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theeoriginals · 5 months

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klaus or elijah (your choice) x former flame!reader 👀

all i want | elijah mikaelson

+ Ohhh I loved your cat and mouse one! Could you please make a calm housewife/mom of the friend group type of girl and Elijah falling for her in a kind of best friend to lovers situation? Idk I just think it would fit cause elijah’s very family oriented and I see him falling for a dear old time friend too? Idk so uhm yeah. Feel free to refuse ofc!

elijah mikaelson x vampire!reader (no y/n)

author's notes; combining these requests :) hope that's ok!!

warnings; vague references to past violence but nothing insane. exes to friends to lovers, just plotless fluff, with an extra side of fluff. yes elijah is extremely charming, yes he can't make eye contact with a pretty girl. duality of man.

It’s an unspoken thing, what lingers between them still. Unspoken in the sense that they don’t talk about it, but everyone else does.

It always shocks people to learn that the oldest vampires on Earth are ridiculous, catty gossips. Elijah doesn’t know why it’s such a surprise. Living as long as they all have, you’ve got to keep things interesting, otherwise immortality becomes mind-numbing. He supposes that it just doesn’t measure up to their reputation for being ruthless animals, which isn’t unfounded. It’s just not the only thing they could be classified as.

Ruthless monsters that defend each other to the death at the end of the day, no matter how many times they’ve stabbed each other in the backs, certainly. Childish gossips that like to start rumors and rewrite history when they get a little bored, definitely. The two identifiers can coexist, and very much do.

And this thing, this unspoken thing that is unspoken for a multitude of reasons but none more so than the simple fact that even as long as they’ve known each other it’s still fragile, and something could break it with ease, is only unspoken to Elijah.

His brothers and sisters, however, like to do nothing but talk about it.

“Well, she’s almost here,” Rebekah rolls her eyes, but it’s just for the fact that her older brother is going to be a lovesick idiot the entire time the girl is here, and it really takes away from Rebekah’s own quality time with her. “No wonder Elijah’s been bumbling around like a fool all day.”

Klaus chuckles, and the two of them dutifully ignore the glare their brother sends them. “Do you think she sent him a letter to announce her arrival? Elijah always loves things like that,”

Rebekah’s blue eyes light up. “Oh, yes! I wonder if she sprayed it with her perfume– us ladies used to do that with a suitor back in the day,” She fans a hand towards her face, closing her eyes at the small breeze it creates. “They don’t text or call, of course, it takes all of the personality out of it. And god knows Elijah’s all personality,”

Klaus laughs again, and the two finally glance across the room to where Elijah’s leaning against a wall, glaring at them with his arms crossed over his chest.

“I hate you both,” He says, earning another round of laughter from them. “And stop going through my things, Rebekah. Those letters are none of your business.”

The blonde girl pushes her lips out in a pout. “But I get so bored, Elijah. You can’t be mad at me for entertaining myself,”

“I fear he just hates fun, dear sister,” Klaus says, feigning a wistful tone. “He doesn’t approve of my methods of entertainment either.”

“That’s because your methods of entertainment always end in a bloodbath,” Elijah says accusingly, earning a shrug from the hybrid. “You’re both immature. A thousand years old, still acting like children.”

Their faces twist in offense in unison, and Elijah distantly thinks that even though they’re not even fully related, let alone the same age even in their vampiric years, they were twins put on this Earth to terrorize him and ensure that he never knew peace.

Before they can begin their outcries of dramatized offense, and Elijah can continue to lightheartedly mock them, a voice comes from the hall, echoing fondly.

“Must you two always tease your brother?” The smile is obvious in her voice as she walks into the room, and the three of them snap their gazes towards the woman in surprise. “He’s a delicate soul, you know. His poor heart can’t handle too many jokes,”

Elijah recovers quickly, rolling his eyes, though he can’t (and won’t) stop the smile from growing on his face as she meets Rebekah for a hug. “Oh, wonderful. That’s just what they need. Encouragement.”

She chuckles at his poorly-feigned exasperation, and the sound settles in his ears like a morning dove’s song. She releases Rebekah from the hug and leans down to where Klaus is stretched out in a chair with his feet kicked up on the table, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

Glancing around at the vaulted ceilings of the compound, she sighs wistfully. “I can’t believe this place looks the same as when you bought it,” She shakes her head in slight disbelief.

Klaus shrugs, crossing his arms over his chest. “When we first returned, there was some… cleaning up to do, but it’s maintained its shape wonderfully.”

If she catches onto his double entendre, she doesn’t say anything, just nods in understanding. That’s something Elijah has always liked about her– she lets things go unsaid. She’s always had the ability to connect with him and his siblings in a way that most others can’t, and even when Elijah is at his worst, she’s been that olive branch that he can grab onto to bring him back to himself. Always so understanding and level. It’s a wonder that she still associates with any of them, given their penchant for chaos.

Finally, she turns her attention onto him, and in its entirety he feels breathless. Even after decades of knowing one another, it’s never gotten easier to hide his ardor for her. He knows she can still read him as easily as she could thirty years ago, too.

“Elijah,” She says his name better than he’s ever heard it, with a tilt to her head and a fondness in her voice that makes him feel more alive than anything else he’s found in his centuries on this planet.

She crosses the room to where he’s at, because he froze in his spot as soon as he heard her voice, and wraps her arms around him like she’s never been more relieved to see him.

It’s another thing he’s always liked about her. She’s never stopped loving him. He knows that. Lives with it everyday.

Regrets a lot of things, too.

He says her name back as gently as he can, like she’ll break in his arms. He wonders if she thinks of all the times she has broken in his arms, and then he tells himself there’s no way she’s forgotten it, because he hasn’t. And that is something that is theirs and theirs alone.

She pulls away and he misses her touch the moment she goes because it feels rarer and rarer with each day that passes. Every time she leaves, he fears it’s the last time he’ll see her.

He doesn’t want to ruin her visit with these thoughts. Even though he knows she’d offer him endless comfort, he doesn’t want her to worry about him for a second.

She turns to face them, clapping her hands together with a smile. “Well, then. What’s first on the agenda?”

──────

Something that comes with living as long as Elijah has is learning that some things about yourself you’ll just never be able to change. Such things like being a vampire in itself, having a firm hand when it comes to doing business with people. He’s been told he’s somewhat of a snake, and he’s well aware of his silver tongued ways, and it’s something he knows he can’t change, and hasn’t ever wanted to.

One thing that has yet to fall under that category of acceptance is his jealousy.

In his defense, he’s never jealous when he thinks he should be. He’s never been jealous of his siblings, spare for a few embarrassing months spent around the doppelgängers, but Elijah has never had to envy someone for something they had because if he wanted it that bad, he could just take it.

But this. This he knows is jealousy, pure and unbridled, and nauseating, if he’s feeling that correctly.

This is the jealousy that he’s seen destroy entire regimes. This is the jealousy that has driven his family to madness at times.

And of course, she’s at the center of it all. Of course she is. There would be no other way he could feel this so strongly if she was not involved in it somehow.

She’s the source of a lot of jealousy, he knows. He’s jealous of the carefree relationships his siblings get to have with her because they don’t have to be burdened with the feelings of the past that are most definitely still there. They don’t have to worry if they looked at her lips for too long, or if they held her a little too gentle to be considered entirely friendly. They don’t have to worry about saying the wrong thing, stepping past that line they so carefully drew in the sand for everyone’s sake.

These are the consequences of his actions, he knows. It doesn’t make it any easier to deal with, though. It might make it worse.

Watching his siblings drink freely as the band played on was nothing unfamiliar. Patrons had long since joined in on the fun, and he’s sure there’s a crowd outside looking in on the celebration of unknown origins.

At the center of it all, she is there, standing on a table with a crowd of adoring admirers surrounding her as she swayed and moved to the music. He would swear there’s a light shining on her, just for her, projecting her shadow above everyone like some sort of angel. He thinks she has every right to be worshiped.

And the reason he’s so maddeningly, bitingly jealous is because he is the reason that he’s not the one dancing with her. He can’t be the one to dance with her, and he can’t be the one that makes her laugh like she is because he’s the one that said they shouldn’t be together. He is the one who broke her heart, and he doesn’t deserve an ounce of the kindness she still shows.

So all he can do is sip his drink at the bar and watch as she pulls his sister, sweet, dangerous, devastatingly insecure Rebekah, up onto the table with her and shares her spotlight with her. Making his sister light up like she does with no one else. Earning another round of cheers from Klaus and Kol as they watch on, demanding another round of drinks for everyone in an odd show of generosity.

She brings out the best in his siblings. In him.

It makes him burn bright inside. Boiling, hot to the touch. He knows then and there that there’s a reason he’s seen something as trivial as jealousy take down the most powerful of men. Love is such a dangerous thing to get involved in in the first place, but finding someone, finding the woman who makes you feel like you could conquer the world is something else entirely. It bypasses dangerous and heads straight into fatal.

Because she makes you feel like you could conquer the whole world, but the second you lose her, it all means nothing. You’ll tear it all down if it means she won’t be there, too.

And the worst part of it all is the only reason he feels like this is because he is the one that ruined it. Blamed his family, blamed his parents, blamed everything else but his own fears for the reason they couldn’t be together. The distance, the timing. Whatever he could grasp, he pulled it out of his pocket and gave it to her on a silver platter, served with a distant coldness he’d long since perfect, and never wanted to use on her in the first place.

He had so much time under his belt, but he was such a child. So helpless it bordered on criminal, all because he fell in love and he didn’t know what to do with it.

It’s embarrassing more than anything else.

He hasn’t taken his eyes off of her since she started dancing. Hadn’t stopped listening since he heard her first laugh. Didn’t want to miss a single second, just in case.

For the first time all night, he blinked and turned his head away from her and threw the rest of his drink back like it was water.

He could allow himself a bit more wallowing. Just a bit.

