanor. Confusion clouds his mind again, and he shrugs, “Um... Shoko-sensei?”

Gojo makes a loud buzzer noise, complete with crossing his arms in front of his chest in a big ‘X.’ Yuuta frowns again. Is that where Toge learned to do that?

“Wrong! I’m talking about (_____), obviously!” Gojo claps his hands together, before lowering his glasses to wiggle his eyebrows, “Tutoring is a textbook way to get some alone time, kiddo. You want to spend more time with her outside of class and missions, right?”

“I want to spend all my time with her,” Yuuta confesses, mindlessly. And foolishly, he soon realizes, when he sees that Gojo’s grin has tripled; and he’s quick to flash his hands to correct himself, “No—not like that—not in a creepy way! I just... I want to get to know her better, like you said.”

Yuuta’s awkward chuckles fill the space, and he can feel his insides burning from his cheeks all the way down to his hands. Would he ever be able to think coherently or tactfully when it came to you?

“So, uh... I... it’s okay if I ask her about this stuff, too?”

“Some sorcerers don’t like talking about their cursed techniques. But (_____) might not mind. You won’t know until you try.”

Yuuta nods shallowly. Try. He can do that—if not for himself, then for you; he can try for you. All you need from him is to accept your course of treatment; to love you is to let you curse him, completely.

“I’m a firm believer that all’s fair in love and war,” Gojo stands, stretching into Yuuta’s space to ruffle his hair. He leans down further, giving him a glimpse of his glowing eyes before sparing him a wink, “So, be a little greedy, and give it your best shot.”

#3 — Social media is the most twisted curse out there. It makes you feel so close, yet is a stark reminder of just how far you are from the person on the other end of the screen.

Yuuta has never considered himself good with technology. Even before Rika’s incident, he often felt ostracized by his peers because he didn’t have the same interest in or experience with games and cartoons. He had no reason to have a computer or a phone until enrolling at Jujutsu Tech, and there was an evident learning curve in navigating the devices. Toge often snickered watching Yuuta use his smartphone with the dexterity of a senior citizen.

He only barely set up Instagram and TikTok accounts with Toge’s help, but he doesn’t really get the idea of followers—why would people who don’t know him want to follow him? Why would he follow them? He doesn’t know many memes or jokes and even after seeing them, he doesn’t think many are all that funny, but he laughs anyway.

He doesn’t have much time to perfect his social media and meme skills, anyway. He’s dedicated to training and gaining mission experience—which pays off when Geto declares war on the school by the end of the year. Yuuta remembers how you returned his phone to him the next day, a few cracks and black, dark spots on the screen, giggling that you’d found it in the rubble, but that even your reverse cursed technique couldn’t fix its scars.

He thinks he gets the hang of it in the end—the basics of communication and the appeal behind connection with others through it—even going so far as to trade selfies with Gojo sometimes, who always seemed happy to receive them, no matter how much post-exorcism curse gunk Yuuta was covered in.

He also frequently exchanges texts with you. He much prefers to see you in person, but when you’re stuck for long hours in the ER, or away from campus on your own missions, Yuuta has grown fond of receiving your messages. He always attempts to read them in your voice and imagine your facial expressions to match those of the emojis you send. He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of those yet, doesn’t understand what Toge means when he says that not all smiley faces are created equally, so to save himself the trouble, and potential embarrassment, he’s opted to use emoticons instead. Which, if you asked him, has been working out in his favor, seeing as you call them cute.

Yuuta also uses the safety of his phone screen to implement some of Gojo’s advice; picking your brain about curses, sorcery, and healing via text message for just long enough for you to say it’s easier to explain in person to come to him and teach him in your spare time. Soon these study sessions turn into texts asking to hang out outside of class and missions and work, and Yuuta couldn’t be more elated. The screen he once scorned at seemed to be his one-way ticket to being able to talk to his favorite person constantly.

But Yuuta never thought it would become his only means of communication with you. He’s devastated when you break the news to him, over half-finished oolong tea and nervous finger-twiddling.

“You’re leaving?” He echoes, hoping he doesn’t sound too much like a heartbroken child, even though that’s exactly how he feels.

It’s quiet outside of the tea shop where you two sit, nearing seven in the evening; only the soft sounds of other customers conversing behind you two inside, distant cars on the main street, and the sound of Yuuta’s heart beating frantically.

“Not leaving leaving,” you clarify, pausing your finger twirling to place one of your hands over Yuuta’s on the table, “I’m still studying, but I’m being sent abroad for a bit.”

He should be focused on the fact that you’re touching his hand—Yuuta should be happy! Rika still cheers for you in his mind, but her voice is quieter now—but Yuuta can’t. He’s focused on everything else, spiraling about the implications of your words. You’re leaving... going away from him when things are going so well.

