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distortedmoondisc · 7 months

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Do you ever think about the parallels between Rinne and Aira

Not only they have a shared interest in protecting Hiiro and ensuring his well-being/growth as a person, (and it's extra interesting given how Aira sort of dislikes Rinne for how he dealt with Hiiro in general—by leaving him alone at their hometown and disowning him in the summer of the MDM—, so even though they have the same interests and goals regarding Hiiro, they aren't exactly friends nor like each other — though this is mostly from Aira's part, because Rinne does like Aira and even acknowledges him as someone important to Hiiro that he must keep in his life), but Aira kinda is what Rinne used to be, before his dreams of becoming an idol we're crushed by the new rules of ES.

!! Main Story, Episode 171, "Revolution"

I've seen many people talk about how Rinne and Aira would get along because they're both idol otakus, but I believe that's a common misunderstanding of Rinne's character, because Rinne isn't an idol otaku (at least not anymore). He doesn't like the current idol system and the way Ensemble Square is running the industry. That's why he tried to change it by force in the !! Main Story by acting out. This is different from Aira, who loves the idols born from this system, and is a participant in the ES system that is going to hurt the industry in the long run (because ES is mass producing idols like a factory, stripping them from their own individuality and what makes idols especial in the first place — which is why Aira likes idols to begin with! Because they're different from ordinary people!)

!! Main Story, episode 220, "Despair"

Aira is aware that the idol industry isn't perfect, in episode 171 he even acknowledges that the mass production of idols similar to items of consumption made in a factory is wrong and it strips idols from their beauty and value, but he doesn't have the insight and first hand experience with heartbreak as Rinne had, so he doesn't have the motivation to protest or change the way ES is running the industry. They both love idols and dreamed of becoming one, but Rinne isn't an idol otaku, because he can't be a fan of idols mass produced by the current system.

What Rinne does instead, is support underground idols that would otherwise be trampled or forced to disappear by ES because they don't fit their sets of standards (and because ES has monopoly in the idol industry, they can easily do this without much repercussions or public outcry) and gives them his protection. This is explained throughout the course of the story of Night Club.

Nigh Club, Epilogue 2

Aira tries to impersonate an ideal idol persona, as the ones he watched when he was younger. He wants to embody a model idol and inspire others as idols inspired him in the past. Rinne used to be similar, but ES arbitrarily destroyed his solo career making him lose that dream, and that's why he embodies the wild and rebellious persona he portrays on stage, which is a complete opposite to how a traditional idol should act (and this is a constant point of conflict between him and other idols, such as Himeru; Himeru tends to scold Rinne for being so wild and doing whatever he wants because it goes against what is expected of an idol, but in Night Club he comes to understand that this is Rinne's soft way to protest against ES, despite having lost to them in the first part of the !! Main Story).

(Sometimes, I wonder if Rinne is happy being the wild and playful self he is with Crazy:B, or if he would prefer to be on stage as an ideal idol like he used to do years ago....)

However, despite their differences and the dislike/intimidation Aira might feel towards Rinne, he admits he understands his feelings and where he comes from, and that he can't help but to relate to him due to the fact that they both love idols. Aira scolds Rinne in episode 220 "Despair" to make him stop his pity party, but later in episode 224 "Flutter" he comforts and encourages him instead—telling him that he should not give up being an idol, because he recognizes that Rinne loves idols as much as he does, and that he still has a reason to live because he has fans of himself and of Crazy:B waiting for him among the crowd, meaning that he is still loved and accepted by someone, despite all the wreckage he had caused.

(And if I'm allowed to get personal for a moment, I just need to make emphasis in how important Aira is to the development of the Amagi brothers in the last arc of the !! main story, and this scene is a perfect example of that. Aira is the one who encourages Rinne to join the others on stage and sing, and after that it is Hiiro that pushes Rinne to give that step which finally leads them to perform on stage together 🥹)

So as we can see, Rinne and Aira have a lot of similarities, but they act in completely different ways due to their circumstances. They have similar backgrounds as idol lovers but they have different views and feelings about the industry and the profession, (however, they seem to share the same ideals as to what an idol should be, and love the same type of ideal idol inside their hearts). Adding to that their shared most beloved person, Hiiro, and how the two of them want what's best for him but they have a point of contention due to Rinne's bad actions in the !! Main Story, and their relationship becomes x10 more interesting, and I wish we talked about it more!

And we know Happyele hasn't forgotten about them, because Aira appeared in Rinne's recent relationship chart, just below Hiiro.

(also, a little unrelated, bu i think it's funny that despite having a heart to heart at the ending of the main story, their relationship is still "want to tease him" and "he's a little scary" ahdks Aira, who scolded Rinne in front of hundreds of people in the MDM, regressed to feeling intimidated and troubled by him. A couple of friends commented that it was probably because Aira had a burst of courage in the MDM because of the severity of the situation, so he had the determination to call out Rinne, a senior that he particularly feels intimidated by, publicly without second thought. It is canon that after the fact, Aira admitted that looking back on the MDM he felt embarrassed for doing such a bold thing. Idk, it's just something i find very interesting and fun about their dynamic www)

So this leads me to believe that they haven't forgotten about the history these two had in the main story, and all I can do is just wait for them to expand on their relationship and dynamic more eventually in some future event.

#the rinne/aira parallels have been implied in the story since very early #ever since aira said that hiiro has some old views about the world and hiiro said that he sounded just like rinne #and the similarities just keep on increasing with each chapter #i'm just obsessed with the concept of hiiro's closest people being so similar but so different at the same time #and how he works as the bridge between the two #also not to be a delusional shipper on main (i always am though) but #i always think about how rinniki and hiiai were planned so carefully to reflect and parallel each other #hiiro and rinne are narrative foils & aira and rinne are foils also #aira and niki are parallels w the dynamics they have with their respective amagi #hiiai and rinniki are pairing parallels #just /hands in head and screams/#also ty engstars for the dialogue logs update and for giving the ms chapters small descriptions so i could look for scenes way easier #i love the !! ms but 220+ chapters is so much #but thats probably why i'm so obsessed with it lol #what reading the !! ms twice does to a person #hope this post makes sense bc adapting it from twt thread was hard ksdjf #enstars #ensemble stars #rinne amagi #aira shiratori #hiiro amagi #my post

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marymekpop · 11 months

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⟢ highlight of the hour: my perfect stranger [5/16] ⟣

sharing is caring

#my perfect stranger #korean drama #kim dong wook #jin ki joo #mygif #mmkfav #mpshoth #haejoon always the gentlemen #haejoon.. the mAN THAT YOU ARE #this scene was so sweet and cute #haejoon sharing the jelly with yy #then uncle and mom happily greeting yy #they are the cutest!!#i luv the little ways that haejoon cares for yy and looks out for her #all the little things he does for her #he shows his care for her in so many different small subtle ways #i luv it i luv it #:]

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akajustmerry · 11 months

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I honestly have SO MANY thoughts and feelings about romangerri as a tragic mentor/mentee relationship that I'd love to be able to ramble about for hours on end. but whenever I've tried I just get romangerri shippers in my notes and the way they talk about roman having feelings for gerri is so triggering to me because of something that happened to me in my first workplace that I just kinda have to avoid it <\3

#like UGHHHHH the way Roman's spiral starts with seeing gerri at waystar getting her payout #starts with him being reminded who he failed and how failing gerri signed both their death warrants and how that's always on his hands #so the stitches look good too good for how he feels they should look worse he should feel worse he doesn't deserve how it looks and so...#final scene he has no semblance of self beyond self punishment so he orders her drink so even this small bit of freedom tastes bitter...

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rosipuree · 3 months

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More than a gym crush.

Toji just fawning over reader, him thinking a small gym crush was...well small. Turns out he wants to marry you.

Warnings: unprotected sex, p in v, choking kink, mention of masturbation.

To say Toji was whipped—was in fact an understatement.

It was rare for a man like him, but the times he’s seen you at the local gym. How his eyes would always snake down to your ass, oh his bulge was now very much visible under his gray sweats.

Can’t forget that one time you stopped him in the middle of the parking lot asking him for his intense cardio routine, So you were watching?

“Yeah, just give me your number.” He was so smooth with it, his tall beefy body hovering over your small fit body. You smiled at him before handing back his phone—how much more perfect could you get.

He knew he won in life.

The pain—the sweet pain that felt so good as you left cat scratches on his back as he thrusted ever so deeply into your plush pussy. He felt the cold ring on your finger, it wasn’t a wedding ring, not just yet—more of a promise. A promise that he will marry you.

His dick pulsing at the sight of your breast bouncing at every hard thrust—fuck and those eyes that rolled back every time his tip pushed itself onto that sweet rubbery spot.

His free hand wrapping itself around your small neck, you loved it. He was surprised to say the least, when that one time he walked in on you masturbating as your own hand wrapped around your neck while you breathlessly moaned his name. That same night it ended with him pinning you against the wall as he fucked you relentlessly while his hand squeezed your neck.

Not only was the sex amazing—beyond even.

You were just perfect, a perfect amount of wildness along with calmness, hell of a good cook and baking sweets—Toji wasn’t a sweets person but your bakes? He’d devour it and fuck you lovingly, as a thank you of course.

“Is that all?” You smirked as you swung your ass in the air—making sure to look back to see your boyfriend’s reaction. He panted as he was breaking out in a sweat. There was no way he had another in him—that was until he watched the dick throbbing scene in front of him.

Playing with your folds as the white oozy cum dripped out. You swaying your ass around as an invitation for Toji to fuck you again.

Fuck you had him wrapped around that little finger of yours.

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x y/n #jjk smut #smut #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #jjk toji #toji x reader #toji smut #toji x you #fushiguro #rosipuree

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saetoru · 10 months

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✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。i know you still think about the times we had

synopsis. satoru will always comes when you call him, he just never thought you’d stop calling

— word count. 5.2k (where did i go wrong)

— contents. college au, rich boy! gojo, break ups and make ups <3, it’s the cliche trope where the rich guy’s parent forces you to leave him aka gojo’s father is the villain, angst with a happy ending—i don’t want my cause of death to be angry rb! gojo stans, emo gojo ft. marvin’s room (iykyk), cliche rain scene—this fic is so cliche i’m sorry, reader is gn! but gojo is mentioned to like pics of girls on instagram (he was being petty)

— notes. well, it finally happened. the long awaited break up. this one’s for you niku 🤞🏽 AND DABITEE ANON

you open the door when satoru knocks—just barely, though. it’s just enough to hand him the bag with the remaining things he’s left at your apartment. it feels familiar, being here, but it feels so different too. it’s always been happy knocking on your door—he never thought he’d dread letting his knuckles meet the cool wood. it’s like taking the last bite of something sweet when you’re too full. when the sugar is too decadent on your tongue and your head spins and your stomach twists and it’s too much even though it used to be so good.

it’s too much being here. it’s too much trying to meet your gaze and get nothing in return. it’s too much being handed back that sweater he basically let you keep. and yet, it’s good to see you. he wants nothing more than to be here with you, wherever you are, even if you don’t want him to stay.

“that should be everything,” you murmur, still looking down. “let me know if there’s anything missing.”

satoru would never tell you if there’s something missing. he’d never come back and demand back something he gave you, he doesn’t think he could ever take back something he gave you—being handed back his heart after pressing it to your palms is hard enough. but then again, maybe he should look for small things you probably missed. just so he can come back. just so he can see you—how else will he see you now?