──────

“Well, Rebekah’s safe in bed. I even got her in pajamas, believe it or not,” Her voice carries even in its whisper, and he looks up from his lap as she enters the small living space, hands clasped in front of her as she takes a seat in the chair beside him. “Original vampire or not, I doubt she’ll feel very good in the morning.”

Elijah hummed, thinking of his dear sister and how even if she’d healed a thousand times over, she’d still find a way to complain. He adored it.

“What about you?”

He raises a brow, lips twisting confusedly. “What about me?”

She gestures towards his slightly slumped form on the couch pointedly. He follows her direction, looking at his rumpled suit, and the white button up he’d undone the top four buttons off, at least. He feels momentarily embarrassed at his state of disarray but he simply huffs out a laugh, lifting his gaze to meet hers again.

“I’m a mess,” He shrugs, earning a quiet laugh out of her. “But I don’t think that has anything to do with our drinking tonight.”

“I can’t disagree, unfortunately,”

He hides the way his grin threatens to split his face behind his face, rubbing along his scruffy jawline as he looks at her. The longer he lingers, the more she avoids his gaze.

“What?”

He shakes his head.

“Elijah,” She intones, such a familiar adoration in her voice that it nearly makes him sick. He doesn’t deserve it. “You’ve been so quiet tonight. What’s on your mind?”

“You,”

Her eyes widen in shock at his quick, candid answer, and he has to hide his own surprise at how quick the word had shot out of his mouth.

“Me? What about me?”

“Everything,” He sighs, shifting his long legs so he could turn towards her and give her his full attention. “I’ve missed you.”

“Oh,” She breathes out, looking slightly bashful. “Well, I always miss you. I wouldn’t ever leave if I didn’t–”

She stops herself, covering her mouth with her hand as a sheepish look crosses her face. He knows she wants him to move past her slip up, but he doesn’t. Can’t.

“If you didn’t, what?” He leans forward, looking at her imploringly. “Why do you stay away so long?”

She takes a moment to collect herself, picking at the skin around her nails half-heartedly, like it’s not really bothering her, she just doesn’t want to be so open right now. He’d feel worse about pushing her if he didn’t feel like his heart was leaping out of his throat.

“Well, I didn’t think you wanted me around that much,” She says quietly, gesturing towards him.

He rears back like she’s slapped him.

“How could you ever think such a thing?” He whispers her name, a distant veil of horror laced in his tone. Fear, really.

“You said,” She says, face furrowing in confusion. “All those years ago– you said that there was no reason for me to stay here with you in New Orleans. So, I– I left. And I travel all the time until I come back here for as long as you’ll let me.”

Elijah feels something gripping his chest and it feels remarkably like his heart is breaking.

His voice breaks on her name and he leans forward again, reaching into her space to grab her hands in his. Allowing himself this piece of her that he simply doesn’t deserve.

“I never,” He stops, breathing out harshly. “I never wanted you to leave. I just–”

He stops again, squeezes her hands, and then steels himself because this is the least he owes her.

“You deserved more than to be stuck here with my family,” He starts slowly. “I never– I never wanted you to leave. Every time you walk out of those doors, I want to chase you down and make you stay. You have to believe me when I say that I only ever wanted you to be happy, and you wouldn’t have found that stuck here in the mess we had made back then.”

There’s a poignant silence that settles as she processes his words, and he holds the ragged breath that builds in his chest when she begins to drag her thumbs along the backs of his hands, smoothing at the skin there. Ever so gentle.

“All I’ve ever wanted was to be here with you and your family,” She says, shaking her head like she’s scolding him, even though her tone is anything but. “Being here makes me happier than any place I’ve traveled to. And I’m– I’m truly grateful that you had my best interest in mind, Elijah, but you have to understand,”

She trails off and an incredulous laugh leaves her lips as she smiles at him. “I’ve loved you my entire life. And my heart used to break every day knowing that I’d only have a short time with you. When I turned, I was so– I was so happy because I suddenly had the rest of time to be with you. And you… you broke my heart, Elijah. You truly did,”

She presses her thumbs into his skin firmly, just a pressure point to punctuate her words. “But I have never stopped loving you. And every time I walked out of those doors and left you behind, my heart broke again. You wouldn’t have ever had to make me stay. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.”

Elijah’s breath stalls in his chest, and lets it out slowly, shakily. There’s a distant string of hope he lets himself pull on, just this once. Because she let him.

He meets her gaze and smiles softly, just for her. “Will you stay, then? I’m– I’m asking you, truly. Will you stay?”

She nods before he even finishes speaking and laughs quietly, the sound just for him. “Of course I will, Elijah. I’ll stay as long as you want me to,”

“Forever,”

“Forever, then. I’ll stay forever.”

#elijah mikaelson #klaus mikaelson #rebekah mikaelson #the vampire diaries #the vampire diaries fanfiction #kol mikaelson #the originals #fic recs #elijah mikaelson x reader #elijah mikaelson fanfiction #elijah mikaelson imagine #elijah mikaelson fluff #the originals fanfiction

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compacflt · 6 months

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Hi, big fan of your fics. I've just found your Tumblr and binged everything Icemav-related. When reading about Icemav's political beliefs, I've gotten curious. Does Bradley share the same political beliefs as Ice (and Mav)? Does being raised by them or them pulling his papers influence how he votes? Or there are other factors in the play (e.g. generations, social media)? How about Jake and the other Daggers? How does this young generation of the Navy perceive politics (elections, gender, etc.)? My apologies for bombarding you with questions. But as a non-American, American politics have always been something we must pay attention to. I've seen many interesting interpretations on Tumblr but it feels more or less wistful than realistic, but I might be wrong (again not an American) so I would love to see your perspective on this. Thank you.

a good politics roundup post before i leave this blog

icemav & their conservatism: here, here, here

ice’s NECESSARY conservatism as commander of the pacific fleet (i.e. officers who are most likely to get promoted to the highest ranks do NOT break the service line when it comes to domestic politics, so by necessity ice would’ve had to keep his mouth shut, he Cannot be both a four-star and a revolutionary, like he just can’t; and being a revolutionary is otherwise antithetical to his character anyway): here, here.

and the original “ice & mav politics post” which is being updated here: here

I’ve gone back and forth on everyones politics over the last year of me being involved with these characters, but let me just tell you where I’ve ended up headcanoning them politically, if ur interested

ice: reagan democrat. “educated moderate” who was more right-leaning pre-9/11. now just a regular ol liberal (did you SEE those gay little round glasses in tgm? no way this guy isn’t a straight-up lib) with absolutely no strong feelings about most domestic politics besides “fascism bad”. Has some foreign policy opinions that areeeee questionable at best, like all members of the military elite (hangman voice: DO NOT ASK ICEMAN ABOUT CHINA. WORST MISTAKE OF MY LIFE). foreign policy neoliberal favoring the dovish side of the spectrum. A force conservator (“let’s save our military assets [read: my boyfriend maverick 🥺] for when we really need them, not for any old conflict. the deterring specter of the American war machine should outweigh the risk of underperforming”). He’s in favor of marriage equality of course, but treats it like a privilege and not a right. would be sad/upset if it got repealed but wouldn’t necessarily fight for it. “well at least my marriage will always be legal in california so i just won’t leave, problem solved.” Normie median Biden voter.

mav: political wildcard tbh. original 1986 mav is DEFINITELY right-leaning (i think i’ve written elsewhere, “he fully believes bill clinton is an affront to god”). i get young republican vibes from him. Full on patriotic (but dispassionate) 1980s reaganite anti-commie neoconservative. but after the 2010s i am very confused tbh. Tom cruise’s political aura is an insanely confusing one. idk. No matter what, Mav has some Hot Takes that a.) can immediately be shot down by ice using Facts and Logic at any time and b.) are not strictly partisan. He’s registered democrat just to support marriage equality (his marriage is his top priority but he doesn’t care about Other gays’ marriages, only his own), doesn’t care about any of the party’s other lines. Votes however ice tells him to. I get real “kind clueless libertarian” vibes from 2022 maverick tbh. Especially with the “isolating himself in a hangar in the middle of the mojave desert.” that has a political connotation to it for sure. bro just does whatever he wants out there

also, ice & mav live in San Diego, which… while in blue/democrat leaning California…is famously a bastion of right-wingers & has a hitler particle level off the charts… (sorry its not my favorite place in the world). That’s why they’re both continually so disgusted by San Francisco (a metonym for effete liberal homosexuality). Theyre from San Diego, hatred of SF & liberal SF politics is kinda par for the course down there.

Bradley: as u will see in the extras i definitely hc Bradley as an activist, but because he’s… in the navy and also like in his 30s… It’s not college campus activism, it’s just “things all of us in the left wing can agree upon” activism. so, like, BLM or pride, etc. He’s an “in this house we believe” yard sign liberal. He is 38 years old. hes a solid millennial so not politically hip with the kids (me)

Bradley & ice/mav disagree on the VISIBILITY of politics. Ice & mav, who did live through the vietnam era draft/near-dissolution of American society in the 60s and 70s, are not in favor of possibly losing their job/honor they have fought and killed for, for the sake of a political statement. And they believe their relationship IS a political statement, whereas Bradley would rather encourage them to treat their relationship like, I don’t know, a relationship that has a right to exist independent of politics!

