#thanks for the ask waffle!!!! appreciate you<3 <3 <3

[mid-nightowl]

for the ask game: dickjay in reincarnated character + immortal au pls!!

hi waffle!! you literally gave me an au i've never thought about writing in my entire life lmaoooo

so *cracks knuckles* let's get into itttttttt

Dick is the immortal of the two. But like, not in a very voluntary way? For this AU, I would imagine Dick is the original Talon for the Court in the 1600s. Obviously his body would deteriorate over time or just be too butchered in fights to be salvageable, so they stick him on ice and switch his “mind and soul” over to another (a blood relative and maybe later on clones when the technology is established, but he always refers to himself as Dick or Talon). We’ll say the Court can do this via magical god shenanigans. Jason is the reincarnation. So, every third generation the Gunn family somehow gives birth to a boy (aka Jason) but otherwise only have girls. (Short note: we’re going to make Catherine the Gunn relative instead of Willis for this AU). 

Jason and Dick grew up together, either same age or close in age. Played together as kids, caused trouble together as teenagers, and fell in love as young adults. And then Dick disappears, forcibly becoming the court’s Talon because it’s his “familial duty.” Jason tears Gotham apart looking for his lost love, uncovering corruption and capturing criminals in the process of digging up evidence of the Court, and he becomes somewhat of a folk hero as time passes. 

Unfortunately, the Court knows Dick is too attached to Jason and Jason’s on a mission, he won’t stop until he finds Dick and stops them. Not sure how we’d get to the next point but basically, Dick is forced to kill Jason for the Court and Jason vows on his dying breath he’ll free Dick from them because Dick was the only one who cared about Jason, who loved Jason despite his flaws and his bad blood. I imagine the Court had captured Jason and brought him to their secret lair or wherever they keep their god, and because Jason made that vow with his last breath, his blood and Dick's tears staining the stone entombing a god, an entity of magic and promises, it gave Jason (and Dick's unspoken hope) his wish. But with a twist. 

Henceforth, every three generations the Gunn family has a son. A son who is almost always baptized as Jason. The Court tries often to kill him as a child, especially once they realize Jason as an adult always digs his claws into the Court and tries to drag them into the light. What the Court doesn’t realize, is that Jason only reincarnates if Dick, if Talon, kills him. This could go either way: only Jason knows Dick has to kill him to be reincarnated and try again, and has to orchestrate his plans and strategies around either winning or having Dick kill him OR only Dick knows and he has to make sure the Court sends him to kill Jason, knowing Jason will only come back if Dick’s the one who does the deed, Dick who can never truly help the man he loves free him from the Court. 

The Court often gets what they want over the centuries, however, and Jason dies before he can truly stop them or save Dick. Over and over again, throughout the centuries and the bodies, Dick kills Jason and Jason comes back to save him. I think eventually it would end when Jason is adopted by Bruce Wayne aka Batman and together (maybe alongside Commish and a Batgirl), Jason is finally able to stop the Court and save Dick. And Jason and Dick can finally live, love, and grow old together :) 

#ask game #these are very long facts omg #so sorry #i am cursed to be long-winded im afraid #the game is really helping get the writing gears turning thou lmao #guess this is an immortal + reincarnated au with a court of owls au sprinkled in #thanks for the ask waffle!!!! appreciate you<3 <3 <3 #waffleinator-inator #okay i think i have a lot more thoughts about this actually #might have to add it to the wip pile 👀 #dickjay #dickjay au #jaydick

[xiaoluclair]

.

#x: waffle #waffle: miscellaneous #hi anon! (in the inbox) #sorry to everyone who hates vagueposting (including me oops) but we boutta vaguepost (double oops) #its okay to ask! but i'd rather not answer is all. slightly unnecessary fact but only 2 people on this site know lmao #so its a little private hehe #thank you for being so polite about the way you asked i appreciate it <3 #also x is fine!! you can use it when you regale tales of my brilliance to the folk of the future okay?

[miguelswifey04]

What if, Miguel as a sugar daddy but the reader is very “no no, I can buy that keep your money” and “do you want me to buy you something?” When ever he buys them something they feel bad, please love ur content <3

SO good!! i love your idea <3

yes he’s your sugar daddy and he loves to spoil you but he has never had a sugar baby who would be reluctant on getting money spent on them, and instead are very generous towards him.

“baby? at least let me buy something for you, please?” he would quite literally beg to spend money on you. he would buy the whole world if you asked him too. he was very loaded with money as he was a geneticist for alchemax. you hesitantly agreed and you just ask for the least expensive thing 😭

“do you want me to buy you something!” you asked miguel with a soft smile. miguel was dumbfounded. his own sugar baby asking their own sugar daddy if they could by something for him?? “no, no no. don’t spend anything on me! mi vida, you don’t need to spend money on me. i got loads of money.” he reassured you as he shook his head at your request. he isn’t letting you spend money on him. not on his watch so you gave up with a small shrug and a giggle.

miguel and you had taken a small trip to paris. he had prepared breakfast in bed as you were beginning to stir out of your sleep. he brought the tray of breakfast that consisted of crepes, waffles, and strawberries. he knew it was your favorite. “thank you miguel.” you smiled with appreciation and adoration for him. he went to the living room of the hotel room and brought into view prada shoes + a gucci handbag. you mouth was left agape. yes you wanted a sugar daddy only because you were lonely and not solely for financial reasons. “miguel—you know you didn’t have to.” he ain’t taking NO for an answer 😭

he knows you don’t like money being spent on you so he always buys anything you had a slight interest BEFORE you could even DENY him LOL, but when it comes to shopping you rather spend your own money so miguel respected that. just know miguel is still happy to spend that $$$ on you without anything in return 💋

…

a/n: woop woop 🙌🏽

#spiderman atsv #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel spiderman #spider person #atsv x reader #miguel o’hara x y/n #spidersona #ao3 works #sugar daddy miguel #spiderman 2099 #atsv #alternate universe #atsv miguel #fanfiction #miguel x reader #miguel o’hara fanfiction

[cheezbites]

Habits

✎: You guys have been eating good with my posts, thanks for all the notes kiddies! 🫡

♡Summary: Johnny Price subconsciously picks up on your habits <3

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Bf!Price noticed your one-sided conversation with your beloved dog, Cooper. You were sat cross-legged with a bag of treats in your hand, his tail tersely wagging in the air. “Who’s a good boy? Who’s a good boy?” You cooed, a playful tone lacing your words. You then seamlessly switched to a higher pitch, one that resonated with your dog more: “I am! I’m a good boy.” When John witnessed this heartwarming interaction, a smile tugged at his lips knowing that you and Cooper had an inseparable bond.

And so when you noticed Price having bantering one-on-one conversations with Coop, which he never did before, you couldn’t help but chuckle at your newfound discovery.

Bf!Price loved it when you made him breakfast in bed, he never asked you to, but you still did it voluntarily. You leisurely got up from bed, veering off from startling or waking him up and entered the kitchen. You were half asleep - but still committed to the task at hand, you made him eggs on buttered toast, fluffy pancakes with maple syrup, orange juice and a side of freshly sliced strawberries.

“Wake up sleepy head,” you muttered, placing the tray of food onto the nightstand. The delicious scent of the breakfast wafted through the room. He grunted and drowsily arose in response, as you nestled his face in your gentle hands. His eyes, still heavy with sleep, blinked open to find you sat next to him, and the food perfectly framed in the soft morning light. The love and care you committed to the food you prepared made him feel loved and appreciated.

“All this… for me?” He asked, rubbing his eyes.

You nodded, “Of course, all for you.”

He sat up, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. “I love you so much.”

You pressed a kiss to his lips, as you pulled away his eyes remained fixed on you, causing your heart to skip a beat or two.

“Thank you…” He brushed a strand of hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear “For everything.”

“It’s my pleasure.”

Bf!Price was beyond grateful for your kind gesture, he didn’t tell you this, but years of military training caused him to instinctively wake up even at the slightest sound or movement. He had grown accustomed to being a light sleeper during his time in the army, he saw you try extremely hard to not startle or wake him up, he knew how early in the morning it was when you fled to go make him breakfast - all the efforts you put into it made him appreciate it even more. He couldn’t fight the urge to make you breakfast in bed this time.

As the morning sun lightly filtered through the curtains, he silently rose from the bed. Today, he was going to return the sweet gesture and he was determined to. With careful consideration, he mentally noted all the little things you loved. He knew you adored the bittersweet taste of a fresh milk coffee, he knew you loved waffles with a crispy exterior and a soft, sweet centre. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he remembered your affinity for blueberries, adding them generously to a separate bowl. He most importantly remembered that you were a light eater with a sweet tooth every morning, so he was going to keep it simple.

“Good morning sweetheart,” he greeted softly.

As you gradually stirred awake, he presented you with the tray - a mix of excitement and affection visible in his eyes.

Bf!Price rarely sends emojis; his texting style is monotone, but when talking to him face to face, he's a ball of sunshine. When it comes to you, you don’t shy away from embracing your personality in text messages as well. Sending emojis galore, using capital letters, abbreviations …

When texting him, you observe the way he messages you gradually shift. It became more and more alike to the way you text. For example, when laughing, before it would be something along the lines of:

“Ahah”, or reacting to the message.

Now it was:

“Hahahaha😂☠️”, maybe you were delusional, or, you detected him picking up on another one of your habits yet again.

Bf!Price endured a healthy lifestyle and a consistent routine in the gym, and you started naturally gravitating towards it. As days passed, you took note of his passion for staying fit and his morning jogs. The way he talked about his favourite exercises and the happiness it brought him was contagious. Without even realising it, you began joining him. You laughed at how effortlessly you slipped into his passion for fitness, it wasn’t just about staying in shape, it was about the bonding experience. Not only have you embraced his routine, but also strengthened your connection.

Bf!Price was overwhelmed at how underwhelming your workspace was, papers in neat colour coordinated stacks, pens arranged into meticulous rows, even the array of sticky notes seemed to be in their proper place, an abundance of files to make it easier to stay organised …

What was once an unorganised jumble (his workspace), was soon enough a space that fostered clarity and focus. He appreciated the positive influence you had on him, even if it was as small as just staying organised. He felt a newfound sense of accomplishment every time he looked at his now-tidy desk.

Masterlist

Gaz Version

Ghost Version

König Version

Soap Version

#cod #cod x reader #smut #fluff #angst #yn #x yn #your name #call of duty #cod mw2 #cod price #Johnny price #john price #König #ghost #ghost cod #female reader #f!reader #husband #husband cod #König smut #ghost smut #ghost face #scream #scream movie #Eddie #Eddie Munson #Munson Eddie

[maraudersmyloves]

hiii, congrats for the 750 followers!! 🎉 the event is so creative and adorable too, i'm in love with it <3 can i please get a thornless rose, pink, with statice and tree fern (the prompt being "can we stay just like this?") thank you anyways, i love your blog!!

thank you for requesting!!

CUT AND ARRANGED JUST FOR: anonymous

⊹˚₊˚꒰🌹・꒱ THORNLESS ROSES ; James Potter, golden retriever x black cat, Fluff

⊹˚. ౨ৎ can we just stay like this?

Pairing: James Potter x reader Warnings: cussing Word count: 739 Disclaimer 1: Everything on this Blog is fiction!!! "lazy mornings". :☆｡ﾟ. ───

You often wish for the morning to last longer. Your dorm mates wake up expecting to hear you grumbling about how it's way too early and the air is too cold. The only thing that gets you to shut up about it is the breakfast, even though it's not the best you appreciate any warm food in the morning. So, when you decide not to show up to breakfast on waffle day it raises some questions.

You, however, haven't bothered to think about something as mundane as breakfast when you're in James' warm arms. You've been awake for at least an hour but chose to stay still listening to the calming heartbeat in James' ever-rising chest. He's been awake for even longer than you, but can't bring himself to do more than mumble quiet "I love you" s into the warm and slightly stuffy air. He pulls you impossibly closer, knowing what's about to happen.

His last-minute alarm is going to go off in about five minutes, meaning he really has to get up. But then he wouldn't be hugging you anymore, so… Instead of thinking about the breakfast he's missing and the places he has to be he opts for simply looking at you. Your face is snuggled into his chest, hiding your gorgeous face from his view. Since he can't admire your beautiful features, he lets his eyes scan your relaxed posture.

Your legs are intertwined with his, with one hiking up higher than the other, while your arms circle his waist and he can't help but sigh in adoration as you wiggle around to get even more comfortable,

James loves moments like this, but sadly it is disrupted by a high-pitched alarm going off from his desk. It's a good trick, really. To have the alarm far enough away that he has to stand up to stop the disgustingly loud beeping but god does he loath himself for doing it. You don't seem too fond of it either as you release a muffled but originally very loud scream into his chest.

"God, James! What the fuck kind of alarm is this. Put it out, won't ya??"

He chuckles. He goddamn chuckles at you as if a war crime wasn't being committed to your ears. God, you hate him.

"Can't love," he says with a big smirk as if the alarm isn't even bothering him. Of course, it isn't. Nothing bothers the great James fucking Potter. You would've thought he cared more about still having fine hearing when he's thirty but guess not. Then again if this continues he won't even live till twenty-one if you've got something to say about it.

You breathe out through your nose, irritated as you answer, "Why the fuck not?" And he looks like he just found a pot of gold under a goddamn rainbow. God, you want to kiss slap him!!

"You're laying on me, darling."

Oh.

Well, guess he really couldn't.

Maybe you should apologize. You do feel a bit bad, nonetheless, you roll off him with a huff and a small glare. Can't let him know he's defeated you.

He stands up after giving you a small kiss on the nose and walks over to his desk to put an end to the noise. When he does, he can see and hear you calm down. You exhale and your whole face relaxes, you're eyebrows unscrunch (is that even a word??) and your eyes go from squeezed close incredibly tight to slightly open. You're lying on your back now, body covered in his oversized shirt and giant blanket.

You look at him sweetly and he knows he's going to have to ask Remus for notes later because he wants nothing more than to spend the day here, cuddled up with you.

Apperantly, you don't agree.

You move to get up but before you're able to do more than put away the blanket James is covering you in his body instead. And he will not let you go. "Jamie," you whine. "We have to get to class."

He kisses your neck, "class is boring."

You try pushing him off you even though you know you won't be able to lift his muscular body off you. The fact that you don't really want to doesn't help either. Sadly, though, you have common sense. "For you maybe. I actually have to study."

"I'll help you later. Can't we just stay like this?"

#headcanon #fluff #writing #marauders #fanfic #marauders era #harry potter #james potter x reader #james potter x you #GARDEN PARTY . :☆｡ﾟ. #james potter imagine #james potter fluff #james potter #james potter au #james potter headcanon #james potter fanfiction

[merowkittie]

Happy Fathers Day — Miguel O’Hara

Note: This gif is sad yes but this fic is not i promise :) a little Father’s Day fic for this father who needs all that family love. First time writing for him, I hope he’s not ooc. I had to rush it a bit so I’m sorry if it seems sloppy towards the end <3

Not proofread

Summary: You and your daughter appreciate the man in your lives.

Word bank:

querido(a) - sweetheart

cariño - darling

mi vida - my life

qué es eso - what is that?

Mi corazón - my heart

“Gabi, mama.. qué es eso?” You held back a laugh as you looked at the drawing she made with strawberry syrup on a pancake.

Gabriella looked back at you with a toothy smile. “Es Papi! This is his hair,” she pointed to a.. slicked back.. spiky top of a too round head, “This is his eyes!” The eyes were brown and looked like little dots.

You nodded your head and hummed. “Es bonita, querida.”

“Gracias, Mami!” She looked at you with admiration and glee.

It was Father’s Day and about eight in the morning. You decided to get your daughter and make some breakfast for your husband, Miguel. You made him take off so you could celebrate the day together.

You had a lot of things in mind of doing today but you knew you’d have to tone it down a bit being that your husband wasn’t a very outgoing and extroverted person. He tended to drift towards the peace and quiet of solitude. Though, you didn’t mind that. You fit together perfectly in your own little way.

For now, the first thing you and your daughter had to do was bring him breakfast in bed. Pancakes, waffles (for your princesa), eggs, sausages, and you cut up fruits like apples, kiwi, mangoes, and watermelon on the side being that it was a hot day.

You made fresh lemonade and had the pitcher inside the fridge so it could get nice and cold. Gabriella insisted on making art on at least one pancake for her daddy so you let her make a little mess.

“Bebe, get the tray from the dining table and bring it here, please?” You asked your daughter. putting the knife you were using in the sink and washing your hands.

Gabriella ran off to fetch the tray for the breakfast items as you grabbed a cup of lemonade and napkins.

“Aqui mami!” Gabriella handed you the tray and you kissed her forehead in thanks.

She helped you place the plates onto it and held the cold glass of lemonade for you. Her face was lit up like a beacon. Her beautiful smile on display, ready to surprise her overworked father who desperately needed all of this affection this morning.

You made your way up the stairs, starting to hear the snores of your husband from your bedroom. You and your daughter tip toed into the room slowly, trying not to wake your husband up just yet.

Gabi sat on your side of the body and you sat by Miguel’s sleeping form that was curled up in the comforter. You sat the glass of Lemonade onto the night stand, followed along by the tray.

Moving to adjust yourself, you leaned forward to kiss Miguel’s Hairline. “Wake up, mi corazón.” You whispered into his ear.

He made some type of noise and tried to pull you into him. You pulled back and shook his body.

“Wake up, querido.”

He still didn’t wake up. This man slept like a rock on his off days and it always took a couple of minutes to wake him up by yourself.

You gave a look to Gabriella and she took the hint you were giving her.

“PAPI PAPI!!” She started to jump up and down on your bed, shaking the two of you that were sitting down.

She giggled and screeched as she saw her father stir a bit more and try to grab her. She jumped around his grabby hands and then fell on top of him.

His eyes opened and he grunted at the impact. “Jesus, mama. Why do you have so much energy in the morning?”

“Bueno Dias, papi!” She giggled, curling herself into his chest and hugging him tight.

“Buenos dias, Gabriella.” He kissed her hair and then turned to you.

You smiled at him, reaching for his free hand and holding it tightly. You two just stared at each other for a bit, basking in the nice quiet of the bedroom.

You leaned down and kissed his hairline again uttering a good morning. He pulled you down and kissed you on your lips saying it back.

You pulled back after having a chaste kiss. The food on the nightstand was still nice and warm. You grabbed the tray and held it in front of you which caused the man to sit up.

“We made you breakfast. Gabriella drew you on a pancake, our princesa also drew you a card.” You placed the tray onto his lap and Gabriella shoved her card into his hands.

He looked at the.. drawing of him (it looked nothing like him and more like a blob of syrup) and gave you a look to which you waved off. He then read his card and smiled.

“I’m really lucky to have you aren’t I, Gabriella? Our daughter is so creative, cariño.” He scooped your daughter up and attacked her with tickles and kisses.

She squealed telling him to stop and after a bit he put her back down and started to eat the food you made.

He moaned at the taste and started to gobble the entire plate up. “Miguel! Don’t eat like that, you’ll choke. Here.” You handed him the glass of lemonade you made and watched him chug it too.

He placed it back on the night stand and wiped his mouth.

“This is delicious, querida..” he grabbed your left hand and kissed your silver ring on your finger. You smiled and sighed dreamily at his actions.

“You’re an amazing husband and father, mi amor. You’re everything I’ve wished to have had, I’m glad to have married you and being an amazing and beautiful girl into this world. I know you’ll do right, and I know you think you may be doing a bad job but there are no rules to raising a child..” you paused to wipe a start tear from his face, his mouth was left agape at your words, “you’ll know— we’ll know we did right if she grows up and doesn’t put us in a retirement home.”

He chuckled at that and Gabriella giggled. They were an exact replica of each other.

Miguel’s hand made it’s way to the nape of your neck, tangling themselves in your locs that sat on your shoulders. His free hand moved the locs that covered your forehead and he placed his on top of yours.

“Happy Father’s Day, dad!”

“Happy Father’s Day, my vida.”

I I had to disrespect somebody and their father while writing this 😒 but HAPPY FATHERS DAY YAAAAHHH 🤘

#miguel spiderman #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel x reader #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x black reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara fanfiction #comfort #black reader #reader insert #miguel o’hara imagine

[piftamere]

part five - stunned (written portion : 0.5k words if you don't want to read there's a tl:dr just under it!)

As you stepped off stage, still feeling exhilarated from your first gig, you saw a freakishly tall man approach you, a smirk on his face.

When you recognized who he was, you inadvertently grimaced.

Come on, let’s be mature, i shouldn't base my opinion of him on hearsay. You thought, taking a deep breath and replacing your expression with a polite smile.