Yuuta was so happy when you taught him the reversed curse technique, even happier when he realized he did have the ability to heal others, knowing it also meant having the ability to help you relieve some of your burdens. That didn’t mean that he didn’t still want to give himself to you, he would if you’d have him—but now he wouldn’t have the chance.

“I haven’t told anyone else yet—Gojo only told me this morning,” you mumble, “I’m going to miss you all a lot, but we can still text every day! I don’t know how long the time difference will be, but we can FaceTime.”

It’s not lost on Yuuta that he is the first person that you’ve told about this. It’s another thing to be happy about, another little victory he never thought he’d achieve, but it’s still overpowered by the dread of you leaving him.

He blinks, placing his other hand atop yours, sandwiching them between his, “How long?” Yuuta can’t read the expression on your face, but you don’t pull your hand away. He’s glad. He didn’t think when he’d done it, but the lack of rejection feels good—your touch always feels good, reverse cursed energy or not.

“I’m… not sure—a few months at least, maybe until the end of the year,” you admit, squeezing his hand, “There are some cursed objects and scrolls they want me to help recover, and Gojo says I get to work with another Special Grade sorcerer, too.”

His hands feel so good, so warm, but everything else about Yuuta feels cold, icy with dread and fear. You’re going away for a long time, and he won’t get to see you or hear you laugh or feel your warmth while you’re gone. His sunny days are going away, and Yuuta honestly doesn’t know how many more overcast skies and rain clouds he can take.

And it’s selfish, he knows. He should be happy for you—you were chosen for this mission, for this training; you’re getting the chance to use your skills to help others, and train even further. So, why couldn’t he be happy for you? Why could he only feel a pit in his stomach about the thought of you leaving and meeting some other Special Grade who’s rightfully deserving of their title? Not only had he lost the thing that brought him to you in the first place, but you’re about to find another replacement. Sure, with or without Rika’s curse, Yuuta had become so much stronger, but what’s it worth if he couldn’t keep you by his side?

“Tsukumo is supposed to be really cool, but you’ll always be my favorite Special Grade, Yuuta,” you taunt with a smile.

Yuuta’s eyes go wide and watery with wobbly lips and flushed cheeked and sweaty palms to match. Favorite. Favorite, favorite, favorite. The word spoken in your voice rings in his head like a beautiful chime, the tones washing over him and erasing all his fear and doubt and insecurity.

You had called Yuuta your favorite. Sure, he’s still upset when he and the other first-years drop you off at the airport too weeks later, he still cries the first night you’re gone, still nearly breaks his knee trying to jump for his phone the first time that you call; but it’s okay because Yuuta is living off of the temporary high of being your favorite.

And also, because, in the end, your separation seems to have been inevitable. Not a month after everyone bids you farewell from Jujutsu Tech, Gojo tells him that he’s next on the docket to be sent abroad. He’s happy for a split second, thinking that he might get sent off to Europe where you’re still working with Tsukumo, but then Yuuta learns his true fate: studying under the tutelage of Miguel in Kenya; equal parts away from his classmates in Tokyo, and from you in Barcelona.

Whoever said distance makes the heart grow fonder was a liar and a bitch, because the favorite boy honeymoon comes to an end when Yuuta settles into his new room and makes his first call to you from Nairobi. The feeling and reality of being alone, and even further away from you finally hits him. Still, he relishes in the sound of your voice; fantasizes that when you reach for your phone to show him your new things, it’s you reaching for his hand; dreams of you laying next to him when you fall asleep on the call, and desperately wishes that he could touch you, hold you, kiss you.

He really wants to kiss you. He thinks he’s probably always wanted to kiss you, from the very moment his feelings for you started to grow; even if he couldn’t discern them at first, he knows now—Yuuta knows that he misses you like he’s never missed anyone before. The grief of losing part of Rika, and then losing his proximity to you merely weeks apart is finally catching up to him, and it’s morphing into a yearning that tugs on his heartstrings and rattles his brain.

He knows that the rate of growth of his feelings for you hasn’t been steady, but he blames you for that. You’re the reason he loves you so much, the reason he can’t sleep at night, the reason he learns how to bring Rika back—because he thinks of you, you, you, and how he lost Rika once, and he’d be a fool to lose you twice.

Yuuta thinks it’s no coincidence that your cursed technique has the ability to alter him in mind and body. You have so much ownership over him and you probably don’t even know that Yuuta has spent every single moment of his life living and breathing for you since you’ve met.

And you take his breath away yet again, when he gets to see you in Germany. Miguel is taking him to Switzerland on a classified mission, and you and Tsukumo are on your way to Austria, and by some great miracle, your layovers align. When he sees you waving to him down the long corridor in the airport, it feels like a scene straight out of his dreams. Yuuta spares no time trying to look cool or nonchalant; making a beeline to you, desperate to feel your touch after so long.