Jake and the other daggers: idk. i don’t really give a shit about the daggers sorry. They r blank slates 2 me. jake especially is canonically frat-boy sexist in a way that gives me the heebs, much like original 1986 maverick and ice. But the navy tends to be the most left-wing (or thought of as left wing in common thought) service of the military, if that helps. But it is also the most traditional service of the military, and by traditional I mean BRITISH!!!! 🇬🇧💂there’s so much pomp and circumstance and hoity-toitiness that comes from the navy’s origins in the Royal Navy. A lot of sticking to outdated tradition in the very fabric of the navy itself, while the navy’s enlisted demographics shift younger and more left-wing/“revolutionary…” some interesting conflicts there. Like that one sailor who got blasted by multiple congressmen on social media for (with permission!) reading a poem about their queer identity on the USS Gerald ford’s intercom a few months back, if I remember correctly. Hoo boy the Takes that day were wild. Younger Americans tend to be more liberal but YMMV with officers, who are by nature trying to uphold outdated traditions of the navy for the sake of keeping the navy a unified service

i am of course writing carole as a christian republican who has gay friends and a gay kid not by choice but by the Grace of God

#i realize some terminology in this post is so hyperamericanspecific that you may need to Google it #like the in this house we believe yard sign #it’s… like… i can’t even describe it. it’s a kind of well meaning liberal who can sometimes be a little cringe.#and Reagan democrats (which ice is) are a whole political subgroup in and of themselves #maybe not Reagan democrat but like conservadem? but no that’s different too #blue dog democrat? but not sure he’s that conservative #THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY HAS BECOME SUCH A BIG TENT POST TRUMP THERE ARE 50.000 TYPES OF DEMOCRAT YOU CAN BE #san francisco as a metonym for effete liberal homosexuality of course (it’s where im from 😎😎)#it’s a ten hour drive from SF to San diego like they might as well be different countries. san diego secede from the US when 🙏🏽#pete maverick mitchell #tom iceman kazansky #top gun #icemav #top gun maverick #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #normie median biden voter ice #the navy is liberalizing but veeeeery slowly #most of the conservative pressure ive seen towards the navy is external! policymakers & budget drafters etc #the navy is very liberal BUT that makes it a laughingstock among conservatives!#so a desire from higher-ups to push the Navy more conservative to be taken seriously…is kinda understandable #when being taken seriously means more ships more capability more money etc #instead of GOP culture-war-pilled pennypinchers going ‘hey why are we givin the gay service so much money’#take this post with a grain of salt. i have never been old enough to vote in a federal election.

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smol-dragon · 3 months

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Frank Morrison x Reader (One-shot) Words: 385 Warnings: Possessive behavior, unhealthy relationships, implied kidnapping

yeah idk where this was going i was just typing stuff in between matches.

In his eyes, you two had everything.

You could see him whenever, never had to worry about the weight of the world ever again now that you were in the Fog- so why weren't you happy? Why did you talk about missing Ormond? He hated the vile feelings that would bubble in his chest whenever you got wistful, spoke so fondly of a place that did nothing but churn out battered and broken people. How could you not love this place like him? Like the others? It was heaven, a personal playground where they could do whatever they wanted whenever they pleased.

Sure, being on the 'killed' side of things wasn't the most ideal, but he at least tried to equal it out by sparing you, that had to count for something! It was almost like showing up to this place changed you, changed you for the worst.

You didn't echo his sentiments nearly as much, talked about showing empathy to people who didn't give a rats ass about him one way or another.

"I just want things to go back to the way they were, with you."

It had stung, hearing the person that claimed to love him not appreciate him in his rawest form, but at the same time you were never overly keen on his lifestyle. Would this have happened had the two of you not been swept up into the Entity's realm? Would you have betrayed him just the same?

Maybe you would've. And maybe, in that timeline, he would've cut ties with you and carried on, forgotten you even. But this wasn't then and he wasn't that person, couldn't be.

You had made a place for yourself in his heart, a place that dug into his very soul and sapped him of life; a muse for his art. He might've been fucked up, but as he approached the bonfire all too familiar to him, he knew he couldn't let you go. Even if your feelings were beginning to wane, he knew spending time with him and the rest of the Legion in the mockery of Ormond would change that, it had to.

He couldn't, wouldn't lose you, even if it meant stealing you all for himself when the trials didn't take you.

He would have you, one way or another.

#frank morrison x reader #the legion x reader #dead by daylight imagines #frank morrison imagines #the legion imagines #dbd #dead by daylight #frank morrison #the legion #dead by daylight x reader #gender neutral

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teecupangel · 4 months

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You know Desmond is really unlucky with how his bloodline like he got the Kenway drama and bad fathers genes from his from one side and the non-existent mother genes on Altaïr's side where instead if you flip them you get Desmond's father (whose name suddenly escapes me) dying while Desmond is young and Desmond either raised by his mother who might be better idk but it'd be hard to do worse than (insert des's dad's name here)

Uuuhhh… well, his mother’s personality has never been explored all that well.

The most we know of her, as far as I know, is that she had been worried and trying to find Desmond when he ran away and that she knew that her husband’s personality can be considered quite cold but she’s used to it and it’s from Assassin’s Creed Encyclopedia p182 (the White version):

“While William’s wife has always been able to deal with this emotional distance, young Desmond could not.”

This could either mean that it was a loveless marriage that may or may not have been amicable OR they had the kind of love where they didn’t need to show it to know that they love each other.

I personally believe that Desmond doesn’t hate his mother. Whenever he talks about her, there’s always this feeling of wistfulness in it. While we cannot be sure what kind of mother she was, it’s clear that Desmond cares for her in some way.

At the very least, he feels some kind of guilt for leaving her when he didn’t feel the same way for Bill.

So in this situation where Bill died while Desmond was young, there’s a higher chance of Desmond not leaving the Farm.

Of course, Bill’s death could easily change his wife and Desmond would now have to deal with a grieving mother who might want to finish Bill’s training.

The grief of losing her husband could just as easily turn to fear of losing her son and that fear would force her to push her son to work harder, to become stronger.

In turn, making her just as bad or even worse than Bill.

On the other hand, losing Bill could be the trigger that makes have a more active part in Desmond’s training with the fear of losing her son making her dote on Desmond more.

We can never be sure how one would react to the lost of someone they love after all.

But what if it had been a loveless marriage?

Then the most that would change would probably be his mother taking a more active role in his life.

So it really boils down to what kind of mother you would want Desmond to have.

The only limitation is that, no matter what kind of mother she is, she did not have the power or she directly didn’t intervene with how Bill treated Desmond.

My go to ‘mother’ is usually one that’s cold towards Bill and only married and had a child with him because of it was her duty. Why? Because I like to add more drama to Desmond’s life.

She’s usually the one who give Desmond tips when he’s having trouble with training, being the one to teach him how to use fae lies and to close and open his hands to the timing of his slow breathing whenever he’s starting to panic.

She cares for Desmond and tries to be gentle with him but she has a heavy sense of duty to the Brotherhood as a descendant of the Ibn-La'Ahad and her complicated relationship with Bill and Bill’s focus on raising Desmond makes her a bit more distant than she or Desmond would have liked to each other.

When Desmond left, that’s when her carefully created mask of indifference fell apart and she tried to look for him desperately.

That kind of personality would have stepped up after Bill’s death and train Desmond the way she had been trained and the way she wished she had been trained.

In that kind of scenario, there’s a chance that Desmond would actually grow up to be more like Altaïr than the Desmond we all know and love.

Personally, I think canonically Bill’s wife does love him (who may or may not have already died in the attack on the Farm if the way Bill sides away from Desmond's request to talk to her in AC3 was any indication). I just like writing her as having a complicated relationship with Bill and Desmond so Desmond inherits the Kenway family drama XD. (which can be seen a bit in The Shadow’s Endgame)

#ngl #I spent more time trying to find that small bit of info about his mother #than writing the idea #I had to check 4 of the ac books ihave XD #cause i know one of them had that but i can’t remember which one XD #how do i tag this???#uuuhhh #ask and answer #teecup writes/has a plot #fic idea: assassin's creed #desmond miles' mother #william miles' wife #does this count as william miles x oc???

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bisaster-energy · 3 months

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you can tell me about your idea!!!

thank you so much 😭 it's kinda long sorry

SO i was listening to a song my sister like (Valerie, Amy Winehouse) and there's this line about ginger hair and it was just so specific ig it stuck with me? so im thinking man who do i know with red hair...DUH KUWABARA!!!

nearly every song i listen to gets assigned a character or ship or relationship of some sort idk why but yeah once i fixated on the hair i was able to expand on the rest of the song and a sort of idea settled in the back of my head about kuwameshi

we all know kuwabara is always the one getting left behind but what if while he's off doing his thing yusuke also feels that sense of loss? an absence even though it was his decision to up and leave. it makes no sense cos hey! you felt the need to go back to the demon realm bro but he cannot help how he feels left behind in some illogical sense. i made some notes 😤😤

centers round the time where yusuke goes back to makai after the whole sensui debacle and kuwabara is getting his education studying in prep for college (hell yeah boy !!) not sure if the timelines even match up like that but i literally dont care

i'm working under the canon divergence that keiko really did decide she's not gonna wait for urameshi like that but ofc she's still his bestie and he loves her sooooo much <3

so he's going back. he's a demon now so he feels drawn to the culture. it's a side of himself he's never known after feeling so othered ofc he's interested right?

i mean sure he grew up with other humans but almost everyone hated him/was scared of him ironically he was called a demon or monster or wtv

reactions like that are why he almost decided not to come back to life in the first place!! it wasn't a welcoming atmosphere and even his home didn't feel great cos his mom isn't exactly the mothering type

im all for deadbeat moms but the neglect will fuck a kid up. demon heritage or not

and he loves her and all but it's just all fucked up at home so he ended up wandering around a lot being mad about his shitty life and he likes fighting so that's what he did!

and obviously in makai this behavior isnt like. crazy or uncalled for

but yeah the only connections he's got to ningenkai is his mom, keiko (her parents by extension) and of course kuwabara; the only friends he managed to not scare off

anyway. you get it. so yusuke is back in makai and without his permission his mind keeps wandering to kuwabara who he hasn't seen in let's say. a year and some change? i'll decide later but A While

and like. last time he was in the demon world kuwa was WITH him yknow? like yeah the world was ending but it feels weird without him even if he is having a blast fighting with his new demon buddies and acquaintances

so he's a little distracted when he literally came here to fight he cant even focus on it