"Hey!" he greeted with a toothachingly sweet voice "I just wanted to come by and congratulate you, it was a really good performance, for a beginner artist like you." He was probably trying to flatter you, but instead sounded impossibly condescending.

Ok, so maybe the rumors were true.

"Thanks." Your voice and expression were deadpan. "Can I ask how you got backstage?"

"No, it's a secret," he winked at you, flashing a playful smile. However, when he noticed that you didn't even flinch at his joke, let alone laugh, he quickly added, "The security guard let me in because he's a big fan of me."

You wondered if he could sound even fuller of himself… and made a mental note to hire stricter security next time.

Deciding to be polite you replied "I have to admit you make good music, I've been a fan of Geto since forever."

He noticed the hint of admiration in your voice, making him relax a little.

"Not of me huh? I'm hurt." he pouted, taking the liberty of teasing you. "Geto was the one who invited me and i'm glad he did… I really liked 'before you can', i think that's my favorite from tonight."

Your eyes widened a little, "Really? I'm… surprised, it's a little sadder than the others. To be honest, it's my favorite one too."

"Surprised I'm more than a pretty face?" He teased again.

"I never said that." You rolled your eyes but the corners of your mouth tilted up slightly, he noticed that too.

“Can i ask what it’s about or if it’s about your own experience?”

Even if he could be genuinely interested, you can't help but decline. "Sorry, but it's a little too personal."

“Shame.” he paused and smiled “Can i get your phone number?”

You couldn’t suppress the frown on your face. He choked a little at your visible disgust and laughed awkwardly, passing a hand through his hair. “For business reasons, sorry I should have clarified.”

Only half convinced, you gave him your number, worst-case scenario you could simply block him.

After typing it in his phone, a hint of mischief in his eyes, he continued “You didn’t have to look so horrified that i might be hitting on you though, I’m deeply wounded.” his voice dramatic as ever, a hand on his heart.

“How will you ever recover?” you retorted, smiling. Without giving him a chance to respond, you said "It was… nice meeting you, but i gotta go. Bye!!"

And with that you disappeared behind a door, leaving Gojo Satoru stunned.

[tl:dr : gojo comes backstage, he’s arrogant (and a tiny bit charming), he congratulates you, asks for your number for “business reasons”, you give it to him and you leave quickly.]

fun facts

gojo really didn't notice he was condescending until shoko pointed it out

y/n doesn't know what to think of gojo yet...

author's note

ilovegojosatoru

i've eaten cereals in orange juice and it's not that bad tbh

⋆⭒˚｡⋆ tugging on heartstrings ⋆⭒˚｡⋆

as an aspiring solo artist, you dream of making it big in the music industry. With your talent and unwavering determination, you find yourself entangled in a web of romantic pursuits amidst rumors and betrayal. Will you emerge unscathed and manage to navigate your love life in the chaos of fame?

Part five - Next

rbs and interactions are highly appreciated <3

taglist : open :) to be added leave a comment on the masterlist of the smau

@lysaray @swissy23 @d6za1 @minzxec @sleepy-waffle @saturn-alone @dreamxiing @reiluvr @nikkimvriee @mellozhi @cre8ing @ichorstainedskin @inosfavgf

#jjk x reader #jjk smau #gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader #maki x reader #megumi x reader #gojo smau #maki smau #megumi smau #jjk masterlist #tohs #maki zenin x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Prerequisite

Masterlist

Warnings: this fic includes dark content including rape/noncon, power imbalance, blackmail, and other potential triggering elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You attempt to move on from your time with Professor Hansen, but can't seem to shake the past.. (plus sized reader)

Characters: Ransom Drysdale, some Lloyd Hansen

A note on reader characters:

For clarity,  each reader will have a defined nickname when appearing in any installment not their own. This is Flora, previously featured in Below Average. This fic also features characters from various installments.

Note: Finally got this on paper.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. Thanks to everyone who reads this one and thank you for all your energy.<3

Love you all like Donkey love Waffles. Take care. 💖

You cross your arms as you narrow your eyes at the front of the lecture hall. It's your last choice in elective but the only one you could get to pad out your schedule. Law. Hardly riveting stuff.

What's more intriguing is the professor. No, no, you haven't acquired a taste for them, if anything Hansen taught you to be wary of them. The very lesson that has you glaring down at Professor Barber, waiting for his first slip.

You're not clever by any means, you're just the only one looking for the signs. The same ones you saw in Tweed at your first meeting, those that you catch in yourself, and the other girls who won't say the truth aloud. 

Brownie, that's the one. You see the way he looks at her and you note how she stays after class, every week. Only three weeks so far but a pattern is a pattern.

You twist your pen, the nib poking out, then do it again, retracting it. The clicking noise forms a tempo at your listless fidgeting. You have a study date tonight with the girls, what’s one more? You’re forming a habit of taking on lost souls, yourself just another wisp floating in the void.

You scribble down the date for your next quiz, your mind hardly processing the words as you guide the pen. You’re trying to plot your approach. You think you have an idea.

As Professor Barber dismisses class, you slide your notebook into your bag and hike it up onto your shoulder. At the edge of the row, as usual, you quickly descend as Brownie stays in her seat, waiting and watching her feet. You catch the small glances aimed in her direction from the man behind the podium.

You take out your phone and quickly text Cookie; ‘you got room for one more?’

You don’t wait for an answer. You don’t care. You’ve made up your mind, it’s a warning, not a question.

“Hey,” you come around the front row. The girl doesn’t seem to hear you. Or she’s ignoring you, “um, Brownie?”

She looks up, startled. She sends a look towards Barber but you ignore him. You cross your arms and sway, your skirt stirring around your legs.

“Remember me?” You ask, “you lent me your pen?”

“Oh, uh, I remember,” she squeaks, her voice thin and raw, as if she never uses it, “hi.”

“Um, so,” you try to sound casual, “I’m not really a law student. English,” you touch your chest and smile, “and I think I could use a study buddy, if you’re interested?”

“Er, oh?” Her brows draw together, “I don’t know…” she scratches her neck, another peek at the professor, “I–”

“Do you have plans? Or maybe you already have someone to study with,” you look away and frown, “sorry, I just figured I’d ask. I need someone to help me make sense of all this. I’m totally lost.”

There’s a subtle rumble, a noise you likely wouldn’t notice if you didn’t know to listen for it. You don’t even glance back at Barber as you hear him packing up. You sit in the chair next to Brownie and smile.

“I just figured you’re like, the smartest person in the class, and I need this grade to bring my average up. Please?”

She chews her lip and plays with the high collar of her turtleneck. She hides beneath her lashes, shrugging before she manages a tiny nod. Her fingers flutter and she shivers nervously.

“I can help,” she presses her fingers to the ribbed fabric of her shirt, “sure, I…”

“Me and my friends are meeting tonight, we’re getting pizza,” you chirp, “wanna tag along?”

“Friends?” She bats her eyes at you frightfully.

“Oh, don’t worry, they’re all super friendly and they’ll love you.”

“I… I don’t know. I’m not very…” she speaks so quietly you have to lean in to hear her.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say much,” you assure her, “Cookie always bakes way too many brownies. You could help us finish them, huh?”

She looks terrified. Her mouth scrunches and shifts back and forth as she measures her options. You know exactly what she’s thinking. That man will be disappointed. Well, let him be. Unless he wants to step forward and admit that he’s fucking a goddamn student.

“Hm, okay, but… just for a little. I can’t stay very long.”

“Just until I figure out what actus reus means, alright?” You stand and send a sharp look towards the professor. He quickly dips his chin down in feigned concentration as he looks over his notes. Not today, fucker.

“Okay,” she gets up and lifts a crochet bag, her hand shaking as she tucks away her laptop in the slouchy purse, “um, I’m sorry, but… I forgot your name.”

“Don’t be sorry,” you wait for her to pass you before walking at her side towards the door. She’s still hesitant and reluctant as she looks over her shoulder, “Flora.”

💮

“This is Brownie,” you introduce the mousy addition to the girls as she tries to fade into the blue wall, “she’s in my law class.”

She doesn’t move. She just looks up with round eyes as the others cheerily call out their welcome, already clustered around the table amid coffee cups, laptops, and a few baked goods. The scent of cinnamon mingles with the stale caffeine.

“Welcome, Brownie,” Muse gives both of you a start as she appears at the girl’s other shoulder, “I’m Muse! Oh, you have wise eyes.” She flutters around the girl, a boa around her shoulders, “you would look wonderful in jade. Yes, it would highlight your undertones.”

Brownie frowns and mutters, but you can’t tell if it's a thank you or just a whimper.

“She says I’m a sapphire type,” you remark as you wave her away from the door, “you can toss your coat with ours,” you motion to the bench bench piled with outerwear, “then I’ll introduce you to the rest… they’re not as bouncy as Muse.”

Brownie gives up her dark gray coat and steps out of her plain boots. She dresses in a very simple way. Turtle necks, corduroys, nothing with much shape or structure. Her style can be best described as part of the wall.

“So,” you walk just ahead of her. She stays behind you as if trying to hide, “Tweed, Foxy, Sunny,” you point out the three girls at the table, “you met Muse,” you look at the artsy wraith fluttering around the counter, “and Cookie, our host.” 

The woman in question puts down a plate of sugar cookies, “hi, nice to meet you! I’ll find an extra chair.”

Brownie doesn’t say a word. You realise it might be a bit overwhelming. She reminds you of Tweed in that way. You point her to a chair and assure her you’ll take whatever Cookie comes up with. She sits, hugging her bag in her lap as she stares at the table.

Foxy gets up as you head for the counter, you pause and look back at Brownie, “you want some tea? Something to drink?”

She chews her lip before she answers, “water, please, if that’s okay.”

You nod and go to the cupboard. Foxy comes up next to you and leans on the counter as you shift to pull out the water jug from the fridge. You come back to her as she keeps her voice low.

“What’s up with that one?”

“Law professor, I think,” you mutter, “could barely get her here.”

“Fuck, another one, huh?”

“Uh, yeah, you know, shitty men everywhere,” you fill the glass, “I brought her here to try to forget all that. Like the rest of us.”

“Sure thing,” she taps the countertop with her nails and pushes off.

You put the jug back and take the water over to Brownie as Cookie emerges with a small white stool. You accept it, the seat lower than the rest so that you feel like a kid at the table. You pull out your laptop and open it up. Your phone slides out with it and you catch it as notifications flash on the screen.

You tap your thumb to expand the preview; Insta, emails, and a text that neither surprises or interests you. Professor Dillhole’s message is swiped away without reading a single word. You got your grade and now you’re done with him. He doesn’t seem to get the hint.

“So, Brownie, you’re in law? Are you going to be a lawyer?” Foxy asks.

Brownie shrugs and nods. You wonder for a moment how she’ll manage a courtroom when she can barely give a vocal answer. Well, she has lots of time to figure that out.

“That’s really cool,” you say, “you know, I don’t have the mind for all that. I can’t really sort out one act from the rest. I’m more into bigger narratives than the tiny details.”

She looks at you, still hugging her bag. She’s ready to leave at any moment.

“Why don’t you stay a while?” You poke her bag, “how about we compare notes? I’m sure I missed all the important stuff. This tort gibberish is doing my head in.”

She puts her chin down and slowly lifts the flap of her bag. She slides out her laptop and gently lowers the bag between her feet. She opens the lid, almost reluctant, and her desktop comes to life. You see the email in the corner right before the notif flicks away. A.Barber… Mmm.

For a moment, you feel a pang of guilt. You hope your impromptu invitation doesn’t cost her anything. That he doesn’t hold it against her. You should’ve thought of that sooner.

“Let me find…” she trails off, her finger running over the trackpad.

You wait patiently. No, you don’t feel bad. She deserves this. Like the rest of you, she needs a place to get away. Just a single space where she doesn’t have to be crushed under his thumb.

💮

You sit outside of Dean Drysdale’s office. His secretary types away at her keyboard and you twirl your phone in your grip. It’s mostly a paperweight these days as you ignore almost every message that comes in. Blocking didn’t work on that jag off.

You jiggle your foot anxiously. This meeting is important. You really need this scholarship and through the grace of your hard work, and the regrettable cooperation of a particular professor, you’ve met all the requirements. The last piece, an interview with the dean.

The clock ticks, drawing your attention in the stagnant office. It’s five after. The dean is running late. That doesn’t really matter, he can do whatever he wants. But you’re early and that can only help in his consideration.

You hear muffled voices near the other side of the door. Shadows darken the frosted glass emblazoned with the dean’s name and credentials. You sit up straight but try not to look too eager. The door opens and your heart falls into your ass. Fuck, not this guy.

“Friday,” Dean Drysdale claps Lloyd’s back as they emerge from the office.

“Can’t wait,” Lloyd returns but his eyes are on you, “ah, sorry,” he says to you, “didn’t mean to keep him so late.”

“No problem, professor,” you stand and grip the strap of your bag, masking your disgust with a smile, “Dean Drysdale,” you greet the other man, “nice to meet you. I’m Flora.”

“The one and only,” he doesn’t offer his hand, “looks like you’re running behind so better get started.” He points you into his office, “later, Hansen.”

He tosses the last remark over his shoulder as he turns to follow you through the door. You enter and hover across from his desk. You hate to be presumptuous. He shuts the door with a click.

“Sit,” he orders tersely as he rounds the desk and falls heavy into the leather chair.

You lower yourself. Your nerves are wily, especially after seeing Professor Hansen. You had no idea he was close with the dean.

“Hansen speaks highly of you,” he begins, “as do the rest of your professors.”

“Oh, I, that’s great.”

“So, I have thirty candidates. Why should I choose you?” He leans back, elbow on the armrest, posture nonchalant as he swivels.

“Um, well, I work hard. I keep my average up where it needs to be. I have gotten involved in quite a few extracurriculars, I helped with the library bakesale and–”

“Boring. Got it. That’s all in your application,” he dismisses, “just like all the other ones. Bunch of filler. But why you?”

You’re speechless. You prepared for this but you feel as if you fell into this from thin air. You don’t know what he wants to hear.

“How many parties have you been to?” He asks suddenly.

“What?” You can’t help your surprise.

“Come on. You’re a young coed. I know how it is. So, let’s narrow it down. Fall term, how many?”

You squint and look at the wall, thinking. You’re not much of a partier. You twiddle your fingers and count in your head.

“Four, maybe,” you push your shoulders up. “I don’t really… I mostly just spend my spare time with my friends–”

“Are they hot?” He chuckles and sits up, your mouth falling open. “Relax, I hate these things. So uptight,” he rolls his shoulders as he wheels closer to the desk and plants his elbows, “at least you're honest. The last six freshmen that sat there insisted on a big O. Think they would see the plaque and realise I’m not stupid.”

“Well, I… yeah,” you chew on the tip of your tongue. You really don’t know how to proceed. “I brought a portfolio of my essays–”

“No time for that,” he waves his hand at you, “think I got the picture.”

“Oh,” you frown.

He stares at you, poking his cheek with his tongue as his brows draw together. He hums and sits back, once more swiveling back and forth. He tilts his head and clucks.

“You’ll hear from my secretary,” he declares at last.

“That’s it?” You gulp.

“Yeah, whatever, I got about five more of these today and I need a fucking coffee,” he lifts his feet onto his desk. “Be a doll and send in Sienna when you leave.”

“Um, okay,” you stand slowly, “thanks for your time.”

He doesn’t respond as he takes out his phone. You hide your unease and leave. As you emerge you see the name card on the secretary’s desk. Sienna.

“Er, he told me to send you in,” you approach.

She looks up at you and snaps her gum, “great.”

She gets up as she rolls her eyes and you swiftly march past the desk. You don’t understand what just happened. Did you fuck it up? What did Hansen say? Oh my fucking good, you swear if he–

Your thoughts race ahead of your feet as they carry you without intention. You find yourself in the stairwell, stunned and confused. You turn down the first flight only to dodge out of the way of a figure coming up. You yipe as you find yourself shoved into the corner, Lloyd’s arms outstretched to pen you in.

His hands brace the painted brick as he smirks down at you, “hey, sweet cheeks, long time, no suck.”

You curl your lip at him and snarl, “get away from me.”

You shove on his chest and he retracts his hands, grabbing your wrists. You struggle with him but he easily pushes your hands up, pinning them to the wall. He leers as looms in front of you, his eyes scanning down your body.

“Damn, I forgot how good you look in those skirts. Panties or nah?”

“Fuck off–”

“Always looked better around your waist–”

“I said get the fuck off of me. I’ll scream–”

“I’d love to hear it,” he snickers, “what happened to us, flower? We were doing great. Living life, fucking hard.”

“You’re an animal–”

“We had a good thing, the whole professor-with-benefits gig worked for us, didn’t it? It sure as hell loosened you up. Look at you, all wound tight–”

You snap your teeth at him and he recoils, barely saving his nose from the chomp. He cackles and keeps you trapped, squeezing your wrists tighter. His laughter rolls out to a growl.

“You know, if you get that scholarship, they need two professor’s to sign off on it… but you know, I don’t just put my name on anything–”

“You’re pathetic.”

“I fucking am when I got blue balls, honey,” he scoffs, “just touch em. A little bit.”

You grit your teeth and throw your knee up. You yank your hands free and shoulder past Lloyd as he bends and grips his crotch. He chokes on his breath as he leans against the wall. You bluster away as quickly as you can.

“Not like that,” he gurgles as you charge down the stairs, dizzy as you turn down the next flight. 

So much for that scholarship.

💮

You stare at the C circled in red on your last quiz. Law isn’t your forte, that’s clear. Your GPA and hopes for that scholarship are dwindling in that simple little letter. You look up at the front of the lecture hall as Professor Barber reclaims the podium, preparing to take up the answers as he does every other week.

You sit closer than before. You’re always sure to take the seat next to Brownie and she has yet to tell you to stop. Something about her though suggests that she won’t ever do that. No has been erased from her vocabulary.

You don’t miss the Professor’s eyes as they flit up to your study buddy but quickly meet your own. He darts them away, caught. You wonder, however, if your middling grade has something to do with that. Oh well, you won’t regret doing the right thing.

As you open your laptop, an email pops up in the corner. ‘On Behalf of Dean R. Drysdale’. You click on it before you can stop yourself. You’re holding your breath. You read it slowly.

‘Schedule a follow up for the dean’s decision’.

What? That’s not an answer. Fuck. Why can’t they just put it right there? Yes or no. You have to stop yourself from slamming your laptop shut. You grab your quiz and rest it over your keyboard. You look over at Brownie, she stares at the paper in her hand. She got an A, as always.

“Good job,” you whisper.

“Mmm, yeah,” she returns as she drops the quiz onto her folding desk. “He’s a good teacher…”

“Sure,” you accept dryly.

She glances at you but says nothing. You hate to be sharp with her but it’s pretty obvious what’s going on. You’re just smart enough to know to be cautious. You can only be there for her when she needs you. It would be too risky to do anything else. And not fair to Brownie, that man could destroy her career. You’ve been her, you just hope she finds her way out.

“Alright, let’s get started,” Barber calls out, quieting the class, “it seems we need a lot of review on case law.”

💮

The hour is unexpected but you don’t think much of it. A dean is busier than most and you can’t help but imagine that Drysdale is even less elated to be meeting at such an off-time. Seven in the evening on a Friday is prime time, even for those outside the coed population.

You show up to an empty office. Sienna is gone, the place desolate. The vibe is off. Something about it reminds you of another meeting. No, this isn’t Hansen. Still, you’re on edge, vigilant as you approach the dean’s door, an amber glow through the frosted glass.

You knock and cross one arm over your chest, clutching your upper arm. You sway as you wait. Deja vu paralyses you on the spot. It can’t be. It can’t happen twice. This is about the scholarship.

The door opens and Drysdale steps back as he gives a flippant greeting, “come in.”

He has a glass in hand, a dark brown liquid in marbled crystal. He sips as the door falls open. You step inside and look around the office, the framed degree behind his chair and the several photographs placed around them; a previous dean with his imperious features, and a large house with a rustic landscape crowded around it. You hover at the threshold.

“Close the door,” he sits heavily, “these old buildings are drafty as–” he stops himself and smirks. 

He drains the last of his drink, liquor by your measure, and puts it on the marble coaster. You shut the door and sit, just like last time. You can’t help but be slightly irked to think he brought you all the way here to issue you a rejection.

“So, top three,” he points a finger gun at you as he slumps in the same lackadaisical way, “Flora… you’re a star. Shining reviews. Can’t say my professors ever said anything nice about me but you… you even got Hansen singing your praises.”

“Oh,” you utter.

“I’ve known him a while. We were in the same frat, you know? He was a senior when I was a freshman, hazed me real good but look how things turned out,” he leans an elbow on the armrest and cradles his chin. He watches you. “All these years and I never heard him say anything nice about a fucking student.”