“no, it’s alright,” he says quietly. he doesn’t miss the way you quickly let go as soon as his hands grab the bag, almost like you’re being careful enough not to let your fingers meet each other. “you can uh…you can just keep them. or…throw them out if you don’t want them,” he mumbles.

you nod, standing there silently. it’s quiet, and then it’s quiet some more. and finally, you look up at him for the first time since he got here, staring at him a little expectantly. oh, right. now would be the part where he leaves.

“can i…can i just know why?” he croaks. fuck. he’s not supposed to cry. you ripped his heart out and threw it at his feet, you didn’t even care to hand it to him even after you tore every artery apart. but he sniffles anyway, lips wobbling as he stares at you. “why are you leaving me?”

your fingers twitch, like you itch to reach over and wipe that tear that rolls down his cheek. in the end, you cross your arms instead. “i already told you, satoru—”

“that’s bullshit,” he clicks his teeth, shaking his head as he stares at you frustratedly, “you gave me some bullshit reason.”

satoru has worked so hard to be here—to be with you. hadn’t he done enough? hadn’t he told you about himself, things he didn’t want to? hadn’t he tried to become something, someone more than just a guy swimming in trust funds? hadn’t he worked for your attention, waited outside classes and walked opposite directions in the hall with you just to seem dedicated? fuck, he even burned his hand trying to learn how to make pancakes to impress you, let the maids laugh at him as he twisted the stove the wrong way to try and turn it on.

why wasn’t it enough? what more could he give you than everything? how can the guy who has everything not have enough to give? he doesn’t understand.

“satoru, we weren’t gonna work,” you pinch your nose—it’s like you’re the one who doesn’t understand why he’s being like this. “the sooner you accept that the more hurt you’re saving the both of us—”

“we were working just fine,” he says exasperatedly. it’s like you insist he’s crazy when he’s nothing but sane. like he’s trying to tell you the sky is blue, and you’re refusing to believe it’s anything other than green. it’s clear. it’s practically a fact. you were doing just fine—why don’t you see that? “we were happy,” he takes a step forward and cups your cheeks, pressing his forehead to yours, “was it someone? did they tell you something? just tell me who, baby—i’ll fix it. i’ll put them in their place, okay? no one can bother you if i get them to leave you alone—”

“then you leave me alone,” you whisper. he stills. you pull away from his hands. “sator—gojo. please just leave me alone. it’s better that way.”

you close the door, and he stands there. numb. maybe a little shocked. entirely ruined.

gojo. he laughs quietly after a moment at that—it’s a laugh meant for men who’ve lost the last thread to sanity. gojo. it’s like a slap in the face, being called the name he worked so hard to get you to drop. it took him weeks—months, even, to convince you to call him satoru. then he upgraded to toru. then it was baby. sometimes you teased him and called him pumpkin—he called you peaches in return. when you introduced him, you called him your boyfriend.

not anymore. now he’s back to gojo—that god-forsaken name with everything but what he really wants attached to it. his grandfather’s legacy. his future. business deals. fancy invites. more money than he knows what to do with. the name gojo comes with everything but you.

but he had you for a bit, didn’t he? when he was just satoru—but now he’s gojo again, and you’re gone. the only sign of you left is in the faint traces of your perfume in the sweaters you’ve returned.

and satoru still isn’t sure what brought the break up on. he thinks it’s the part that stings the most—when everything seems perfect one second, and then it’s not. had he not tried enough? maybe he was too much. maybe he didn’t understand you the way you needed him to. maybe he was too overbearing. maybe he asked for too much too fast.

he’s not sure. he tried asking when you broke it off—you only shook your head and said it wasn’t going to work out between the two of you, that it was a mistake to try at all. mistake? how could you call this a mistake? things were so perfect, weren’t they?

satoru doesn’t think there was even one second he wasn’t smiling when he was with you, and he used to think the same was true for you too. had you been faking it this long? or was it real at one point—had he really failed you so badly, seen past you so blindly that he didn’t notice when your smiles stopped reaching your eyes?

it’s too late, he figures. you and satoru are broken up.

you ask him to come over one morning, and he does—because he always comes when you call. he brings your coffee order from that cafe you like, the one you don’t go to often because the coffee is more overpriced than any other coffee shop you’ve ever seen. he’s grinning when you open the door, leans in to kiss your lips excitedly. you turn your head then, and his lips meet your cheeks instead—he supposes he should’ve known it at that moment. he should’ve seen that your lips weren’t smiling. your eyes were tired, a little red. you were hugging yourself in that way you do when you’re nervous. you didn’t let him kiss your lips, you made him kiss your cheek.

and then you sat him down on that worn-down couch of yours, took off that bracelet his mother gave him to gift you on your anniversary, and pressed it to his palm as you said we should break up. break up. you wanted to leave him—and satoru didn’t understand, still doesn’t understand.

he’s tried for so long, replayed the last month of your relationship in his head over and over and fucking over. you always smiled. you kissed him first. you held his hand, and even squeezed. you asked to see him. you laughed when he was around. you said i love you. you were happy. but then you weren’t—when did you stop being happy? and how could you have stopped feeling it with him?

—————

breaking up with satoru is the hardest thing you’ve ever done. how long can people live without the sun? you think not longer than a few minutes—that’s what it feels like without satoru’s warmth, anyway.

gojo satoru has always smiled as long as he’s been with you. he smiled smugly on your first meet, smiled bitterly after every rejection, smiled in pure glee when you finally said yes, and smiled like his fingertips could touch the sky every time he saw you after that.

satoru has never looked sad for long in your presence—you have that effect on him, you make his lips curl and his eyes brighten in that way that they deserve to shine. but for the first time ever, his eyes dim with you around, his lips curl into a frown at your words, and he cries for you. his eyes glisten with tears instead of wonder, and you think for a moment that you might be making a mistake.

but then you remember that this is for the best—that if you really love gojo satoru, you’ll let him go instead of clipping his wings.

“he’s picked up his things,” you speak quietly into the phone. you don’t sniffle even as you desperately need to—it’s the last bit of control you have left, and you intend to keep it. “i won’t be seeing him again.”

“good,” his father speaks, “that’s good to hear.”

satoru’s father is a cold man, you learn that on the first meet. he doesn’t look at his wife with a soft look that tells you there’s any love built between the decades of marriage, and he doesn’t look at his only son with any affection for the boy he raised. instead, he stares at satoru like any businessman would an opportunity—with a calculating gaze that tries to work out the best course of action for the most profit.

satoru is young, but he’s charming and conniving and knows how to get what he wants when he wants—he’s quick on his feet and rarely lets himself get cornered into a wall. in the last three generations of the family business, no heir has shown as much promise as gojo satoru. that’s what his father tells you, anyway. you believe him—satoru is smart and knows how to play his cards right, you won’t deny that. his future is set to be comfortable, and he’s never known anything outside of that, never built any other plans for himself.

you can’t rip that away from him—not for your own sake, not for your own happiness.

“you promised you wouldn’t freeze his trust funds once i ended things,” you remind him, “and that he’d keep his inheritance.” somehow, because the world grants you this one favor, your voice doesn’t shake—it’s steady and firm as it reminds the stone-cold man at the end of the line of your agreement—and he offers a slow chuckle that makes your jaw clench.

“yes, i do recall,” he hums, “i’m glad we could come to agree. you understand, don’t you? it is my job as his father to do what’s best for him.”

you know what he’s saying—what that means. you’re not what’s best for him. maybe he’s right—maybe satoru needs someone who’s equally as promising to build a successful company into even more success. maybe he needs someone who can take him out for a change to those fancy places he takes you every few weeks. maybe he needs someone who’s heard of half the brands he wears and doesn’t scold him to turn the lights off so the electricity bill isn’t high. maybe he needs someone who can keep up with everything that gojo satoru is—and that someone is not you, no matter how deeply you love him.

“—the offer still stands, should you change your mind. i’m willing to compensate you for the trouble this must all be.”

your lips curl into a scowl at his words. that’s the thing about rich people, you think—money is always enough to sugarcoat everything. why worry about the dead grass in your lawn when you can paint it green? but you don’t leave satoru for extra cash on your hands—nothing can be worth auctioning off the only man who’s ever made you feel anything. you leave satoru because he deserves to continue living comfortably, to make a name for himself that isn’t just a ghost of his father’s. if that means being cut from the corner of the picture, you’re willing to pick up the scissors yourself.

“no thanks,” you hiss, “i don’t need the money.”

“i would disagree,” his father sneers, “but suit yourself.”

the line ends, and for good this time, satoru is no longer yours. was he ever to begin with?

—————

you try to forget your ex-boyfriend—keyword, try. every hour of your life consists of you using your burner account to refresh his instagram page to see if he’s posted anything new. you unfollow satoru from every social media platform the same day he picks up his belongings—you know he’s noticed within the first thirty minutes because all of his pictures with you are gone, just like all your pictures with him.

in what you assume is an attempt to be petty, he likes every picture of every girl he sees, and he even blocks you on twitter—you know he picks twitter because twitter is the only social media that blatantly states you’re blocked. but then you’re unblocked in two days, and you know he must be missing you now that the initial anger is faded.

it makes you laugh a little, even through your tears. satoru is not satoru without petty fits of emotion, and you can’t bring yourself to be mad, not when it’s your fault he’s hurting like this. he’s extra sad today, you gather—if the way marvin’s room is posted to his instagram story on a blank screen is of any hint. it makes you scoff in amusement that in true gojo satoru fashion, he’s effectively told all eight-thousand-something of his followers he’s pathetically in his feelings.

you scroll through suguru’s story, too—he didn’t unfollow you even after satoru temporarily blocked you, but you figure suguru is the only person satoru really has. you shouldn’t keep yourself close to him, not when it could hurt satoru more, so you remove him too.

suguru is, as always, drinking at some fancy party with obnoxiously rich college students who have not a care in the world for midterms around the corner. who needs to pass when you’re swimming in money whether or not you have a degree? the first thing you learn about the rich is that most of them are only at college for the experience—they don’t see college as the stepping stone to better opportunities, there’s nothing education could offer that trust funds already don’t. but satoru attends college for himself—he enjoys business classes, you learn, and especially finance ones. for someone who spends money so carelessly, he understands it particularly well.

there’s no sign of satoru at whatever party it is suguru is at, there’s no trace of strikingly bright white strands anywhere in any corners—you do see naoya in a corner, though, and you crinkle your nose in distaste. if satoru were here, he’d say something bitterly under his breath about the asshole, and you would giggle. but satoru is not here, and even naoya the women-hating jackass makes you miss your obnoxiously whiny ex-boyfriend.

everything reminds you of satoru. that bear he won you at the fair (after maybe six tries) by your pillows, those polaroids at your desk that you can’t bring yourself to take down, that sticky note on your fridge he left promising to replace the creamer he finished (he’s replaced it more times than he’s needed to by now), that extra big blanket you keep on the couch because the old one barely covered his legs, that pair of silly matching mugs you both had for coffee in the mornings.