"how is college prep treating him? are the teachers there just as bad as middle school? did he make new human friends? a girlfriend?" basically he's spiraling over changes he might be missing out on this very moment

there's a bunch of talk in the song where the singer wonders if valerie dyed her hair if she's busy if she ever paid that fine if she sold her house if she got a man so that's where i got it lol

yusuke doesn't have to worry about kurama and hiei cos hey they're from here and have lived way longer and they actually do visit but who knows what typa shit could be happening to kuwa right now

ofc he can take care of himself he's really strong but yusuke can't help but remember that time he let kuwabara go when he shouldn't have and he almost died because he wasn't there and yeah. he's worried. sue him

so it's half worry half wistfulness and maybe some other secret third thing and when hiei and maybe kurama (depending on how the idea forms as i write) come to visit or maybe they're also participating wtv

he cant help but think well kuwabara could be here with us if he really WANTED to :/ he's got the jigen to down pat by now so...why hasn't he...

and those old but ever remaining insecurities resurface about how people don't wanna be around him they think he's a nuisance at best no good waste of time a trouble maker. keiko already dumped my sorry ass so who knows maybe kuwabara just...wisened up

hiei and kurama are like this bitch is back on his bullshit (affectionate)

they manage to weedle his worries out of him hiei ofc trying to act like he doesnt really care (he cares a lot) "you must not have much faith in kuwabara if you think he'd abandon you just from some time apart. and i thought HE was the oaf between the two of you"

kurama with his fox self is like "well yes hiei is right of course kazuma is too loyal to do something like that. but he is human...the only human of us now."

yusuke is like wth is that supposed to mean on the defensive even tho kurama is their friend and hasn't even said anything untrue and hiei narrows his eyes a bit maybe but is still acting like this doesn't really concern him

"i just mean that...from what i've learned about humans over the time i've spent with them...time feels different. we demons live such long lives that when faced with the human lifespan well...it can be laughable to some. that's why demons can be so callous about their lives."

yusuke just wants him to get to the point ofc "what i'm saying is we don't need a lot of contact with each other to keep relationships fresh and healthy but, kuwabara might be a little different. 3 years will do nothing to your bond but...i do worry about longer periods..."

and he seems to just trail off and it just gets quiet and a little sad and hiei isn't looking at them anymore

kurama starts again pretty cheerfully tho "well, don't worry! i'm planning on staying in the human world for quite some time once i'm done with this visit! i do have the company to take care of so i'll make sure to see kazuma all the time! i'll even send him a message from you if you want to say anything :)"

kurama has deliberately been using kuwa's first name knowing damn well urameshi doesn't even use it because this dude is not JUST a sweetie he's a fucking master manipulator. gaslight gatekeep bbg

yusuke is like okay yeah no new plan i'll just go see him now. no need for a middle man thanks anyway and then he's just gone. left the tournament early. like bruh that's what you came here for 😐

so yeah he's breaking into kuwa's house next thing you know and ofc he goes through the window not the door like a normal person and he just kinda stops short because he hasn't seen his friend in what feels like forever even though it's only been like a year or so but he just looks so different

and yeah a big part might be the hair he's never seen without that popadour, long soft copper coils, and he's somehow even bigger than when yusuke left him jesus when did he get so swole? when did he have time in between all those brainiac classes

yusuke knows he's bound to look a lil different too ofc i mean they weren't kids anymore really but like. when they hell did you go and grow up?

"next time i come back is this even gonna be your house anymore? will you still wanna hang out with dropout delinquent demon urameshi?" he gets so insecure in so little time

anyway kuwabara didn't sense him at first cos yusuke isn't a threat and he never really thought he'd be coming especially not yet but when he does notice

kuwabara just gets the biggest goofiest grin he's like urameshi you dog when the hell did you get back in town you're early!!

and yusuke is significantly eased by this reaction but now he feels stupid cos he up a left everything just to what? bother kuwabara while he studies to achieve his dreams? yusuke has got no human world aspirations like keiko had. like kurama has. like kuwabara.

and ofc kuwabara looks glad to see him but he wasn't desperate enough to just show up like yusuke had just done and he feels like a pathetic loser so he pouts

he's like yeah hey man just uh. checking in. and i should probably check out hah you seem busy with your books so im gonna scram and he tries to retreat through the window

and ofc kuwa is NOT letting him get away

and there's that desperation yusuke had selfishly wanted to see. kuwabara had just grabbed him without thinking even though he'd promised himself when urameshi left he wasn't gonna just sit around waiting for his life to start when he came back

he remembers when yusuke took him into that headlock and he wanted to succeed like he said he would that day

but still he's just thinking about urameshi all the time and it's awful. he always said he was gonna beat him some day but he just wanted to be near him. but all he sees is his back, even right now

part ii cos it's too many words!

#kuwameshi #fic idea #yu yu hakusho #asks!

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petruchio · 14 hours

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NOOO i was being sarcastic lol sorry, i meant like the songs that are considered to be taylors great songs, by like the world

HAHAHA ok yeah well in that case i would honestly stand by my original top 10 list!! but here are 5 honorable mentions that didn't make that original cut

you're on your own kid -- if midnights gave us one good thing it was this song. holy shit. i can't believe she didn't release this as a single and do like, a career retrospective style music video for it -- i feel like that could've been so beautiful. that instrumental that comes before the final chorus/bridge just FEELS like a montage waiting to happen (side note but thats what i always wish she'd leaned more into with midnights -- she could've done so much cool stuff with the "career retrospective" aspects of that album, which would've dovetailed so nicely with the eras tour/rerecording eras -- and instead it was like, 70s night aesthetic? idk i just wish she'd really leaned into the whole "exploring my past through my present lens" part of midnights bc like, yeah that was cool!! idk why you didn't talk about that more actually!)

seven -- what an insane song. like the whole first verse is just perfection to me lyrically and her like wistful vocals in the high register over that gorgeous piano line... perfection. no notes. perfect song

holy ground -- sorry but the re recording of this song sucks, but the original is so good. those driving drums, the backing vocals in the final chorus, the ... desperation in her voice -- i love it!! and it has some amazing lyrics -- i love "while having coffee all alone" (wonderful image that ties so sweetly into begin again "on a wednesday in a cafe" -- like on red, we go from the lovers being together but hidden from the world in state of grace "we are alone just you and me, up in your room and our slates are clean" and alone in the kitchen in all too well "dancing in the kitchen in the refrigerator light" and then she kind of emerges out into the world in holy ground in that coffee all alone line, and then by the end she meets someone new but they're in a cafe together -- idk i just kinda love that progression) and also the line "back when you fit my poems like a perfect rhyme" being a perfect rhyme with "time" -- it's so clever and cool. love that one too (holy ground and state of grace are like sisters to me tbh, being the best songs on red and they kind of speak to each other -- i mentioned the alone/together part but there's also "i'm walking fast through the traffic lights" vs. "took off faster than a green light go" which is also a connection i love.

invisible string -- i can't quite believe i didn't include it in my original list. it might be my favorite song she's ever written. also the guitar they use on the recording is so cool, i loved getting to see it in the long pond sessions. "time, mystical time, cutting me open and healing me fine" is just <33333 so beautiful

this love -- i feel like this love doesn't get enough credit for how much work it’s doing on 1989 because it's more understated but i just think it's SO BEAUTIFUL. i've said before it ties together so much of the 1989 imagery and has so many callbacks to other songs but still stands alone so beautifully -- like all the water imagery tying into clean but the "lantern burning" connecting to all the fire/flames on 1989.... so perfect. the comparison of a lover coming and going to the tide... obsessed?? and "been losing grip on sinking ships" / "loose lips sink ships all the damn time" and "struggled through the night with someone new" / "you been out and about with some other girl [...] i been there too a few times" and "this love is alive back from the dead" / "stand there like a ghost shaking from the rain" and "in silent screams and wildest dreams" / "say you'll see me again even if it's just in your wildest dreams" ugh I COULD GO ON (and on on and on AND I WILL) -- i love that songggggggg

#answered #anonymous #taylor swift

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nightglider124 · 1 year

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Maybe it is me but I don’t get the vibe that dickkory’s small convo was flippant on either side (i mean a little on dicks at first cos he be like ViSiOnS dOnT eXiSt) but at the end, Kory was like ‘like you said, to hell with visions’ but she seemed so sad about it like she thinks he won’t accept their shared vision bc he doesn’t want it with her. (We all know he does like duh)

I saw some people annoyed that that is all the conversation was but i think it speaks louder than just what was said. I mentioned it on another post but Brentons acting was real good in that scene bc he seems to really wrestle with what to say and although he just says ‘idk’ i think he feels torn. And they’ve also got much bigger issues than that particular vision at this point. Like we can circle back ya know?

Poor Kory though like the convo with Rachel in the beginning when Rae is like did he not tell you and shes just like no he didnt…

Ugh i want the angst. I am also v curious as to when Kory gets hurt since they’ve left off with Jinx dead (for now).

Other thoughts:

I get now why Lisa posted that stupid ass ig story 😂 bc jinx still be into Dick a little it would seem which back off bitch he has a whole child with Kory on the way so leave 😂 nah but I don’t think that will be explored more - i reckon that is more so a wistful thing on Jinx’s part but nothing will come form or at least i hope nothing does cos lets face it she isnt dead dead 🤷🏻‍♀️

Very curious how Jason will be appearing this season. It was said he is in Joshua and Teagans livestream a couple weeks ago. Not that i want to see him but im curious how he slots in in this particular season 🤔

MY BABY GAR 😭 he is going through it and when i tell you i was cryING when he grabbed Kory in a hug like i needed a GarKory hug more than I realized. 😭 I am extremely interested in Gar’s whole story this season. I LOVE that he is finally getting more. He seems to forgotten in other seasons and that is a crime. I worry about baby boy but am super happy that its getting explored more.

On the note of Gar, I’m assuming Sebastian or Brother Blood now I suppose was the one to send them to another existence or dimension but Gar went to the red so I am guessing Gar is separated from the team to begin with in part two of the season. I am v excited for part two of the season for multiple reasons.