You’re put off by the obscenity. Further, upended by his history with Lloyd. What does that have to do with anything?

“You know, he’s all about self-discipline but you get a few scotches down his gullet and he’s like an open book. Also…” he raises a finger, “leaves his phone unlocked.”

You try not to let that suspicion turn to panic. He can’t know. Even if he did, it’s not your fault. He should be talking with Hansen, not you. He’s the one abusing his position.

“You let him fuck you in his car,” he sits up and laughs, his hand on his stomach, “looking at you, I never would’ve guessed.”

“What? How–”

“I mean, he was hitting it from quite the angle so I don’t blame you for not noticing the phone in his front pocket…”

“No.”

“Yes,” he cackles. “Listen, sweetie, it’s not the first time it’s happened. Some girls just don’t have anything else to offer, so who am I to be mad if they use what they got.”

“I’m not– I’m not like that. He made me–”

“Oh, I’m sure the promise of an A plus helped,” he scoffs as he lets his hand drift down his stomach, “so what can a scholarship get me?”

He gropes himself through his russet coloured pants. Your throat constricts as you clutch your purse tight in your lap. You’re rigid, alight in horror and shame. Of course Lloyd didn’t walk away without something.

“I’ve waited twenty years for this,” he plants his feet.

“No, I’m not– I’m not doing this again.”

You stand and Drysdale rips his hand away from his crotch, snapping his fingers, “with that video, I could take you to the review board and have you kicked out. Not only that, all your credits would be invalidated.”

You swallow and wince. No, this can’t be happening. Again. You’re stronger than this. You’re worth more than these men’s dicks.

“So, sweetie pie,” he reaches forward and takes his phone off his desk, “we’re gonna make a nice little video for Hansen and show him how it’s really done.”

You shudder and hug yourself, “I…” your throat is dry, your heart hollow. What other choice do you have? You’ll lose everything. “I’ll do it, but no video. Please.”

“My rules. I am the dean and you are… the slutty coed.” He tuts, “mmm, classic Pornhub fodder.” He taps the screen of his phone, “let’s go. Get your clothes off.”

He aims the lens at you. You look at the floor. You can’t move.

“Please, turn it off.”

“Get your fucking clothes off,” he repeats, “I want to remind that fuckface what he’s missing out on.”

You dig your nails into the back of your arms then let go. You keep your head down as you lift the strap of your purse over your head and throw it in the chair behind you. You unzip your coat and shrug it off. The room rings in your ear and blurs in your vision. Your breaths are shallow and painful. Your skin is buzzing.

Your coat falls and you pull down the straps of the denim dress you wear over a flowered blouse. You shimmy it past your waist and peek up for just a minute. Drysdale bites his thumb as he records you.

You quickly tear away your gaze and continue. You unbutton the blouse and turn as you fight to free your wrists from the cuffs. Goosebumps speckle over your skin. You close your eyes and ball your hands before pushing your fingers wide. You touch the top of your stockings.

“You can leave those on, cheeks.”

You gulp and retract your hands. You pause and turn back to face the desk.

“Tits out, ass out, go on.”

No wonder he’s tight with Lloyd. Birds of a feather. You reach back to undo your bra and sling it onto the chair. You hook your thumbs in your panties and step out of them.

“I always liked an extra helping,” Drysdale taunts, “her cups overfloweth… is that Shakespeare?”

You don’t answer. You fight the urge to hide behind your arms. You raise your head. You have a morsel of dignity left in you.

“Come here,” he demands, “I wanna fuck those tits.”

You cringe but obey. If Lloyd taught you anything it was to just get it over with. You round the desk as he opens his fly. He pulls himself out above the zipper, playing with himself, rolling his thumb over his tip as he growls.

“Knees, baby, I’m sure you know the drill,” he snickers. You get down as he wiggles his dick in your direction, “push those things together.” You grab your chest and smush it together. He taps your tits with his tip and laughs, enjoying his mocking.

He guides himself down under your tits and slides between. He cups a hand around yours as he refocuses the phone on you. He rocks the chair back, moving his pelvis as he slowly starts to thrust. He groans at the friction. You clench your jaw tight, dreaming of biting off the end of his overinflated worm.

His breath hitches as he fucks faster, the bottom of his wolly sweater rolling up his muscles stomach. You could just punch him right there. You could grab him by his balls and twist. No, that would only assure you of your scholarly doom.

“Look at me,” he demands.

You snap your eyes open as he shoves the phone in your face. You shy away but he keeps fucking, turning the lens down towards your tits. He gives a breathy laugh and it trickles into a moan. Weak and pathetic.

“Shit, yeah, that’s good,” he groans, “give it a kiss, baby.”

You grit back your disgust. You bend your neck and kiss his tip as it pokes through.

“With tongue.”

You force your tongue out as his tip pops up again and you swirl around it, planting a sloppy kiss on the salty flesh. He twitches and hisses. He pulls his hand away from yours and grips the chair.

“That’s good, get up,” he snarls, “turn around.”

You suck in a chestful of air and do as he says. You get to your feet and turn away. He grabs your hips and rolls closer. 

“Bend over.”

You bend and rest your elbows on the edge of the desk. He angles you down into his lap, your body stretched between the two. He rubs his dick against your ass, once more tapping. He kneads the flesh. You shake your head as he tilts you further down.

He prods at your cunt and you can’t help but clench. He pushes against your entrance, tight and burning as he grunts, bulling his way past the resistance with a slap against your thigh. He latches onto your hip and pulls you down another inch.

“It’s all you. You just gotta fuck that scholarship outta me.”

You bite your lip and force yourself to take him. You hip down until you reach your limit but before you can pull back up, he grabs on and holds you in place.

“More.”

You sink your teeth in deeper, urging yourself lower until it’s unbearable. You take him in fully and let out a shaky breath through your nose. You raise your ass as he lets you go. He lets out a raspy noise and you repeat the motion. You keep your motion mechanical and slow, trying to adjust.

“Faster. I wanna see you jiggle.”

You roll your eyes and claw at your arm, arms crossed over the desk as you rock your weight over him. The flesh claps loudly as his chair squeaks with each descent. He groans and gulps, hand wandering over your flesh, along your thighs, across your ass, up your back.

“Fuck, look at her go,” he snarks, “you work that dick. Just like that.”

You close your eyes and let the scowl mar your features. You speed up. He’s almost there. You can feel the tension, you can hear it in his voice.

“Ah,” he pinches you meanly, “stop!”

You try to keep going but he pushes you off of him. He growls and the chair jars as he sits up. You puff and peek around your shoulder at him.

“I’m cumming in your fucking mouth,” he cradles his balls, half-keeled over. “Open the fuck up before I blow–”

You get back to your knees and glare at him. You won’t falter. You have nothing over these men but that. You lean your head back and open your mouth. He lets himself go and holds the camera over you.

“Well, not gonna finish itself.”

You grab him, roughly, and he grunts. A warning. You ease up and stroke him, placing your mouth by his tip. 

“Look into the camera, cheeks.”

You glare at the camera, you hope it can catch the sheer loathing radiating from you. You stroke him, squeezing harder and harder until he spasms and mewls. He spurts all over, missing your mouth and streaking up the bridge of your noises and across your brow, a few strings over your cheek. 

He gasps and clings to the chair as if he might slip out of it, the camera drooping with his arm. You let him go and wipe your slimy hand. You stand and snatch a tissue from the box on his desk and wipe the mess from your face. His heavy breaths fill the silence.

“Can I go?” You ask flatly.

“I got nothing else for you,” he spits out.

You refuse to look at him as you dress. He chuckles. You fight not to turn around and throw every single thing on his desk at him. You hate him. You hate Lloyd. But more, you hate yourself.

“Congratulations,” he says as you pick up your purse, “did I mention, paperwork went through yesterday.”

You whip around and stare at him. You quake with anger, eyes hot with unspent tears.

“Hey, even I got deadlines. Had to make the call last week.”

You take a step back. What the fuck? You stumble away, ready to scream, ready to strangle this man. For now, you’ll settle for never having to see him again.

#ransom drysdale #dark ransom drysdale #dark!ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #au #series #campus au #multifandom #lloyd hansen #dark lloyd hansen #dark!lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #the gray man #knives out

[mysteria157]

Chapter 18

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

Word Count: ~13k (it’s a long one)

CW: angst, fluff, profanity, explicit sexual content, mental illness (anxiety and grief)

Summary: You keep Nanami afloat on the anniversary of Yu’s death. Nanami finally works up the courage on a warm day of Sakura season. 

Notes: Thank you to all who have been supportive so far. Reblogs, likes, or comments are always appreciated <3 One more chapter and I’m so sad to let it go. But happy reading and I hope you enjoy!

Divider: @cafekitsune

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It Had To Be You Masterlist (Complete)

**Do not plagiarize any of my works or translate without my permission!**

You had a feeling today would be rough. 

You could tell from Kento’s behavior the day prior. His typically reserved nature seemed even more pronounced in your interactions. There was a heaviness to his indifferent gaze, a solemnness that lingered whenever he fixed his eyes on something for too long.

He had given up trying to hide his emotions from you long ago. You knew the reason of his shift in demeanor. Why pretend? You could sense his unease intensifying, like a silent wave rising in dark waters, growing with every passing second and on the verge of carrying him away at a moment’s notice. 

So you made sure to wake up before him, and when you took in his form as he slept, you couldn’t help but notice the subtle fractures emerging. 

This time, no snores escaped from his lips, and the absence of the sound somehow punctuated the deepening sadness that had begun to envelop him the day before. Your eyes traversed the contours of his bare back, tracing the sinewy lines of his muscular arms tucked beneath the pillow cradling his head. He lay facing you, his cheek indented by the press of his pillow against it, his disheveled blonde locks cascading messily across his forehead and cheeks. Blonde lashes delicately brushed the lower rimes of his eyes, and his back gently rose and fell in rhythm with slow breaths. 

To anyone else, he was a handsome man sleeping. But to you, you could tell he was fighting. Even in slumber, devoid of any waking expression, you could still see faint traces of sorrow seeping through his pores.  

You had a feeling today would be rough.

After all, who could cope well on the anniversary of their best friend’s death? 

For as strong and resilient as Kento was, you knew he couldn’t. 

So you did your best to distract him. You asked him to help with breakfast—a task he normally tried to do without you having to say much. And that small task seemed to help him divert his focus from Yu, if only for a moment. You kept him engaged, kept him talking as you both ate together and Ulani smashed waffle strips into her mouth.

And luckily, he didn’t fend off any of your attempts of distraction the entire day. Even though he was quieter than usual, the smile that he shot your way was just as genuine and loving. You pulled him out of the house with Ulani to meet Kaya and Aiko at the park. It would be good to get him out of the house, to let him breathe fresh air to dispel the toxic emotions that lingered within him. 

He seemed okay.

At least he did now as you watched him from your perch under a canopy of leaves against the oak tree you laid against. He stood tall amidst the sea of other children in the space of the tranquil park, Ulani in his arms and Aiko perched on his shoulders. Her hands were buried in his blonde locks, uncaring of messing them up as she giggled loudly in response to whatever he was speaking up to her. For now, that grief had settled into a low simmer, his deep eyes filled with mirth as he joked with the two girls wrapped around him. 

“Uncle Ken! Uncle Ken! Do the thing! Do it!” Aiko giggled excitedly, unable to contain her joy as she wriggled atop his shoulders.

Kento hummed playfully, gently squeezing Ulani’s cheeks until she squealed in his embrace. “The thing? Aiko, you’ll have to use your words. I can’t read your mind,” he goaded, making Aiko giggle even harder, face blushing with ceaseless laughter.

“The thing!” she whined, smiling down at him as he continued to play with his daughter.

“The thing. The thing. Hmmm.” He pretended to ponder for a moment, pursing his lips. 

Aiko’s giggles stopped short when Kento grabbed her ankle and lifted her off his shoulders, dangling her upside down while still holding his babbling daughter with the other arm. Aiko pealed with laughter, the sound echoing through the park, bouncing against the plastic of the playground they stood at. Kento chuckled softly, slowly spinning in a circle as he delighted in Aiko’s please for more.

As you watched them, your back leaning against the trunk of the thick oak tree, butterflies quivered to life in your stomach. It was a moment you never imagined you would experience. In the past, you had weakly clutched onto a desire for children, a partner—a family. But work always consumed your time, leaving little room for anything that you could do for yourself. It all seemed like a distant dream, just like your passion for a career in ceramics.

But seeing Kento now, watching him rearrange Aiko and lift her so she could wrap small hands around monkey bars, you couldn’t help but feel thankful for falling into that 1% of faulty birth control. Even with an IUD and a condom, you still ended up pregnant. And maybe it was fate because Kento was a wonderful father. Once that mask of his had fallen, and his glares had slowly morphed into soft, rare smiles and longing glances, you could see just how much of him would foster the wonderful father he had become.

You couldn’t help but think about more with him. You couldn’t help but imagine vacations across the world with your little family. You couldn’t help but imagine him working at the bakery in the mornings, teaching Ulani how to knead bread and man the register, throwing off his apron as soon as he walked into the house and pressing a tired yet loving kiss to your lips. 

Over a year ago, the ease with which you had settled into domesticity with Kento would have made you uncomfortable. But with him, it felt as natural as breathing. He blended effortlessly into your life; his presence seamlessly woven into the fabric of your being. 

Watching him leave Aiko’s side so she could play on her own, his strong arms wrapped around his daughter as he showered her light brown cheeks with kisses—your breath caught in your chest.

You wanted more.

It was an ever-present thought in your mind. It nagged at you with each kiss that he craved to have each day. It whispered in your mind every night as you drifted off to sleep and as you woke up by his side. It lingered in your thoughts during shared dinners with the three of you, and it grew more pronounced every time your gaze shifted to his left hand, unsettling you with the absence of a ring. 

Part of your soul wanted to recoil at the thought. The mere mention of fantasizing about marriage would have made your women’s studies professor burn every letter of recommendation she gave you. But the other part of you relished in it. Because if there was a way to tie yourself to Kento, you would do it in a second.

“Lost in thought?” Kaya’s voice broke through the haze, jolting you back to reality. You blinked and refocused, finding her reclining on the tree trunk beside you, her legs stretched out in front of her. “You’ve been zoned out for a good ten minutes.”

Instead of answering her, you deflected, not quite comfortable sharing your thoughts. “How are you feeling?”

Kaya took a deep breath, her shoulders rising and falling with a heavy weight. “Surprisingly fine. Well, as fine as one can be on a day like this.” Aiko called out for Kento’s attention, and Kaya smiled softly as she watched her play on the monkey bars. 

“Uncle Ken, watch me!”

“I’m watching. I’m watching.”

“I miss him so much…he was everything to me,” Kaya whispered. The pain in her voice made your own chest tighten as you tried to put yourself in her shoes. You couldn’t imagine losing Kento. You couldn’t even fathom the thought of Ulani having to grow up without a father like him. “That pain will always be there. But it’s gotten a little easier to deal with.” Kaya waved at her daughter, answering Aiko’s loud call for attention, and chuckled softly to herself. 

You hoped Kento could say the same. You hoped his pain had reached a level where he could find get through today without drowning.

You just hoped you were doing well to help.

Eventually, Kento made his way to where you and Kaya were seated on the blanket, nestled beneath the canopy of leaves. He gently placed Ulani on the soft fabric and delighted in watching her crawl towards you, her cheeks rosy from laughter, her mouth glistening with drool, and her wild curls tousled by the wind. As he slid down the tree to settle himself next to you, he turned his head, pressing a tender kiss to your temple, filling you with a burst of warmth. You took that touch with you and nestled it inside of your chest in the hope that it was a manifestation of just how content he felt in that very moment.

In the afternoon, you found yourself surrounded by the rest of your friends—Gojo, Shoko, Geto and Ome—all laughing loudly and picking out items on a menu that were Yu’s favorite, inside of a restaurant that he loved. The gentle look in Kento’s eyes surprisingly had yet to fall. Even as your friends told stories of moments shared with Yu, as the history grew more intimate and somber, he remained steady. 

He was more tense as you all sat together afterward beneath Yu’s tree, offering their own bits of peace and well wishes at his resting place. When it was Kento’s turn, he chose to stay silent, and no one pressed him to speak. Gojo didn’t tease him, Geto’s gaze didn’t linger too long, and you shifted closer to him, cradling Ulani in your arms as she peacefully slept. 

When everyone finally departed for home, Kento remained rooted to his spot, his serious eyes fixed on the small nameplate that bore Yu’s name and the dates of his birth and passing. The April evening grew colder, but the warmth emanating from Kento’s wool trench coat provided some comfort as you waited for him to speak.

But he didn’t. And as more minutes passed, you began to feel as if he probably never would. You observed the delicate lines of his eyebrows furrowing, the weariness painting his voice as he finally broke the silence. 

“I’m not really sure of what to say,” he admitted, his words heavy with fatigue and pain. “Is that bad?”

“No. The fact that you’re even here is more than enough, Ken,” you reassured him, but he seemed unsatisfied. His brow creased deeper, and a faint frown began to etch its way onto his face. “You can tell him about your day. Tell him about Gojo ordering three lava cakes after dinner and scarfing them down in two minutes. Tell him that Ulani is starting to eat more solid foods and how she loves yogurt but isn’t a fan of peas.” 

The small huff of laughter that you were seeking finally fell from him, puffed into the air in a warm exhale that made you feel a little less frigid. Kento looked over at you, his furrowed brow softening slightly.

“The point is, it doesn’t have to be grandiose. And I’m sure Yu would hate that you had to force yourself to speak when you weren’t ready. So…” you trailed off, adjusting Ulani in your arms so she was snugly wrapped in your wool coat, her warm body providing solace against the cold. Reaching out, you found Kento’s hand, intertwining your fingers with his. “So we can just sit here and just…be.”

He glanced down at your joined hands, his burnt-umber gaze tracing the delicate curves of your fingers. You watched as they softened when his gaze fell on the bundle sleeping in your coat, watched as his shoulders relaxed with his next exhale and his irises slid up to catch yours.

“So we can just…be. Here together. Me and you?” 

His voice was weak, revealing an exposed vulnerability that made him seem raw and open. You knew deep down that he understood you would never leave him in a moment like this, but right now, Kento needed the reassurance.

And you freely gave it, offering a gentle squeeze of his hand and a warm smile. “Me and you,” you affirmed, allowing that serious gaze, etched into your memory, to momentarily flash with resolution. It seemed as if something he had been contemplating for a long time had finally come full circle.

But the moment flickered away in an instant, replaced by Kento’s tender gesture of lifting your hand to his, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, and giving the cold air one more weary exhale before turning his gaze back to Yu’s tree, finding solace amidst the silence.

***

Sakura season in Nakameguro was one of the most treasured in Tokyo. And you could understand why. Even though you and Kento had arrived early at the Meguro River, the streets lining the river were teeming with both tourists and locals.

Amidst the bustling crowds and long lines at every vendor you passed, the beauty of the cherry blossom trees in full bloom couldn’t be denied. Delicate white petals, emerged from their buds, and billowed in the surprisingly warm late April air. The water was still, casting a reflection of the trees that arched over it, cherry blossoms floating on top.

Growing up in Sendai, you were used to wearing a Yukata with Ome and her family for Hanami. Each year, you made an effort to find a different color, and during the times when you couldn’t buy one for yourself, Ome’s mother would kindly gift one to you, knowing your own mother didn’t bother with the tradition. 

But in Nakameguro, everyone who walked past you was dressed in casual clothes, bundled for a little extra warmth, and armed with cameras to capture the festivities. You settled for a long dress instead. Ulani, her legs kicking excitedly in the carrier strapped to Kento’s chest, donned a pink onesie designed to resemble a kimono, a thoughtful gift from Chiyo. Ulani of course, looked absolutely adorable. Her abundant light brown curls framed her face, secured by a small headband to keep them out of her eyes. Kento had insisted on taking countless photos before you even left the house and unlike most babies who made their irritation known, Ulani flourished in the attention her father gave.

At nine months old, Ulani brimmed with energy and an insatiable curiosity that made her father understandably nervous. She babbled in a string of syllables, not yet forming coherent words, but her enthusiasm was limitless. Despite her animated exclamations and her tendency to explore everything she could reach, she observed the world around her with a gaze that mirrored her father’s—sharp, serious, and seemingly indifferent, except for the frequent bursts of squeals and laughter. Just like her father. 

Meanwhile, said father was too busy exploring the food stalls to notice the intrigued gazes of everyone around him.

You wanted to be annoyed but…could you blame them? 

Kento, despite his awkwardness in social situations with unfamiliar faces, exuded nothing but sin. Sinewy legs clad in crisp slacks, accentuating his muscular frame, and a ribbed knit sweater hugged his torso in a delicious way that made your mouth water. His thick blonde locks, styled in their signature fashion, were neatly gelled, although he had once again forgone his glasses.

