Something's Coming...

Something's coming...

𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 (𝐇𝐎𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐓 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔)

pairing. kinich x fem!reader

word count. 3.4k

genre/warnings. childhood friends to lovers (yes kinich literally invented this trope okay. sue me), mini-drabbles, childhood to university, modern!au, fluff and slight angst, lots of bantering but it's light-hearted i promise

summary.

you've always been a sore loser—kinich is just the only one brave enough to say it. or, you and kinich fall in love over the course of your lives, and one thing never changes—you're both idiots

author's note. credit to @/scythidol for the header images! a bit of a different fic format this time (who is she....). i'm sick over kinich, i have nothing clever to say or excuses to make. that's all, thank you for reading! i'm finishing this at 5am so i'll fix any errors later lol. reblogs/interaction highly appreciated!

“You’re annoying.”

The old TV in your backyard treehouse buzzes with static and the constant thumps of Kinich’s fingers against the controller buttons.

It’s a summer evening—crickets chirp merrily in the grass and lightning bugs float lazily through the air, glowing among the stars. You’re sitting next to him, knees pulled to your chest and the straw of a Capri-Sun settled between your lips.

His reaction (or lack thereof) to your words leaves you less than entertained, a sour pout fixed on your lips as he sighs.

“You’re a sore loser. We said whoever got up here first got to play first.” Despite the intense game occurring on the screen in front of him, he diverts about half his attention to watching you out of the corner of his eye. “And I got up here first.”

“But you always win,” you whine. Kinich nudges at his own juice box with his knee, and you roll your eyes before picking it up and holding it to his lips—he drinks gratefully, still focused on his game. You’re not sure why you keep agreeing to this bet; you don’t think you’ve ever won.

“Then you need to get faster.”

Both of you know that such a feat would be impossible—Kinich has been the fastest kid in your grade since you started school. His athleticism affords him a bit of popularity, still at the age where winning a playground race is essentially the deciding factor between the cool kids and the lame ones. But he’s not interested in any of that, and he makes that quite clear in his actions.

After all, all the popular kids avoid him since he started a fight with them last year.

“They were saying things about you,” he’d shrugged, like it was no big deal. The school seemed to think a bit differently, and his suspension felt like the longest week of your life.

The screen flashes then, a loud and colorful display that shows the words “you win”. Kinich leans back in his seat, a pleased half-smile spreading across his face.

“Okay, now you can play.”

He tries to hand you the controller, but you huff, crossing your arms and turning away.

“I don’t even wanna play anymore.”

Kinich is far more mature than you at this age—even your own mother tells you as much—so he merely sighs, accepting of your tantrum.

“Okay, what do you wanna do then?”

You ponder that for a moment. There’s a lot of things you do often, but many of them are things that Kinich is much better at than you. Playing video games, climbing trees, riding bikes—he’s far more talented at them all. It’s one of the reasons you even became friends in the first place—you’d practically begged him to teach you to beat the final boss of Super Mario Galaxy, and the rest was history.

“I don’t know,” you mumble noncommittally, blowing your straw wrapper at him. It lands right on target, bouncing lightly off his forehead as he rolls his eyes.

“Come on, whatever you wanna do, we’ll do it,” he says, poking at your cheek. “I’ll even play house.”

And you know Kinich hates playing house—he has boundless amounts of energy most days, and house isn’t “challenging” enough of a game for him to expend it. But he does it occasionally, just for you.

You brighten at the prospect.

“Really?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he sighs, already descending the treehouse ladder, waving you along. “Let’s go inside first, though. I’m hungry.”

Scrambling to your feet, you jump down to meet Kinich, already standing in the grass.

“Last one inside is a rotten egg!”

II.

The rainstorm ends just as classes dismiss—when you walk out the school entrance, a slight drizzle is still letting up, fresh puddles lapping at your toes. Kinich’s gaze finds you instantly as he slinks out of the school gates, bag tossed loosely over his shoulder.

“My socks are wet now,” you whine, patting down the edges of your skirt to look down at your shoes. You’d only just bought them recently, and your mom likely wouldn’t be pleased with the prospect of you ruining them so soon.

Kinich chuckles at first, a snarky sound as thick as the gathering clouds, only to sigh when your pout persists.

“Alright, alright,” he relents, squatting to the ground and gesturing for you to get on his back. “Don’t say I never did anything for you.”