every corner of your apartment has something that reminds you that satoru was here, that he was yours, that for a short while, he was the best thing you ever had. it’s your fault, you think—that satoru and you are here in this mess in the first place. he’s always looked at life through a hopeful lens. having everything does that to you, makes you ignorant to the misfortunes of the world, makes you think everything is within the realm of your reach. you, on the other hand, knew this was bound to happen. the two of you together is like hot oil and cool water—what feels like sparks is just the oil shooting out to burn you. you should’ve known this would have never lasted.

in a way, you think you did. it’s why you hated him so fiercely at first—maybe deep down, you always knew you wanted him, that he would never be yours. maybe that’s why you were so adamant about rejecting him, that even when he was clearly trying, it would never be enough. satoru has always been enough, has always been what everyone has wanted—you’re not so sure you can say the same for yourself.

you love gojo satoru. he loves you too—he falls first, and you think maybe, he might have fallen harder too. no one loves like satoru. they say if you press coal hard enough, it turns to diamonds—you think if you gave satoru coal, he would hand you back the sun and all of her stars. it’s just the kind of guy he is, the one that turns everything dull into something bright and warm and worth it. you wish you didn’t have to break his heart, you wish you could’ve walked out of this the only one hurt. but maybe, at the very least, if you break him good enough that he hates you, he’ll move on quicker, maybe have something to look forward to while you continue to work your way up and cheer him on.

before you can refresh suguru’s page one more time to stalk his story, you’re pulled from your thoughts as someone knocks on your door—correction: pounds on your door. you jolt on your couch, standing up and making your way to the front door quickly and looking through the peephole.

satoru. of course.

he’s soaked to the bone—it’s raining outside, and of course, just as on brand as always, he must’ve rushed here without an umbrella.

you shouldn’t open it.

but you can’t just leave him in the rain, can you? but he’s not your problem anymore, you agreed to leave him, didn’t you? but how could he not be your problem when he’s all you think about? but this could cause him trouble if his father found out he was here, right? but can you really leave someone, ex-boyfriend or not, in the pouring rain? you can’t be that cruel can you?

before you can make up your mind, he speaks up, “i know you’re standing there. open the door,” he demands.

“satoru, go home,” you sigh, head pressing against the surface that separates you, “don’t make this anymore difficult than it has to be.”

“if it’s difficult, that means you don’t really want to do this,” he argues. he’s still as good as ever at sweet talk, still as persistent and charming as ever at getting what he wants. “please,” he croaks, “just let me in.”

you know it means more than one thing. you know it means more than just your home. but you shouldn’t, you can’t let him know why you did all this—how can you protect someone from something if they don’t let you? satoru would never let you if he knew, and that’s why you can’t let him know.

“satoru, if you don’t leave…i’ll…i’ll call the cops,” you warn.

“no you won’t,” he says instantly. “i’m not leaving until you open the door. and if i get sick, i’ll send you my bill for the emergency room visit.”

“you’re not going to the emergency room for a common cold, you idiot,” you scoff.

the rain doesn’t slow—in fact, you can hear thunder. satoru is still stubbornly outside, knocking away.

“i’ll start screaming,” he insists, “your neighbors will complain for noise again. do you want to be kicked out of this apartment? just let your cold, wet, heartbroken ex-boyfriend in if you have a heart.”

and because you are, and always will be, weak to the charms of gojo satoru, you open that damned door—even though you shouldn’t, even though you can’t, even though you said you would never again. but you do. because it’s satoru, and he always comes when you call, and you’ll always let him in when he’s here.

“you don’t come to your ex’s house less than one week after the break up,” you sigh once you open the door. he takes a step in, shutting the door behind him.

“why did you leave me?” he asks.

“satoru, you can’t keep bringing this up—”

“why? just tell me why.”

“i don’t have to—”

“tell me why and i’ll stop bothering you. i just need to know why,” he insists.

and then you break.

you’re only human. you’ve lost the man you’ve given everything to for over a year in the span of one week. you’ll never see his lovely mother again who spoiled you rotten, you’ll never hang out out with his funny best friend who treats you like family, and you’ll never be enough for gojo satoru, the rich, loud, sheltered, obnoxious, handsome jackass you met and had to do a project with and accidentally fucked over and over again until you fell in love.

so you shove his chest, once, then twice, then a third time, each time getting weaker and weaker than the last as tears slip down your cheeks as you simply break down. “just leave, satoru,” you sob, “why can’t you just leave? why do you keep coming back?”

you hate seeing him here. you want him gone. you never want to see him again. you hope he never leaves. you’re glad to see him. you hope this isn’t the last time. you hate that he seems to not be getting enough sleep. his eyes are hollow. he must not be eating properly. he probably hasn’t attended class. he has a quiz next week. he most likely forgot about that. his clothes are wrinkly. he definitely hasn’t showered in days.

“last month you said i was it for you,” he glares at you, his eyes red and swollen and every shade of heartbreak. you miss when they were blue—that beautiful, bright, perfect shade of blue. “last week you said we were a mistake. what the fuck do you mean, huh? what are you playing at?”

“you can realize a lot in a month—”

“not enough to erase over a year,” his voice booms. it makes you flinch and hug yourself tightly. tears slide down your cheeks, your vision is blurry. this might be the last time you see satoru, and even if he’s angry, you want to remember the curves of his features. so you wipe them away. they keep coming back. “so tell me,” he clenches his jaw, “did you string me along for a year or did something happen last week that you’re not telling me?”

“i realized you were bad for me,” you say quietly.

satoru stares at you. it’s a piercing gaze—his eyes are electrically blue and his lashes are unfairly long and every time he stares at you, you think he almost sees into your soul. they’re tired—there are purplish bags under them on that pale skin of his, and the whites of his eyes are concerningly bloodshot. he stares, and stares, and for a second, you think you’ll die like this. watching him stare at you as your heart bleeds out.

“i spent weeks,” his voice shakes, “i waited outside your class. i followed you to the next one. i memorized your fucking schedule.”

“satoru, you need to leave—”

“and then you fucked me and left every morning like i was nothing,” he glares, sniffling. you don’t know where the rain drops on his face start and where the teardrops end. “and then i begged you for a chance—begged. i burned my hand, got laughed at by the maids to learn how to make those stupid fucking pancakes for you.”

“i didn’t ask you to—”

“it took you two months to call me baby for the first time. did you know that? i waited two months to hear that. i thought it was the best two months i ever waited.”

“satoru,” you plead.

you’ve given up on trying to wipe away the tears—he’s given up on crying altogether. you’ve never seen him so hollow, so dead in the eyes and so, so tired.

satoru has never gotten tired—not when he’s fighting for you.

“and then you kept pushing me away, acting like i was some shallow guy who wanted to get in your pants and leave cause i had some money to my name. i took you everywhere, introduced you proudly, let everyone say what they wanted to say about me because i loved you, and…and i thought you loved me too,” he shakes his head.

his voice breaks, and god, so does your heart right along with it.

“i do love you,” you admit it before you realize what you’re saying.

“then why did you fucking leave me?” his voice is loud.

satoru never yells, not at you. his voice is always gentle, patient, like he worships the ground you walk on, like he’ll get on his knees if you ask him too. satoru never yells—but he does tonight.

“because i had to,” you sob, fingers digging into your temples as you shake. the words spill from your lips faster than the tears, like a swarm of angry bees, one following after the other. “or you’d lose everything. the trust funds, the inheritance, the company. i couldn’t let that happen to you—not for me,” you whisper.

it feels like defeat—in the end, you couldn’t keep satoru, and you couldn’t leave him either. you couldn’t love him like you wanted, and you couldn’t let him go like you should have. what else is there left to fuck up? what more can you ruin in less than a week? the bees feel like maggots in your mouth, swarming a dead carcass.

“so you left me because my old man threatened you with my trust funds?” he asks in disbelief. you think something in satoru dies at that—something in his shoulders falls and his eyes almost seem gray.

satoru gets his blue eyes from his mother—they’re bright and kind and deeper than the ocean. but unlike the ocean, they’re not scary to fall into, to lose yourself in no matter how far you are from shore. his father’s eyes are gray—cold and blank and not laced with a single hint of emotion.

you can’t help but think that blue suits satoru so much better than gray ever could.

“it wasn’t just that,” you shake your head, “that’s not fair, satoru. what was i supposed to do? know you were about to lose everything and stay?”

“you could have talked to me before you decided for me,” he hisses, “what do you want me to say? thank you? thank you for breaking my heart? thank you for making me feel like a worthless piece of shit who wasted a year for someone who didn’t seem to care? thank you for walking out on me?”

“you know i’d have stayed if i could,” you argue, voice breaking.

“then why didn’t you? why the fuck didn’t you?”

“because i couldn’t!”

“you could!” he screams—you realize, for the first time in your life, you hate when satoru screams. he never screams. “all my life, that old man has been making decisions for me. satoru, wear this. satoru, go here. satoru, don’t do that. satoru, put that away. satoru, stay away from them. satoru, come with me. that’s all he’s ever fucking done—make every choice for me. and now…now you’re just like him,” he breathes, lips wobbling as he stares at you with hurt.

it’s like that for a bit—you stare at him as he crumbles, and he stares at you like he doesn't know you anymore. you don’t know who leans in first, if it’s your hand or his face, but one second you’re feet apart, and the next second his face is cradled in your hands, thumbs swiping away at his tears. you catch them, one by one, waiting to wipe them away no matter how fast they come. because satoru always comes when you call, and you’ll always be there for him to find you.

“i don’t want to leave,” you mumble, “i never do. you are it for me, i meant that, you know. who else will melt extra chocolate in my hot chocolate?”

“then don’t leave,” he begs, voice cracking, “i don’t want you to. i’ll handle that old geezer—my grandfather will knock some sense into him. fuck, suguru and i can even hide his body, it’s fine. just don’t leave, okay?”

you let out a watery chuckle, pinching his cheek as you shake your head. “i don’t know if i’m worth homicide, satoru.”

“i think you’re wrong,” he huffs, “you’re wrong about a lot of things, you know. so wrong.”

“i never said i was perfect,” you pout.

he buries his head into your neck, clinging to you tightly—you cling back, because nothing is as safe as satoru’s arms. you’d melt into his skin if you could, live in that spot right where his heart is so you can make sure it’s always beating.

“you’re still perfect,” he mumbles, “but you’re always mean to me. this was the worst you’ve ever been.”

“i’m sorry,” you murmur, slipping your fingers into his hair—it’s still wet, you realize. he’s soaked, and he could catch a cold but you don’t care. satoru is back. he’s here in your run-down apartment with the mugs and the blanket and that toothbrush you forgot to return and that pair of socks you found in your drawer. satoru is finally home. “i’ll never leave you again.”

“promise?”

“yeah. as long as you don’t block me on twitter again.”

“you deserved that.”

“and for the love of god, toru, delete that marvin’s room story. that was so dumb.”

“are you stalking me?” he pulls away with a grin, making you glare with a huff. he chuckles, kisses your forehead as he murmurs, “missed me that bad, huh? yeah, i would too.”

“well, obviously not enough to post marvin’s room on my story.”

“you can’t be mean to me after you broke my heart!” he whines.

yeah, you think, satoru is home. he’s still that loud, obnoxious, pestering brat that he always was—and he’s still the only love you’ve ever known.