Too handsome for his own good but you didn’t have the energy to glare at everyone. He had freely given you more than enough in the shower that morning.

You could behave. For now.

“What was Hanami like for you in Sendai?” he asked, his voice hushed yet resonating in the bustling atmosphere around you. His gaze fixated on a skewer of Dango—an assortment of pink, green, and white as Ulani occupied herself with a sliver of banana, her sticky fingers and puckered mouth evidence of her snack.

“More traditional than this,” you replied, accepting the Dango from the vendor before turning to him. Kento’s eyes widened minutely in curiosity, his foodie nature front and center. He plucked a Dango from the stick and popped it into his mouth, savoring the sweet and chewy rice morsel that burst with flavor on his tongue. 

“Sendai has a small-town feel within a big city. During Sakura season, we wore Yukatas and Getas. We had a cherry blossom tree lighting and much fewer stalls with local goods,” you elaborated, pulling a playful grumble from Kento as he tore another piece of Dango in half and offered it to a grabby Ulani.

“So the city of Sendai gets to see you in a Yukata, and I don’t? I find that unfair,” he protested with a teasing tone, cheeks flushing slightly in a rare display of bashfulness. 

“If this is some sort of Edo-period fantasy you have, you’re gonna have to warm me up before you ask me to get kinky.”

Kento choked on a piece of Dango, sputtering and red face as he waved his hand toward you. “That’s not—"

“Nanamin!” a familiar voice called from behind you. Kento’s surprise instantly faded, already recovered from choking and face replaced by a natural annoyance as Gojo approached. Towering over the crowd, his white hair enhancing his pale complexion, Gojo was dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt, simple to anyone else but still stamped with a designer label. “Don’t pout, this is a happy occasion! I always want to see you. For once, show me that you love me,” he joked, chuckling more to himself before beaming at Ulani. “And hello, my beautiful girl! How about we go find something sweet to eat?” Without hesitation, he scooped Ulani from the carrier, ignoring Kento’s grunt of disapproval. 

“Ask first, Gojo. Don’t snatch my daughter like a thief,” Kento snapped, reaching for her and blanching when Gojo pulled your daughter out of his reach.

“I’m her godfather.”

“How you equate that with permission to do what you want, is beyond me.”

Gojo turned to you, alien blue eyes seeking support that he would never find. You rolled your eyes. “Gojo, stop bothering Kento and ask before you pick up Ulani.” Handing him the diaper bag, you added, “Keep your phone on and only give her foods that we talked about. No experimenting.”

“But—”

“Would you like me to tell Ome that you no longer are the godfather to our child?” Gojo immediately frowned, his gaze resembling that of a child denied candy, before grumbling and walking away. 

Kento rolled his eyes, tightening the empty carrier closer to himself and muttering his annoyance in a way that made you hold back a snicker. 

“It’s Gojo being Gojo. He loves Ulani.”

“He’s rude,” Kento tried to argue.

“And yet, you love him.” He didn’t disagree, his cheeks ruddy in embarrassment as he sighed and fumbled with the strap of his Cartier watch. “This is your stomping ground so how about we take this small moment we both have and have some fun, hmm?” You leaned up, standing on your toes to press a warm kiss to his cheek that seemed to settle his pout. He sighed dramatically, lacing his fingers with yours, and pulled you along the street.

You both savored every moment of your time together. Most of this year, your time with one another was spent caring for Ulani or navigating the challenges and discomforts of your pregnancy. Now, with your daughter under the care of her eccentric godfather, Kento could pull you along from vendor to vendor, immersing you in the vibrant atmosphere.

He complained teasingly as you both picked through a bento, remarking how your tomagoyaki and grilled fish was far superior to what the vendor had prepared. He brought you to a small stand that sold Cherry Blossom cookies, sharing that it was a place he frequented every year during his youth. He entertained a kiss on your cheek as you snapped a picture of you both in front of the river. Later in the day, as Ome and Gojo joined you again, Kento bought the three portions of Inari Sushi, eating his portion swiftly before Gojo could sneak his hands onto the plate.

“Nanamin, stop being unfair!”

Kento couldn’t deny that he was truly enjoying himself. Even his quips to Gojo lacked its usual sharpness. Between the two of you, you always brought the most energy and liveliness. You laughed freely, indulged in every snack Kento offered you from the stalls, and unabashedly leaned into him, wrapping your arm around his and resting your head on his shoulder, cherishing his warmth as he joked with an always loud Ome. 

He was happy and content and surprised at his own luck. 

Gojo insisted on stopping at a vendor selling woven flower accessories made from fallen cherry blossoms. Gojo pulled Ome close, ignoring her protests as he demanded a bracelet be crafted in front of him before paying. Kento felt you chuckle from next to him, no doubt taking in the way Ome blushed as Gojo wrapped his arm around her, no longer caring if the action would earn violence. Because Gojo knew, deep down, that things had changed between them. And Ome knew, deep down, that violence would make him work harder.

Normally, Kento wouldn’t pay much attention to this particular vendor every year. He didn’t consider it significant because he never had someone to give a flower accessory to, and his father always bought one for his mother. But he had a reason to now. As he made to reach into his pocket for his wallet, he stopped short when he saw one of the vendors grab your wrist and pull you towards an empty chair next to the stall. 

You were a little shocked, already put off from having a person touch you freely, but you reeled in disbelief when the vendor reached for your loose curls, your head arching away from her on reflex. Kento felt anger flare in his chest, a rage he rarely felt bubbling to the surface, his mouth opening to bark at the woman to leave. However, she quickly stopped and held up a bundle of flowers, gesturing towards your hair and asking if she could weave them in.

“Would you like to go?” Kento asked you, unable to hide the fury in his eyes. “We can if you’re uncomfortable.” He watched your eyes flicker to the woman as she bowed softly in apology and you sighed softly, relaxing and offering a weak smile to the woman instead.

“I’m fine, Ken. I promise.”

It took him a minute more to be completely content with your response. But he let Gojo pull him away, across the skinny street to rest against the rail outlining the Meguro River, Kento’s eyes never leaving yours. Ulani squirmed in her carrier around his chest, fidgeting and whining in frustration as she took in the distance from you. As the woman began weaving cherry blossoms into your and Ome’s hair, you waved at your daughter from across the street, the unique bond between you tugging at your heart. 

“Mrs. Nanami always looks beautiful, doesn’t she?” Gojo remarked from beside Kento, as he pulled a piece of Dango from a skewer that mysteriously appeared in his hand. 

Always.

The word lingered on Kento’s tongue, tempted to acknowledge Gojo’s statement but knowing it would only lead to a slew of immature comments. The title he had given you wasn’t lost to Kento either, because he thought about it so frequently that it was beginning to drive him insane.

Nowadays he felt like such a fool when he stood next to you. Any other man would have gotten on their knees within months—weeks of having you as theirs and begged for more. 

And he wanted to, desperately. But if there was one thing you could do without trying, it was make him nervous. Make him sweat and shift in his shoes because he didn’t deserve you. No one did. You had chosen him, but he could be replaced at any moment despite your protests otherwise.

A vendor who had finished working on Ome’s hair walked across the street towards Kento, her hands filled with cherry blossoms. She politely asked if she could weave them into Ulani’s hair. Kento allowed it, absentmindedly caressing his daughter’s chubby cheek to keep her distracted as he watched her giggle and babble with the woman. 

The white flowers perfectly adorned her hair, creating a delicate halo against her light brown curls. Gojo showered her with compliments, leaning down to her eye level and sharing a bright smile as Ulani giggled in response.

Kento should have been paying more attention, his heart should have swelled with joy at the sight of his daughter’s happiness. But he was distracted, his voice thick in his throat. As the vendor returned to her stand, Kento took notice of you. The cherry blossoms adorning your hair seemed as if they belonged there, nestled delicately within your loose curls that he had the privilege of running his hands through time and time again. They were arranged with exquisite precision, made to look as if they floated within a sea of darkness. 

He felt it again, that same feeling that had been consuming his thoughts for months— that had blared to the point of a headache a few weeks ago as you both sat together at Yu’s tree. That heaviness in his pocket suddenly felt hot, burning the skin of his thigh, screaming at him to stop being such a coward.

Kento locked eyes with you from across the street, familiar irises that he looked at every single day that had never failed to be any less beautiful than the day before. And like he so often saw, you threw him a lift of your brow, a mischievous glint in your stare that made his chest clench and a chuckle rise from the pit of his stomach.

“Tell your daddy to set the date,” Gojo spoke to his goddaughter, earning a glare from Kento and a harsh bark to leave him alone, batting at the snickering white-haired man as he crossed the street for Ome.

***

From the moment you walked to him after having flowers woven into your hair, Kento was noticeably less talkative than before. He chalked it up to the increased traffic of people around you both, but you could see through him as always. Although his smiles and laughter remained genuine, he seemed timid and nervous.

By the time you all made it home, Ulani was exhausted and fussy. Kento volunteered to bathe her and put her to bed, leaving you alone with your anxious thoughts. You tidied up the house, neatly putting away Ulani’s toys, folding the throw blanket back onto the sofa, and walking to the backdoor to make sure it was locked. Your eyes caught the moonlight that brightened your backyard.

This year’s winter had been harsh and unforgiving, but despite its grip, Spring made the grass grow back plentiful and thick. Kento had installed a swinging bench for you soon after Ulani was born so you could sway outside with her in peace, but it’s been months since you sat yourself on it. 

But it was nice enough now, and you couldn’t resist the call of the warm evening and found yourself sliding open the door, carrying yourself towards the darkly stained bench. As you settled onto its solid surface, you began to sway gently, soaking up the silence of the air around you, the neighborhood quiet as everyone settled for sleep. 

Maybe Kento had a headache. He avoided large crowds and noise for that very reason. Stupidity and rudeness frustrated him more than Gojo at times, and he was quick to grow impatient with the desire to be in the privacy of his home with his small family. He probably put on a smile and suffered through a lot more for you to enjoy Hanami. 

Your mind was racing with thoughts and excuses to justify his shift in behavior, growing more anxious and desperate by the minute. You felt your heart give a painful lurch, your neck began to sweat, and your hands began to tremble. Those dreadful tendrils of anxiety once again began to cackle in your ears and wrap slowly around your throat.

He’s going to break up with you. He’s going to walk out here and say how he couldn’t do this anymore. He’s going to try to do whatever he could to justify his only choice to leave you. The teasing had finally gotten too much for him. The grip of fatherhood too consuming to bear and—

You were restless, shooting up from the bench and making your way to the middle of your backyard. The soft, cool grass cushioned your steps and brushed against the thin fabric of your dress as you laid down, your eyes too sensitive of the full moon but still strong enough to appreciate the faint stairs twinkling in the sky.

“Don’t be so stupid,” you whispered to yourself. “He wouldn’t leave. Not like this.”

Bending your knees and sinking your toes into the grass, you grounded yourself into the present, rooted yourself in sanity and detaching from the haunting whispers in your ears.

The sound of the backdoor sliding open momentarily caused you to tense, but you kept your gaze fixated on the sky, attempting to identify constellations with your limited knowledge of astronomy.

The big dipper? Orion’s belt? Fuck, Sagittarius?

You had never been more envious of an astronomer in this very moment as Kento sank into the grass next to you, placing the baby monitor between you both, the low hum of static breaking through the quiet air. 

“She was exhausted,” he murmured. You hummed in reply, still lost in your own thoughts and trying to figure out if the object in front of you was a star or just a trick of the light. Your distracted response pulled his attention to you. “Are you okay?”

You bit the inside of your lip, your eyes still on the stars above you. “Have I done something to upset you? After the flower vendor, you got really quiet for the rest of the day.”

He didn’t respond at first, and your heart picked up in speed from the growing silence even as he sagged on his back next to you, his eyes tracing the stars in the sky.

“I could never be upset with you.”

“Lies. If you’re going to leave me, soften the blow by giving me an orgasm first so I’m not so upset.”

He chuckled softly, a spirited smile dancing on his lips as he eyed a small cluster of stars. “Since the moment you allowed me to be involved in the pregnancy, the thought of leaving you has never crossed my mind,” he confessed. “Even on the days when we’re exhausted and we argue, or when we crave solitude, the idea of leaving you, of not having you in my life, is inconceivable to me.”

“Inconceivable?” you pestered, nudging him with your elbow. “Such strong words.”

“You tease me relentlessly, would you like me to stop speaking?” he reproached, a smile in his voice. You bit back a laugh, choosing instead to weave your fingers between his in the space of grass between you in a silent concession to behave. “You have no idea how impossible it is for me to forget about you,” he continued. “Even when we couldn’t stand each other, you were all I thought about. I drove my mother crazy, ranting almost every day about how frustrated I was. And when the idea of becoming a father initially shocked me, knowing that it connected me to you brought me such an overwhelming satisfaction.”

Kento gave your intwined hands a squeeze.

“I’ve been in my own head these past few hours…and I’m sorry if I seemed distant with you. It’s important to me that you know that leaving you is inconceivable to me because I can’t imagine raising a child with anyone else. I can’t envision going to sleep or waking up beside anyone else. I can’t fathom a future without you by my side.”

You heart fluttered in your chest, thumping erratically against your ribcage as his words floated through the night air and landed on your cheeks. A soothing stillness settled between the two of you, as the moonlight bathed your skin and you struggled to swallow the quickly forming lump in your throat. Those tendrils of anxiety that had wrapped around you earlier suddenly dissipated, leaving only a lingering sense of love and certainty from his hand between yours.

“So what you’re saying is that you wanna grow old with me?” you playfully quipped, a smile spreading across your face. “You wanna get travel the world with me, get a bigger house and have babies? Marry me and honeymoon on an island that you always talk about?” 

You turned your head to face him, observing his flushed cheeks and slightly widened eyes as he looked up at the night sky. Though he didn’t appear afraid, that nervous expression from earlier in the day had once again returned and painted his features. You sat up immediately, scooting closer to him and furrowing your brows in worry. 

“Ken? I was only kidding. I’m sorry, I took that too far didn’t I?” 

Once again, he remained silent, a silence that stretched on for too long, intensifying your unease. But then, a strong arm wrapped around you, pulling you onto his lap so that your legs bracketed his waist. He sat up slowly, closing the distance between you both until you felt your back brush against his knees that were bent to hold you against him. 

You kept your gaze away from him, focusing on the strands of your curls that had fallen over your shoulder, decorated with the cherry blossoms from earlier. 

“I should stop teasing you so much. I’ve done it a little too much today and—”

“My love,” he interrupted, his voice gentle yet resolute, silencing your anxious ramblings. “That is what I was trying to say.” Your hands squeezed a thick chunk of your hair tightly, the soft white petals crushed against your palm as your nerves tingled with anticipation. “I do want to grow old with you. I do want to travel the world and go on adventures with you. I do want to get a bigger house. I want to one day have more children. I want every mundane activity, every birthday and holiday, everything. And yes…” His finger delicately lifted your chin, compelling you to look up at him. Your ears buzzed, the sound of your own heartbeat drowning out everything else, even though you could still hear him perfectly. “I want to marry you...and honeymoon on one of those islands that I talk so much about.”

Your eyes widened, face flushing from the heat that had bubbled beneath your cheeks, hands clutching your hair tightly to steady yourself as much as you could. 

“N-now you’re teasing,” you whispered, smiling weakly up at him, all pretense of your typical defense suddenly drained.

Serious eyes studied you, softly contemplating a variety of choices before he stood, picked you up and set you on your feet. He towered over you, his face illuminated by the moonlight, casting a pale blue glow on his sharp cheek bones and shadows through the long strands that fell over his eyebrows. His hair was no longer parted, cascading messily against his cheeks.

Reaching up, he slid a warm palm along your cheek, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. His touch was always too much and yet just enough. It made you feel as if you were drowning and also at the top of a mountain. The resolute look you had caught weeks ago, as you both sat under Yu’s tree, could still be seen in his eyes—strong and vibrant, washing over you now with a realization too overpowering for your doubts to suppress.

“I can assure you, I am in no way teasing,” he finally spoke, tender and filled with longing. He stopped tracing your lips, slid his hand along the side of your neck and down the expanse of your arm before twining his fingers once again with yours. “Maybe I should be a little more convincing.” 

The sting behind your eyes came without warning. You swallowed, attempting to push that lump again back down your throat; blinked furiously as your vision began to blur and willed your heart to keep beating as you watched him press a kiss to your knuckles before slowly sinking down on one knee into the grass. 

You brain struggled to keep up, failing to send the right signals to prevent the tears from falling, to ease the tension in your throat, to simply breathe. 

But it was no use, because after the first tear fell, the rest came without restraint. Even with his hand firmly holding yours, you felt as if you were falling. Plummeting from the night sky back into your body over and over again as he whispered your full name into the warm April air, squeezing your hand once more to tether you to him, and offering you that rarely seen gentle smile before asking you once more. 

Properly, firmly and without reservation.

“Will you marry me?”

And it was real. This was real and you were blinking down at him wildly so you could see his beautiful face clearly through your sea of tears. You couldn’t find the words to speak—no matter how many times your reply raced from your brain to your lips, you couldn’t command your mouth to move. 

So you nodded. Slowly and with a wobbly lip, you nodded. His own lips twitched with a brief smile, his eyes flashing with heavy multitudes of happiness even though he squeezed your hand again to hold you steady.

“I need you to actually say something to me…please—”

“Yes,” you whispered, shaky and croaking from your throat of its own volition. You shook out a harsh breath, smiling down at him. “Yes, I’ll marry you, Kento.”

It took him a moment too long to actually process your response before he exhaled so deeply as though the breath had been stuck in his lungs. A rare and pearly white Nanami Kento smile, brighter than the moonlight bathing his skin, shining at you as he stood up and pulled you close with a force that made you gasp, your mouth opening to let out a laugh before he captured it with a kiss. Full, deep and overpowering, his cheeks brushing against the wetness of your own, leeching oxygen from you until you had to pull away to catch your breath, lightheaded and panting against his lips. 

In your haze, you hadn’t noticed him pull a small object from his pocket, but you felt the cold metal slip onto your finger, adjusting his hand so that you could finally see. And it was beautiful, of course it was beautiful—simple yet perfectly suited for you, a blatant reminder that it would remain on your hand for the rest of your life as long as you allowed it. 

“For the first time, I’ve finally figured out what it takes to render you speechless,” he teased even though his own voice was thick with emotion. “Imagine the things I will get for you now.”

Your gut reaction was to smack him hard on the chest, relishing in the deep chuckles that reverberated from him and into the Nakameguro air. 

“Stop teasing,” you whined, sniffing pathetically as the tears began to fall again.

“My, my,” he purred, chuckling deeply and pulling you closer with strong arms around your waist. You curled your fingers into the fabric of his shirt, weakly glaring up at him without any embarrassment of the rivers running down your cheeks. “You are telling me to stop teasing? Proposing months ago would have been more beneficial for me.”

You hated being on the other end of something that you naturally dished out. In this moment, you were already vulnerable and raw for him, your chest aching and cut open and your heart pounding in the evening air. His teasing felt like icing on the cake, a lightheartedness that was rarely seen in such abundance, leaving you struggling to find your footing. Trying to fight against the fast rhythm of your heart, the overwhelming tears, and his deep laughter as he tilted your head up to look at him.

“Ken—” you tried to admonish, but once again his lips met yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. Gasping, you felt him scoop you up in his arms and carry you back inside the house. Your chest ached for air, yearning to fill your lungs with oxygen that Kento continuously stole. The heat of his fingertips digging into the skin of your thighs around his waist seared your senses, and you could taste the sudden, pungent want against the tongue that slid against yours. 

You didn’t expect to be on the ground so soon and the cool hardwood floors on your feet and your wobbly legs made you stagger backward with him, your fingers still buried in his shirt as your mouths continued to slide sloppily against one another. You gasped sharply when your hips met the countertop of your vanity, the mirror smacking against your back.

Kento wasted no time, and you felt like you were burning with his touch, catching on fire with every grab against your skin and hiss of breath along the wetness of your lips. Hot hands were suddenly hiking up your dress, digging into the meat of your inner hips and tracing sinfully along the seam of your panties. 

You only had a moment to breathe, only a second to get your bearings as he pulled away and swiftly removed your dress, sliding his hands behind you to deftly unfasten your bra, and scooping you up again before throwing you onto your bed. 

You blinked up at him in shock, your breath catching in your throat as you took in his heated expression at the foot of the bed. He was always a passionate lover, always vocal about his desire to have his hands on you—but the expression directed at you now was carnal, so incredibly carnal that your cunt throbbed in response, sliding against the steadily moistening spot of the fabric that covered it. 