He’s breathless in those ten minutes that you’re reunited. Everything is too short, but he does his best to live in it all. He speaks a mile a minute, cramming in anything he hadn’t already revealed to you in your many late-night FaceTimes, and swallowing everything you tell him. He wants to believe that he’d made the best of what little time he had with you, but the truth is he didn’t. Because while you were smiling and hugging and telling him that you missed him, all Yuuta really wanted to do was kiss you—and if he were a smarter man, a better man, he would have.

He thinks, for a split second, that you might have wanted to kiss him too—when you rock back on your heels after saying good-bye, hesitating for just a moment, almost expectantly, before your eyes flutter away. He’ll never know, because he never asked, he never tried, he never said—only whispered, pathetically, to himself as he watches the silhouette of you and Tsukomo before you disappear for boarding, that he loves you.

He almost believes that you hear it when you turn over your shoulder after his quiet confession. Would it have been better that way—if he kissed you, or confessed in the heat of the moment—or would it be taking advantage of an otherwise beautiful moment? Yuuta will never know, and the what if tantalizes him.

He takes his phone out of his pocket and opens the thread of your messages. He starts typing, then stops. Backspace. Start typing. Pause. Read, re-read. Delete. Groan.

What’s the point? He can’t kiss you through the screen, and he’ll be damned if the first time he tells you that he’s in love with you is via phone call. He slumps his shoulders, and Miguel gives him a pity pat on the back. Yuuta goes to lock his phone when he sees the gray thought bubbles pop up below your last message and his entire body goes rigid in anticipation.

[received] 03:27 PM — [attachment: 1 image] — you should keep a closer eye on your things yuuta — i miss you already (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤

Yuuta’s heart stops when he sees the picture of you in your seat, wearing his white uniform jacket. He doesn’t know when you snuck it away from him, but that doesn’t matter—like anything else, he would have willingly given it to you, and then some. It looks much better on you anyway, and Yuuta pinches his eyes shut for a brief moment, to swallow down the thoughts threatening to swarm his mind of you in his arms, in other clothes, in his bed.

He opens his eyes, takes a deep breath, and lets the warm, gooey feeling settle into his veins, and moves his fingers to type.

[sent] 03:38 PM — keep it, you can have anything of mine you want — i miss you more (๑′ ᴗ ‵๑)♥

You heart his messages and let him know you’re taking off soon, and putting your phone on airplane mode until you land. He’s not so confident to send a picture in return, unless you ask for it. Maybe you will, when you’re in Austria. He’ll have to work on his selfies.

He takes another once over the picture you sent, committing the idea of you in his clothes to memory. He knows the messages won’t delete themselves, but he takes a screenshot for safekeeping anyway. Maybe phones aren’t so bad, afterall.

#4 — Do not kill Itadori Yuuji. Under any circumstances. Even if some days you really feel like it. Also, sign up for a Crunchyroll subscription.

Yuuta can confidently say that his training abroad was both the most difficult and fulfilling thing he’s ever experienced. He believes that the change he’s endured is mostly good—he’s physically stronger, emotionally wiser, and overall more confident in himself and his cursed technique. One year ago, he would have been content with dying, but now he has more than enough reasons to keep living. He has people who care about him, and who would miss him if he were gone; and he’s got someone he would miss a whole bunch, too, should anything happen to them.

By miss Yuuta means that he might burn down a small town, might level a city, might flip the entire world on its axis if something were to happen to you. In his defense, he’d go to extremes for most of his friends—but for you, there’s truly nothing he wouldn’t risk.

He figured that out in his time abroad, too; came to terms with the fact that he’s selfish with his love. He loves too much, too hard, too close, and he isn’t very willing to share. He doesn’t see it as a bad thing, anymore, either—Yuuta knows now that the way he loves makes him who he is, and right now, he has the confidence to say that he likes that person, and that he loves you, undoubtedly.

So, forgive him if there’s a cloud of negative energy the size of a coach bus looming over him at the moment, because since you’ve returned to campus, Itadori Yuuji has been slobbering over you like a lovesick puppy.

Because apparently, you happen to know Itadori Yuuji—as in, since you were four and he was three, all the way up until your senior year of highschool, when you were scouted by Gojo, who, believes that you coming home from your study abroad trip would be the perfect time to reunite two best friends who hadn’t seen or heard from each other for the better part of two years—all while keeping this little reunion a secret from everybody, including you and Itadori.

A surprise, it certainly is, when the first time that Yuuta and the other second-years see you in months is on the dingy couch in the common room, under a cuddle pile of the first-years. Nobara’s arms wrapped around your left arm, body slumped against your side, Megumi’s long limbs stretching over Itadori’s torso, leaving the palm of his hand resting on your thigh. Far too close for Yuuta’s comfort. The only saving grace is that the jacket he loaned you is also spread across your lap, offering another layer between your body and his palm. And then there’s Itadori Yuuji, squished right between you and Megumi, with his head on your shoulder, his arms around your waist, and your free arm slung around his neck.