“i love you,” you press your forehead to his, kissing him slowly. you want to kiss him harder, you want to kiss him desperately like you’ll never kiss him again. like you lost him and miraculously got him back. like you’ll never see the sun again without him.

but there’s time for that—lots of it, in fact. because satoru is home.

“i love you too,” he whispers, “wanna shower with me? if you really love me, you would.”

read the makeup sex sequel ;) MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

if this fic was a person i would want it dead.

#teepods.writings #fics.#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru angst

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augustinewrites · 7 months

Text

“itadori, please respect his personal space—”

“kugisaki! stop hitting him—”

“megumi, don’t you dare bring that elephant out in my classroom—”

peace and quiet is short-lived whenever the first years are around.

you manage to quiet them down with the threat of assigning an essay, allowing you a moment’s respite to massage your temples and lean back in your seat, glancing at your phone to check just how many minutes you have left with them.

a notification pops up as you do, bringing on a whole new headache.

[satoru]: send nudes?

you quickly turn your phone over so it’s screen-down, face burning as you look around to make sure no one had seen.

peace and quiet is also short-lived whenever satoru calls out sick. because the strongest sorcerer of your time…currently has a cold.

he is, predictably, very dramatic whenever he’s sick. a mild fever means he puts himself on bedrest. a sore throat means he needs to be spoon fed a very specific homemade soup.

but the worst…oh, the worst is when he has a cold.

when satoru’s sinuses are clogged, he’s an absolute menace to deal with. his sneezes shake the apartment and his whines about sinus pressure are all you hear at the dinner table.

luckily, the students have resorted to quietly bothering each other, so you slowly turn your phone back around to deal with the man child who is likely littering the living room floor with tissues.

he’s stuck at home, which means he’s got nothing to do but annoy you.

[satoru]: haha jk

[satoru]: unless…?

huffing, you quickly type back a response.

[you]: NOT funny. i’m at work.

[satoru]: so what you’re saying is you’ll send them during lunch right ;)

“miss!” itadori shouts, his arm raised. “can fushiguro come to the arcade with us after class?”

“of course,” you say. “but please don’t forget to finish your essays on cursed technique origins. it’s due on monday.”

yuuji’s practically bouncing in his seat as he grabs megumi’s arm. hear that, fushiguro? you hear as you pick up your phone. your mom said yes!

megumi, who usually comes home on the weekends, still looks to you for approval. you assure him with a small nod and smile.

sometimes you just want to wrap him up in your arms and never let go. he may have been another couple’s blessing, but ultimately he’s yours and gojo’s pride and joy. possibly the only one you have left, as it stands.

thought you’re a little sad that he won’t be home for dinner tonight, you remind yourself that he’s growing up. for as long as you’ve known him, he’s always been a sort of lone wolf. but a lone wolf is still a wolf, and a wolf needs a pack.

he’s finally found friends he’s comfortable with, and it’s good that he wants to spend time with them and vice versa.

your phone buzzes insistently in your hand.

[satoru]: pleeeeeaaaase?

[satoru]: i think it’ll really help with my recovery…

[satoru]: if this cold kills me the last thing i want to see is a picture of you

oh, that’s actually kind of—

[satoru]: nude, preferably

maybe it’s a good thing megumi won’t be home tonight. you don’t need any witnesses to the crime you’re about to commit.

[you]: what’ll help with your recovery is a visit to the infirmary.

there’s a short pause, then you watch the little bubble appear and disappear about six times.

[satoru]: shit

[satoru]: is this a scene?

you roll your eyes, waving at the kids as they head out to catch the train.

[you]: i hate you

he doesn’t answer, so you get up to hurry over to your office, shutting and locking the door behind you.

you wait a moment, opening the camera on your phone as you do so.

once the sound of footsteps echoing through the hall disappears, you start unbuttoning the first few buttons of your shirt—

you scream when a loud sneeze startles you, satoru suddenly appearing at your side.

he doesn’t miss a beat, plucking a tissue from your desk and blowing his nose loudly. he throws it in the general direction of the bin before slapping his palm onto your desk.

you can tell he’s attempting to be some sort of seductive, but it’s dampened bu the way he sniffles loudly, his face a little red.

“hello, doctor,” he says, a lazy grin spread across his face. “i’m here for my physical.”

“honey,” you laugh, gently cupping the sides of his face. “you need to rest.”

“but ‘m not tired,” he pouts, leaning in to nose at your neck. his skin is warm against yours, much too warm for your liking.

you tangle your fingers in his hair, scratching lightly at his scalp. “since i’m your doctor, i’m prescribing a nap.”

“a nap does sound kind of nice…”

he gets up, taking your hand and dragging you over to the couch with him. he locks you within his embrace, sighing contentedly as he presses you to his chest.

“wait, satoru i have to supervise the second years’ training—”

it’s too late. he’s already asleep, snoring loudly in your ear.

so you take out your phone and text nanami, asking if he can cover for you this afternoon.

because a sick satoru is a needy satoru, and you won’t be leaving this couch for a while.

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #keeping up with the fushigojos

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luveline · 2 months

Text

(𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞) 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 | 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐯𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐨𝐧

Steve hears you wrong, thinks he’s your boyfriend, and begins to act accordingly. You try your best to go along with it until you can’t anymore. 3k, fem. requested here ♡

cw shy(ish)!reader, misunderstandings, steve being a huge sweetheart, fluff, hurt/comfort, bonus fluff scene

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

The arcade is loud and brisk this evening, doors thrown open to allow for the constant ebb and flow of younglings, the machine music turned up to account for so many voices. You’re lost in a sea of rainbow flashing lights and the ticklish smell of sugar. Without Steve’s hand behind your shoulder, you’re pretty sure you would’ve gotten lost and trampled half an hour ago.

A candy necklace pinwheels past your heads like a torpedo, forcing you closer together, your shoulders tight with a flinch.

“We can leave,” Steve says immediately. He’s weirdly thoughtful. Before he asked you out you had no idea he thought so much about other people, but he’s always thinking about other people. You could argue he thinks a little too much, like you.

“I wanna see Max.”

“She has to be here somewhere.”

That theory proves less and less likely. Steve’s hand falls away from you, tugging through his hair in a marker of stress as you circle the Palace Arcade for the tenth time. “Maybe she quit?” you suggest.

Steve’s eyebrows pinch together as he gives the arcade another sweep. Max’s rough patch freaked him out, as it freaked you out, because ‘rough patch’ is a kind way to describe it. She could’ve got a whole lot worse; she was suffering, capital S. It’s nice to see her returning to society, but not if she isn’t actually settling in. That’s the whole reason you’re here.

Steve frowns at you worriedly.

“Who died?” asks a new voice.

You breathe out a sigh of relief. “Max!” Steve cheers.

“That’s me,” Max says, looking at you both sceptically. Her ginger hair is pulled into two tight braids either side of her face, her cheeks flushed red. Mascara paints her usually pale lashes a darker brown, and a rosy tinted chapstick shines on her lips.

“Hey, the uniform looks good on you,” he says affectionately. “You look like a valued member of society.”

“A society in need of better labour laws. I’m pretty sure this is child abuse.” She rolls her eyes.

“Is it awful?” you ask.

“It’s fine. Better when your stupid friends aren’t here making themselves sick on candy like they’re nine years old,” she says pointedly to Steve. “Are you going to throw up too? You look–” she grimaces in place of insult.

“Who’s throwing up?” you ask.

“Dustin. He’s outside.”

Steve sighs and gives your shoulder a kind squeeze. “I’ll be right back,” he says, squaring his expression. “Goddamn kids.”

He sounds like an old man, you think to yourself with a small smile. Disgruntled, he still goes to make sure everyone’s alright. He’s nice, even when that nice is begrudging and tiresome and plain gross sometimes.

“Why are you smiling at him like that?” Max asks.

You school your impression. “Like what?”

“Like you like him.”

You shake your head. “Tell me about work, Max. What’s it like here? Are they giving you your breaks?”

She drags you over to the counter to sit in the seat waiting behind. She glares at any kid who approaches, but besides that she seems in good spirits. The job isn’t hard, it’s just a job. She’d much rather be at home reading, but wouldn’t everyone? “And I get this sweet uniform,” she says, pointing at the embroidered icon on her shirt pocket. “What’s with you and Steve?”

“Nothing,” you say, though it’s something. You’re mortified to have been caught having feelings.

“Looks like something. Are you dating?”

“I mean, this is a date,” you say, almost whispering as heat floods your face. “But we’re not together.”

“He was touching you a lot.”

“Max, he’s really nice. He’s a really nice guy,” you say gently, “and we’re not together, but if he does ask me out eventually, maybe I’ll say yes.” You realise what you’re saying and attempt to backtrack —you do like Steve, but Max doesn’t need to know that. “It’s not like he’s my boyfriend,” you say strangely.

“Ew,” Max says with a laugh.

“Not ew,” you correct. You hadn’t meant it in a bad way, it’s—

“Not ew,” Steve says from behind you, his arm a heavy weight across your shoulder.

You look wide-eyed up at his face, surprised by his huge beaming smile, an intense loveliness about him as he gives you a half hug.

“What’s ew about that?” he asks you softly.

Oh, boy, you think.

As it turns out, being Steve’s girlfriend is kind of nice, but you aren’t ready.

From that afternoon at the Palace Arcade onward, he treats you like you’re made of gold. And it’s great, he’s so kind, he brings you flowers and takes you out for breakfast, where he pays the tab without any flourishes and talks to you as casually as always. You almost hope he hasn’t got it wrong at all, and that his soft tone a few days ago had been down to a brief overwhelming fondness. You’d get that. You have your moments with him, you’re falling for him, and it’s only a matter of time before you’re desperately in love, you’re sure, but then the waitress asks if you need anything else and he says, “Just a water for my girl,” and you realise you’re not getting off easy.

Dating is sort of like being good friends; you’d planned to spend the day together anyways. You enjoy his company. It’s clear he’s eager, optioning off the day’s agenda as you return to the car, the bottom of your face hidden in your bouquet.

“We could go to the movies,” he says, opening the passenger door, his smile seemingly permanent as you climb inside. “No science fiction, I promise.”

“I kind of like sci-fi.” Petals press fragrant to your top lip.

“Well, we don’t have to go to the Hawk. We could go into the city. I bet they’re playing any movie you wanna see.” He checks that your leg is properly inside the car before he closes the door, jogging around to the driver’s side and practically throwing himself inside. He’s giggling like a kid. “Shit, I’ll see anything you want to.”

“Steve.”

“Or we can go do nothing? Until dinner.”

“Steve,” you say again, thinking you’ll tell him. Nothing good ever comes from dishonesty.

“What?” he asks.

His eyes are so brown. Billions of people with brown eyes and you swear you’ve never seen anything like it before, their centres like hot honey, the sweetheart shape to them when he smiles

You sigh. His smile is contagious, even while your stomach hurts. “Nothing. Let’s go see a movie.”

“Are you okay?”

“What?”

“What do you mean, what? You sounded weird.”

“I sounded weird?”

“No!” He winces. “I mean, yeah, you sounded weird for you, like you… I don’t know. Sorry.”

You feel bad, then. His apology is earnest, his hand resting open on the console for you to take if you could manage the flustering heat of it.