Kento had promised himself he would be calm; he had so much planned in his head if you would have accepted him. Truly he thought he would have cried—because he’s that type of man.

But the moment you said yes, the moment he slid that ring on your finger and could see a booming sign that you were his, all sense of decorum had evaporated from his body immediately.

He had thrown caution to the wind, driving him to yank off his shirt and practically rip his zipper as he pushed down his pants and underwear. He hissed softly from the feel of cool air hitting his cock, hot and heavy and leaking precum already. Without your usual words of impatience, he used your moans instead as his guide, fueling his courage as he trailed a wet tongue up the thickness of your thighs, dipping into your belly button and around the underside of your breast before encircling a peaked nipple once—twice before pulling it into his mouth. Your hands were tight in his hair, your body arching in exquisite anticipation, drawing your breasts further into his eager mouth as he licked, sucked and bit at the sensitive skin. 

You could only nod when he reached for your panties moments later and you didn’t shy away from the way your thighs trembled as he pulled them down your legs, his mouth salivating at the sight of slick catching against your inner thigh. The heat between your legs hit him first, his cock throbbing in automatic response, his mouth swallowing drool as he stared at your exposed cunt, wet and dripping for him. 

You had never met a man who took joy in eating you out. They did it to get you ready or because it was expected. But not Kento—god, not Kento. You’re the best thing he would ever have. His last meal. That first drink after being stranded in a desert. He did it because he loved it and wasted no time yanking your hips to him and throwing your legs over his shoulders before he was feasting—savoring the taste of your cunt and the sound of your moans as you arched your hips closer to him. 

You keened, pulling hard against his tresses as he sank two fingers inside of you down to the knuckle, delving deep in a rhythm that sent tingles of pleasure crawling up your legs and to the base of your spine. Your body trembled, your chest heaving in an effort to catch your breath as he took his pleasure and gave yours tenfold, three fingers deep and his tongue on your clit. 

“Look how pretty you are,” he whispered, his eyes fixated on the mesmerizing sight of his fingers gliding in and out of you, shiny with slick and making a sound that had his eyes rolling into his head and his hips pressing into the mattress for friction. “So fucking pretty, baby,” he praised, his thumb pressing against your pulsing clit, igniting another surge of pleasure that made your breath catch around a sharp whine in your throat. 

“Kento,” you moaned for him, your voice beckoning and desperate, eyes clenched tight and pleasure coiling into a ball in your belly. He answered your call like always, sliding back up your body, his lips hovering over yours and beautiful blond har falling to brush against your forehead. 

“She speaks,” he teased, arching his fingers inside of you for good measure and marveling at the way you twitched and whined in response. “You normally keep me on my toes. Yet you’re so quiet now. Choked up and whiny and moaning. That’s not like you.” It was exactly like you, especially when you’re chasing an orgasm. But at this point, you realized Kento would use anything to tease you, so blissfully happy and desperately thrumming with want. 

“You like the way I’m fingering you, baby?” 

You blinked up at him in disbelief, your ears not used to him teasing in moments like this. 

“Are you going to answer me?” voice darker now, still joyful but less patient.

You nodded profusely in response, panting up at him as the coil of an orgasm began to tighten at the small of your back. Your thighs quivered, your fingers tightening into the pillow aside your head. 

No other man could compare to Kento’s touch. The thought of anyone else’s fingers trailing over your skin, sliding inside you in a way that drove you to the brink, seemed unfathomable. He was the only one who could make you moan like you were being paid for it, like you were now. The only one who could hit every spot with just a simple graze until he could take you higher and higher, until your moans became tight and shaky, and your body clenched around his fingers, surrendering to a back-arching orgasm that sent waves of pleasure coursing through every inch of your being. 

You barely had a moment of reprieve before he kissed you again, stealing what little breath remained in your mouth as you tried to come down from that blissful high. His fingers slowly slid out of you, rubbed your clit gently while his lips trailed down your neck, licking the sweat from your skin. 

“May I have you?” he whispered against your skin, the deep timbre of his voice oozing with velvety wickedness that made you shudder against him.

“I…” you croaked, the words straining from your throat, your body aching and yearning for more of his touch even though you were sensitive all over. 

When thin rings of burnt-umber eyes came into view, the gaze was brimming with want, yet tender as he traced the contours of your face. Reaching for your left hand, he interlaced your fingers with his own, guiding your hand to his lips. He pressed a soft kiss to each knuckle, each gesture filled with love and affection, before brushing his lips against the precious stone adorning your ring finger. Your eyes locked onto the gleaming jewel, the dim light of your room reflecting off the carats and once again stirring a sharp breath in your chest and a hint of moisture behind your eyes. 

“Are you having second thoughts?” he asked, his gentle smile masking the unfamiliar mirth in his tone. “Should I have waited longer?”

“No,” you whispered wetly, offering your smile in exchange. Blinking away tears, your vision cleared enough to gaze at him more intently. You tightened your grip against his hand, the cool metal pulling your finger to remind you of its presence. “I’m happy…so happy.” 

You brushed blonde locks from where they hung, admiring the way they pulled back and then flopped back into place. Every part of him that wasn’t poised and perfect in public was raw and unfiltered with you, its own treasure chest—its contents sacred and beautiful—that only you had the key to open.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, drawing him closer and gasping softly as you felt him press to your entrance, hot and leaking with precum. 

“I’ve just been at a loss of words,” you admitted.

“Am I that charming?” He raised a dark blonde brow, his slightly tense expression from being pressed against your heat giving him a sinfully enticing look that made your slick cunt throb. That oversensitivity was still there, but not as insistent, not as sharp and weak enough so pleasure could slink back in front. 

You used your heels against his lower back to push him inside of you, inhaling sharply from the sudden stretch as he intruded the warmth of your body. He waited for you to relax, whispering soft praises against the skin of your lips as he fought the impossible urge to snap his hips into you. 

“You just proposed,” you shook, moaning softly when he finally began to move steadily within you. Your cunt flexed around him, relaxed enough to welcome him further and then gripped with a pressure that made your stomach coil in heat. Your body was already loose and pliant from your first orgasm, so it was easy for him to brush against those spots inside of you that seemed to fan gentle flames back to life again. “O-of course I would be at a loss of words. You’re not that charming.”

It was a jest filled with delight that you were used to delivering to him, even in the blaze of heat.

But he hummed in reproach, sliding a hand into the hair at your nape, pulling back sharply to expose more of your skin to him. You signed up for that. Walked right into it. And then you paid for it when his other hand gripped your hips, tilted them upwards to sink further into you, the skin of his abs suddenly able to brush against your clit. 

You choked on a moan, biting your lip to stifle your voice, and dug your nails into his back. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, a sharp tsk before you felt him use the grip in your hair to angle your gaze to his. 

“Don’t lie to me when I’m fucking you, beautiful girl.” 

Oh god.

Your cunt fluttered in response, your body shaking from his words and thrusts, a whimper squeaking from your throat. 

He smiled softly in response, slanting his lips against yours and making a home in your mouth as you struggled to keep up with his rhythm. Between the fluid thrusts of his hips, the thick cock stretching your cunt, and your clit tingling with each smack of skin against it, you were lightheaded—mind swimming as he showered you again with that overwhelming intensity of his affection. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered in awe as he looked down at you. His forehead already had a light sheen of sweat, and your eyes traced along the soft hairs that began to cling to his hairline. You trailed your hands from his back, sliding them down the muscular planes of his chest and in between the spaces of his abs before your eyes fell on the mesmerizing motion of his hips, his cock working you in and out—thick and glistening—accompanied by the sound of his ragged breath above you.

“Look at me,” he demanded, voice low and serious, pulling your gaze to him immediately to take in his wild expression. Thin rings of burnt-umber crazed, wet lips slightly parted, a ruddy color on his cheeks, and a subtle crease in his brow as he tried to focus. “Good girl. Perfect. Eyes on me. Never look away from me, do you understand?” You nodded sharply at his demand, electrifying pleasure zinging up and down your spine from his words. Your voice was stuck in your throat, too tight to speak but loose enough to let every wanton moan fall through as his pace began to pick up and his strokes began to deepen. He shook his head, more to himself and panting harshly as he opened his mouth to speak. “I want to be gentle and—”

“Give me everything,” you interrupted, scratching against the tightness of your throat and curling around a whine as the whispers of a second orgasm began to echo in your ears. “Give it all to me Kento, please.”

Suddenly, Kento was bending your knees towards your chest, pushing down hard with his lips against yours and pumping into you with an intensity that made your toes curl and you yelp into his mouth. His cock was making a home inside of you, brushing upwards into sensitive spots that made you keen, rubbing his pelvic bone hard against your clit so that you could do nothing but moan shamelessly into his mouth. 

Vaguely you were thankful that Ulani wasn’t older. That she wasn’t aware enough to wake up in curiosity in the middle of the night from sounds that sounded odd to her and to ask you the next morning why mommy was begging.

It wasn’t long until the heat in your stomach had become too much, a gentle warmth now a raging inferno, coiling and bubbling with pleasure that made your thighs tense against the pressure of his hands that pressed them down to your chest. Your pussy throbbed—pulsed and squeezed him in warning, your breath becoming a staccato of a melody that he had memorized so well as you dug crescent moons into his back.

“Am I going to make you cum?” he panted before the words could escape your lips.

“Yes!” you squeaked, tense like a rubber band, taut and gasping beneath him. He brushed wet lips against your own and trailed them down your neck before licking the salty skin in a way that had you stuttering against the punctuation of his thrusts.

“Who’s going to make you cum?” he hissed along the column of your neck.

“You—you Kento!” He groaned softly from your response, a moan carrying along the undercurrent of his panting as you squeezed tighter and tighter around him. You had no time to warm him because suddenly your body was pulling tight, your muscles twitching in response and your back arching as that coil unraveled quickly inside your stomach, exploding to shoot pleasure inside of you hot and overwhelming. You bit your lip as you moaned with your orgasm, your cunt thrumming with the hammering in your chest.

“That’s my good girl. Take everything you want,” he whispered into your neck, kissing the burning skin as you came down from your high.

His thrusts slowed to a stop, offering a short break in intensity as you took in the panting of both your bodies. He released his hold on your legs, leaning down to brush soft lips against your own, bleeding love and anticipation into your mouth before he pulled you up onto your hands and knees, the coolness of the sheets offering a refreshing cushion to your sweaty skin.

You bit past the overstimulation when you felt him slide inside you again; even though you were satisfied and lax from an orgasm, every nerve in your body felt as if it had been exposed to the open air. You trembled against him—shuddered from the feel of his large hands sliding from your shoulder blades and down your back before they dug into the flesh of your hip. He gave you no warning, thrusting once, twice, and then a third time before falling back into the same steady rhythm as before. 

Fighting against overstimulation was always a challenge at first, it was sharp and almost impossible to push through, but you always held onto that faint glimmer of pleasure each time. And slowly, with each brush of his cock against that spongy spot inside of you, that overstimulation got softer and softer, more malleable for you to push past to take root of pleasure as your breath quickened and your skin began to overheat.

The press of his lips between your shoulder blades felt like a cool balm to your hot skin that made you sigh, your back arching slightly, your head leaning back towards the ceiling as your cunt throbbed around his penetrating girth. 

“Stunning,” he whispered and then carded a hand your hair so you could finally open your eyes and take in the mirror of your vanity in front of you. 

He was behind you, with sweaty skin and a muscular torso undulating with every thrust, his hair disheveled, his eyes heavy with want and determination. And there you were on your hands and knees, sweaty creamy brown skin, full breasts swaying with each press of his hips, curls loose and frizzy and still adorned with cherry blossoms that had begun to fall onto the sheets where your fingers were bunched. 

“Look how beautiful you are, darling,” he leaned down to whisper in your ear, his eyes locked with yours in the mirror. You both had done this so many times before. You had gotten used to looking at yourself in the mirror when he fucked you. The mortification of looking at yourself moaning and dazed wasn’t as prominent as it used to be. But the sight of his serious gaze always took a moment to adjust to. “So beautiful. The mother of my child. The only woman I will ever love. My fiancé.”

You moaned at his words and tightened around him, instantly lighting a fire in your veins that made your heart pump faster, made your skin tingle, and made the shreds of exploded pleasure in your belly from your last orgasm curl back into itself to form a ball again.

“My fiancé,” he whispered again, kissing along your shoulder, biting against the saltiness of your skin. He was losing himself, sinking further into delirium and salaciousness as his thrusts grew sharper, his grip on your waist tightened, and his teeth began to dig into every expanse of skin he could reach. You welcomed the pain, welcomed the sight of red blooming on your skin in the mirror that would darken over time.

“Kento—” you began to say, throat dry.

“Say it,” he demanded, leaving no room for argument as he emphasized his request with a powerful thrust. 

“Your fiancé,” you whispered back, shuddering from the words on your tongue, whimpering against the increased onslaught of his hips and yelping when you felt coarse fingertips reach down to rub your clit. You were going to cum, it was unavoidable with every stroke of his cock against that spongy wall inside of you. You just needed more. More of his thrusts. More of his fingers stroking your clit. More of his voice in your ear.

Pulling you out of your thoughts, he adjusted your position so that the mirror only showed the side profile of your bodies, giving you a better view of the rivulets of muscle on his side and his thick cock shiny from slick as he railed you into the mattress. He pressed against your shoulder blades, your body giving with his touch so you could relax your chest into the sheets and arch your back. The sight made his eyes roll into the back of his head before he turned your head so your gaze was forced to look at your reflection in the mirror.

“Say it again.”

“Your fiancé,” you moaned softly, your thighs beginning to tremble from the force of his thrusts and the circle of his fingers on your clit. You fluttered around him, gushing slick onto his cock as your walls tightened from the force of one final orgasm that was leeching from your skin. And soon it was right there, right there and hot and loud and—

“Oh Ken, I’m close. I’m gonna cum!”

He moaned, a sound so rare that it somehow made the orgasm grow stronger, his hips thrusting against that spot that was screaming for more. “I feel you baby. Let it out, take what you want. Cum on my cock for me, love.”

You moaned wantonly, arching your back more so that he could hit you deeper, sharper, fluid and firm against your g-spot over and over and over until it all happened at once. That one stroke against your walls, that final harsh roll of his fingers on your clit, that drip of sweat from his hair onto your back, the ethereal sight of crushed cherry blossoms in your hair, and the flicker of your ring in the mirror had you furrowing your brow—opening your mouth and hiccupping on a gasp as your orgasm washed over you. You were lightheaded with pleasure, delirious as you moaned through the electrifying buzz in your stomach.

Your body was taut like a wire, cunt like a vice and gushing around his cock even as he dug through your sudden grip to claim an orgasm of his own. 

Maybe it was the frequency of these encounters or simply your own uninhibited nature after you had been fucked to orgasm a few times in one sitting, but as you panted through gasping moans, watching your body slide back and forth on the sheets from his relentless thrusts, your throat took on a life of its own.

“Cum inside of me,” you whimpered, tightening your fingers in the sheets as you watched him loll his head back in satisfaction from your words. “Please, please, please Kento. Give me your cum…fill me up!”

Kento cursed harshly from behind you, leaning down to bite at the skin between your shoulder blades, and in the mirror you watched him give you three more strokes before his eyes rolled back, his jaw went slack, and his fingers dug into your hips as he groaned deep and shook as he spilled inside of you.

He collapsed against you, his breath warm and inviting as he whispered a soft ‘I love you’ against the back of your neck before apologizing from his weight. From the way his body shook, he probably wouldn’t be able to move anytime soon. But you didn’t mind; it grounded you into the present—brought your soul slowly back into your body.

The puffs of his breath against your skin was comforting, and the feeling of him softening inside you was an odd sensation that you welcomed. As you glanced at the mirror, your heart skipped a beat at the sight of his form against yours. 

You were flushed and sweaty. Your cheek was pressed and pillowed against the sheets. Your hair frizzy and tangled with white petals. He turned his head, pressing his ear to your shoulder blade, his face away from you in the mirror. Yet, you could still take in the beautiful messiness of his hair, the sharp perfection of his undercut, and the quick rise and fall of his muscular torso. That satisfying ache began to bloom deep within your bones, a delicious aftermath of being thoroughly and expertly fucked that only Kento knew how to deliver. 

Your eyes followed the movement of his hand on your hips, watched as it slid up the sheets before settling on top of your left hand. His fingers intertwined with yours, curling both your hands into a tight fist. In the mirror, the flicker of your ring stood out brightly, and as your vision began to blur again with tears, your mouth curled into a gentle smile. 

“Love, you have to take it off before bed.”

“No,” you responded firmly, your eyes fixated on the ring on your finger. You were too tired for a shower, and Kento just as exhausted, skipped his usual aftercare routine with you this time, opting instead to clean you up, put a shirt on you, and throw your bonnet on your head.  “What’s the harm in wearing it to bed?”

“There are risks,” he began, voice leaking indifference as he lay next to you, his cheek pressed into his pillow as he shot a naturally narrow gaze at you. “Injury and—”

“Compile a PowerPoint presentation and submit it to me. I’m too tired to hear excuses.”

He chuckled harshly, gravely with the beginnings of sleep. He pulled you close, breathing in your scent as you rested your cheek against the warmth of his naked chest. The room fell into silence, minutes stretching out as Kento’s eyes grew heavy under the thick curtain of his hair.

“Ken?” you called out softly. He hummed, stroking a thumb down your back to let you know he was listening. “Can we have a small wedding?”

“We can have whatever you wish.” 

His response made warmth blossom in your chest, your heart thrumming sharply as you traced your finger along the stone on your finger. “I don’t talk to my mother’s side of the family. And after my father died before my birth, my mother cut off his entire side. I don’t really have anyone besides Ome and Rory. But I know you have lots of family and I want them to be there. But it doesn’t have to be too big. I have modest savings but I don’t want to overdo it—”

“My love,” he interrupted, his eyes closed but thumb still stroking your back. “Our families will be there. Our friends will be there. We can have the wedding wherever you want, whenever you want. I have more than enough money for you, me, Ulani, and her grandchildren. As long as I get to officially make you mine, you will want for nothing.”

You swallowed hard, unable to hold back the small smile that formed on your lips as his words echoed in your mind.

“Are you trying to flex your bank account, Kento? I know you have a couple mil stored away, but try not to brag.”

His laughter filled the room, loud and sharp, his pearly white smile shining down at you as he opened the eye not pushed into his pillow to gaze at you. His chest shook from his laughter, hands pulling you impossibly closer to his warmth.

“Stop teasing and let me love you.”

You didn’t bother to fight the blush that had erupted on your cheeks from his effortless words. It was like a second skin to him, to love you so thoroughly. 

“There has to be something you want,” you tried to pry from him, eyes widening in delight when he let out a dramatic sigh against you.

He was silent for a minute, then another, and yet another to the point where you were convinced he had fallen asleep when— 

“I will pay the most for the food. It better be good enough to lick the plate when I’m finished.” You rolled your eyes but giggled as you draped your arm around his waist. “I won’t dance. I’ll have a first dance with you and my mother but nothing more.”

“Not if I get you drunk enough,” you teased.

“No.”

You grunted in playful frustration against him before falling silent again, the gentle static of Ulani’s baby monitor filling the room. Your eyes drifted back to your ring, unable to tear your gaze away.

“Ken?” you called out softly, voice weak and reluctant.

He chortled into the silk of your bonnet, clearly tired but too content to reject you. “Yes, my love.”

“Who helped you pick it out?”

“Are you suggesting that I couldn’t have chosen it without any help?” he asked, slightly affronted and delivering a pinch to your side even though he was chuckling again for what felt like the nth time that night.

“Did your father help?” you asked, not bothering to dignify his last question with a response. “What about Yuji?”

“Yuji means well, but he doesn’t know what a carat is, love. I picked it out. Go to sleep.”

You pursed your lips, considering your next option. “Geto?”

“He doesn’t know you that well. Love, enough with the questions,” he pleaded.

“Gojo then?”

The mere mention of his name made him smack the skin of your ass, a lively shriek shaking around a laugh that escaped from your lips. He grabbed onto the stinging flesh, yanking you closer before leaning down to swallow your giggles. It stole your breath and you curled your fingers against the skin of his chest to anchor yourself. His lips were firm, insistent, and final before he pulled away, giving you a lighthearted glare.

“I picked out the ring. No one else. If you ever breathe Gojo’s name after I’ve had an orgasm, I might just leave you. Now go to bed.” 

You rolled your eyes up at him, pressing a quick kiss to his lips before relaxing back into your pillow. He settled back into his own and you traced over the handsome features of his bedhead, closed eyes, and puckered lips before they were opening to call out your name.

“Yes?” you responded, fingers tracing idly around a pink nipple. He shuddered from your touch.