Yuuta should have been relishing in the fact that you were finally home, but all his focus is drawn to the way your position allows Itadori to cuddle right into you, to the way your arm is around his shoulder and your cheek pressed against the top of his head. You two might as well have been in your own little world, and Yuuta hates it. And, as if that’s not enough, the realization that he was not the first person to hug you or welcome you home clicks, and his anger bubbles deeper.

Next comes dread, that creeps in slowly when you and the first-years wake up, and you and Itadori go on and on and on about how surprised you were to see each other at the airport, how Itadori just assumed that when Gojo said he’d assigned them to “pick up something super special,” that he was messing with them, how you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of your precious, precious kouhai that you’d missed so dearly.

Childhood best friends brought back together through sorcery. Yuuta’s seen that one before, and he didn’t like the ending.

You and Itadori mend the gap in your friendship like two years of no contact was nothing, falling into a pattern that’s so easy and familiar, that it’s painful for Yuuta to watch. The assumption that you’d died, and the knowledge that Yuuji had actually died only served to strengthen your vows to protect each other in the name of your friendship from here on out.

Yuuta considers putting his own sword through his chest if it means you’ll swear your devotion to him. If he died, would you cry for him? Would you pray over his grave and beg for him to come back to you?—or would you find comfort in those who kept living, find solace in a friend who came back for you and can still hold you in his arms?

“Tsuna tsuna,” he hears from his left, followed by a mischievous giggle. Toge’s taunting is hardly enough to pull Yuuta out of his cloud of rage, but the blunt end of Maki’s staff is.

“Will you stop pining so damn hard?” she sneers, whipping the staff back to her side and placing a hand on her hip, “Not only is it pathetic, it’s gonna attract curses like flies to honey.”

“Why am I the only one getting hit?” He turns to his right to motion to Megumi, who seems to be brooding just as hard. Megumi respects you, but it was easy to see that he was reaching his limit on sharing his recently revived lover with someone else. Maki huffs, “Because he doesn’t have a literal cloud of darkness looming around him.”

Yuuta sighs, doing his best to reign in his feelings, but it’s pointless once he hears your laughter across the field—light and airy and sunshiney and all because of Itadori Yuuji.

What were you two talking about? If Itadori were out of the way, would you pledge yourself to Yuuta? Did he ever hold a space comparable to Itadori in your heart—would you let him?

A broken chord strikes Yuuta’s heart when he realizes that Itadori is the person you told him about last year; the person you missed so much, and you never thought you’d be able to see again; the person that Yuuta reminded you of; the person he was happy and eager to be for you. And now, in knowing Itadori, Yuuta thinks that his willingness was beautifully naive—to think that he could compare to someone like this. Itadori is light, where Yuuta is dark; he sees the best in people, where Yuuta manages to come off on the wrong foot always; he perseveres in faith and determination, where Yuuta is fueled by an anxious desire to prove, prove, prove himself to be worth something to anybody.

He can see how easy it is to love Itadori. It’s easy to cling to faith, to believe in something higher than yourself, to know that someone above can pull you up. Yuuta cannot compete where he cannot compare; he’s a shadow that engulfs you, takes you away from light, a dream that’s hard to wake up from. He could never be bright to you; his best attempt would probably drive you and him too close to the sun, martyred for love in burning flames.

Still, even in all his jealousy, Yuuta comes to the even more sobering realization that making Itadori disappear wouldn’t fix his problems. You told him he wasn’t Itadori’s replacement, but maybe that’s because he could never be him; maybe he doesn’t have to be. Yuuji could never be him, and he could never be Yuuji, but whether Yuuta likes it or not, he and Itadori are two sides of the same coin; and as such, Yuuta has, begrudgingly, grown to feel the same sense of responsibility over the younger boy that you do.

So, even though he never expected that they would both be at the mercy of your hand at the same time in this lifetime, he absolutely cannot kill Itadori Yuuji. Not only would it make you sad, but it would probably make Yuuta even sadder in the end, somehow. What a bother.

He’s about to get up—to leave, maybe go over there, he doesn’t know yet—but he stops when he hears a calm buzzing by his ear. Yuuta blinks, slowly, shoulders relaxing unconsciously, allowing the larger than normal honey-bee to land on him. He recognizes it as one of your shikigami—and even if he hadn’t, that familiar, cooling sensation that washes over him would have let him know—so, gently, he lifts a hand across his torso, allowing it to crawl onto his finger, and strum its tune.