He’s a bit frail, still in his growing phase—his bones and muscles shift rhythmically under his skin as he walks—but he’s so distinctly warm. The heat makes you curl closer, nose brushing against his neck.

He walks you home most days like this, spending the day at your house until the sky grows dark with dusk. His home life is something he rarely discusses, but you know enough, and you’re happy to welcome him to yours.

“You’re slow,” you mumble into his shoulder. The steady thump of his steps is comforting, nearly putting you to sleep.

“You’re heavy,” Kinich replies teasingly, adjusting your weight atop his back. His words are biting, but he’s being careful with his steps nonetheless, taking each one lightly so as not to jostle you.

“You’re rude,” you scoff back. His nose scrunches in annoyance when you loop your arms tighter around his neck, pretending to choke him as punishment. “You’re not supposed to say that to a girl.”

He blows his bangs out of his eyes, peering up at the newly visible sun that starts to dip low in the sky. You watch a cat scurry through the bushes to your right, golden eyes peering through the foliage before disappearing into the darkness.

“Yeah, that’s why I’m saying it to you.”

Kinich is always a bit wittier than you, a bit quicker to the punch, but you like that about him. You like a lot of things about him, and you’re sure he knows it, too. A weighty silence settles between the two of you, unnatural—it’s usually you who fills the silence, and Kinich who patiently listens.

But something bigger sits at the back of your mind, and the words are having trouble surmounting the obstacle of your tongue.

You’re still floundering for something to say by the time your house appears in the distance. The sight lights a fire under you—you don’t want to discuss something like this with your mother in earshot. You force the words out, voice weak and small.

“I heard Mualani confessed to you yesterday.”

The rumor had flown through the school like wildfire. Mualani is popular with the boys after all, so there’s bound to be quite a bit of heartbreak if she ends up in a relationship. Someone had seen them together at that sakura tree behind the school, and it instantly became a hot topic—it’s all you’ve heard about all day.

And though you know it’s not really any of your business, you can’t help but be curious, and the thought fills you with dread.

You manage a glance at his expression, searching for any sort of unrest, but he doesn’t show any at all. In fact, he seems wholly uninterested in the topic.

He shrugs. “Yeah, so?”

You take a deep breath for courage—you’re not sure you want to hear his answer.

“So? What did you tell her?”

And it’s nothing against Mualani, really—she’s kind and beautiful, and you wouldn’t blame Kinich for falling for her. She’s never done anything wrong to you at all. But a beat passes, and you’re already halfway through mourning the end of your long-time crush when he replies.

“I told her I was flattered, but I wasn’t interested.”

A sigh of relief escapes you then, but you reel it in quickly—he can probably feel you relax against his back at his response.

“Oh,” is all you say, as aloof as you can manage. Kinich latches onto your hesitation instantly.

“Why do you ask?”

“No reason,” comes your hasty reply. “...Is there any reason you said no, though?”

He frowns. “I don’t know. She just isn’t my type.”

“...Then what is your type?”

You’re going too far, you know—even just speaking the words has your chest twisting painfully, and you want to crawl into a hole and disappear. If Kinich isn’t an idiot, he can surely tell why you’re practically breathing down his neck over the whole thing.

But maybe Kinich is a little bit of an idiot, at least about these things, because he merely shrugs.

“Not sure. Never really thought about it.”

A frost unfurls in your chest, bitter—of course Kinich wouldn’t know, he’s never thought about anyone that way. Including you.

“Right.” You attempt a laugh, teeth gritting. “It’s all stupid anyway.”

You drop your head into his shoulder, trying to hide the pained expression on your face, and only then does Kinich’s stare flicker to you, soft.

“Right,” he says, a quiet rumble from his chest. “It’s really, really stupid.”

III.

Walks turn to drives when Kinich turns sixteen and buys his own car.

He’d saved up for months, working part-time jobs on weekends and after school, until the day finally came when he pulled up into your driveway, keys in hand. Your mom had been overwhelmingly proud—bought a cake and everything—and you’d merely been grateful that you no longer had to beg her to drive you places.

It’s nothing crazy, just a simple sedan, but it represents a freedom that the two of you have never experienced together before.

That’s how you end up parked underneath the flickering streetlight just outside your house, excitedly recounting a story to your best friend. He’d driven you home from your club after school, an errand that always ended in several other stops—today, it had been fast food and boba.

His eyes seem to glow in the fading daylight, a pretty jade and amber that you’ve always thought was beautiful. It feels a bit more intense with his stare trained on you—Kinich isn’t the talkative type, sure, but he always ensures that you know he’s listening.