He opened his eye, deep irises taking you in; the softness of your skin, the old t-shirt on your body, the black silk of your bonnet, and the sliver of a curl that poked from the side, a white petal tangled in the strand.

“I love you.”

And you whispered it back to him free of mirth this time and filled with an affection that only he would ever have.

***

Luck was on his side. It wasn’t as crowded as he walked with you and Ulani the next day. The air was still warm even for late April. His courage seemed to have multiplied overnight, probably from your acceptance of his proposal or maybe just because you made him feel stronger with your presence alone.

When he settled on the grass, folded his legs, and sunk his fingers into the freshly cut blades, his throat was tight, but loose enough to let him breathe. The grass slid against the sides of his knuckles as he took a deep breath.

“You can tell him about your day.”

“I went for a run this morning,” Kento spoke, immediately annoyed with himself but using your words in his head to press on. “Broke my four-mile record. Then I had breakfast with my family. And I came here, and I…” his voice wavered, a sting in his eyes catching him off guard. “Kaya is doing well. She’s smiling more. Geto is taking care of her, and Aiko is a fierce whirlwind just like you. She’s thriving. We’re making sure of it.”

“Tell him that Ulani is starting to eat more solid foods and how she loves yogurt but isn’t a fan of peas.”

“Ulani came on July 15th. She has my eyes and y/n’s hair and gets into everything she can grab. She’ll be speaking actual words soon, and I…I wish you could have met her. She’s beautiful, and laughs as loud as her mother and takes in the world just like me. She loves yogurt and she hates peas. She’s growing up so fast. And you should have been here. You should have—” Kento’s voice trailed off as he tightly shut his eyes, so tight that the sting of tears he had forced away collected at the edge of his lashes.

“I should be angry with you,” Kento started again, a trace of frustration seeping into his tone before he pushed it aside and took a deep breath. “I was angry with you. But as usual, I can never stay mad at you. I hate it. I hate how you make me see and then die so I can’t throttle you…But if it weren’t for her, I wouldn’t have done a thing. If it weren’t for her, I would have burned the deed and never looked back. But she redid the floors, painted the walls, and put your plants back. That stupid plant in your office is still alive and that stupid Fiddle Leaf is larger than ever. It will be a pain to maintain.” 

He drew in a shallow breath, exhaling the bitterness from the pit of his belly into the warm air as his heart settled into a normal rhythm from beating too fast in anger.

“But she made your sweet bread. Batch after batch, until she got it right, and it tasted just like yours. She made a personalized menu and created an ad and it’s not fair that you won’t be here to witness the reopening in a few months. It’s not fair…” he trailed off again, emotions flaring inside of him, choking him and making him stop short to take a deep breath and then another as he blinked away the faint tears in his eyes. “But I hope you can see Ulani while she grows. I hope you can see how happy I am…how happy y/n makes me. How much I love her.” 

Jagged shards of his grief cut the inside of his chest with each breath he took, just as raw as that first day, just as painful. But they were closing up at a faster pace, healing quickly enough to make the pouring sadness from the open wounds feel less overwhelming.

I miss you. I’m sorry we fought that day. Forgive me.

He wanted to say it, he did. But his throat was too tight—he wasn’t ready. And that’s okay. You had shown him, with patience and a forgiving air, that it was okay not to be ready. But one day he would be. And until then, he could say what came to mind, or simply sit in silence and just…be.

A few moments passed, the breeze swirling around him, picking up in intensity before he spoke up again. 

“I also came to say…that I’m engaged. It took me months to gather the courage to propose, and she broke the rules of every manual on how to do things properly. But it finally happened during Sakura season…and she had cherry blossoms in her hair…and was trying to tell a joke as usual.” He smiled softly to himself, relaxing the tension of his grip on the grass, faint memories echoing in his mind.

“If you don’t change your hairstyle, all the girls will think you’re an emo boy. And you’ll grow to be an emo man with an emo life and—”

“Enough. My hair is fine and it takes more than hair to build a relationship.”

“You’ll be fifty before you even get engaged.”

“Who do you take me for?”

“An old man.”

“I’m leaving.”

“Fine! If you wind up engaged before thirty-five, I’ll give you twenty bucks.”

“Fifty.”

“Deal!”

Kento rolled his eyes. “I didn’t forget about our bet in high school. You owe me fifty dollars. I’ll be sure to collect my winnings from Kaya when I see her.” The corners of his lips twitched, the smile threatening to grow wider as he listened to himself.

There was nothing more he could say. While his throat was no longer tight, more words eluded him, and he wouldn’t force them. He had a lifetime to share more. 

“All done?” your voice called from next to him, pulling him out of his thoughts. He looked up at you, your unwavering gaze a source of strength and resilience. Ulani was strapped to your chest, her legs kicking freely, a teething toy in her mouth and a beanie on her head to protect her from the wind. Her curious eyes took in the towering trees around her before settling on her father, a wide smile spreading across her face. 

In that moment, the weight of grief washed away, those jagged shards of pain slowly mending to the point that he could breathe again. He stood up, ready to join you and you watched him look down at the small nameplate in front of Yu’s tree. The air was still, an eerie calmness that made Kento feel as if the shift in the breeze was Yu throwing that stupid mischievous smirk in his direction from the sight of his best friend and his new family.

Kento wasn’t a spiritual man, but some part of him believed that Yu could see him and his family, that he could see Kaya and his daughter, and that he would be happy with the way you turned the bakery around. 

Part of Kento believed it. He had to believe it. Yu was too powerful of a person to fade away with his ashes that rested in the soil beneath his tree.

So, he took that belief with him, tucked it deep down within his chest as he interlaced his fingers with yours and felt the cool metal of your ring against his skin.

“Did he respond?” you asked him, nudging his arm softly with your elbow. He looked down at you before pressing a fond kiss to your lips, smiling against you when he felt his daughter pull at his coat. He pulled away and then leaned down to press a series of kisses to Ulani’s cheek, her curls brushing against his nose as she squealed in her own laughter, satisfied with the attention and babbling for more.

Giving your hand a gentle squeeze, he offered his silent answer to your question, one you had asked a few times before. And he smiled, that special smile reserved only for you, before leading you away from Yu’s tree and back along the streets of Nakameguro. 

#Nanami kento #Kento nanami #Nanami Kento x reader #Nanami Kento x black reader #Nanami Kento x black fem reader #nanami x you #Nanami Kento x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #It Had To Be You #mysteria157 #anime x black reader #Nanami Kento fanfic #jjk fanfic #jjk x black reader #Nanami Kento smut #jjk au #masterlist #It Had To Be You masterlist #nanami kento fluff #jjk fluff #jjk smut #Kento Nanami x reader #Kento Nanami x black reader #Kento Nanami x y/n #Kento Nanami fanfic #Kento Nanami smut #Kento Nanami fluff #black fem reader

[mosaickiwi]

“Bad” Gift Giver Angel Headcanons

Just some ~silly and wholesome thoughts~ I put on disc but wanted to share here too! I'm a lil spammer. cw// Slight mention of violence at the end.

14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI

Ren/dacted with an Angel that gives weird ‘just because’ gifts but they don't realize how strange they are since he genuinely cherishes everything they give him. <3

🎁 Giant 5 pound gummy bear! Ren tries like hell to finish it, but his tummy hurts. He ends up preserving it in epoxy to put on a shelf. Half of its head is missing.

🎁 Angel finds one of those train sets that hung from the ceilings in some McDonalds stores way back in the day. (video) Ren sets it up in his room and rigs it to work as a morning wake up alarm. Or just lays down and watches it go when he’s trying to sleep. He might paint over Ronald's face though.

🎁 Customized Furby that looks like an eldritch horror? They thought it matched his vibes and now they regret giving it to him. 

💝 When Angel stays over, it scares them when they wake up in the middle of the night. Ren imprisons it in his shrine room after Angel wakes him up in tears begging him to move it somewhere else. The battery died a long time ago, but sometimes Angel still hears it laughing through the walls.

🎁 The UGLIEST sweaters imaginable. They light up, they make noise, they itch, they burn the eyes of all who see them. Dude is overheating himself in the summer cause he just feels so loved every time he puts one on.

🎁 There’s a phase of food gadgets and utensils, despite neither of them being a decent cook. Angel is disappointed since some of the items simply don’t work the way they wanted, but Ren adores the small everyday use ones. 

💝 A tabletop s'mores maker—it takes too long to burn marshmallows the way Angel likes, but Ren is endlessly patient about it while he hands them a blowtorch. Tiny novelty gumball machine that he puts on his desk and fills with mint chocolate candies. Hello Kitty waffle maker but they both keep burning it. 

💝 A pizza cutter shaped like an axe, Thor’s hammer meat tenderizer that he uses incorrectly, cat paw oven mitts, tongs, and serving spoons. Imagine this tatted, grumpy eboy pulling a frozen pizza out of the oven with his cute little paws??? He totally wears the matching apron if Angel asks.

🎁 It’s almost suspicious how he’s never surprised at a gift, but Angel still tries to catch him off guard. They’ll not so discreetly leave tiny presents around his apartment for him to find. Whether they’re just love notes, weird greeting cards for holidays he wasn’t aware of, or hand sized plushies in brightly colored capsules so he can experience some type of surprise at the very least. Even so, he always spots them immediately, but pretends it's taking him a few hours or so to notice anything different. Once he 'finds' one he'll teasingly thank them for the scavenger hunt.

🎁 Ren absolutely SEETHES on the inside whenever anyone else gets a gift, no matter how ridiculous it is. He wants the exact same thing immediately and drops the most obvious hints possible. 

💝 A hideous, singing, wall mounted fish for Teo’s birthday? Ren’ll talk all about how he’s always found them entertaining, his favorite fish is a bass—what do you mean he used to make a weird face whenever he caught one in Stardew? The moment it gets thrown away he’s digging through the garbage and bashing Teo over the head with it for not appreciating such a thoughtful present.

#14 days with you #14dwy #14dwy redacted #14dwy ren #momo writing #silly and wholesome #except the last one hehe haha #will i ever post non-rendacted content

[kasagia]

Our little game pt. 2

~Part 1~ ~Part 3~ ~Part 4~ ~Part 5~

Pairing: Klaus Mikaelson x witch! reader Summary: After the engagement party, you, Katherine, Freya, and Rebekah start to organize a grand fairytale wedding for family members only. Which means you'll be staying at Mikaelson's house a little longer than you initially assumed. But everyone is delighted with your presence. Especially little Hope and her dad, who loves to watch you play with his little princess. Kol is teasing him that he's using the baby charm to get to your cold, iced heart because he isn't hot enough. Kol nearly gets stabbed. But Elijah comes and rescues his youngest brother. After all, someone has to perform the marriage ceremony. You also meet "The Hybrid's Therapist" and makes a huge, life-changing discovery. Word count: 6,3k+

Y/N POV

Three days. That's how long it took the original family to get me acquainted with everything that happened in those missing years. They found a new member of the family, killed their parents (and crazy aunt) again, and ruled New Orleans just like "in the old, good times." That was too much information to get in that short time. Especially since I was drunk for half of it. Bekah and Kit-kat made the decision to get to know me and Freya by attending parties every night. It was fun at first. But when the hangover came to me the morning after, it wasn't funny anymore. At least I made a new friend.

"Earth to Y/N!" someone screamed at me and pushed, making me fall from the kitchen chair. I groaned in pain, rubbing my sore butt.

"Kol Mikaelson. Do you wish to die on this awful morning?"

"It's 11am." he replied, annoyed. The 10th-century maniac always started his day with the crowing of the hens. I was unworthy (or too lazy) to participate in this mystery of the rising sun.

"I told you. Morning."

"I'm sorry, but I, unlike others, have a real problem on my hands, and I don't have time to deal with your bitter, hangover attitude."

"I apologize for your grace. What is so important that you have to hurt people this morning? You broke one of Klaus' paintings or finally stole his precious daggers?"

"That's better." I gave him a stern look. "Relax, darling. I was joking."

"Not appreciated."

"God. I don't know why my brother likes you."

"Hey! Elijah is my friend; of course he likes me." I replied offended.

"Not these ones. And not in a platonic way." my amused, kind smile faded at his suggestion.

"You know what? I'm too hungry to… what did you say? Deal with your attitude?" I said with a mean smirk on my way out of the kitchen.

"No! Wait a second!" he used his vampire speed to stand before me. "I'll make you breakfast. Just help me."

"What will you cook?" I asked, crossing my arms.

"Scrambled eggs?"

"I want waffles."

"Waffles?"

"Uhm. With cherry jam, whipped cream, and strawberries."

"You're going to be fat."

"And very happy. You don't want me to be happy?" I gave him my best puppy eyes.

"Alright, alright. Three waffles then." he agreed, heading to the cooker.

"Six." I corrected him, sitting down at the kitchen island across from him to watch him cook my food.

"Seriously?" he gave me an incredulous look.

"I told you. I'm hungry."

"My God, watch over your future husband."

"And his bank account." Kol burst out laughing as he started cooking my breakfast. "So? What can I help you?"

"It worked. I have a real date with Davina."

"Congratulations." I nodded as I poured myself a glass of orange juice.

"Thank you. But now, as she said yes, I have to make this day unforgetable and amazing."

"I'm starting to worry about you. Are you feeling fine? How many fingers do you see?" I asked, showing him two fingers in front of his face. He snorted, pushing my hand away.

"This is very funny, but I need your help."

"Why me? I mean, you have two older sisters and two older brothers who have probably been in many more relationships than me. They know how to flirt better than me." I inquired, feeling uncomfortable about assisting a 1,000-year-old vampire in picking up a girl when the number of my ex-boyfriends was limited to only one.

"Oh, you'd be surprised…" he says, looking at me with a little smile. "Maybe they have some... romantic experience, but they are over a thousand years old. And Davina is from these times, like you. You know what I'm trying to say?"

"Usually? No. But let's say this time I understand that you called your sibling pensioners. So, tell me something about your girl. I need to know her likes."

~•♤♤♤•~

*After some time*

"I think that's all." he handed me my food, looking at me expectantly.

"Well... I think you shouldn't take her on your first date to any fancy restaurant, cinema, or theater."

"Then what?"

"You're a good cook. Make her something and go boating on the river at night. You know stars and constellations, tell her about them after dinner. But don't make yourself a genius, women usually don't like this."

"Do you think that's enough?"

"You can scatter rose petals on the deck and decorate it with lights. But definitely don't take the poor girl to Paris, or you'll overwhelm her. Save something special for significant dates, like big anniversaries or something."

"You sure?"

"Trust me, women like it when a man makes an effort. She'll be delighted if you do everything yourself. A pampered vampire prince flying around town to fulfill her every little whim and do something special for her? She will love it."

"Vampire prince?"

"Please... like your family doesn't act like royalty."

"Does that mean I'm the king, love?" Klaus came to the kitchen with a little girl in his arms. God. This man looked too hot while he was holding a child.

"Absolutely not. But this sweetheart in your arms is a true princess. Yes, Hope?" I asked, giggling, when she started laughing after I tickled her. I was so fascinated by the sweet child that I didn't notice the look a holding her hybrid was giving me.

"If I remember correctly, this is not your babysitting week. Have you been stealing her from Hayley for three days because you missed her, or do you have another reason, brother?" Kol asked, snapping me out of my trance. This child could easily charm people around her.

"Did you steal her?" I asked indignantly.

"I am her father, love." he replied, looking at me offended.

"What's your point?"

"I can't steal my own child."

"Well, since you don't get along too well with her mother, I believe you can. Did he steal you, angel?" I asked her as she started to grab my hair in her little hand, forcing Klaus to lower himself to my level so the little princess wouldn't fall out of his arms.

"No, I don't. Hayley knows where she is. You two don't have to worry." I gave him a chair so he could sit next to me and not have to do gymnastics with the little troublemaker he held.

He sat her on his lap so she had better access to my bracelets, which turned out to be her next interest. I giggled as I watched her mumble over the pendant of a silver witch flying on a broomstick towards a diamond moon. A birthday present from her father. Talking about the hybrid, he also probably appreciated the selection of my jewelry.

"May you be more like your mother, sweetheart. It would have saved her a lot of nerves." I said to her, taking the pendant away just as it was about to go to her mouth. She screamed something in her language and grabbed my finger instead, trying to drop it with her gums.

"She must have been teething." I thought, not even noticing the gentle, lovely gaze the hybrid was giving me while holding the baby.

"She has the look of the devil in her eyes. That's all me, love." I shifted my gaze to the girl's father.

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"I think we already talked about nights and beds. Did you reconsider my invitation?" he asked, smiling and leaning closer to me.

"Don't talk to me like that with a little baby in your arms. It may be traumatizing for her. Just like for me." I replied, pretending to tremble with disgust.

Kol's snort reminded both of us of his presence.

"I told you, Nik. The baby trick doesn't work on her when your baby is cuter than you. You have to find another way into her cold heart."

"Don't you have a girl to chase?" I asked, shooting him a stern look. Did each of them have to be joking about our improbable romance?

"Actually, I do Y/N." Kol came over to us, kissed Hope on the cheek, and did the same to me. Klaus's quiet growl didn't go unnoticed. "Bye darling!"

"Stop calling me like that, you're a taken man!" I shouted after him. "Idiot. What?" I asked the hybrid, who was staring at me with a strange, unfamiliar look in his eyes.

"H e did you breakfast?" he asked with a cold, impassive tone, trying to cover his emotion.

"Yeah. He wanted help, so I made him do something useful in return."

"Oh, I see. Were that cheek kiss and "taken man" talk also part of your generous help." his resentment became more audible in his voice with each passing second. He was angry. But why the fuck?

"What's wrong with you? Kol and I are friends if you expect me to act like we don't..."

"Are you two just friends?" he immediately cut me off, not caring to hear what I was about to say.

"No. We're secretly married, and I'm expecting his child. I'm madly in love with him." I said sarcastically as I was about to leave the kitchen. I didn't like the direction this conversation was going.

"Y/N." Mikaelson's firm tone of voice and the use of my name instead of his usual "love" told me he wasn't joking or playing a game after all.

I turned and took a step closer to him, so our chests met. Hope's legs were hitting me a little as she waved them around, muttering something under her breath. His eyes were all on mine. Unwanted shivers ran through me.

"Kol fell for your town witch, Davina. I helped him plan a fantastic date. That's all. Don't misinterpret our actions. That's how we talk to each other. But even if we were something more, it wouldn't be your business. I'm not your toy that you can appropriate."

"I've never said you are. Don't misinterpret my actions."

"Are you using my own words against me?"

"I don't know, love. Did I?"

He gave me a challenging look, occasionally lowering his gaze to my lips. I stood there, never thinking about how close we were until his nose brushed mine. I couldn't give him the satisfaction of backing out. He'd never kiss me anyway, would he? We did a lot of stuff, true, but a real kiss was something neither of us could do as part of our "game." At least that's how I explained my suppressed desire to be close to him.

"NIKLAUS!" Elijah's yell immediately pulled us apart. I cleared my throat, reaching out to take the little one from him.

"I'll take her to the park. Maybe we even go to the playground, what do you think, Hope? Do you want to swing with auntie Y/N?"

"I'll try my best to come to you two as fast as I can." he said, and gave me his child.

He took a moment to look at both of us, and before he left, he kissed Hope on the head. Little bastard had to give me a "goodbye kiss" in the exact same place as Kol did. And just to be clear, I wasn't blushing.

Blood just suddenly ran into my face and made me red like a tomato. Just it. It had nothing to do with a kiss from the original.

~•♤♤♤•~

3rd PERSON POV

"I hope you had a good reason to call for me, because I was that close to finally making this little, stubborn witch kiss me."

Klaus ran into a library to meet his elder brother. It appeared that he wasn't alone. Kol was right behind Elijah, proudly smiling at him. That little bastard tricked him.

"What's going on here?"

"Kol told me about your..."

"Using our niece to flirt with Y/N. How do you plead from that?" Kol chimed in on his older brother's words.

"I'm not going to talk with you about my relationship with Y/N."

"Which, by the way, doesn't exist at all." the blond man moved towards his younger brother, but the oldest Mikaelson's hand on his shoulder stopped him.

"Behave yourselves. Both of you."

"I'm sorry, brother, but as you can see, he's the one who has consistently sabotaged my plans for Y/N. Make him behave himself." he pointed an accusing finger at Kol.

"I'm trying to save you from making the great mistake of your life. As much as I love Y/N, she doesn't fit our lifestyle. If you started to date her, you'd put her in the middle of our enemies, old, crazy witches who want to kill us, or even worse, your ex-girlfriends. You'll ruin her, and she deserves something more than our family drama."

"And you, Elijah? Do you share his opinion?"

"It doesn't matter. We just... want you to reconsider your plans before it's too late."