Yuuta can feel a few more, hear them humming around him, and he closes his eyes, lets the small group of bees flutter around him and all that looming jealousy dissipates from his body.

Faintly, past the calm hum of the small swarm, Yuuta can hear the call of Yuuji’s voice, petulant, “Aw, no fair. Fushiguro, I want calming shikigami, too! Can you bring out the bunnies? Please.”

Beside him, Toge and Maki seem bemused by his newly calmed state, then amused when Megumi sighs, stands, and reluctantly pulls his hands together before a couple dozen white rabbits flood the field and hop onto Yuuji.

The buzzing grows softer, and then quiet. Briefly, Yuuta feels a bee land on his cheek, before it flies away, leaving the smell of fresh pollen in his wake, and when he blinks his eyes open again, you’re there, in front of him with a smile sweeter than anything he’s ever known.

“Hope they didn’t scare you,” you muse, waving a finger before the last bee hovering around you disappears, “You seemed upset, everything alright?”

He’s about to open his mouth to say something, anything, when he’s cut off by Itadori Yuuji once again, with one bunny on either shoulder, and three more cradled in his arms. “Hey, doesn’t (_____) totally remind you guys of Sakura!” 

Maki scoffs, albeit with amusement, as she points her staff at Yuuji’s hair. “If anyone bears resemblance to Sakura, it’s you, Itadori.” 

Yuuji actually makes an attempt to look at his own hair before chuckling. Yuuta flashes a look to Megumi, who looks equal parts exasperated and enchanted. Yuuta doesn’t get the reference, and when Inumaki starts making gestures about how Yuuji is like some Naruto guy and Yuuji screams about how Megumi resembles a Shikamaru, he becomes too afraid to ask. 

You seemed charmed at the end of the discussion, when everybody fundamentally agrees that you’re the Sakura of the group. Yuuta is far less charmed by these comparisons (and it has nothing to do with the fact that he didn’t get one). He doubts that this Sakura person can do what you can do, doubts that Sakura is even worthy enough to be compared to you, whoever she may be. 

And maybe Yuuta goes back to his room to watch several compilation videos about ships in Naruto later that day, but nobody has to know that. From what he’s gathered, Sakura is pretty cool, and even though Yuuji bears the most physical resemblance to her, he can see why everyone agrees that your healing abilities compare well to hers. Yuuta thinks you’re better, and he’s still holding out hope that there’s some other character equivalent for you that Itadori didn’t think of, that Yuuta can, just to prove that he knows you better. He doesn’t fight any comparisons between Gojo and Kakashi, though. That one honestly freaked him out a little.

If it turns out that you’re Sakura, then he should hope to be Sasuke, but Yuuta thinks this dude is kind of a dick. From the 47 minutes of scattered Naruto content that he’s consumed, he actually much prefers the dynamic between Sakura and Naruto, even if that does equate to Itadori Yuuji having a crush on you, at least you’re out of his league and chasing after somebody else.

Still, he thinks Sakura would be upset if Naruto actually died, or worse, if Sasuke actually killed him—never mind the fact that apparently he tried to kill her? Yuuta would never do that, but Sakura still seems to like Sasuke after all of that... in any case, Itadori Yuuji must live, and Yuuta must accept his fate as Sasuke reborn.

Though, to Yuuta’s understanding so far, Sasuke and Naruto are destined to duke it out and if only one of them has to survive, then maybe it’s not so bad to be this guy. Yuuta doesn’t know how it ends between them, but he thinks he could take on Itadori Yuuji if he had to. He won’t because he’s your friend, and Yuuta’s friend now, too, but if Itadori or the curse inside of him acts up, then Yuuta can at least rest assured he can put a stop to it. That’s not something he could have guaranteed a year ago, but now, he can.

Yuuta sighs, finally locking his phone and shoving his head under his blanket. He’s been knee deep in analyses about Sakura ships for the past two and a half hours now, and he’ll admit Sasuke is growing on him, but not much. His only saving grace seems to be that Sakura is madly, unconditionally in love with him; Yuuta wouldn’t mind having that kind of devotion from you. He turns to lay on his back, staring up at the blank ceiling and wonders: if it came down to saving only one of them, would Sakura pick Naruto or Sasuke... would you choose the boy who’s loved and looked up to you since you were kids, or the boy who sacrificed everything in hopes of gaining enough strength so that what happened to him never happens to anyone else.

Maybe they answer that in the series, Yuuta reasons. 720 episodes, at 20 minutes per episode... if he devotes about half-a-day to watching Naruto, then he can breeze through it in a little over two weeks, maybe sooner if he uses his weekends efficiently. That’s plausible, and by the end of it, Yuuta is certain that he’ll have the answers he needs—and even if it doesn’t, then at least, he’ll have one more thing to talk to you about.