“I wanna go to the movies,” you say, ‘cos you really do.

“Alright, good. It’s just, I think my last relationship, I– I didn’t pay enough attention, and I want to do that better this time around. So yeah. Sorry.”

Oh, Steve, you think. How are you supposed to tell him now? You’re gonna have to pretend to be ready for a relationship with him until you really are, it seems. He doesn’t deserve to have his heart played with twice.

“Don’t be sorry,” you say gently. “Let’s go watch a movie, okay? I want to go, with you, we’ll watch a shitty daytime flick and then get dinner after. It’ll be fun.”

You aren’t lying to him about what you want. It’s clear to everybody, Steve and his friends and especially you, that you like him, that you want to be around him and make him laugh. Maybe being his girlfriend won’t even be that different to being his something.

After all, what’s romantic about seeing a movie?

“You good?” he asks, half an hour later, your agony prolonged.

You’re at the back of the movies where the seats have the most leg room, more popcorn and candy than you could ever eat at your feet and a litre cup stuffed into the armrest between you. Steve is tucking his shirt back into his jeans, his head parting the light of the projector and leaving a silhouette in the previews.

“Steve,” you advise, gesturing for him to lean down out of the way.

He leans down, further and further, face to face with you with his hands on his hips. A flirtatious teasing makes its way onto his lips. “What?” he asks, amused.

“You were in the way of the light.”

“That what it was?”

“Seriously!” you whisper-shout, laughing despite yourself.

“You’re so cute,” he whispers back. “Want to take your jacket off?”

Your lips part at his good suggestion. You hold your arm out and start to peel from your jacket, but he takes your sleeve and helps you out of it before folding it and sitting in the seat next to you, your jacket on his thigh. “How’s that, babe?” he asks.

“It’s good.”

“Okay, perfect.” He beams at you. He’s always smiling when he’s with you, like you’re the best thing since sliced bread. Like he loves you. “Tell me if you need something, yeah? I know you’re kinda shy.”

He settles back in his seat with your jacket still in his lap and no indication that he might want to move it. Your knees touch as he relaxes, your knuckles as he puts his arm on the rest between you, a picture of contentedness as the movie begins and the opening credits play. “That’s us,” he says without looking at you.

Two people walk down the street holding hands as the title of the movie blazes in yellow font with thick red outlines. A Day In Paradise!

You bite down on a slither of the inside of your lip until it stings. You try to fight it off but the longer you sit there, the more your eyes burn, thinking about Steve and what he deserves and how unfortunate this whole thing is, and yeah, you’re overwhelmed, too. You aren’t ready for so much sweetness all at once. You don’t deserve it, he doesn’t deserve this.

You force the tears away. The movie goes on and on, the lights low, the chatter of moviegoers and the occasional popcorn crush not nearly loud enough to cover the sound of Steve’s breathing.

He pushes his hair out of his face. Somebody on screen makes a joke, his hand brushes against yours, and then takes it gently as he laughs.

You pull your hand away and tip your head down, a frantic tear flicking from your lashes.

“You okay?” he whispers.

You try to answer. You whimper instead, a terrible, sorry sound stuck to your throat —you can’t hold it in anymore. It’s too much.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble tearily, looking up, a tear rolling fast down the bump of your cheek.

Steve sits still in moderate horror. “Why are you crying?” he whispers.

The thing about Steve that people tend to forget is that, while he takes care of people the best that he can, he’s really young. He doesn’t always know what to do. He stares at you now like you’re a foreign object, hand tucked back into his abdomen.

A tear drips onto your lip. It tastes salty. “Sorry,” you say.

“Why?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“I really like you, Steve.”

He stares at you. “…But?”

“But I–” His frown hurts your heart. “I don’t know if I’m ready for all of this, I never– never had someone like me like this, I don’t know why I’m crying.” You say that last part to yourself rather than him, scrubbing your cheeks with your hands roughly before hiding your face completely. “It’s not you.”

“I thought…” And of course he did.

“I know,” you say. “I’m sorry, Steve. I thought it wouldn’t matter but everything’s going so fast.”

He touches your arm gently. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I thought you wanted this. You– you said I was your boyfriend, to Max? I thought you liked me.”

“I do like you,” you insist, meeting his eyes.

“Can I wipe your tears away? They’re everywhere,” he says. You struggle to read his expression, but there’s no resentment or anger there for you. He looks quite serious.

“Yeah.”

Steve bends in his seat to wipe your tears off of your face gently. They really are everywhere, on your cheeks, your top lip, your chin, even down the arc of your neck. “I don’t understand,” he says, going back to your cheek for a missed streak, “but you don’t have to be upset. Please. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do, I promise.”

“Steve, when I was talking to Max, I said,” —you wince— “that it’s not like you’re my boyfriend. She was asking me about you, and I got all panicky because I like you, but I’m too weird about this stuff, I’m panicking now–”

“Don’t.” His hand lingers on your face, before a sorry flash of dejection passes over him, and he drops your face altogether.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. Please believe me.”

“Of course I believe you.” He grimaces at you, and the heartbreak turns to something more manageable, like he’s brushing himself off. “I’m sorry. For getting the wrong idea.”

“I like you,” you whisper. Your voice is nearly lost to the rustle of popcorn and drinks.

“I like you too!” he says loudly.

A few seats down, somebody turns, an angry whirl of hair and clicky nails. “Can you guys shut up?”

You and Steve leave your mountain of snacks behind to stand in the theatre hallway, where the winter air is cool on your flushed skin, and the silence is stifling. You lean against a wood feature wall and try to calm down, because he’s the one who should be upset (or maybe he’s not that fussed about you). He stands a half foot away with his arms crossed, looking down at his shoes, though occasionally he glances at you for a split-second and looks away again.

“You okay?” he asks tightly.

“I’m sorry.”

He pokes his cheek with his tongue. “So you don’t want to be together?”

You don’t know. He deserves the truth, even if you barely understand it yourself, and it stings to say. “I do, I like you, but I… I want to take things slowly.”

He stands there without talking for a while. When he does talk again, he’s laughing, that achy awful sadness he’d worn a far off memory. “You’re this upset because you want us to take things slow?”

“I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“You haven’t,” he promises. “That would never hurt my feelings. I knew when I heard it that it was too good to be true.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I guess I gotta earn the title like everybody else does. Is that… cool?”

You nod vehemently.

Steve blows a relieved breath of air up his face, his hair ruffling off of his forehead. “I thought I was gonna lose you completely,” he says, smiling. “This is fine. I can work with slow. Slow’s my middle name.”

—♡—

The sun is a blistering heat today. “Can’t believe it’s only spring,” you murmur, eyes covered by the back of your arm.

A weight sits down on the blanket beside you, the sound of dry grass crushed underfoot. He brings the fresh scent of lemon slices with him, the zest sticking to his hands.

“I think I might melt.”

“I’d never let that happen,” Steve says, laying down beside you.

“You can be my parasol.”

“Your what?”

“It’s a sun umbrella.”

“Like this?” he asks, gently laying himself across your front, his face on the slip of your stomach that’s bare, his arms sneaking behind your thighs to hug them as you bring them up.

You reach down to stroke his hair, taking your fingers through the silky lengths of it, fingernails scratching ever so slightly at his scalp. “Thanks,” you say.

He kisses your naked leg. “You’re welcome, honey.”

If he’d done that at the beginning of your relationship, you’d have frozen up; not because he would’ve done it differently, not because he wasn't always your handsome sweetheart, but because being comfortable with someone this intimately takes time, and that’s okay.

“Your face is digging into my hip,” you murmur.

He shifts back, his ear above your belly button. “Is that better?”

“That’s perfect.”

“Are you falling asleep?” he asks softly.

“No… I’m thinking.”

“Nothing good ever comes of that.”

“I have something I want to talk to you about.”

“I love talking to you,” he says. He sounds as though he might fall asleep himself, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

You stroke his hair away from his face by touch alone. Long, warm minutes pass without conversation. You aren’t scared to tell him how you’re feeling. He’s proved to you over time that he’s someone you’ll always be able to trust, and that whatever you have to say will hold weight.

“It’s a question.”

He turns in your hold to face you. You raise your arm, greeted by the image of him sun-kissed and lazing, laid out across you without a care in the world.

“Don’t tell me then,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Jesus, you’re terrifying.”

“Would you wanna be my boyfriend?”

He narrows his eyes at you. A myriad of emotions pass between you both, until he’s smiling, and you know he’s sitting up for a kiss seconds before he actually does. He presses his lips to yours carefully. “Baby,” he says as he pulls away, voice as mild as his soft kiss, “I think we’ve passed that point.”

“I realised I’d never asked you, is all.”

His hair falls down into his eyes. You tuck it behind his ear. It’s pretty clear now you’re together, even after such a bumpy start.

“Can I get it in writing this time?” he asks, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours, your eyes fluttering closed in tandem.

“Give you anything you want if you kiss me,” you murmur.

His laugh fans over your lips. He cups your cheek, your heart a hummingbird drilling at your ribs as Steve moves in to kiss you properly. Your lips part under the pressure, your head tilting a touch to one side to accommodate him as he searches down for you, melty hot pleasure and nerves that never seem to fade arising as his thumb moves up your cheek, a semi-circle of touch. It promises undulating care whenever you want it.

You tip your head aside to catch your breath.

“Better late than never,” you joke.

Steve talks into the soft skin beside your mouth. “You weren’t late, babe. I was early, and I didn’t mind waiting.”

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thank u for reading!! pretty please like/reblog or comment if you enjoyed cos it means so much to me and inspires me to write even more!!! but either way i hope u enjoyed❤️❤️❤️

#steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #stranger things #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington one shot #steve harrington drabble

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indecisivemuch · 2 months

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Apples

Pairing: Luke Castellan x Reader

Summary: You tossed an apple to Luke without knowing the meaning of it in Greek Mythology (fluff, friends to lovers, happy ending)

Note: Just wanted to write something lighthearted and funny. Since I saw somewhere that apparently throwing an apple at someone means something in Greek Mythology, thought I should use it as a prompt.

Word count: 3.1k

You have been at Camp Half-Blood for a year. Within that time, you’ve been claimed by your Godly parent, learned so many things about Greek mythology, and, best of all, made friends who understood exactly what you were going through and all whom you loved dearly.

One of them was Luke Castellan. You two were relatively close friends, though you swore he treated you differently than he would with others at camp. But you didn’t want to be foolish and assumed it was something. That didn’t mean you don’t treat him differently than you would with other campers though. You have always had a soft spot for Luke in your heart. You weren’t exactly sure when it happened, but you found yourself thinking about him too often.

“Anyway, Percy. Don’t worry too much, honestly. We all have been through what you’re currently going through. You’ll fit right in, yeah?” the younger boy offered you a lope-sided smile as you patted his back and stood up.

“Alright, boys, I have to go now, but I’ll see you later,” you said before grabbing your plate, which would have been empty if it wasn’t for the apple you hadn’t eaten. The rest of the table - which included Chris, Luke, and Percy - said their goodbyes before chattering again as you walked away. However, you halted as you changed your mind about wasting the apple.

You turned back to look at the group before calling out, “Hey, Castellan.” However, you were slightly caught off guard to see Luke already having his eyes on you.