"Yeah. Let's take Hayley as an example. She didn't end up well after a night with you. Or... both of you." Kol stopped as he saw his brothers' angry look. "Alright, that was the wrong example, but you know what I mean. She's just a human with superpowers. She wouldn't put up with all the pain that comes with being a Mikaelson."

"Yes? Then what would you say about Davina? Is she strong enough? How is she different from Y/N?"

"She was born here. From the beginning, she grew up among witches. Y/N has known our world for only 4 years. That's a short time even for a mortal."

"When exactly did you become the voice of reason in our family? I thought it was Elijah's responsibility."

"Well, someone has to, as long as he's enchanted by Petrova's charm. By the way, you're no better than him."

The hybrid was about to throw a dagger at the brazen original, but his phone rang. He gave his brother his most terrifying look and went out of the room, taking the call.

"Oh my god, I miraculously escaped this. I'm never playing bad cop in your plan again, Petrova!"

"Do you think it will really work?" Elijah asked, completely ignoring his brother's nervous outburst.

"Of course, honey. We all know that he hated when someone tried to control him or give him an order. He'll run straight to her and admit his feelings right after he deals with the new vampire group. Let's hope Y/N finally tells him how she really feels about him." Katerina stepped out of the shadows, embracing her fiancé before kissing him on the cheek (to Kol's groan of disgust).

"How did you know where he went?"

"I could convince Rebekah to turn some vampires against Klaus and Marcel to keep them busy for the rest of the afternoon. Which will give me enough time to implement plan B."

"Which is?"

"What kind of matchmaker would I be if I told you before anything really happened? Trust me, they will be officially together on the day of our wedding at the latest." she said, then kissed the smiling original passionately, not caring that they had company in the room.

"Ugh! That's too much, even for me. Get a room or something before another innocent soul sees that. Before I go. Are we still on for tonight?"

"Yes. Me and Rebekah will help you with this date, but we are not cooking. Only decorate."

"Thanks. Play nice and use protection!" he shouted as he left, causing his brother to blush. Katerina laughed, kissing the vampire's rosy cheek.

"Wanna help me set up your stupid brother with Y/N?" she inquired, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. 

"Why exactly are you helping him? I thought you hated him?"

"Well, besides wanting to score points in your eyes and be able to point it out to him every chance I get, I think it would be nice to have Y/N with us permanently. She's a good friend."

"It's nice to see that you're starting to think not only about yourself but also about others around you." he replied, wrapping his arms around her waist.

"Well, if you come upstairs with me, I can show you how much I think about others… pleasure."

"Are we alone?"

"Mhmm..." the original picked her up in bridal style, causing the younger vampire to laugh as he carried her up the stairs.

~•♤♤♤•~

Y/N POV

Damon called me for the fourth time that day. I have been successful at ignoring him and playing with Hope. At least until Katherine didn't join us and took my phone to hang him up.

"What does he want? I thought your group fell apart?" she asked, putting my phone back in my pocket.

"Well... let's say we are on a break." I said, trying to get my hair out of Hope's grip to set the girl on the swing.

"Do they know where you are?"

"No. Actually, I only wrote to Bonnie to say that I'm safe and she doesn't have to worry about me."

Now that I think about it, none of them took an interest in my fate. Only Bonnie. On the other hand, it didn't bother me at all. I already had people who cared about me.

Damon called again, causing Kat to grimace in annoyance.

"Please, can I pick up your phone and tell him to fu..."

"Katherine! There're children here!" I cut her off before the curse reached Hope's ears. Klaus would kill me if his daughter's first words were "fuck".

"Atherine!" I froze in place, stopping swinging the girl. Now, I think he'd rather hear that her first word was curse than Katherine.

"Ha ha. You should see your face!" the woman laughed as she continued swinging Hope.

"But... how... when... What?" I mumbled, still in shock.

"Please, I taught her my name a long time ago. That's how I won Kol's collection of wine." I felt a stone fall from my heart. I was safe. "But this is the first time she told it in front of someone other than me and Kol, so... I don't think that Klaus knew." a mischievous smirk grew on her face. Well, I guess I'll be dead after all.

"No. Absolutely not. It'll break his heart if he hears that's her first word." I stopped the swing and crouched down to be at Hope's height. "C'mon Hope. Say daddy."

"Y/N... continue like that, and Klaus would rather listen to you calling him daddy than his own child." Katherine began to tease, making my face flush uninvitedly. If I was screwed anyway, why did she have to kick me down?

"Stop it. It's a serious situation. I took her for a walk, what should I do when we return and she starts calling your name?!"

"Well, if you try to use this daddy line on him..."

"Katherine!" I stood up and yelled at the laughing vampire.

"Atherine!" she cried, waving her arms happily.

"No sweetheart. Dad. Daddy. Dada. Dad." I knelt in front of the baby once again, practically begging her to help me in my unfair battle with amused Katherine.

"That's not how you teach a child."

"And how should I know that? I'm 20 with no siblings. Hope is the first child I care for. Thinking about that, I'm surprised that Klaus even gave her to me."

"From the first seconds of her life, this little one has had a 24-hour survival school. One afternoon with an inexperienced aunt wouldn't kill her." She stopped seeing how upset I was. She took my arm and made me look into her eyes. "Hey. Do not panic. Nothing happened. I will teach her, and Klaus will never know. You don't have to worry."

"Are you sure?" I asked, looking at her unconvincingly.

"I did it once. I can do it again. In the meantime, you can go pick up alcohol for the wedding from the bar across the street."

"Did you order alcohol from the bar? Doesn't your fiancé happen to have an age-old collection of all sorts of liquors?"

"Yes, but it is not an inexhaustible well. Kol insisted that we have to start restocking our supplies this year, and for every bottle we take, he makes us add new ones. It's not my fault that moron likes a special recipe that they only make at this particular bar."

"The Mikaelsons and their picky palates." I mumbled under my breath, kissing Hope's head before leaving her alone with aunt Katherine.

I breathed a sigh of relief as I left the playground. If Klaus finds his daughter with Katherine, at least she'll be to blame for the little girl shouting her name in fascination.

Or he'll have a heart attack. Maybe it's better to warn him.

Hello half-wolfie. I just want to let you know that the little princess is with Her Majesty. Don't get mad when you see them two - I have to go and take care of the wedding (which you're not helping me with at all, Mr. Best Man). I'm getting alcohol and rings, so you're responsible for flowers and food. Good luck! :)

Mr. Big Ego: I hope you know what you're doing. Also, if flowers and food aren't a woman's thing to do?

I'll turn a blind eye to this horrible sexist discrimination just because you're probably miles away and my magic won't reach you. Back to the topic. You're an artist, and you have a pretty good sense of style, so I believe you'll do just fine. Besides, you're quite handsome. Use your charm on the women, and they'll do the job for you.

Mr. Big Ego: Thanks for the advice, I'm just trying to use it in case you hadn't noticed. ;)

My God, are you getting senile blindness? I wrote that you're "quite handsome," not "incredible hot." You've got to find a desperate woman, so go and do your job, because I'm not going to do shitwork for you, LOVE. :-*

Mr. Big Ego: I'd rather read how you call me that under other circumstances... :-/

Take what they give you.

Mr. Big Ego: We both know I can get a lot more out of you. Like those tempting, little moans a couple days ago...

Don't you happen to have something urgent to do, your grace?

Mr. Big Ego: Nothing is more important than you (and Hope). Until we meet again, my love. <3

"Boyfriend?" woman's voice brought me back to earth. I looked around, realizing I was under the bar and blocking the entrance. I was annoyed that I couldn't stop smiling since I began writing to the hybrid.

"He wishes." I replied as I put my phone away and entered the bar.

I headed straight for the bar, hoping to settle this as soon as possible and get back to my girls. I loved Katherine, but the desire to spite Klaus might outweigh her good-natured offer. I wanted to make sure she didn't teach Hope anything terrible (like "Kol," for example).

Fortunately, the bar wasn't that crowded, so I was able to get to the barmaid without any problems.

"Hi, I'm Y/N. My friend ordered some of your drinks for her wedding. I promised her I would get them. It should be booked for Petrova or Mikaelson."

"Oh yes. I know. I am Cami. It's nice to finally meet you. After all the stories I've heard about you, I feel like we've known each other for a long time."

"Klaus' psychotherapist? I thought it was at least a full-time job." the blonde giggled.

"Let's say he's making progress."

"Which doesn't explain how you know me. Is Klaus talking about me all the time, again and again? I must be the real bane of his existence."

"Actually, he's very fond of you."

"Fond of me? In what universe?"

"Wanna have a drink?"

My first thought was to say no, but the barmaid poured me a drink before I could decline her offer.

Maybe one drink won't hurt me.

~•♤♤♤•~

"Have you never been in love?" Cami asked after serving me another tequila.

In those few hours (and probably 2 bottles used to make me a drink) the blonde went back to the topic of Klaus's untrue feelings for me. Forcing me, in a way, to talk about my love conquests. I was sure that they were not as diverse and interesting as hybrids.

"I was. Long time ago. We did all these stupid, cheesy things together. Stargazing in the forest on top of his car, swimming in the lake at night, dancing in the rain. He was my date at prom. We even won the king and queen contest. But the point is that my personal experience tells me that loving him wasn't worth it at all."

"And why is that?"

"Because my boyfriend—the man I'd been dating since we were ten years old—broke up with me via fucking SMS on my 18th birthday."

"Oh."

"Yes. Oh. And please don't give me any therapist speech about that: "He was the problem, not me." I got over him a long time ago." I said, taking a sip of my drink to avoid her sympathetic gaze.

"Then why don't you want to give a chance to someone new?" I mean, it's been proven that a new relationship and crush can aid in the healing of broken hearts."

"Well, I'm assuming you can't heal something that doesn't exist anymore. Also I don't need any new love in my life; I have my friends, and they are giving me enough of it."

"For now, but what will happen if one day you would like to have your own family? A person who'll choose you above everything else in their life?"

"Please, don't even tell me that Klaus fits into this "ideal" husband-to-be for me." the woman sighed, rubbing her forehead. I smiled victoriously, knowing that I had won over Klaus' therapist and that Katherine's little ruse had failed.

"To be honest, I shouldn't do that, but desperate times and all of that." the blonde took out a small dictaphone from her pocket and played a recording after a few clicks. "A week before Elijah and Katherine's engagement party."

"All right. Let's talk about something else. How do you feel about your brother getting married to Katherine?"

"Stupid question. Of course I'm happy for him. Even if his partner leaves much to be desired."

"Well, I've heard something different."

"And what exactly?"

"That you're grumpier than usual and growl at every poor soul around you. There are also many stories in the city about you. You've gone mad because you're secretly in love with Katherine, and that's why you don't want them to get married. But my personal favorite is that you tried to steal the ring from Elijah and sell it on Amazon."

"I admit I was more… moody in the passing days, but all is well now. I'm really happy for them. Very."

"Are you sure your mood swings have nothing to do with Y/N?"

"Veto."

"Come on. We need to finally talk about her. It's the perfect time."

"You're not going to let this topic go, are you?"

"Not as long as she is an important person in your life. Rebekah told me she had an impact on you. You tried to be a better man for her! I thought only Hope had that power over you."

"Do not say that. She'd be overjoyed to learn she has any power over me."

"Would it be wrong if she listened to how important she is to you?"

"Y/N and I are… complicated. We actually never say nice things to each other. I don't even know why Rebekah told you about her."

"Your sister said you loved her. You still do. Even after a year without receiving a single call, text, or email from her. I also saw her portraits in your art room. And pencil sketches. Maybe even some sculptures…"

"I see what you're saying, but it's not my fault she's… unimaginably, incredibly beautiful. I'm just admiring her charm. As an artist, it's my duty to try to capture the depths of her eyes. Or her sweet smile when she is laughing at stupid little things she admires. That's true. I have many pictures of her, because despite my tireless efforts, I have not succeeded in presenting her beauty in a proper way. There are no paints that match the color of her eyes and hair, not even talking about her probably soft, delicate skin. No canvas big enough for her portrait will ever make me forget her or stop imagining her every time I close my eyes. She is always in my darkest nightmares or in my sweetest dreams. Every single day, she steals my thoughts, so that sometimes I find myself thinking that she is here, chasing me around my own city to make me want her more than I already do. I'm disgusted at how easily I succumbed to the magic of her charm. And the worst part is that she didn't even have to use her power to make me enchanted with herself. It looks like she has to mess with me even when she isn't around."

"I think it's enough." she said, pausing. I stared at the recorder for a good few minutes, analyzing what I had just heard. "I'll leave you with that for a while and see if Steve has already sent you crates of alcohol. Take your time."

I took a sip of my tequila. It's impossible for him to have feelings for me, right? He has a child, a city to rule, and I… I'm only 20. I don't have so much on my mind, and I wouldn't find myself in a life like his. It's something else to spend here a month than… half of my life. And even if I wanted to be with him (assuming we really love each other), I would have to become a vampire.

As if my life wasn't already complicated enough without knowing the hybrid's supposed feelings for me.

At least it can't get any worse.

"Y/N? Is that you?" Fuck. I take that back.

"Tom." I said after I turned to the place where his voice had come from. My worst fears came true.

"It's you."

"Yeah. It's me." I replied, not sharing his delight and amazement. Meeting my ex was the last thing I wanted to do after hearing Camille's recording. As if I didn't have a mess in my head anyway.

"It's good to see you."

"You don't have to lie." I replied, turning back to the bar. Not trusting his words even a little bit.

"I'm not. To be honest I… I missed you."

"What?" I asked, eyeing him properly for almost two years.

He has changed. His dark hair, which was always combed and slicked back, was tousled in all directions, adding charm and feistiness to him. He had a slight stubble on his face, and judging by the obvious fatigue on his face, life had not been kind to him either.

"Can we go somewhere private and... you know, talk?" he asked tentatively, trying to grab my hand, but I pulled away from him.

"I'm sorry, but you're like, two bloody years late. We have nothing to talk about." I got up, intending to leave the bar as soon as it was possible, so I could free myself from him. What happened in the past should remain in the past. There was no point in re-entering the same river.

"Y/N! Wait a second, please! I know I screwed up then, but please, let me at least tell you why I had to do what I've done."

"The thing is... I don't care about it, Thomas. You abandoned me in the darkest, most difficult period of my life, when I desperately needed someone to care for me, without so much as a blink of your eye. You didn't have to explain this then, so I don't want to listen to it right now."

"I did it for your safety!"

"My safety?! Please spare me that pathetic excuse. You had two years to come up with something really good, and you went with: "I did it for your safety."

"Two years ago I turned to vampire, Y/N. Ripper to be precise."

"What? But who turned you? Damon?" I asked in shock, not believing that my sweet, darling Thomas could ever turn into one of them.

"I had an accident that was quite dangerous. I was on the edge of life, so they gave me vampire blood in the hospital to help me heal, but… it didn't go right. I woke up hours ago with that uncontrollable hunger. I could only think about human blood. I was too scared to get close to you or anyone else. Damon helped me get out of town, he sent me here so I could learn how to control myself."

"He didn't tell me anything. Not even a little word. And he had known all along when he saw me crying on his brother's shoulder." if I was angry at Damon before, I am mad as hell at him now. This son of a bitch didn't deserve any help from me.

"I'm so sorry, Y/N. I tought it'd be easier for you to forget about me if I... broke your heart."

"Do not flatter yourself. It takes so much more to break it. You weren't even close enough."

"I should know. You've always been the strongest person I've ever met."

"Don't act like you still care about me." I growled, moving backward with each step he took towards me, until I hit the wall behind me.

"Y/N. I have no idea what you've been through these two years, but all I know is that when I was gone, all I could find myself thinking about—all I could remind myself of my old life—was you and our time together. I've never stopped loving you, Y/N. I don't think I could ever do. But I had to leave. Otherwise, I could hurt you. Only here could I learn to control myself and my primal hunger for blood. The mere fact that somehow, from all places in the world, you found yourself here proves that we are meant for each other."

"Stop it. You can't just show up after a year and tell me all of this as if nothing happened. You left me. You break up with me by fucking SMS. Did you even know how it hurt me? You, of all people, promised me that we... we would last forever. And I believed you. I don't think I could ever trust you again."

"I know, honey. I know I fucked up, but all I can do right now is prove to you that I would never, ever leave you and hurt you like this again. Just give us one more chance."

"And what if I have someone? What if I've already found the one man who would never even consider hurting me? Who would rather tear the world apart than see me in pain?" I asked, staring hard into his eyes.

"Do you truly have that someone, honey?" he replied, rubbing a tear from my cheek with his thumb that had unknowingly flown from my eye.

"I... I..." I really would. But I don't know if I'll ever be able to tell him what I really want.

Before I could answer him, the dark-haired man came closer to me and connected our lips in a tender, longing kiss. I shivered as, for no reason, I felt watched.

What was truly terrifying to me was that I didn't feel anything but guilty. But I shouldn't be... right? I was a free, single woman.

Then why did I feel like I was doing something wrong? Why didn't I have any butterflies around my first love? Why all I could think about was how much better Klaus' lips would be on mine?

"Please, don't give up on us." he said, resting his brow on mine.

"Tommy I... I..." Why didn't I feel anything?

"Y/N? Are you okay?" I was almost glad to hear Camille's confused, worried voice. She must have noticed my red eyes from crying and possibly my makeup smudged by tears.

"Yes. Thomas was leaving, right?"

"Here. If you changed your mind." he slipped a piece of paper into my hand and kissed my forehead before obediently leaving the bar.

"Who was that guy? Does he hurt you? Should I call…"

"No! There's no need. Tom would never hurt me. Not deliberately." I cut her off before she could say HIS name. I didn't need another dose of confusion in my head.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, I will come home. I think that's enough excitement for one day."

"Okay. I'll call you tomorrow. Just to check if everything is fine."

"There's no need." I responded, unaccustomed to the other's concern about me.

"You know I'm a good friend too. Not just a pseudo-therapist for a bloodthirsty millennial vampire." I smiled involuntarily, feeling some of my overwhelming emotion disappear after her little joke.

"I'll remember that for next time."

"Bye Y/N! It was nice to finally meet you." I waved to her as I crossed the exit from the bar.

As I turned to head towards the mansion, I noticed someone hiding in the darkness and staring at the bar's window. Someone who was as broken as I never imagined he could be. 

Shit. He saw us. But why did I care?

And then, when our eyes met, I knew that my decision about me and Thomas would be much harder than I had previously thought. And it was at this point in our game that Klaus and I had to finally define who we had to be to each other. It would be the hardest choice of my life.

A terrible (but true) thought crossed my mind.

I'm a freaking Elena Gilbert.

~•♤♤♤•~

Hi everyone! I just wanted to thank you for every heart and follow; I really appreciate it. <3 For anyone who is interested, this "story" will have like 5 or 6 parts in total.

#klaus mikaelson x reader #klaus mikaelson x y/n #katherine pierce #katerina petrova #elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x katherine pierce #rebekah mikaelson #freya mikaelson #hope mikaelson #camille o'connell #new orleans #vampire #tvd #the originals #romance #witches #witch #klaus x reader #klaus mikaelson #tvd klaus #klaus x y/n #kol mikaelson #davina claire #kol mikaelson x davina claire #Spotify #kalijah #kolvina #klaus mikaelson one shot #klaus mikaelson fanfiction #klaus mikaelson angst

[screampied]

vegas, i leave for couple days, you post ANOTHER toji fic. its like you wanted me to come back bc its literally four paragraphs in and im SCREAMINGGGG

the “oh yeah” when he walks in i moaned. LOLZZZZZZZ I GIGGLED SAUR HARD LIKE UGH i havent even finished reading this 😭

“uh, ill talk to you guys later” “nah, keep that shit on” i bit my fist. theres currently bite marks on my fist ARGH HES SO DADDY

the insults.. LMFOAOAOOAOAOAPAP “he looks like he doesnt shower” I CABT DEAL

oh my.. “i was gonna for three days and you forgot how to act” TEACH ME HOW TO SCT IM OBEDIENT 😻😻😻😻😻😻😻 sorry that was uncalled for.

honestly when she said she faked everything i said LIARRRRR out loud bc i wouldve came from the kiss.. coughs.. OH MY GOD “eyes up here, not them. theyre not the ones who are gonna fuckin eat you out are they” BUSSANUTTTTT

im sorry these comments are actually making me cry “even my domain has better quality than this” “clean up aisle my pants > . <” LFMAO I CANT DO THIS 😭😭

the detail. i might as well be the viewer watchin that stream cuz LAWDDDDDDDSS 😻 “mhm, pull on it” i came :P “..harder” AHAT??? HELLO??? i squirted. “that’s what im talking about” yeah im two more sexy lines away from touching myself . THAT SOUNDS SO WILD IM SOREY 😭😭

oh my GAWDWDWDS “feels good when you do that” “yeah cause i know what the fuck im doing” pla have mercy. HAVE MERTHY. im sorry he fingered me under a dinner table with my PADRE talking to me?? WHYUUULLLDDDD (wild) but we luv it 😻

“told you to keep those fuckin on me” coughs i js screamed. “yeah.” MFGGGFFFFGHHHH IM CLAWIN THE WALLLSS.