Connor irked the shit out of me. I get it; tis his Lex side and I completely understand why but the attitude is so grating. Joshua plays it so fucking well but my God every time he spoke I was like stfu 😂😂

Rachel got her powers back and became White Raven!! I was v surprised to see the white dress and cloak but I was like OOOOOH. Her powers are gonna be fierce af in the second half of the season. And talking of powers, Kory’s having gone up to 80% has me NERVOUS. I bet that is how she gets hurt. I fucking bet she supernovas and fucks herself up. Like why else would they mention it?? 👀 i am scared for my fave in second part. 😭

Tim and Bernard are cute. Like it was sweet when they had that litte scene. And omg when Tim was like we kissed to the team, Kory had like a lil smirk on as did some of the others and Dicks like oh big night for everyone then - loved it.

Jinx may annoy me cos of the whole Dick history and clearly being into him still but she really does have me giggling. When she got stabbed i was like aw gurl ya took too long with taunting her frozen self 🙄 but I appreciated in the RV when she was like ‘i could take her out, fucking nut her’ feels so fucking British and I greatly appreciated it. I literally hear people talk like that all the time so I enjoyed that part 👀😂

I can’t think of much else now but I liked the episode. Wasn’t the absolute best imo but it will tide me over til second part of the season which I hope is sooner rather than later- anyone know when it’s meant to be returning??

#my thoughts #dickkory #dc titans #dc titans spoilers #titans s4 spoilers #titans spoilers

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lokivangelist · 1 year

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Kanezra Halloweek - Oct 31: In The Dark

For @kanezraweek...a humble contribution.

Rating: Upper teens, I guess? mildly nsfy

Summary: idk I play a lot of D&D and all I can think is that if Ezra wound up in Barovia he'd be an intensely empathetic monsterfucker...and the equivalent of a Jedi is an Eldritch Knight

*****

Ezra held his sword aloft over his head, though the light it radiated could barely penetrate the shadows around him. He swung it one way, then the other, but there was nothing. No trees. No forest. Not even a slope of the ground to distinguish one direction from another. The glow of his sword blade illuminated a few feet in whichever direction he pointed, though the light struggled in this place. Wherever he was. Some realm of pitch black and featureless ground. His boots crunched over dry, dusty earth and kicked the odd pebble as he turned a wary circle, trying to get his bearings, but there was nothing. No sound. No movement. He couldn’t even feel anything.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true.

There was…something…out there. In the dark.

It was difficult to register. Barely a brush on the edge of his senses. But in the absence of all else Ezra clung to that hint of…something…in the midst of so much nothing. His steps moved warily in those moments when he could pinpoint a direction. Trying to get closer. Trying to follow it. But whatever “it” was, it was fast, and moved with a speed and silence as if another part of the darkness itself.

Maybe it was?

Ezra held his breath for long stretches at a time, trying to listen. Closing his eyes since they were of minimal use here anyway. Straining his other senses to pick out…something. Anything.

“I know you’re there,” he said out into the darkness, clamping down hard on his voice to keep it from trembling. Determined to stay confident. “You don’t have to hide. Show yourself.”

For a moment, there was no response. Ezra wasn’t really sure he’d been expecting one. But then–

–there! Yes. Somewhere behind him. A brush of air through itself that hardly qualified as a sound. But Ezra caught it.

He stopped moving, planting his feet where they were. He kept his sword up, reasoning that anything capable of hunting in this darkness would have been able to find him, light or not. Better to hold up a beacon to draw it out. To not prolong this chase. So he could know exactly what he was dealing with.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said again into the black. “It’s alright.”

This time, there was a response.

A definite sound. Not a whisper of air or barely-there shift of dirt.

It was a voice. A soft, gentle chuckle. Lighter and less reverberantly evil than Ezra would have assumed.

“I’ve seen a lot of lost souls come through this way,” it said, genial. Conversational, even. “But you’re the first one to reassure me that you mean no harm.”

“Who are you?”

Something slithered in the darkness. Behind him–no. In front? Off to the side. Maybe all directions at once.

Ezra remained still, keeping hold of his sword. His other hand moved, balling up a coalescence of protective magic. Just in case.

“I haven’t had a name for a long time,” said the voice. Ezra swore he felt the brush of a wistful sigh tickling the hair behind his ear.

“Okay,” he said. “Then I’ll call you Caleb.”

The voice…the energy…whatever it was…stopped. There was a suddenness to it that gave Ezra cause for a little smirk.

“What?” it said.

“Why not?” Ezra shrugged. “It’s not a bad name.”

Something swirled up behind him, with a heat and tangibility that seemed out of place here. It made Ezra’s heart leap for a moment into his throat, but he swallowed it back down, taking deep breaths to keep its sprinting calm.

“Aren’t you afraid?” said the voice, low and whispered just over his shoulder. It sent a jolt of lightning down Ezra’s side that…might have been fear? It might have been something else.

“No more than is reasonable,” he answered. “Fear doesn’t get you anywhere.”

The voice hummed. Then it…reached around him, sliding a wispy tendril of visible darkness up under his chin, tipping back his head to expose his neck. Ezra didn’t resist, having already made up his mind to not let this thing get the better of him. Because it was true. He wasn’t afraid. Not really. The same way he’d never been afraid of anything his entire life, even if it landed him in trouble day in and day out.

Maybe it was his sense of empathy. His ability to connect with things.

Maybe he was just reckless. That’s probably what Hera would have said. She might have even been right. He wouldn’t have been in this situation if he didn’t run headlong into helping people at the slightest provocation. (She’d taught him that, though. So it was really her fault.)

“You’re a strange one,” said the voice, tendril gliding under Ezra’s chin and around his neck. It wasn’t…an entirely unpleasant sensation.

“I get that a lot,” he smirked. “Don’t suppose you know the way out of here?”

“I do,” said the voice. As it spoke there came more tendrils - warm and black and just slightly transparent - caressing out of the darkness against him. One around his waist. Another curling along his thigh. “I might even show you.” Ezra bit back a shuddering breath, letting it happen. “Yeah? What’s the catch?”

Another tendril wrapped around Ezra’s wrist that held his sword, firmly forcing him to lower it. His other hand relaxed, letting the magic go out.

“Yoo know,” said the voice, this time rumbling against the back of Ezra’s neck. He didn’t suppress a shiver that time. “There is a saying…that once you name something, it belongs to you.”

“Yeah?” he laughed a little, low and breathy. “You gonna charge me for that too?”

“Perhaps.” The darkness closed in around him again, this time blotting out the light of his sword. Ezra didn’t mind. He had a feeling that, whatever happened next, it wasn’t going to be so bad. “We can discuss that after.”

“After?”

The tendrils tightened suddenly, all around him. Driving a cry of both pleasure and pain as Ezra felt himself bound and held in a warm, quiet strength, even if it did grind down hard against the growing throb in his crotch.

“After,” said the voice.

Ezra couldn’t help it. He smirked again.

“Okay. Caleb.”

They didn’t talk again - nothing resembling conversation, anyway - for a long, long time.

#kanezraweek #writing #star wars rebels #nsfy #kanezra #halloween prompt #still not over it

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glaivenoct · 2 years

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if you have any interest, the sandman got a really good adaptation on net/flix and its giving me brain worms of dream noctis and nyx being one of the guards of the dreaming

Sorry it took me so long to answer this ^^; I have so much interest and only wish I had the brain power to match!

I love thinking about Noct in Dream's long coat! For some reason, I like to imagine him with a black turtleneck underneath. idk why but I do!! I'm just picturing him on the throne, one leg crossed and with Carbuncle (the equivalent of Jessamy/Matthew here with sassy lil squeaks lol) perched on his shoulder.

I looooove thinking about Noct often referring to Nyx as "Dear Knight" because Nyx is one of his best. For the longest time it's a very casual/friendly thing, but over time it becomes a much fonder, passionate endearment (Shout out to Jazz for throwing that little detail on an already 20/10 nickname).

Maybe Nyx has been pining and so many others see it except for Noct, who's focused on his work and maintaining the realm of course. Still, Nyx carries out his duties. I can't help thinking too, if Noct were captured in similar fashion to the show, it would devastate his most loyal friends and companions. His most loyal knight.

And upon returning and reuniting with everyone? With Nyx? Talking about the years of his absence -

"I only wish I could've done more," Nyx will say as he sits besides Noctis on the cracked, crumbling steps, staring out at the bleak, withering realm he intends to help rebuild.

And Noctis will look at him slowly, noting the immense regret troubling Nyx's strong features. "You're not to blame for what happened to me. You know that, right?"

"Of course," Nyx will smirk, but it will fade quickly and instead be replaced by something sad and wistful. "You forget, Noct, my purpose as a guard. I am a guard in the night. Of the dreams. If you are the dreaming and are ripped away - what else is there? In the beginning of your absence... it was like I'd lost my sense of purpose."

Noct will look down at his lap, unsure what to make of that unmistakable weight in Nyx's voice. Touched by his words and moved by the sentiment. And deep down he'll know that Nyx is more than a guard to him. He's irreplacable. A comfort and a "friend". He's so glad that Nyx is one of the ones who remained, and he'd love for Nyx to continue remaining at his side.

And then of course gradually along this quest to restore and realm and other things - they will grow closer. and closer. And closerrrr uwu until one fateful night they say Fuck It!! And kiss!!!

Noct over here holding back his feelings while Nyx keeps leaning in closer and closer to him like, "You'd be wise to tread carefully in your advances, Dear Knight..."

But ohhhh is he not pulling from Nyx's frame pressing closer and closer to his, the breath on his face or the hand coming to cup his cheek.

"And why is that?" Nyx will almost whisper it to him, pausing mere inches from his face. "Does the King of Dreams not have dreams of his own? Desires?"

Noct's not stopping him, breathing a little heavier. "It's not in my nature to indulge myself when there's a realm to maintain. Let alone rebuild."

"Then allow me, my king. Tell me your dreams. Your desires. Allow me to indulge you for once."