Luke swore that you have always had him mesmerized. If he even heard a whisper of your voice, his head would immediately try to locate you. To make matters worse, Chris even started calling Luke a “lost puppy” when he realized how your departure would always leave Luke like one.

“Catch,” you tossed your apple at Luke.

Multiple heads turned in your direction as the red apple hurled through the air before landing neatly in Luke’s hands. The Hermes cabin counselor had his eyes glued onto the fruit that was in his palms. You almost halted in your steps from his and other camper’s reactions. Some started whispering to their friends, pointing at you. You even heard one gasp. But you ignored them, finding it strange that people cared so much about such a small interaction.

“You can have it. I don’t think I’ll have time to eat it,” with that, you vanished from the scene, leaving at least half of the camp agape, including Luke and your friends.

Then, the strangest of things happened for the next few days. It started with Luke already stationed outside when you exited your cabin the morning after. He cheekily presented you with one singular flower in his hand, and you took it with playful words, “Ooh, what did I do to deserve this special treatment today?”

“Nothing, just thought I should show how much I appreciate you,” Luke put his arm over your shoulder as the two of you made your way to the dining pavilion. You could feel your cheeks flushing at his action. He has never done this before. With his arms around you, the sides of your bodies brushed as the two of you walked. You noticed almost immediately how every other person would have their eyes on the two of you. But you ignored the attention and focused on Luke instead.

The sweet actions didn’t stop at flowers or more physical touches. For the next three days, Luke was stuck to your hip. So it was quite strange that you have not spotted the Hermes cabin counselor in the last two hours. Hence why you were spending some time with Clarisse, another close friend of yours. However, you felt an arm swinging around your shoulders, and you instantly recognized who it was from the familiar touch.

“Hey, Clarisse, can I borrow Y/N real quick?” Luke asked, quickly muttering a “thank you” when your friend nodded. “So, I have something to give you…” your face must have shown how surprised you were because he chuckled at your reaction. However, when the boy pulled his gift out from his cargo pocket, your mouth fell slightly agape at the reveal.

Luke must have misinterpreted your reaction because he started nervously rambling, his voice a few octaves higher, “It’s not much, but honestly, this is all I can do with my arts and crafts skills. I’m just not really good with that y-”

“It’s perfect, Luke. Thank you so much!” you gave him a brief hug, but it was enough to stun him for a second. Luke felt this urgent sense of craving from how your bodies fit for a second. It’s as if he was made to hold you. He almost pulled you back into another hug but had to force himself to regain composure. Nevertheless, that didn’t last long because his eyes softened again at the sight of you trying on the bracelet he made. The beads in your favorite color, crafted with care, wrapped around your wrist perfectly, and you wonder how he knew just the right size to make it.

The truth was Luke had to ask Clarisse to steal one of your bracelets just so he could make a bracelet of the correct size. But you didn't need to know that, though - according to him.

The next night, there was a social gathering near the campfire. Luke reapproached the location with a hoodie in hand. Earlier, Luke excused himself to fetch the clothing item that was now in his hand that was meant for you. However, his brows scrunched as he spotted another figure next to you, sitting in the spot that he previously occupied. You were laughing at something they said. The way your laugh echoed in his head usually sounded like a lullaby or the enchanting voice of a siren. But right now, the idea that someone else elicited the same laugh made him want to hurl behind the bush he was standing next to.

Little did he know you were zoning out from whatever the other boy was speaking about, thus the fake laugh to not blow your cover. You were distracted just thinking about Luke and everything he has done so far - offering his portion of dessert to you because he knew it was your favorite; him winning Capture the Flag and ignoring everybody else to go hug you first, then having his eyes on you and only you afterwards; sneaking out of camp to go buy the items you mentioned once that you wish you had at camp and so on.

Your mind quickly reminded you that the boy sitting next to you was still talking to you. However, when you snapped out of your thoughts again, you realized now he was looking at you expectantly and you scrambled your mind for a reply.

Thank Gods Luke plopped down on your other side, saving you from having to admit to the other boy that you were not listening to him. “Hey, you’re back,” you commented. Luke’s arm automatically threw itself around your shoulder and tugged you to him slightly. Your body leaned on the Hermes cabin counselor ever so naturally at this before you turned to him. Luke quickly set his clothing on your lap, and you stared at it questioningly.

“You’re cold, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” your cheeks flushed again at how he knew without you telling him. You shivered maybe once or twice earlier due to the night air lowering the temperature, but it was so brief you were sure nobody had noticed. As you put on the hoodie, Luke averted his gaze from you to the guy on your other side.

The Hermes cabin counselor arched one of his eyebrows in a challenging manner. Almost immediately, his ‘opponent’ slightly raised both of his hands. Luke internally snickered at the quick motion of surrender.

“My bad, man,” you heard the other boy say as you managed to put your head through the clothing item and pull it down. Luke was physically preening at the other boy’s words and departure. Meanwhile, you were distracted by how you were engulfed by the smell of Luke from his hoodie. Your height difference also meant you were swimming in it, but it felt so comfortable.

“What was that?” you asked once the other boy was gone.

“Nothing…” even the most oblivious person could see that Luke was lying. But, once again, you did not question his actions and carried on with the gathering. You could also feel other campers staring at the two of you, but you ignored that as well.

That night - like every other night since four days ago - he walked you back to your cabin. You were honestly completely smitten by the attention he has given you, not that you would admit that to him. You were still not sure what caused the change, but you were still elated about it. Maybe he did return your feelings? Either way, everything felt perfect lately, and you went to sleep that night feeling like the stars aligned for you.

“I guess congratulations are in order?” Percy spoke up as you lined up for food the following day.

“What do you mean?” you asked, taking the plate of food. Today’s meal consisted of mac n’ cheese, steak, and an apple.

“You’re engaged?” you almost dropped your plate at that and gave the son of Poseidon a questioning look. “You proposed to Luke like a week ago?”

“What? When?”

“When you threw him the apple? That is considered a marriage proposal.”

“Since when?”

“Uh, in Ancient Greek culture, it’s considered a marriage proposal if a man throws an apple at a lady. But, I mean, it’s the 21st century, so I guess it can work both ways.” Percy finally took a plate of food for himself. “And if the recipient catches it, it’s considered an acceptance.”

“You saw this and knew this whole time without telling me?!?”

“I thought you knew! And you two seem so smitten already, so I thought you did it on purpose.”

“Percy, no! Is this a well-known thing? Do you think other people who saw it too thought I proposed to Luke as well?” Seeing Percy’s look and how he was fumbling with his words, you quickly requested, “Actually, no, don’t answer that.”

The two of you walked over to Luke and Chris with plates in hand. You picked up the apple on your plate and placed it on the table.

“Luke, we need to talk,” You deliberately placed the fruit there, hoping the boy would get a hint about the topic you wanted to discuss. Luke’s eyes flicked from the fruit to you. Though the hint of amusement in his eyes and a sheepish grin made you realize he knew all along. Luke stood up and followed you out of sight and hearing distance from other campers whose eyes were trailing after the two of you.

“You knew what it meant, and you didn’t tell me?” You broke the silence as soon as you two were far away enough.

“Listen, I appreciate your proposal. But, it’s a little bit fast, don’t you think?” Luke teased, and you instantly hit his arm at that, causing the boy to flinch slightly, but the smile on his face told you he was anything but mad at your action.

“But you caught it. So, technically, you said yes,” you rebutted, sighing as you rubbed your face, “My Gods, does everybody at camp think we’re engaged? Wait, is this a substitute for an engagement ring? Did you give this to me because of that?” you pointed to the bracelet Luke gave you, your mind now understanding Clarisse’s teasing and her implications. You could see the way Luke was stifling a laugh. He settled with saying something else when he saw the pure panic on your face.

“Sweetheart, calm down.” the nickname successfully silenced you. You hated how it made you feel, but you would not mind hearing that daily. “No, it’s not an engagement ring.”

“Oh, so were you doing all of these romantic gestures and gifts on purpose to make fun of me and the situation?” you asked, though it was more with a lighthearted tone than one of temper. However, something shifted because the expression on Luke’s face changed from one of humor to earnestness.

“No, I didn’t do all this to make fun of the situation or you…” Luke’s voice fell off as tried to find the right words to say next. In that split second, Luke took a deep breath, and you could see how nervous he suddenly became, though he still kept a light tone. “I did it because I took it as a chance to maybe…win you over, and it also gives me an advantage because it fended off many other guys.”

Undoubtedly, you were frozen in place, unable to register the words he was saying and the implications they bear. Neither did the boy in front of you act like the Luke you usually know - somebody who was usually confident, outgoing, always having his way with words. No, the person in front of you could not even hold eye contact, the pink hue on his cheeks now spreading to the tip of his ears as he shifted left and right. Luke broke the silence first, giving away the nerves that were gnawing him away from your lack of response.

“How about this? I’ll say ‘no’ to your mind-blowing marriage proposal for now,” you lightheartedly hit him again, rolling your eyes playfully. Seeing a positive reaction from you, Luke let out a small breath of relief, but the nerves quickly overtook again as he mustered up all the courage to utter his counter proposal: “But maybe we could start with something slower like going on a date? — Or I’ll even settle with you allowing me to try and ‘woo’ you.” Luke added the last bit as insurance, in case you didn’t want to take up on the date. Part of his mind wanted to scowl at himself for seeming so desperate - but Gods, he has always been a desperate man when it comes to you.

“You’re such a dork.”

“Yet you still proposed to me.”

“You’ll never let me live that down, will you?” Luke only shook his head in response. Once again, you haven’t responded to his offer. Luke could see that you were in deep thought, the cogs turning in your head as you digested what he just said.

“You mean it? That you wanna go on a date? That you wanna “woo” me and sweep me off my feet?” you questioned. Despite the humor in your voice, there was also a hint of vulnerability and cautiousness. “Does this mean what you’ve been doing for the past few days…they are all genuine?”

“Is it that hard to believe that I like you? I don’t think you even fully understand the feelings I have for you. I’ve had my eyes on you for a year now, which is the entire time I know you, and I’m afraid I can’t see that changing any time soon.” Luke had to bite his tongue to prevent himself from saying more because he was sure he would never stop talking about you if he could. Maybe those unspoken words ought to be things Luke would disclose in the future. If you give him the chance, he will ensure you hear everything he adored about you.

“Well, that’s good then, ‘cause I happen to like you too,” your words made Luke’s eyes snap to yours, almost in disbelief.

Luke felt as if his heart was blocking his airway by the way it was thumping so hard in his chest to the point he could feel the vibration in his neck. He held his breath over your confession and the way you were looking at him. Oh, Luke was convinced he was utterly doomed because how could he be so affected by one single look. He was suddenly unsure whether he would be able to handle your affections or ever live without it if it was taken from him. He’d spend the rest of eternity like a deprived man.

“Aw, look who is nervous now,” you teased, deciding to somewhat torture him and get him back for teasing you earlier. “I did not think I had this kind of effect on you, Castellan,” you approached him slowly, keeping eye contact with his now dilated pupils.

“I mean…all I did was say a couple of words and you’re all tongue tied. What would happen to you if I do this?” you swiftly grabbed Luke’s camp beads and pulled him down, eliminating a significant amount of space between your faces, though not completely. To steady himself during your action, Luke’s hands steadied on your hips and stumbled slightly, though you did not mind the touch.