In the end, Sakura picks Sasuke, Naruto marries somebody else, and Yuuta understands that the two were never opposites, but complements, and that Itadori Yuuji-shaped pit in his stomach dissipates. Still, about three weeks later at breakfast he makes the argument that if anything you’re more akin to Tsunade, minus the gambling addiction, and that gets him rave reactions from everyone, including you, who is more than happy to show him your new slug shikigami as a means of commemorating your new Naruto kin.

Believe that, Itadori.

#5 — None of this matters if you don’t kiss her. You have to kiss the girl—or she’ll get mad enough to the point where she’ll kiss you.

The following month comes your indictment into the Semi-Special Grade hall of responsibility. Yuuta vaguely recalls Gojo’s lecture on how people don’t really get promoted to Special Grade—it’s classification you’re born or cursed with, like himself, or Yuuji, or Tsukumo—but, you, of course, defy all odds and expand everything Yuuta knows. Nobody is surprised—Yuuta thinks everyone was among the similar thought that you were undoubtedly unique amongst your classmates, in a way that was different from him or Yuuji. Being born with a body that generates reversed cursed energy instead of cursed energy is deserving of Special Grade status if you asked him; he doesn’t know what pushed the higher-ups into finally acknowledging your skill, but he knows it’s well-past due. And while he’s happy you’re getting recognition for your efforts, Yuuta would never wish to saddle you with half of the shit the higher-ups put him through.

They better hope that Yuuta doesn’t find out that they’re plotting anything with you, lest they meet the end of his sword.

Part of your promotion entails a dual-degree program that will have you starting medical school next fall. Yuuta almost cries at the thought of you being sent away again, until you tell him that Gojo managed to pull a few strings this time—to fund everything and keep you in Tokyo.

And even though you’re not licensed to treat civilians yet, you’re already more than experienced with taking care of and healing your fellow sorcerers, which lends Shoko’s promotional gift to be a shiny new office, right across from hers. Yuuta is the first person you invite inside, and he brings you a photo of you, him, Maki, and Toge from last year—honestly, probably the only photo the four of you have together—to christen your desk, and a plaque with your name on it for the door, that he may or may not have fantasized about it reading with your first name and his last name on it instead.

To no surprise, your office becomes a safe haven of sorts. Yuuta would define any time or place with you as a safe haven, but there’s something special about this place. Maybe Yuuta is still leaping from this being the second time you’ve chosen him. He’s the first person to see your office, the first person to sit at your chair, your first official patient when he stubs his toe against the corner of your desk (where he left the first decorative object). Maybe it’s a little far to say that this place has him all over it as much as it does you, but Yuuta likes the sound of that.

When he comes back from gruesome missions, he’s invited to let himself in, no matter how much blood he’s covered in, and you’ll be there to take care of him. It’s not different than before—not different than even last year when he’d waddled in your shadow to the room across the hall and sat down with heart palpitations while you fixed his wrist—but something about this feels special. It holds a different weight than hanging out in your dorm or cooking together in the kitchen; this office is yours, the things you say and do to him here are confidential, the yearning for and almost-kisses you almost have are for you and him alone; within these four walls, you’re free to curse him completely.

So, he’s understandably upset when your office becomes a cozy corner for the other students as well. Maki likes to take refuge inside to study alone, Panda and Toge have been caught on more than one occasion attempting to wrap gauze around each other like zombies, Megumi uses your supplies and basic first-aid lessons to prepare small kits for him and the other first-years, hell, even Gojo has been found asleep in your office on more than one occasion. He gets why people are drawn to you like a magnet, why you’re comforting, and welcoming, and a source of warmth for them, but that doesn’t mean that Yuuta likes to share you. It’s much harder to almost-kiss you this way.

He must have pouted loud enough about it, because shortly after, instead of inviting Yuuta to your office for lunch, you ask him to meet you on the field. Not one to question you, he obeys, and soon, instead he’s met with an entirely new safe haven, sitting criss-cross inside your domain with all your shikigami slithering and fluttering and buzzing about him. A butterfly lands on his nose, and Yuuta’s nose crinkles. You lean in to let it crawl on your finger instead, and don’t lean too far back when you slowly begin to explain to him the intricacies of your domain and how it all comes together.

It’s amazing, surely. Yuuta listens as best he can, but it’s hard when there’s a halo of butterflies around you, and a symphony of bees buzzing in his ear, and a slug kissing at his hand, and a snake coiling around his body and gently massaging his muscles, and your voice sound so soft and warm, and you look so pretty and, and, and he wants to kiss you again.

He wants to kiss you really badly. He wonders if that’s part of your domain—honestly, he’d wondered if that magnetic, honey-like attraction he has to you is in any part influenced by your healing nature—wonders if the confines of your space exacerbates the flow of blood to his heart and his cheeks and his—

“Are you listening?” you question, that glowing, addictive smile on your face, “You know I can make the snake bite, the bees sting.”