And then they kiss. Slow and passionately, and for the first time in who knows how long, Noctis confides things in Nyx he has confided in no other.

And yeah!!! This is definitely something I'd love to revisit and try to flesh out a little more. Thanks so much for sharing the idea with me and I'm totally open to hearing more if you still have brain worms! :D

#nyxnoct #nyxnoct asks #i'm definitely going to have to rewatch this show now

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midnightmisadventures · 1 year

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um guys im overwhelmed

Fuck

Yesterday was Thanksgiving and it was great but the whole time i felt itchy for Liam. Like i just missed him in the back of my head all day and I was like "why??" its not like i have memories spending holidays with him, he wasnt even at past friendsgivings?

Then i finally caught up on sleep and went to bed for like 14 hours.

And my very first dream was soooo Liam centric lol

Theres not a ton to it that i remember but, the main part is that we were sleeping together. Like not sex, but we were in the same bed, both completely naked besides underwear and bra. Thin sheet. Sleeping peacefully and comfortably in eachothers presence

It was admittedly so cute :(

We weren't even really cuddling?? because it was so HOT as in warm. Like idk if it was summer, but we were both sweating, it was sticky, the sheet was matted to our skin. But we were still close to eachother, and i kept trying to make sure that i wasnt taking up too much of his room or tilting bc i do that in my sleep sometimes. So if our feet started overlapping i would back up, and then i'd look at him and his eyes were closed but he'd smile and giggle a bit.

And it was very wist and owen because i was so comfortable and sleeping so easily and i loved him and we just felt like a unit. Like the fact that so much of my skin was exposed, but i was right next to him in bed and so much of his skin was exposed, but neither of us were insecure or worried about it. Just sleepy little guys was so cute.......

There was more that happened, like he was still around in the dream when i woke and he was there and that was probably soft as well. Reminiscent of the other "surprise/wet kiss" dream that i didnt end up writing about.

But guys :((((

What do i do. I woke up wanting to kiss him. How do i balance softness and boundaries. Part of me is mad that i'm letting my brain want him again and feel warm and giddy because that only makes it harder to stay detached. But the other part of me, is like this is obviously what the divine wants, youve been getting so many signs to be less angry, see past his immaturity and remember the big picture. Yall r twins end of story.

Its just weird, i dont know how to feel. And with a bumrush of dreams and readings, and card pullings its almost like im back to not knowing how HE feels. Which fucking sucks?? Cause that was like the whole point of putting my life and heart on the line with him last week. And he told me directly he DOESNT feel. At all. So i've been trying to believe him for my sake, like i do not wish to want someone who doesnt want me.

But then spirit is like, don't believe his mouth he doesnt know as much as you do. So the whole thing is about trusting my self. I was never wrong about anything and that would include his feelings.

It's all very confusing and i dont know which side to lean. The other day when i was having those dreams with the massage and the kiss one, i was wondering if these are divine sent dreams, like is that really Liam?? or is my brain rejecting my egos need to cut him off from my brain and my dreams are just my inner most thoughts which is that.....i want him. I wasnt sure if i could trust them as signs that i should be softer.

But now, i dont think thats my subconcious.......but idk. Its so weird.

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cinanamon · 3 years

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#so I’m going to college for art history to be an art curator/gallery worker/museum worker and I’m pretty content in it it’s right up my alle #alley but then I just saw this one video about an abandoned historical building and I was going through pics of the buildings ajd my chest #just started to ACHE like I was beginning to be emotional bc tHATS why I wanted to be an archeologist #I wanted to explore buildings that the public aren’t allowed in I want to study it’s history and it’s architecture and carefully extract #secrets and artifacts and explore history and I just MISS that career path #and it’s so scary to approach again tho bc it’s not a v secure job like you have to go for like a phd and even then there aren’t ‘companies’#it’s independent oppurtunity/digs you have to apply for and it’s so competitive for professor jobs on the side (tho I would LOVE that) but #the pay is so low too I’m so nervous about approaching it again #if anything I’m thinking maybe a double major in archeology and art history would allow me to choose later on for my graduate degree??#like Ik I’m at at least in the art/history/anthropology realm but like #and I also want to leave the door open for when I’m older to be an art restorer #but I think why I always liked archeology and history was bc of fantasy ajd big imaginations and books bc you’re able to get lost in the #imagining of like in that areas in seeing areas that aren’t modern or normal and it’s so dreamy and gorgeous and it makes my heart ache #like GOD do I want to risk that...but if I’ve wanted to do that since I was like 5 and I get so wistful about it...#technically I heard that museum workers can be called on archeological digs to explain artifacts and how to take care of them so I may at #least be able to go to the sites but I’m afraid that if I do that will I years later feel jealous of the actual archeologists? like will I #long for another career?? I want it to be my focus and passion #and then maybe I’ll write books on the side and maybe hve a partner and a cat but I just WANT to love my job I want it to be my purpose and #if exploring and finding artifacts would do that for me...idk I just wish it was easier to explore different kinds of interests and not have #to worry about the repercussions of time and money...#rambles

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sukirichi · 3 years

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— out of reach | gojo x reader

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

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

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

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

word count: 10.5k

masterlist !

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

So yeah, you love Gojo, you still do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s all a lie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gojo Satoru!”

“Morning, best friend, love ya!”

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

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

“I know.”

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

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I think so too!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

At least someone’s had a good day.

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

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

“Hmm.”

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

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

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

“Because where else would you go?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why not now?”

“Eat your damn dinner first.”

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

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

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

How are you supposed to apologize to Satoru now?

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

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

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

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

You never meant it when you said all that.

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

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

Satoru doesn’t answer.

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

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

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

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

“You want Satoru’s bear hug?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Why is it so hot in your own room?”

“Maybe it’s time you get me an AC.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hot. It’s extremely hot.

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

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

“Satoru!”

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

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

“Satoru! Get me out of here!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N, wait!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Yeah, that has to be it.

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

You don’t care that you’re a coward.

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

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

You just need time.

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

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

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

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

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

“He’s a teacher, right?”

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

“I’m not—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you for coming.”

“Don’t mention it.”

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

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

“I...”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, yes, fuck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuuuuck, I’m so close!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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prettyboykatsuki · 3 years

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shoujo manga | k. bakugo

➳ tags ;; fluff, angst/injury, very midly nsfw towards the end, kisses (?), pro-hero!bakugo

➳ wc ;; 1.5k

➳ plot ;; how bakugo kisses you differently.

➳ a/n ;; might do this for other characters? idk.. katsuki brainrot haunts me everyday of my life..

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Bakugou speaks more than one language.

Japanese, English, Spanish, and a little bit of Arabic and French. He’s fluent in the first three and conversational in the last - but the words still feel slick on his tongue. He’s the type of person that knows things well, when he can. He can curl around the syllables easily with enough patience - practice and time. A language is tool - or a love letter or a hopeless romantic.

It’s something we never tire of listening too.

For Bakugo Katsuki, the language he speaks to you in is kisses. It’s the one he feels best at, rolls of the tongue and mouth easiest. He’s well-versed in the foreign tongue of affection. It used to be.. choppy to say the least. But these days, Bakugo can tell you anything with nothing more than a few pressed lips and tongue-tied exchanges.

It starts with a morning kiss. For it to be perfect, the sun has to hang just barely beneath the clouds. It can be any color out, blue, or orange, or grey - the sky just has to have light in it. He wakes up with a grunt, always before you - vermillion eyes peering open at your unconscious state. The verbs in his sentence are his hands, large palms that smooth down your hair. He nudges his nose against your jaw before his lips pucker against your cheek - travel down to your mouth until your eyes flutter open.

“Wake up, brat,” with another kiss, this time on the corners of your lips. He waits for a while, sometimes letting you sleep for another ten minutes before his heart decides he’s running on empty time. Then he kisses you again, along your jaw like he’s tracing the lines of your art-work.

“Oh? G’morning, Kat,”

And he presses his cheek against your shoulder, kisses the edge with another grunt. These kisses always mean good morning, I’m happy we woke up together. In his language of love they mean, I like being here with you.

Some kisses come after work - especially on those days where he’s working and you’re not. Bakugo dreads leaving you alone during the day, has to force himself out of bed and into his work clothes. It’s easier to be gone but always so hard to leave. When he comes home from work, he finds you in the living room with your legs propped up on the ottoman. Your laptop is on your lap and your head rests

You can feel his presence before you see him. A warm hand, calloused and a hot, wraps around your throat and pulls you back to look upwards at him. He looks down at you with something unreadable in his expression - his thumb running against the column of your throat. He can feel your pulse under his fingers when he looks down on you - bows his head to kiss like an act of respect. This kiss is slow but deep - like a large wave crashing against the sand. His gravelly voice leaves you with a hum before he pulls away.

This kiss means he’s missed you much more than you know. That’s why he stares at you for so long right after - why his fingers linger against your neck.

“Whaddya want for dinner, huh?, is the only words he’ll say in the whole exchange but he looks like he’s gonna kiss you again. He wants to kiss you so many more times but he knows you’ve forgotten to eat so he just asks you what you want. He’ll make it for you.

Other times, he kisses you in public. They’re not the kinds of kisses you can predict, you have to admit to yourself. It’s thee Dynamight afterall, and he rarely takes you anywhere the paparazzi can see. But you have to do normal things together sometimes - like grocery shopping. Even so, he always keeps his mask on up under his eyes, his sunglasses and army green hat and baggy clothes all covering him up.

But you mention it to him off-hand while you’re looking at salad dressing that you miss looking at his face when you’re out. A wistful, cheeky smiling on your lips as you tell him that you don’t mind if the world knows who you’re with. He scoffs, like always, and tells you to pick the spicy one for him.

When he takes you outside, the sun falls over your skin like a halo. He’s sure there’s someone trailing him and watching from afar - some obsessed photographer examining his every move. Yet you look like gold, look like magic in the middle of this parking lot - packing groceries into the trunk of your car.