You never knew it was possible for his face to flush even more, but it did. Luke gulped and your eyes casted down on the way his Adam’s apple moved when he did so. The way he reacted to you only intoxicated you with power even more. You glanced upwards a bit, eyes observing his lips for a split second before looking back up at his eyes. You smirked when you caught his eyes flickering back to yours from your lips as well.

Just as you were about to close the distance, Luke pulled back just a bit, finally able to speak, though his words were heavy warnings, “If this happens—” Luke stopped, unsure he should let you know. Luke shook his head lightly as his eyes traced over your features before continuing, “If we kiss, there is no going back for me. I don’t think I could just…forget about it. So, please, just be sure before you do it.” Your eyes softened at his words.

“I promise, Luke. I am sure,” you muttered, though Luke knew you meant the words by heart from the way you were looking at him.

You finally pulled the boy down again using his camp necklace.

As your lips touched Luke’s, he let out a content sigh. His hands clung onto your hips, pulling you flush against his own body while you caressed both sides of his face in your hands. Luke felt like the world was swallowing him whole. The boy now knew what your lips tasted like, and it felt like an addiction. He could feel his heart waving white flags at that moment, completely surrendering to you. He was right before. There was no going back from this.

But oh, if Luke knew an apple was all it took, he would have tossed one to you himself.

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

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#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan #luke castellan fanfiction #pjo fic #pjo #charlie bushnell #pjo imagine #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo tv show #pjo series #fluff #luke castellan fluff

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thefallofruins · 2 months

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Sukuna’s little one is such a daddy’s girl.

She’s always with her dada. Clinging onto him everywhere he goes, practically attached to his shoulder as he has carries her around, especially since she refuses to go to anyone that’s not you or your husband.

A truly spoiled brat is what she was. Her antics knew no ends. She had taken a habit of strolling in the garden every morning with her dada, Sukuna having to slow down his steps to meet the strides of his little girl’s feet as she had barely learnt how to walk and clutched his kimono for support.

As if that wasn’t enough, she was taking after her dada in other aspects as well. Once she was seated on Sukuna’s lap, one of his arms protectively wrapped around her. The scene was a man cowering over in fear beneath Sukuna as he sat on his throne.

And the girl giggles.

He raises a brow to look at his daughter giggling at the sight of the poor man’s fear and smirks. “Why brat, you truly take after me.” He pats her head.

He shoos the man away instantly, “Scram while you can, I’m in a pleasant mood today.”

One day, when her beloved papa leaves for a few days, you notice her missing him incredibly. So you get a brilliant idea, “how about we prepare a little surprise for papa?”

The next week, Sukuna returns, and his first thoughts are to check on you and your baby girl, and she comes running straight to him. He doesn’t take a second to realize that the kimono she’s wearing is modeled after his.

“Dada!” She giggles and waddles to her father, almost tripping in the long garment. She hugs his leg with a soft pout, holding her arms up, “Up!” She demands.

He chuckles and holds her up, propping her comfortably in his arms, “you’re one cheeky brat, aren’t you?” She giggles, wrapping her small hands around his neck to hug him. He chuckles again, patting her back. “Someone missed me, huh?”

Naughty as she is (she has Sukuna’s genes, duh) she loves her pranks. Scaring the servants by sneaking up on them or hiding behind the walls. Of course, it was hard to act afraid of such a cute little girl but the servants pretend to be scared anyways. It makes Sukuna proud, even though you scold him for it.

She has also mastered the tool of emotional manipulation— puppy eyes. Sukuna groans as she gives the puppy eyes to him. You had restricted her access to sweets, but she was the boss around here.

“Fine brat.” He huffs, secretly assured that the puppy eyes are something she’d learnt from you. “You may have the mochi— just do not tell your mother about this.”

Well, let’s just say that mother got to know about this and that the dad and daughter duo were scolded thoroughly.

Regardless, Sukuna is beyond grateful to you for giving him this little bundle of blessing, even though he isn’t sure what he ever did to deserve such a thing. He has only ever felt the need to see to his pleasure, but when he sees you and his baby daughter, his heart swells with pride. He’d shred the world apart to protect you both.

#ruins posts #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #Sukuna fluff #dad! Sukuna

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evilminji · 3 months

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"DO BETTER!" Says Now Televised Fanboy

He, Dash Baxter is a Phan-Stan!! It's kinda his thing. See, he's a fancy ass talk show host now. Married Paulie, moved out of Amity, actually DID something with his life. His parents? Did not approve. Long n short of it? He got kicked out.

Paulie's parents were PISSED.

Retaliated by giving him all the help he needed getting EVERY scholarship he qualified for. He went to a really nice college. Missed his girlfriend like mad. But she was off in Metropolis, terrifying weaker men. Conquering the fashion scene.

And SOMEHOW? Thanks to that long talk he had with Phantom (*incoherent fanboy gibbering noises* SO COOL!) he's worked to be... more of a LEADER, you know? Less of an asshole. Cause he's popular. People copy him. He can't be an asshole.

So, somehow, when he's punching out some try-hard that thinks he's hot shit for bullying a Nerd? He and the nerd get talking, right? Cause the guy got his glasses completely fucked up. And it's what Phantom would do.

But GET THIS? Guy's never HEARD of Phantom! Is super curious, cause he runs a small time Hero's show on the web. And, Dude? Is it your LUCKY DAY! Cause you just met THE number 1 fan of Phantom, hands down!! He makes his VERY spirited case, about why Phantom is THE best Hero to ever have lived. And this guy?

Entranced.

In AWE.

Just straight up BEGS him to join his show. Cause apparently? He was BORN for it. Which? Yeah. He HAS been giving speechs to the team for YEARS now. And Talking at fan meet ups. Leading fan meet ups. Hosting parties... actually, now that he thinks about it? He DOES do a lot of public speaking? Huh.

But still, he's about to say "no", when?

Dude mentions? He'll get to talk about Phantom.

SOLD!

It. Blows. Up. Absolutely EVERYONE is in love with his pretty face, hot bod, and STRONG opinions. But they ALSO have no idea who Phantom is! Paulie! This is CRIMINAL! Horrifying! What is going ON!?

Some bullshit information black out, apparently. At least according to her... friendly Nemesis? The Goth Dweeb. Who's engaged, apparently? So good for her. Unsurprisingly, it's too the OTHER Dweebs, but still. Bout time she started planning to drag them to a court house. She's the only one with any spine in that group! If she waited for THEM to propose?

Not even as Ghosts, man.

They'd get distracted by shiny nerd shit and whimp out.

Still... a world where NO ONE knows how Awesome, Phantom is? Not on HIS watch!

So he works it in. To every segment. It becomes "his thing". Oh? Super man saved a kitten from a tree? Cute. Well PHANTOM saved a bus full of Ghost Puppies from a shady, rouge, Goverment agency. Do BETTER, Superman!

The Flash, who is a cheap knock-off and stole his name, took down an Ice Villian? Adorable! PHANTOM stopped a Rouge WINTER SPIRIT with the help of YETI WARRIORS then assisted in giving FREE medical care for anyone who needed it! Here's a picture of him making GHOST ICE SNOWMEN for small children! Do BETTER, Knock-off!

What's THAT you say? Wonder Woman fought a GOD in down town paris?

Excellent work Wonder Woman. Flawless as always. But YOU, god-boy, are a disappointment! All that power! And WHAT do you use it for? Are you even supposed to BE here?? PHANTOM uses his power to HELP people! Is awesome and knows TONS of better gods! You're just salty you didn't make the cut!

DO BETTER!

And obviously? No one believes him. There's no record of this "Phantom" guy. The pictures look fantastical and vaguely glitchy/glowy. Not quite right. They GOTTA be photo shopped. Manipulated somehow. But? As a shtick? A fake "perfect Superhero" is kinda funny and unique.

And it's one hell of Fake Hero!

A Dead Champion? Who fights gods and monsters? Rouge agencies? Sassy and tragic? With a mysterious past? Pretty cool! There's even an Offical Comic from some guy that went to the same high-school as Baxter!

Of course, as Baxter get more and more popular? The "meme" hero, Phantom, get more well known? People get more interested in where Dash grew up. You know, just a bored Google. Maybe see if the hero was based off a local legend or something. But... huh...

The Town website?

Weirdly? Sanitized.

Like... like aggressively sanitized. All smooth edges and no details. Very "move along, citizen". Ha ha... it's part of the joke right? They get it! They'll just look up local restaurants or som-....

Wait...

Hey, guuuuys?

Are you finding ANYTHING?

And! Nothing. And I do mean NOTHING! Triggers the "oh? Secrets???" Instincts of a Hacker, like finding a hard blank wall of "KEEP OUT". Especially when it's somewhere it rightfully shouldn't BE.

All it would take? Is ONE person, of decent skills and an account on Certain Forums, getting bored enough to Google the Dude On The TV(TM)? For the GIW's lil walls to come crashing down. Because yeah, you can stop ONE hacker. Even two. Probably five or six.

But how about thousands?

Hundreds of thousands?

From every time zone. Competing. Just to see what you HAVE and don't want them to see. Maybe they do something with it, maybe they don't. But fuck it, you're being RUDE and now they're CURIOUS. And THEN? Oh. Oh holy shit.

Not a meme.

Very real.

Not a joke.

The walls come crumbling down, down, down. Ripped apart by hundreds of hands. Emails sent to every sort of agency. The JLU line inundated with emergency tips. Not a joke. Not A Joke. Holy Shit, IT WASN'T A JOKE!

Phantom is REAL!

And there, on TV, stands the Man. The signal FINALLY breaching containment. Fighting off the invading God of the week. Built like statue, hair like an aurora borealis of white fire held almost delicately in place by a CROWN of ice, a suit made of void and starlight. Inhuman. Beyond human.

Here to help.

A laugh that crackles like ice and the snap of winter, rolls through the air like coming storms, rich and somehow warm. A smile that bares teeth, yet turns so KIND when he looks upon humanity, as though we are precious and worth fighting for. A living star.

A... a once living star.

And in the center of it all? Wearing his BESPOKE, custome made, Number 1 Phan full body outfit? That's right. Dash Baxter. Ha! You fuckers doubted him! Behold his blorbo and WEEP, ya fuckin casuals! The BESTEST of boys! The FINEST of Heros! Superman? Could NEVER.

And now? The weather!

@babbling-babull @nerdpoe @the-witchhunter @ailithnight @hypewinter @hdgnj @mutable-manifestation

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dc x dp prompt #dash baxter #dash on tv #Dash Phan AU

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hazelfoureyes · 2 months

Text

A boiling frog (Alastor x Reader smut)

saw someone talk about “boiling frog syndrome”, when a situation becomes dire so slowly you don’t realize how dangerous it is until it’s too late, like a frog slipping into death as the cold water comes to a boil, never trying to leap out. Made me think of Louisiana frog legs and, of course, our self obsessed deer demon. my longwinded ass used restraint and went for a PWP (I hope…. No, theres still plot. I’m a slut for plot. Sorry?)