“baby hold it” YAWWWLLLLLLLLLLLLL IVE LOST MY BREATH WHYS THAT SOOOO then rhe comments. PLEASE 😭

“petition to have toji oiled and cheeked up” signed! 😛 “dad?” “lol no.” LFMAOOAOAOAO 😭😭

OHH???? “i cabt wait” “yes you fucking can, if i tell my girl to wait, she’s gonna wait.” ORDERS ARE BEING FOLLOWED ILL WAIT BB 🤤🤤🤤 THE FICS NOT EVEN OVER IT JS KEEPS CUMMING. btw, i love how they be like arch it for me/ass up like YOHHH 😻😻😻

“sorryyyy” shes so real for that. “but sweetheart, you’re not sorry.” “huh?” “huh?” ive got a mocking kink now bc of you 🙁 now whenever i get mocked or teased i giggle 🙁🙁 i act like a whore 24/7 😒 TALK TO ME NICE AAYFGGHHHH I LOVE THAT LINE IM GONNA DIE

“girl hello? i wasnt talking to you” HES SO SASSY 😭😭 but the fact he talkin to my pussy like SHE LOVES YOU TEW 🤤 THESE COMMENTS GET OUT GOJO ASKING FOR THE ONLY FANS N GETO ASKING FOR IR ☠️ “please toji im a single mom” IM DEAD 😭

we’re getting caught on stream.. im leaving.

IM HERE NO ALL MIGHT GASPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP?????? “shit i think im in love with you” OUUUUUUUU HELLLOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO ARE YOU JOKING HELLO KNOCK KNOCK NO PUNCHLINE ARE WE SRS YOHHHHH??

i LOVED this, sorry for waffling but WEOOOWWW you ate this one UP veve > 0 <

— pearl anon <3

YOHHHH IM GEEEEEKEDDDDD 😭😭🥹🥹

first of all welcome back pearly 🙋‍♀️🙆‍♀️ i hope you've been well this saturday <3

and LMAOOOOOOOO

IMCRYIKMGGGH the chat was the best part to make omg 💔 like i’d pay so much to see toji double cheeked n oiled up im just saying 🤷‍♀️

TALK TO ME NICEEEEEE 😫😫😫 omg ikr i love the line real bad n it just fits toji so well like ??? IMSO GLADDDDYOU LIKE ITTTTTT i was so close to scrapping it but we pulled through 🙇‍♀️

two more lines away from touching yourself HELPPPPPDPDGGG

omg thank you pookie this lowkey brightened my day i appreciate it commentary forever n always ☹️☹️☹️💟💟💟💟💟

#anons 💌 #pearl anon #🧁 #dbf!toji #MWAAAAA #IM HERE NO ALL MIGHT BYEEEE I SCREAMED

[hyperfixationsporfavor]

Houseguests

Part 3 of my ongoing fic The Marriage 

(Warning: nonconsensual touching, nightmares, minors dni)

Part 1 Part 2

(Gojo x Reader)

Houseguests

The scent of freshly made waffles filled your apartment. Sunday mornings had become a bit of an event. Satoru would bring the Fushiguro siblings over and the four of you would have breakfast together. Sometimes you’d cook, other times Satoru would try to cook. The latter would result in you getting donuts from the bakery down the street. Once the waffles had been cooked you all gathered around the table to partake in your bountiful feast.

“Thank you (Name),” Tsumiki chimed.

“Thank you,” her brother mumbled.

“You’re very welcome.”

“And thank you to Papa Gojo for helping,” Satoru added.

He was met with radio silence.

You chuckled as you trailed your thumb down his cheek.

“Thank you for pouring the orange juice Satoru.”

He smirked and pecked your cheek.

“Ewww,” Tsumiki giggled.

“Ewww,” Satoru mimicked.

Megumi slipped some bacon under the table for his demon dogs to nibble on.

It was a picturesque morning.

Until it wasn’t.

Satoru placed his hands on your shoulders and slowly moved them up to situate his fingers around your neck.

“This is making me sick,” he groaned. “Wake the hell up.”

His grip tightened harder and harder until you couldn't see.

“Satoru,” you choked as you struggled against him.

“I thought we went over this already,” a changing voice nagged.

“I’m not Satoru.”

~

When you came to you found yourself in a small bedroom with no windows. The furniture was practical and no decor aided in dressing anything up.

The dull thud of footsteps approached you.

You slowly sat up on the twin sized bed you had been placed on.

The door opened to reveal Uraume with an unreadable expression on their face. You clenched your jaw, fully aware of how easily you could be killed here.

“The head of the house would like to see you,” they informed you.

~

It was almost laughable how immature this Kenjaku character was. When Uraume brought you to the clan leader’s quarters, the puppetmaster had been lounging on a couch in a carefully constructed pose. He held the demeanor of an actor, practically seeping in a self congratulatory air at his performance.

“Hello again (Name). Did you have a nice sleep?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Not particularly. But you’d know all about my sleeping patterns wouldn’t you?”

He chuckled. “Such a feisty little thing. I can see why the Gojo heir picked you.”

Kenjaku looked over to Uraume who stood quietly behind you.

“Why don’t you bring in our other guest?”

The monk nodded and saw themself out.

Kenjaku redirected his attention back to you.

“We’ve been very busy today. What with throwing out the old appliances and reacquainting oneself with old memories.”

“This is the Kamo Estate,” you murmured.

“Very observant.”

“What have you done with the clan leader?”

Was that his plan? To systematically target the three major clans from the top up?

“Did you seal Lord Noritoshi away in the same contraption as my husband?”

He scoffed at that suggestion. “That doormat? No. He’s long dead.”

Your heart skipped a beat.

“Trust me (Name). Your precious Satoru Gojo is very much alive.”

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in,” Kenjaku practically sang.

You turned to find the last person you were expecting to see that night.

“Principal Gakuganji?”

The old man looked over to pseudo Geto.

“Is it done?” the old man gruffly asked.

“Yes. And we certainly appreciate your business.”

You took a step towards the Kyoto principal.

“What the hell is going on here old man?” you hissed.

He just scoffed at you. “You and Satoru were always so disrespectful.”

Kenjaku stood up from the couch and approached the two of you.

“Didn’t you hear (Name)? You’ve been exiled,” he cheerily informed you.

You turned to the principal in disbelief. “On what grounds?”

“Tonight's incident in Shibuya led to catastrophic fatalities, countless civilians slaughtered at the hands of curses, but even more slaughtered by none other than Sukuna’s vessel.

Your breath hitched.

“What?” you uttered.

Kenjaku let out a hefty laugh.

“Oh you don’t even know the half of it. The child left a sea of carnage in his path. ”

You shook your head trying to make sense of the situation. You had to talk to Gakuganji, that’s what you did in your professional life. Helped your fellow sorcerers see reason and offered solutions.

“Principal,” you started. “Any loss of life is unfortunate, but you know as well as I do Sukuna is responsible for any harm done. Yuji is just that, a vessel, nothing more. If we kill him now our chances of finding the remaining fingers will become even slimmer. And why seal Satoru? You know as well as I do that if anyone can take down Sukuna it’s him.”

He sighed. “Satoru Gojo’s arrogance is what has led us here. The higher ups have voted on his exile. What state he’s in is of no importance anymore. They’ve also decided to relieve Yaga of his position and execute him for aiding your husband. By default you are relieved as well.”

“Execution?” you spat. “That’s insane! You need us now more than ever. Please Gakuganji. I’m insisting you see reason. What about Sukuna?”

“Yuji Itadori’s execution has been lifted. Sukuna is no longer a concern.”

You guffawed.

“So that’s why you're doing this. With Satoru and the rest of us out of the way you finally get what you want. Wake up you bastard. Are you really so shortsighted?”

Kenjaku smirked and called for Uraume who reappeared at the door.

“Please see Principal Gakuganji out.”

Before he could turn to leave you shot your arm out and wrapped a hand around the old man’s neck. He stumbled and his cane went crashing against the floor.

“Mrs. Gojo. This is what’s best for everyone,” he choked.

You just leaned forward, fighting off every morsel of your being from killing the piece of shit where he stood.

“Am I supposed to be surprised by your betrayal? Just remember this. Satoru will be free eventually. And when he finds out you bartered away the lives of his wife and child. You’ll be begging for death.”

~

Later that evening Kenjaku invited you to have dinner with him. You begrudgingly sat across from him at the dining table.

“Where are the Kamo clan members?” you asked. “Did you kill them out as well?”

“I’ve sent them to the Gojo estate for the time being. I could hardly have them in my way. By the way (Name), I’d be offended if I were you. They didn’t put up much of a fight when we left with you.”

You said nothing. You knew better than to assume any of the Gojos would stick their necks out on your accord. Since day one, your time as (Name) Gojo had been filled with nothing but dirty looks and snide comments. With you out of the picture they could maintain their pristine reputation. Another leader would take the place of your husband. You didn’t care what they thought of you. But to turn their back on their own flesh and blood?

Satoru and his child.

Uraume walked in with a tray of food and began to place different dishes in front of you.

Everything appeared to be normal, to an unknowing individual it might even look good, but you remained dubious.

“No need to stand on ceremony (Name). Dig in,” Kenjaku encouraged. “You need to remain healthy for the baby’s sake.

You paused a moment before relenting and sampling the fish. When you determined nothing tasted unusual, you continued.

“Uraume is a seasoned chef, feel free to utilize their services whenever you want.

The cook narrowed their eyes on him.

“Kenjaku,” they warned. “This woman is merely a means to an end. Don’t offer up my skills so freely. You know who I truly serve.”

Kenjaku just waved off their frustrations. “You’re no fun.”

They rolled their eyes and retreated into the kitchen.

You put down your utensils and faced your host.

“I have questions for you and you implied you’d be open to answering them.”

Kenjaku crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair.

“You’re either incredibly brave or incredibly stupid. You’re supposed to be on your knees begging me to spare you or at the very least your child.”

“You told me my child was your main interest. I’m still pregnant. So my child's well being depends on my wellbeing.”

“Yes,” he drew out.

“And if you wanted me dead you would have killed me instead of taking me hostage. Which is why I know this food isn’t poisoned.

Kenjaku just grinned. You definitely weren’t stupid.

“(Name). I’m an open book. I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”

~

And so he told you. He told you about his goals with Sukuna’s vessel, and how he experimented on multiple victims throughout time to find a vessel suitable for housing a curse. His children, all but one, a complete failure. Once the vessel was secure he planted the seeds of a master plan. Mapping out the chessboard with the essential pieces to ensure a winning strategy.

“So Suguru is merely a vessel in the way Yuji is,” you muttered.

It was all so much to process in real time.

“So your previous vessel was Yuji’s mother.”

“And it wasn’t long after his birth that I switched to Suguru Geto’s body.”

You recoiled in disgust. “So you disrespect the dead by using their corpses to commit your crimes. Not that I’m surprised.”

“Aren’t you going to ask why I chose this body?” he prodded.

“Isn’t it obvious? A special grades technique like Suguru’s would be useful in commanding a coalition of curses. It also gives curse users an incentive to help.”

He chuckled. “I like you. It’s rare that I get to talk to such smart people.”

You didn’t even bother entertaining his fake sincerity.

“If you really wanted to ensure you’d win. Why not take Satoru’s body? Was it because you knew you couldn’t beat him?”

Kenjaku tilted his head. Only the sharpest set of eyes could catch the briefest clenching of his jaw.

“You are a masterful tactician,” you admitted. “But incredibly cowardly.”

Without warning he appeared next to you and before you could react he positioned himself behind you, resting his hands on your shoulders. You didn’t dare move as you felt his fingers brush against your collar bone.  

“(Name),” he sighed. “Don’t make me take back what I said about you being smart.”

You couldn’t breathe. This vulnerability brought you back to when you stood before him in your first dream. Your thin cotton nightgown left you practically exposed to him.

“I need your husband for the same reason I need your child. They are valuable currency.”

“Currency for who?” you dared to whisper.

His hands began to trail down over your bare arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their path.

“Do you know how much powerful people are willing to pay for the pure power of the six eyes? Something to light their homes and fuel their war machines.”

“Utilizing cursed energy,” you whispered.

He hummed. “Precisely. In simple terms, think of Satoru as an incredibly valuable AA battery.”

Your heart nearly burst out of your chest when he rested his hands on your swollen womb.

“And you always need a spare.”

“You don’t even know if my child has the six eyes,” you anxiously retorted.

“No but it’s worth waiting to see before I hand you over to Sukuna.”

He leaned down and pressed his lips against your ear. “I’m sure a pretty little creature like you tastes positively divin-“

Kenjaku abruptly stood up and slammed himself against the wall. You quickly shot up from your chair and took refuge in the other corner of the room, cradling your stomach from his erratic thrusting.

He abruptly stopped and burst out into bellowing laughs.

Uraume quickly came rushing back in.

“What is it?”

Kenjaku cleared his throat. “He’s fighting again.”

His cold eyes gleamed sadistically as he approached you. “Your old classmate has quite strong memories.”

He loomed over you menacingly.

“Now, why don’t I fill you in on the details of the Culling Game?”

~

The End.

Taglist: @mc-reborn 

#gojo x reader #dilf gojo #jjk x reader #angst #kenjaku #uraume

[ill-be-istj-if-no-one-else-is]

Hello, Em! I was hoping you could help me out with mailing down my type. For background, I’m in my mid-twenties and am waffling between Fi-dom and Fe-aux. I’m cautiously calling myself and enneagram 9w1, but I’m sure of being an introvert, I’ve always been quiet and need time to regroup after spending too much time out and about. I tend to be fairly practical, taking a job I strongly dislike because bills need to be paid and I’d like to finish grad school with as little debt as possible. (1)

It doesn’t stop me from looking for a job more closely related to my field, and I’ll be honest it wears on me more than I’d like to admit, but it keeps the lights on for now. I’ve always been a very sensitive person, and it doesn’t take much to make me cry, when I’m invested in something, or I must deal with conflict. My dad would list my biggest weakness as being a bit of a pushover and taking on responsibilities that were never mine to begin with.(2)

I’ve always been spotted by bosses as reliable and because of this have been the one to pick up the slack in some positions. Despite this, I struggle to blend well with my environment. I can be polite, I can be quiet, but I can’t lie. Whenever people ask, it’s hard not to come out and say what I really think. If it’s someone who knows me well, I can generally just say what’s on my mind, but at work and with friends who aren’t as close, I have to bite my tongue. (3)

I’d say I’m a creature of habit, for the most part. I moved cross country a couple years ago, so it’s still a bit hard to gauge, but changes in routine (such as suddenly switching workstations or being asked to go get drinks RIGHT NOW) throws me off. For all that, I tend to get a little low when I’m not learning something new. I’ve taken up several new hobbies and interests because of this and have learned the basics of them all quickly. (4)

Most of them have been sensory hobbies, such as baking, knitting, and crochet. They also serve another purpose, as it’s a tangible way I can show my appreciation for those around me. It irritates me a little to have people ask me to make them things, because it’s not so much the tactile sensation that I love, it’s being able to keep those I care about warm and fed. If there’s anything else you need, I can fill this out more, and thank you so much! (5)

---

Hi anon! This definitely sounds ISFJ to me. 9w1 also sounds reasonable:

Difficulty with conflict is definitely a 9 thing and so ISFPs who are 9s experience it, but it's very common with ISFJs. The taking on of responsibilities is both very Fe and Si, and aux-Fe users do have a bit of a reputation for being something of a pushover. The part about struggling to change routine is also extremely true to Si, as is the practicality.

Sensitivity is imo not super tied to any one function - I think feelers tend to be more outwardly emotional in general than thinkers but I've known very emotional FJs and FPs. I also think that difficulty lying is more a personal thing than tied specifically to MBTI.

As for learning new things - hobbies tend to be a place where people can explore their lower functions safely! I suspect taking on sensory hobbies (within your comfort zone) but in doing so, learning something new and developing a new internal and systemic understanding (Ne and Ti) is what appeals to you.

#mbti #answered asks #anon ask #isfj

[the-rewriter13]

1. A nitpick that you have for whatever reason.

3. What character do you think has the most wasted potential? Why?

5. What's a redesign from the crit community that you enjoy?

Thank you for taking part in my silly lil ask game, I appreciate your participation and I hope you have fun with the questions!

I don't really like how Nifty has been infantilised or how the fandom turns Velvette into VoxVal's kid. To me, her relationship with Vox is siblings & Val's is possibly friendship?? (I know that that's kinda how I want it to be in my rewrite lol)

3. Vaggie (renamed Vivian in my rewrite muhaha), she could have had so much more cool stuff. The exorcist plot/lore could have worked had it not been out of the blue.

5. I quite like the redesigns by @/gh0stygray, @/waffle-a, @/campbell-rose and @/starrclownshazbinblog. They're really cool designs, lore and trivia

I loved taking part in this :) If you'd like, I can send more asks so you have to (not literally have to ofc) think more about your rewrite! If not that's also okay :]

#thickets ¤ #answered #inbox #my inbox is open

[134340am]

YUNA YUNA BBY CAN I REQUEST FOR YOUR 200 FREN CELEBRATION PLEASE !!! for akaashi + #5 >.< eeeee

akaashi keiji x gn!reader, 0.5k, cw food + suggestive part of my 200 frens celebration!

5. "i hate to be the bringer of bad news, but i’ve run out of clean work shirts… and you’re wearing the last one.”

"i hate to be the bringer of bad news, but i’ve run out of clean work shirts… and you’re wearing the last one.”

you look up from your half-eaten breakfast at your shirtless lover, a forkful of waffles halfway to your lips. “oh, really?” you ask nonchalantly, before shoving the sweet bite into your mouth. then you turn back to your breakfast, hiding a smile with another bite. “that is some pretty bad news.” 

akaashi raises an inquiring eyebrow at you. you don’t bother hiding the way you ogle at his exposed front, silently appreciating the view while you eat. “i need you to return my shirt, please. i’ll give it a quick iron before i go.” 

“wouldn’t it be easier if you just don’t go to work?”

“...it’s monday. i can’t do that.”

“yes, you can, actually.”

silence. a brief staring competition ensues. 

you bring a strawberry slice to your lips, chewing carefully without breaking eye contact. the staredown lasts a grand total of five seconds before akaashi’s stalking over to you, the playful glint in his eye the only indication that he’s not too serious about hunting you down. 

you abandon your fork with a clink to scurry off into the living room, the soft thuds of your lover’s sock-clad feet resonating behind you. “honey, please. i need to leave in— in fifteen minutes!”

“nope!” you yell back, rounding the corner. “it’s my shirt now!” hot on your heels, you hear your boyfriend huff in exasperation, at which you giggle amusedly. “what’s mine is mine and—” you scramble to a stop behind the couch, almost slipping on the hardwood floor. “what’s yours is mine too, keiji!”

“yes, but— well,” akaashi sighs, exasperated, before plopping himself down on the couch tiredly. “i need to go soon. please just give me my shirt, or i’ll have to wear my old fukurodani jersey.” another giggle escapes your lips and akaashi shoots you a disgruntled look. “and i don’t want to hear any complaints from you if i get fired.” 

“no you won’t, darling.” you circle the couch to climb into his lap and straddle him, pressing soft, chaste kisses to his lips as an apology. “you are far too talented.” smooch. “and capable.” smooch. “and brilliant, keiji. you’ll be fine.” 

your lover stills at first, unrelenting. if your relationship was newer, you’d be concerned with the lack of a response—but you wait patiently, sitting pretty with your thumbs stroking his jaw, and are rightfully rewarded when akaashi puckers his lips to kiss you back. you couldn’t resist the satisfied sigh that slips from your lips when he smooths his hand down your back, pulling you impossibly closer to him. 

“don’t go to work today, keiji,” you whisper against his lips, breaking the kiss to lean your forehead against his. “let’s stay home, do the laundry, and cook. maybe take a nap together in the afternoon.”

you feel your lover’s lips brush against yours gently as he cracks a smile at your suggestion. “fine then. sounds good.” his hands, rough from years of volleyball, trail up your sides to pull his shirt over your head. “let’s get started with laundry, shall we?”

a/n: thank you for requesting bby! i love writing akaashi so i had a lot of fun with this <3 

(masterlist) (series masterlist)

#akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #haikyuu x reader #akaashi fluff #haikyuu fluff #akaashi x you #akashi x y/n #yuna's 200 frens celebration #yuna writes #beloved sayu