He pulls his mask down just below his face, and takes his glasses off and pulls you toward him when the last of it’s over. Your hip bumps the shopping cart clumsily as his hands finds themselves under your jacket. His mouth melts against yours - this kind of kiss is searing against your lips Your hands are gripping the front of his shirt at first, but then they lay flat against his chest. It’s the kind of kiss where you let it happen, let it overwhelm your senses till your stomach turns.

You leave it in a dazed and return to see him smirk, grin cocked like a pistol. He kisses you again, much softer as confusion dances along your face.

“What? I thought you missed my face?”

This kind of kiss is a reminder that your his and he’s yours. Nothing in the whole world could come between that, not even some shitty gossip column. When you laugh against him breathlessly, his expression melts into the most tender smile. You miss it - too busy laughing, but it might be better that way.

Then, there are kisses that are desperate. Not sinful but somber. When you’re rushing to a hospital in the middle of September with a prayer clamped desperately between your tongue and teeth. You don’t really feel like you know yourself anymore, hands clasped around the steering wheel like religion. Your feet are the weight of crucifixion on the gas and it seems like you cannot go fast enough.

You rush and rush and rush until the air in your lungs feels like it’s stomping at your chest. You wind up in a sterile white room, and he’s there. He’s alive and you know you should be grateful for that. Yet there’s a gash on his cheek and eyebrow, a wound in his side that makes everything in your knees feel weak. You don’t walk towards him, but stumble to where he’s sitting.

“I fuckin’ hate hospital food,”

He pushes the peas around the tray and you’re crying - shaking like a leaf in the wind as you cling to him. He lifts his arm and let’s you in. You sniffle against his shoulder and cry like a baby. You weep for the love you haven’t lost. You hear the plastic clink on the plate as he lifts his hand, brushes any stray hairs from your face. He tugs on your ear and makes him look at you, and kisses you.

This kind of kiss is placating for certain. A warm mouth, not a hot one. His lips are so gentle, touch effervescent. When you hiccup a sob in his mouth, he nudges his forehead against yours and mumbles something incomprehensible.

You can hear his kiss before he speaks it.

“I’m fine, dumbass,” but there’s no bite, no malice - just a hand wrapped in yours “I’m gonna be fine,”

There are also times where he kisses you hotly. It’s the kind of kiss you wouldn’t want your children to see. When he comes home from a long day of training but the energy is still burning in his head. He’s sweaty, skin glistening and glazed. His teeth seem so sharp when he enters the threshold of the door. You can feel him pressed against your spine, the thick print in his basketball shorts. When his hands come up underneath your t-shirt and dance along your stomach. These times - he kisses you twice. Salacious and unrelenting.

Once just like that in the kitchen. It’s all too much tongue and teeth that way - but god it feels so right. Makes you squirm, makes you hold the counter top to keep steady. You tremble before he even touches you.

The second time is right in the middle of the fire, when he’s inside. Slow, sensual and needy - his tongue finding it’s way in your mouth like you’re a fountain.

Both kisses speak the same words, the same desperation. It’s always the same with him, the inevitable scorching that bruises your lips and turns them red and swollen.

“I want you. I want you. Give it to me, Give all of yourself to me”

His kisses so harshly you can’t breathe, like even the breath in your lungs has to be his or he won’t stay still. These kinds of kisses always happen when you two touch. He can’t help but keep you all to himself.

After all, in this language that only you two can speak, who else would he tell his secrets to?

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

#bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #writing tag #spice cake #bakugou imagines #bakugo imagine #bakugou imagine #bnha imagines #when will this man let me know a day of peace oh my god #i understand you're my favorite character king leave me alone dsfjks i cant take it!!!!#everyday....everyday!

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ellsbclls · 3 years

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you write hurt/comfort so beautifully, it makes me want to have tom comfort me like that ): do u think you could write something where he's taking care of you after a long day at work?? and if it's a little nsfw i wouldn't mind but u dont have to do anything ur not comfortable with. again L O V E ur work!!

thank you so much 🥺 i guess i just try to portray a type of love i think everyone deserves! but also thank you for giving me this idea because my mind went rampant. i also don’t know why the reader is a musician, but just roll with it i guess idk what happened there???

i hope this tickles your fancy! nsfw, so extended warnings will be under the cut! please do not interact if you're a minor!!

extended warnings: cue fingering, and some messy, needy sex in the bathtub 🛁✨

The steam rising from the bathtub makes light work of your weary muscles, menthol vapors kissing up your spine, soothing the knots scattered across the length of your back. You were in dire need of this, after the plight of a day you’d endured. A couple of hours in the studio had quickly spiraled into a six hour-session, with nothing to show for it but a lousy sixteen measures of brass ensembles — and by the good grace of your talent and patience, the artist has requested you drop in for their session again.

The thought makes you want to drown.

Instead, you opt to curl into yourself, softly pressing your cheek into your knee, watching the spindles of warmth waft up from your well earned bubble bath. In retrospect, the weight of your day didn’t fall solely on this new client — if you’re being honest, they actually had a lot of potential. You wouldn’t mind having your name tethered to a couple of their hits — but Tom had just returned home from a three month long shoot, and you’ve only been graced the luxury of his presence for less than 24 hours. Any time that isn’t being spent with him feels blasphemous, but since he has yet to return from his unknown whereabouts, you seized the opportunity to flush out as much irritability as possible before he returned.

You didn’t know just how tired you were until you were woken up.

A half an hour passes before you’re tousled from your dreamless slumber by a docile touch, familiar digits scaling the curve of your spine before they take a detour at the nape of your neck, carefully parting stray strands of hair to either side of your frame.

“Tom?” You hum, dulcet tones wafting through the steam akin to a dream as it ebbs from the rim of your subconscious.

“Yes, darling?” He muses, entranced by the frothy remnants of your bath soak as he dips his fingertips into the water.

“I missed you today.” You melt into his touch, allowing your head to fall to the side and survey his attire. His hair is all tousled, chestnut locks sprouting from the bottom of his backwards strewn baseball cap, and those honey-dipped hues you adore so much are creased with concern. You want nothing more than to soothe them away with the pad of your thumb, and so you indulge yourself, reaching over the edge of the tub as you continue to ramble. “I started the day already praying for it to be over with, and somehow, every single inconvenience fathomable decided to fall onto my lap. I mean — who the fuck needs seven different french horn tracks in an overture? A real band barely needs one.” Tom’s nodding along to your ramblings, but you both know that he doesn’t fully under the lengths of your frustration — just as you’ll never truly understand the inner workings of his own career. “The only thing keeping me together was the thought of coming home to you.”

“I’m so sorry, my love,” He coos, and continues to caress your back, working out all of the knots that the steam couldn’t relieve. “If it’s any consolation, I was only running late because I had to stop and buy some pancetta on the way home.”

“Don’t apologize. I assumed you would be back since all your stuff is still here.” You tease, mirroring his bemused smile, letting his world seep into your slowly booting brain. “Pancetta…” Not many people knew this, not even Tom before his first attempt, but the boy could whip up a mean bowl of pasta. You remember floundering across the bed the night before, identical to a little kid throwing a tantrum, moaning over just how badly you were craving carbonara. Silly of you to think that he’d take your melodramatic request in stride. “Are you-“

His enamored gaze is answer enough, but he pairs it with a chaste kiss to your forehead that has you nuzzling into his touch. “Only the best for my lil’ lady.”

You show a mere fraction of your appreciation with a swift, flurry of kisses over his cheekbones, pulling him closer by the downy bundles of his hoodie. Lovedrunk giggles and contented sighs bounce off the tiles before you’re both submerged in a comfortable silence, one that leaves the both of you free to shamelessly examine the other, one clad in their comfy, weatherworn disguise while the other dawns nothing but an enchanted smile. Even with the disparity between your attire, you both end up with flushed cheeks and dopey grins.

Hours, days, years seem to press on until you break the silence with a silly question, one that you ask in hopes of hearing his gentle, candied voice once more — or even better, his laugh. “What would you do if I was as big as a thumbtack? Would you still love me?” You query, a childlike sense of wonderment tinting your sugar-coated sigh.

He takes a second to ponder your questions, taking it into far more consideration than you had in bringing it to fruition. You can’t stifle the tiny puff of air that leaves your lips, the semblance of a chuckle, and Tom, with his wild brow and theatrical ways, whips his head in your direction, sending you a cautionary glare. “I suppose I would…” He starts, only to tap his finger against his bottom lip, drawing the suspense to its boiling point by the time you shove his forearm. “But then again, it doesn’t matter what size you are, there’s no limit to how much I love you.”

“Hmm,” you manage to vocalize. Your heart is now a star, an incandescent ball of fire caged beneath your ribs, and if he hasn’t gathered it by now, then he can bask in the warmth of your smile and know that for him, for him it is the sun.

You have to admit that you got ahead of yourself. One moment, you were binding your lips in a bruising, indulgent union, urging him to bask in the lovelorn rays of light he summoned, but only managing to pull him into the bathtub, fully clothed and unsuspecting. What was once your lukewarm oasis is suddenly a swirling cauldron of spearmint, teatree, and now unmistakable notes of him, sloshing against the edge of the tub as his frame struggles against the latent tide. There’s bound to be one hell of a mess waiting on the bathroom floor, but now that he’s settled in your grasp, you see no reason to fret just yet.

“Y/N.” His voice is deadpan, which can mean one of two things — he’s either overwhelmed with joy, or exhibiting a great deal of restraint in not drowning you right then and there. You choose to cancel out the latter, and offer the best attempt at innocence your babydoll eyes could muster, peering at him through your lashes with a teeth-rotting gleam.

“What?” You ask simply. His eye starts to twitch, and you only double down on your facade. “I just wanted to be closer to you.” Wading through the newly shallow body of water, half of its contents now dispersed across the tile floor, you make light work of his soggy hoodie, sloughing it over his head as he grumbles beneath it, giggling when it catches against that razor-sharp jawline of his.