Your companionship was peppered onto Alastor so gently and slowly he didn’t realize he was too far gone until he was hopelessly dependent on your attention. He decides the only remedy is to drown you in his.

tags/warnings/promises: Alastor x fem reader, cunnilingus, biting, work attire, realistic descriptions of yet another job I once had, fingering, mentions of my favorite alcoholic beverage, southern shit, filing, that asshole in room 127

Minors DNI

When you first arrived at the hotel, Alastor was pleased to have some help. Charlie informed him of your experience on earth managing apartments and how you would be taking on the role of ‘Resident Relations Manager’. Any issues, complaints, or room adjustments would go to you first. Marvelous. As his underling, you often came to him with your own gripes and stories of the latest drama around the hotel. It became a sort of ritual to meet at the bar after work, talking about the day’s trivial matters over two fingers of rye and a cassis orange. One morning you joined him for coffee in the sunroom he added shortly after your arrival, silently enjoying the view. Then you returned the next day. At some point you started filling his mug and bringing it to the chair he always used. Neither of you spoke, which he found refreshing.

The group dinners were never his scene, the familiarity they bore was uncomfortable and dangerous to his plans. But he overheard your laughter as you and Angel teased each other about what could or couldn’t be defined as a kink. When he joined the table, he was pleasantly surprised at the in-depth conversations you sparked among the band of hopeless fools he’d come to enjoy.

So when he entered the sunroom one morning to see his cup, but not you, it ruffled his fur, so to speak. At dinner, he heard from Charlie you were eating in your office. The bar was full of residents and yet empty all the same when you never arrived.

Three days was all it took. Three days of not seeing you. When he walked past the bar at 9pm to see just Angel and Husk, he continued onward until in the safety of the darkened hall. Licking his teeth, he found himself getting angry. Annoyed that he was promised, by your actions, interesting conversation and like-minded company. His fists curled out of frustration, lights strobing as he stalked down the hall.

But that melted into something even more upsetting, he felt… worried. Not that his smile showed it, passing Vaggie with a nod of his head.

When did you manage to creep into his mind? Like an overlord taking territory, you had taken space in his thoughts with ruthless speed. Never one to be passive in competition, he realized he needed to take drastic measures to catch up to you. He knew of many ways to get *ahead, but he found an ambush always worked like a charm.

Alastor’s shadows gathered before he rose from the floor of your office.

You were standing near a filing cabinet, looking intently at something, “Hello there Alastor, to what-“ you turned the page, not looking at him, “do I owe the pleasure?” You hadn’t actually lifted your head from the file until you felt a hand in the small of your back. You flinched and took a step away, turning around to ask what he was doing when you noticed you weren’t in your office anymore.

The large hole in the wall that led into an endless swamp of a forest hinted at whose room this was.

Closing the file with one hand, you gestured around the room, “Is there a reason I’m here?”

He motioned for you to sit on the bed, and when you laughed he used the microphone to corral you to the edge. “You’ve been busy, as of late.”

“Swamped.” Usually your puns would get atleast a chuckle from your boss, but this time he passed right over it.

“I realized today we haven’t had one of our usual chats in quite a while. What’s been keeping you oh-so-occupied?” He pushed down on your shoulders until you came to rest on the bed.

Nervously, you scooted back a little from him, “Well, so many new residents has meant so many petty little issues. This guy on the 34th floor is angry that the man who killed him is on 37– Alastor?!” He had knelt down and lifted your ankle, slipping your shoe off.

“And?”

“What are you doing?”

“Isn't it obvious?" He picked up the other ankle, "Listening. Continue.”

You laughed breathlessly, “wha-,” but the way he looked up at you seemed to catch your tongue, “uhm, so- yeah so he doesn’t think his killer deserves redemption-,” the other shoe was taken off, neatly set besides its twin. You took a deep breath to try and calm down, “and even if he does, he shouldn’t be—,”Alastor’s hand slipped up your right thigh, fingers taking your stocking and rolling it down. His gaze on your face never wavering.

“Keep going.” The look in his eyes told you he wasn’t just suggesting it.

“-be on a higher floor.” He peeled the left stocking down, delicately pulling it over your toes.

You forgot to breath for a second. Instinctively you brought your knees together.

“That is quite annoying! What ever will you do?” That toothy grin widened as he looked up at you. His hand began to massage the sole of your right foot.

“Huh? Do what?”

“About the man on 34’s complaint”, his hand then moved up to your calf, he hummed, “what supple flesh, my dear.”

“Thank you?” Should you be scared or horny? Was he tenderizing his dinner? He looked up at you expectantly. “I told him if the angels return, higher floors would be the most dangerous.”

"Ha! Quite a clever response! Did it placate him?" He raised your right knee to his mouth, placing his lips above the joint. You felt his breath over your inner thigh as he let out a soft huff of a laugh, a reaction to your confused face. You were absolutely panicked; frozen. That wild look you were giving him, if he could he would drown himself in those eyes. Alastor felt his own excitement build, a twitch pressing his cock against the zipper of his dress pants. What a delicious reaction. His long hands crawled under your work skirt, nails grazing your skin as he grabbed the sides of your panties, "It's rude to leave someone waiting, dear."

You shook your head, crawling backward on the bed, "Okay, I get it. Ha ha, you managed to frazzle me."

A darkness fell over his face, "I don't think you do get it." He opened his mouth and dragged his teeth over the skin of your inner thigh, "You've neglected me quite rudely! Most people wouldn't dare such a thing and yet you don't even seem slightly concerned about it."

Rude? "Alastor, oh my god. What did I do? I've been at work every morning on time, if not early. I have been staying up late to make sure the resident files are up to date. I've been meeting with Charlie like you wanted about-,” He brought the panties down your thighs.

"It is what you haven't been doing, mon cher.” He pulled them clear of one leg, leaving them to hang off the ankle of the other leg. "I've been drinking my coffee alone in the sunroom, do you think I had the set of rocking chairs delivered for my own amusement? Dinner has been monotonous without your conversation. And what about our nightly gossip at the bar?" When he lifted your leg and hooked your knee over his shoulder, you fell back on your elbows to keep from lying flat.

"Listen-- Alastor!" His name was squeaked out as a bite stung you, dangerously close to your now naked pussy.

"Sir." He chided.

"Sir?!" He pushed your skirt up, exposing you, "Sir. I don't really like people going down on me."

"That's odd.” His hands gripped your thighs and dragged your ass to the edge of the bed, your pussy now inches from his face. His eyes rolled from left to right, “I don’t remember asking.” Your other leg was pulled over his shoulder, causing you to finally fall onto your back.

A long, wide tongue licked from mid thigh to the place where your legs met your crotch. You felt the heat of his mouth before he finally made contact with your core, one long lick from entrance to clit.

You buried your face inside the file, inhaling the smell of ink and paper with each pant. Your heart was pounding, the rush of blood from your head to your lap left you dizzy and seeing spots.

“Ah ah! I need your full attention.” He took the file and tossed it to the side. He needed to see your face, this was pointless if he couldn’t watch you go dumb in his mouth.

He had started this wanting to ensure you would be thinking about him as much as he had been you, but the way you couldn’t even speak when he touched you shifted his mission. Now, he wanted to win. Maybe he would be bothered by the absence of your presence in the sunroom, but you’d lie awake at night pained by the absence of his tongue in your cunt.

“I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.” Your face was beet red.

“Good. I’ve never been very fond of sharing my toys.” His nose grazed your already throbbing clit as he sunk his tongue into you. Reflexively your thighs pressed against his ears, his head keeping you from closing them entirely. His tongue seemed to lick at your walls as if reaching for something, the sensation wet and warm. You whined, embarrassed at how you were twitching against his lips.

You could feel his smile widen, thumb pressing down on your clit. Gripping the sheets you tried to ease away, the pressure too rough. His nails dug into your left leg, keeping you from making any real difference.

As he dragged his tongue along your walls you felt something you normally didn’t when getting eaten out; the beginning tension of an orgasm slinking into your stomach.

When his mouth left your cunt you gasped, the air stinging at your wet hole and thighs.

“Starting from the morning, tell me exactly what you did today that was so important you didn’t feel the need to entertain me with your company. If your mouth stops moving, so will mine.” He brought his lips to your other thigh, nipping at the skin.

“I made your coffee but got a call about a resident.” His finger pressed against your entrance before breaching.

“Oh, it has been awhile. I thought you were just being modest”, he laughed, your embarrassed expression spurring him forward. He hadn’t expected you to be so tight on just a single digit.

“She feels unsafe, there’s a jackal demon on her floor who keeps”, his finger curled, hitting that bundle of nerves that made your eyes cross, “who is giving her really scary looks.” He bit down again, breaking the skin. You yelled, yanking your leg back but he didn’t release you. “Alastor- please. This is cruel enough.”

“You haven’t even begun to see me be cruel.” He lapped at the wound, finger in you slowly dragging out before entering again. Still bent, it would hit your spongey g-spot with every move. “After that?”

“I had a meeting with Charlie. About the different growth activities.” Eyes closed, you could feel your pleasure slowly inching up that peak. “I needed to organize the files first, so I ate at my desk again.”

His lips cupped your clit as he began to suck. Your hips rose off the bed and his mouth went with you.

“It’s a lot of paperwork, you won’t let me use a computer for it.” His hand pulled back as a second finger joined. The way your cunt was gripping his fingers, he couldn’t imagine how much you’d hiss around his cock. His hips rutted against the air beside the bed, out of your view.

You put your arm over your eyes to hide yourself in some way, breath hitching when his fingers began pumping in and out of you. The moans tumbling from your mouth made Alastor’s grip on you tighten further. His cock leaking into the front of his pants.

When his tongue stopped flitting over your clit you groaned a complaint.

“Ffuuuck, Alastor. D- Uh, Room 127 hates the view o-,” your jaw clenched around the words, “something something blah blah blah —nngh” your head went back, your hips now fully grinding into his mouth. You needed more friction, your orgasm rolling just to the precipice.

His tongue slowed.

“He- he uh, I said he could move,” his fingers curled, pressing over and over into your g-spot, “when he stops being such an asshole. fuck me, please don’t stop—,” you reached down for his head and took a fist full of hair, earning you a surprised moan from him.

Alastor removed his hand from your leg to palm his clothed erection. His nose buried into your bush as his own breathing picked up.

So close.

“-and now I’m here and you’re here,” your words breathy, “and I’m gonna cum—I’m so close, so close,” your lips tingled from the way you were panting.

You choked out a moan as your orgasm reached its climax and pleasure wracked your body. Your grip on his hair stinging, your pussy sucked his fingers in with so much need he closed his eyes and let himself cum against his palm at the thought of his cock in their place. He felt the warmth soak into his pants.

Both of your hands came to your face, too embarrassed to speak.

Alastor placed your shoes and tights beside you, and rested both of his elbows on either side of your head. His weight pressed into you, and you finally looked at him. He was resting his chin on his cradled hands, staring down at you.

With a smug grin and raised his eyebrows he said, “Apology accepted.” He pushed off of you, bringing both fingers to his mouth and sucking them clean with a wet ‘pop’. “See you in the sun room at 8am! Bring that cheery smile I’ve come to enjoy!” He sunk back into the shadows and was gone.

You looked around, you were back in your office. He’d transported you seamlessly from lying on his bed to lying on your desk.

“Yes, sir.”

*get it? He wanted to “get ahead”… head. The slang for cunnilingus ? I’ll see myself out

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