God, Yuuta wants to kiss you. He wants to live in the spring garden of your love forever, and ever, and roll around in the grass and drink honey with you, and kiss you and kiss you and kiss you. You could keep him here forever, he’d be perfectly content with living his days wrapped up in your curse.

Yuuta shakes his head to snap out of his daydream, disrupting a few butterflies in the process. “I—sorry,” he apologies, “I’m listening now.”

You hum, folding your legs underneath your knees and sitting before him. Yuuta’s certain he looks slightly ridiculous, covered head to toe in animals and small insects and burning underneath your gaze—wasn’t this domain supposed to help people feel better? Is there no cure for lovesickness that you can use on him—or, at the very least, embarrassment?

“I asked you why you won’t kiss me.”

Yuuta knows that if he weren’t in your domain right now, he would have fallen to a sudden death. “I—I, um,” words, Yuuta, words; a bee lands on his cheek, he takes a deep breath, “I’m sorry.”

That doesn’t seem like the right answer, judging by the twist of your lips. Of course it’s not—because it’s a lie, and you know it, and you know he knows that you know it. How could he be sorry for wanting you, for spending every last waking moment breathing for you, hoping that you’ll end his laborious breaths and pour air into him yourself?

“You know, I brought you in here to make sure that you wouldn’t run or pass out on me,” you confess, reaching out your hand towards him; the tip of your finger barely grazes his cheek as you allow the bee to crawl onto you, “I worry about your heart more than I should.”

You flick your finger gently, allowing the bee to flutter freely and your eyes to focus back on Yuuta’s, “Right now, in this domain, it’s mine to control. To stop, to beat.” It’s yours outside of here, too; to fix, to break. He knows. He knows, he knows, he knows. “Why won’t you let me have it, Yuuta?”

Yuuta gasps, and despite his surprise, despite his extreme lovesickness, despite his dark desires, his heartbeat remains steady, his body remains perfectly tempered and cool, his voice resonates clearly—all because of you.

“You’ve always had it,” he confesses, “Always. From the moment I met you.”

He can’t read your expression. He’s suddenly hyper aware of the power struggle here; domain aside, you can hear everything about him, sense the slightest physiological change in him, alter any one of his bodily functions at your whim and Yuuta doesn’t know what goes on in you. Would it be wrong to confess that he likes it; that this feels like you having him, that he likes knowing you can take him?

“I thought so, maybe,” you enlighten him, “Last year with all the calls and texts,” you lean over and set free a butterfly from his shoulder, “And then in the airport,” then guiding the snake to coil around your arm and around your torso, “And then I thought maybe you’d have said something when you were jealous of Yuuji,” this time your hand touches him, a feather-light touch to his elbow, “But you didn’t, and I was beginning to wonder if I was hearing your heart beat for someone else, instead.”

Yuuta grabs at your hand erratically, “No—no. Never.”

He’s senselessly in love with you, and if it weren’t for your healing hands, Yuuta’s certain his ribs would have cracked from the pressure of his happy heart by now; but then again, maybe he should ask you to let it break—let that fracture serve as an entry point for you and yours, to prove to you that it beats for you and you alone.

“So then what is with you? You have a habit of giving girls your heart and not kissing them, or asking them out—is it always straight to marriage with you?”

It’s torture hearing that word fall from your lips. He doesn’t have time to even begin to process it. Yuuta’s eyes flicker to the smile on your lips, the slight tilt of your head. He says something he shouldn’t, “Would you be opposed to that?”

“I’d like a kiss first,” you tease, “Would you give me one?”

And how could he ever deny you anything. There, with a harmony of beautiful insects and warm sunlight, Yuuta finally, finally, takes the last move forward to kiss you. It’s everything he wants and exactly as he’d imagined—he can feel the rush in his bones, the want in his stomach, the love against his skin when you fall into him.

It’s one kiss, and another, and then Yuuta can feel your tongue against his, greedily falling into the rush of you. He’s everywhere, hands on your neck, lips on yours, body stradling yours when he carefully leans you backwards; Yuuta has you, and you have him, and he won’t let this moment go to waste. He pulls away for a moment, only a moment, to take in your kiss-swollen lips and commit this vision to memory. He’ll have to take another visual photograph outside of your domain, when your bodies are free to breathe erratically and equilibrium is broken so you and truly, truly, feel all of Yuuta’s love in earnest.

He wonders if it’s the effect of your domain that prevents his nerves from running haywire when you take off his shirt, when you let him take off your pants, when you have your hands on his chest and his on your hips. It must be. Yuuta knows for certain that otherwise, he’d be a blushing mess of fumbling limbs and stuttering words.