“Well, you are very close now.” You notice how his voice drops down an octave, and you’re embarrassed to admit just how quickly the coil in your stomach tightens at the sound of it, how it already aches to be pulled taut.

Tom seems unsuspecting enough when he captures your lips once again, his brims as delicate as baby’s breath against your own, tentative as they glide in a sultry dance. He doesn’t need to coax a confession out of you, the truth is already there, nestled in your urgent, needy pressure, in the whimpers threatening to spill into his lips. He’ll indulge in this little game for a moment longer — where you pretend that you aren’t desperate for his touch, and he pretends that he isn’t just as desperate to provide it — but once you fumble into his lap, clumsily grasping for more, and more, and even more of him, his resolve begins to crumble.

“I need you.” you whisper into the hollow of his mouth, golden-tongued and virtually earnest, coaxing a trembling sigh from the back of his throat.

He hums back, contented, basking in the intoxicating warmth of your silhouette, tracing the curve of your breasts with his knuckles. “Long day, my love?”

“Mhmm,” You demonstrate your point with a wistful sigh, enveloping his great hands with your smaller ones, coating them in languid kisses until there was no skin left untouched.

You’re just too fucking cute, he muses. He can never say no to you, not even in jest.

Two of his slender digits roam the valley of your stomach, knuckles ghosting over your navel in their listless descent before they venture between your thighs, surveying just how badly you really need him. He dips his middle finger between your folds, tender and slick with your arousal, and emits a husky groan as he traces a steady line between your entrance and the spot just below your clit, ghosting your little bundle of nerves with each taunting caress. “You’re already soaked, my love. This all for me?” He coos, nudging your jaw with the tip of his nose, pressing a wet, open mouthed kiss against the column of your neck.

“All for you,” You sigh, digging your nails into the broad planes of his shoulder. “Please, Tom, please touch me.”

He finally spares you, thumb sloppily circling your clit as he plunges two digits into your opening, welcoming the lithe intrusion with a warm, velvety embrace. You slump into his embrace, nipples straining hard against the soaked fabric of his t-shirt, and raggedly whimper as he starts to work you open. The reminder of your nude form plastered against his clothes, albeit soaking wet, summons another pool of wetness to your core. You’re flooded with thoughts of delectable anguish — of denim kissing your hips, dragging against your bundle of nerves, as he ravages your bare little cunt, proving that you’re so desperate for his cock that you can barely wait for him to undress.

“Is this all you needed, baby? My fingers? You wanted me to stretch this pretty little cunt out?” He can’t stop the filthy words tumbling from his lips, especially not when your tiny mewls of pleasure are flooding his ears — you’re just so soft and pliant under his touch, so eager to be filled to the brim, it’s intoxicating to know that you’ll take anything he has to offer you. “I’ve got you, baby. I’m gonna give you everything you need. Gonna have you spilling all over my fingers and then — fuck! — then i’m gonna fill you up with my cock. How does that sound?

“Y-yeah,” You’re rutting against his palm at this point, grinding down to meet each thrust, to feel impossibly closer, fuller, ambling toward an orgasm that is already barreling toward you. As he finds a new angle, the pads of his fingers nudge against your g-spot, and the heel of his hand careens over your clit with such a delicious pressure that your thighs begin to quake. “‘M so close.” You whine, prompting him to punctuate each thrust with a curl of his fingers, dragging your orgasm from the pit of your stomach.

“Then let go, baby. Let go for me.” You need no further persuasion, your eyes squeezing shut as you teeter off the edge, with nothing but a raspy, desperate string of obscenities, clawing at the slope of his shoulders, and bathing his hand in sultry waves of nectar as it spills from your weepy little hole. His fingers are trapped between your fluttering walls, working you through your climax with nimble, tentative thrusts, stretching each wave of pleasure out until you’re trembling over little ripples.

“That’s it, that’s my girl.” You feel so small beneath his gaze, teeming with endless pools of adoration, like you’re a freshwater clearing and he’s parched. It nearly distracts you from his fingers as they slip from your opening, but each receding wave of bliss is tethered to him, so you groan at the loss of contact. Your walls flutter hopelessly around nothing, chasing the delicious stretch of his digits in their absence, but you’re instantly qualmed by the sound of his zipper being pulled down, no doubt freeing himself from the waterlogged confines of his jeans.

“Can I?” You sink your hands into what little water still remains in the tub, hooking your fingers through the belt loops of his jeans, but he swats your shaky hands away, adamantly shaking his head as a small frown of confusion forms between your brows. “You don’t wanna take ‘em off?”

“This is about you, my love.” He whispers, his free hand smoothing over the small of your back, stroking the patch of dew-ridden skin with his thumb. “And right now, all I wanna do is keep my promise.”

“You’re so good to me,” You whisper just above his lips, leaning back into his touch, peering between your bodies to survey his ministrations. You’re still a bit dazed from your first, earth-shattering orgasm, but the prospect of another has you buzzing with excitement, and Tom knows that look well enough to speed up his course of action.

Pearly veneers sink into the swell of your bottom lip at the mere sight — his cock is beyond compare. Even as its impatiently pulled through the opening of his jeans, it’s put on a mouth-watering display as he leisurely pumps himself, smearing tiny pearls of precum across his flushed, leaky tip with each upstroke. He’s far too enticing, far too pretty with his rosy cheeked, droopy-eyed charm, to resist, and you’re quick to replace his hand with your own, curling your fingers around the base and mimicking a couple teasing pumps before guiding him to your entrance.

Tom spreads his legs a little wider to accommodate you, the sensation of wet denim rubbing against your thighs, knocking your legs farther apart, causes a soft whimper to fall from your lips. It doesn’t take long for you to align the head of his cock with your entrance, teasing him with a couple of lascivious drags through your folds before you sink onto his length, reigniting the remnants of your last orgasm as inch after delicious inch prods your tender walls apart. By the time he bottoms out, you’re nothing but a trembling pile of limbs, and his lips seek out your own just to muffle your staggered breaths with a burning kiss.

You allow yourself a couple of seconds to adjust — no matter how or which way you take him, he still pushes up every crevice of your insides, demanding every square inch of your velvety heat. A wild flurry of crimson blossoms across the high planes of your cheeks as Tom nuzzles his forehead against your own, brushing his nose against yours, coaxing a melodious string of giggles from your chest while you scrunch up your nose. He presses a chaste kiss to the corner of your lips and smiles against the spot. “You look so pretty like this, my love. With that gorgeous smile of yours, and that pretty little pussy squeezing my cock.” You feel like you’ve got whiplash, trying to come to terms with how obscene he can be under such tender movements. “Just wanna turn you over and bury myself inside. See how tight you feel when you’re folded in half.” His hands reach down to rub gentle, circular motions into the small of your back, and you can’t help but pulse around him at the juxtaposition.

Once the uncomfortable stretch of his girth melts into pleasure, you finally start to work yourself over his length, and you swear you can feel every gorgeous ridge and vein of his cock as you rise up to the tip, only to plunge back down with a impish yelp, setting a clumsy, needy pace that certainly gets the job done. You don’t really find your rhythm until Tom helps you out, sinking his fingers into the supple curve of your ass, orchestrating a hard, punishing pace as he drives up into your sopping cunt, meeting you in the middle with each thrust.

All at once, the bathroom is washed in a crude symphony, the combination of your heavy panting and slapping skin intermingles with the shallow splash of water as it laps against the edge of the tub, punctuating the sinful drag of his length, and how the tip pounds against your furthest wall as you impale yourself onto him. You can feel another orgasm start to build, and since Tom has made it his solemn vow to not only study, but master, every little, scrumptious detail of your body, he senses it as well.

“You got another one for me?” He asks between labored pants. His own orgasm is starting to peak over the horizon, following in the blazing trail you’ve set, you can tell by the way a thin sheen of sweat starts to build against his hairline, and his brows almost meet in the middle, as if the feeling of your pussy pulsing around his cock is unfathomable. He uses the grip he has on your waist to take control, using one hand to scale up the breadth of your back, and as his palms leave a blistering trail up, up, up your sides, he pulls you flush against his chest, attempting to plant his feet against the floor of the bathtub,

He needs the leverage to piston his hips up into your own, to pound into your greedy hole at an unyielding pace — to keep his promise — and as you start to feel the tell tale edge of your climax cresting over your weary frame, you spoil his shoulder with sweeping, butterfly kisses and flood his mind with sweet, sweet nothings, luring him to the brink with the same dulcet tones you know drive him wild.

His hips stutter into your own, and before the words can even exit your lips, you’re dragged to the edge of bliss with a couple of rough, uncompromising thrusts that have you wildly spasming around his length. He joins you almost immediately, throbbing against your sensitive walls as he fills you to the brim, driving the mixture of your arousal further into you as he fucks you through your orgasm.

Once he pulls out, he’s quick to wrap you up in a soothing embrace, planting kisses over every acre of skin he can get his lips on, but you’re too focused on the trail of cum leaking down your thighs to really indulge him, curiosity getting the better of you as you gently weave your arm between your bodies and collect the wetness on your thighs. You swear you can feel the rumble of his chest once you pop your fingers into your mouth, humming around the sodden digits, making a spectacle out of the addicting elixir pooling on your tongue, but his glimmer of reinvigorated stamina is put to rest by the sight of your drowsy, half-lidded stare.

“Why don’t we get you dried off? Then I can start dinner.” He hums against your cheek, punctuating his suggestion with yet another chaste kiss. It’s genuinely like he can’t get enough, and neither can you as you sleepily nod.

“Will you wake me up when it’s ready?” You sigh, teetering on the edge of slumber once more.

“Of course, my love.”

#tom holland #tom holland blurb #tom holland x reader blurb #tom holland smut #tom holland x reader smut #something about this man fucking the bad day out of you 🥰#what a gentleman #ANOTHER 3K DOOZY??????#WHA T TH E FUCK???#mine*

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