Still, Yuuta thinks, domain or no domain, he wouldn’t let this moment pass him. It’s not nerves when his hand brushes over your clothed clit and he hears you moan—even if it had been, that would have been the antidote to his poison. Lust, pressure, possession wash over him in excruciating waves. He wants more. He wants you.

Impatience when he adds pressure with his hand, bliss when you buck your hips to add more of your own, greedily grinding against his fingers. Yuuta kisses you again, swallows your moans and feeds you his own when slips his hand past the barrier of your underwear, and he feels your warm, wet cunt against his fingertips for the first time, and when he pushes two fingers into your heat, he thinks he could cum right then and there, from this alone.

“Yu—Yuuta, more,” you plead. Your hand on his neck, fingernails scraping into his skin that should leave a mark. They probably won’t. He’ll be sure that next time they stick.

And Yuuta, unable to deny you anything, obeys. He curls his fingers inside of you, thrusting gently at first, and then with more confidence—and warning, when he hears you snarl about not teasing. Ironic, he thinks, as he watches your lips fall open, since you’ve had him strung along since day one.

“I wanna—wanna cum with you inside,” you moan, a sound that Yuuta promises to commit to memory. Later, when his brain is working better, and the coil in his stomach isn’t so tight, and you’re not clenching around his fingers.

You’re greedy, and Yuuta’s never realized it. You suck him in and still want more, and you must know that he’ll give it to you. It should serve as a warning, you have the high-ground to take him any which way you want—for a fool, for granted, for yourself, for nobody else; so what does it say about him that it only spurs his arousal, that it makes him impossibly hard and he can feel himself leaking from the thought of it.

“I want that, too,” he reassures you, leaning down to press his forehead against yours, because you’re perfect for him, “But I want this first. Give me this first, please. Please.”

He thinks you might cry. The rational part of him knows you can regulate it, that you probably won’t; the sick part of him wants to see it, wants to know what it takes to make you lose control.

You call his name like a prayer, once, twice, and on the third time, Yuuta can feel it as much as he can hear it. He can feel the moment that your walls clench, and your eyes screw shut, and your body convulses around him. You’re beautiful, irreverent, and Yuuta thinks that being responsible for this is the greatest achievement of his life.

He wears your orgasm with pride, raking over you as you blink your eyes open to him again. You’re lucid too quickly, he really is going to have to take the time to enjoy this somewhere less controlled later, eagerly wrapping your hand around his wrist and forcing them to his mouth. Yuuta groans when he tastes you on his tongue, nothing short of euphoric, and he’s sure to taste every last drop.

You smile, and then laugh—an almost inaudibly giggle that has Yuuta smiling back reflexively. Like always, he follows your every move and succumbs to all your whims when you lean up to kiss him, and then coax off his pants and underwear, and line the tip of his dick up with your slit and pull him in, again, by the neck to bite at his ear, “Come on, Yuuta. Give it to me.”

An order, a promise, a plea—Yuuta vows to fulfill them all, determined and spell-bound when he sinks into you. He can only imagine what it feels like for you, but for him it’s warm, wet, soft, snug, sticky—like honey, like a bee drawn to sweetness. It’s good, too good, Yuuta doesn’t know how to last when you feel this good.

He can feel you everywhere, around his dick, your hands on his back, your breath on his cheek, your skin against his. He feels stuck to you, stuck in you, mind, body, and soul as one, unable to differentiate him from you, from you, from you.

“Fuck,” Yuuta stares, carefully swiping a thumb over your browbone, conscious but not in command on how deep he’s thrusting into you, “You��re so—fuck, I love you.” He wants to hear you say it back, he needs to, he has to. He can feel it again, stomach in knots, and nerves on fire, and skin sticky, and Yuuta has to know—“Please, please. Do you love me, too?”

You stutter, only from the rock of his hips into yours, reaching for his face and cradling it between healing hands, “Of course I love you, Yuuta.” His mouth opens, wobbly, and tears flow over his eyes—briefly, Yuuta thinks that it’s cruel that you’d let him cry; that you have command over every function in his body and that you’d let him cry, but he can’t bring himself to be upset. He’d probably have cried regardless, because hearing you say that you love him is a rush comparable only to burning tightness in his gut right now.

You tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling his lips to yours when you finally let go together. Yuuta can feel you tight around him, when he cums; and an unfiltered harmony of moans and skin on skin when he lays on top of you, sinks into you. Your hands don’t leave his hair, and Yuuta finds bliss in your affection, in being in your arms, in being yours.

He doesn’t know how long you two stay like that, he doesn’t know if physical time passes in your domain, but it doesn’t matter. He’d stay here forever with you, let you use the full extent of your prowess to eat his heart out as sustenance, bleed for you to quench your thirst. He’d be everything you need and more; he’ll make sure that he’s all you want when it’s done and over.

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