“So then she was asking me about you.”

“Mhm.”

“And get this,” a nervous chuckle escapes you then, “she thought we were dating.”

Everything falls still.

It’s times like this that you really start to hate just how unreadable your best friend can be. Despite how much you tease him for it, you actually enjoy how difficult it can be to force an expression out of him—it’s a little challenge every day. But now, when you’re on the precipice of pouring your heart out, his impassive expression stings.

Nothing on his face changes, save for a slight tilt of his head—he’s considering your words. The silence feels endless; a lump starts to form in your throat, humiliation burning at your cheeks.

“I know, it’s so ridiculous,” you assert hurriedly, trying to avoid the rush of shame. “I mean, we would never—”

“Tell her we are, then.”

You’re sure that in that moment, your heart stops.

Truthfully, you hadn’t planned to get this far—you were planning on brushing over that part of the story and moving on, but something deep in your heart had forced it out of you. Now, you aren’t sure what you really want to happen.

It’s always been your underlying fear, that once Kinich finds out, everything will change. Or even if he does return your feelings, it’ll all go up in flames eventually and you’ll never be the same. It’s terrifying enough to have kept your mouth shut all these years.

A tense laugh erupts from your throat, cutting through the silence. “I—I mean, it’s not that simple—”

He arches a brow. “Do you not want to?”

That’s another difference between you and Kinich—he’s far more straightforward about getting things that he wants. It’s one of the reasons that people misinterpret him as cold, but he sees it as being logical.

You gnaw at your lip, fingers tracing over the car door. Do you?

If the countless daydreams and romantic notebook doodles are anything to go by, you do. You really do. You’re just not sure if you’re brave enough to take that step.

When you look at him again, he’s observing you carefully, a delicate fondness lying in his stare. You shrink under the weight of it.

“No, I do,” you admit quietly.

The moment falls still, and your eyes are drawn to the only movement within your line of vision—the quick bob of Kinich’s throat. Then, his hand advances toward your face at a measured pace, giving you endless opportunities to retreat.

Of course, you don’t.

“Can I…?” he asks, barely a brush of a whisper. The tension runs thick in the air as his tongue peeks out, swiping over his bottom lip at a tantalizing pace. It’s nearly enough to drive you crazy, but you know he’s just as anxious.

“Yes,” you breathe, wincing at the sound of your own voice—it sounds almost too eager.

But Kinich presses his lips to yours all the same, soft and wanting, and your heart flutters in your chest. It’s a chaste kiss, nothing like the fireworks-exploding-making-out-with-tongue types you’ve seen on TV, but it’s just right—it feels like him, and that’s all that matters. He pulls away slightly, lips still millimeters away from yours.

“I like you. If I’m not wrong, you like me too. I think it’s that simple.”

You almost want to laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. Though you’d never admit it, you’ve practiced this scenario thousands of times in front of your bedroom mirror—what you would say to him, what he might say to you. Leave it to Kinich to not follow the script.

But he’s always done things his own way, so really, you should’ve expected this.

Gently, he reaches for your hand, fingers slotting through yours with ease. You sigh.

“I guess it is.”

IV.

“...that far, huh?”

Kinich stares at you upside down, head dangling off the edge of your bed as you sit at your desk, laptop keys clicking rapidly. He knows you’re serious about your future goals; you both are. He just never imagined it would bring the two of you so far apart.

You pause with one hand resting on the mouse, still staring at the screen. The map looks so daunting, too daunting, and you can’t imagine being that far away from him.

An awkward, weighted silence hangs in the air, and by the time a few seconds pass, you’ve already foreseen eighty different bad endings for this situation. Clearing your throat once, you force yourself to speak.

“Kinich, I—”

“I get it.”

He doesn’t mean to interrupt you so suddenly, but he does. He couldn’t stop himself if he tried. Because while he does understand—he really does—he also can’t help the stinging sensation of tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. It feels pathetic. It feels selfish. Here you are, chasing your dreams and supporting his, and he’s caught on the fact that there will be a little space between the two of you. And it’s not like it’s anyone’s fault, but maybe you’ll get tired of waiting and—

“You’ll come back to me, right?”

There’s an unmistakable thickness to your voice, evidence of the steadily growing lump in your weary throat. It grows larger with every passing second, an insurmountable mass dwarfed only by the impending distance between you and him.

That question catches Kinich off-guard, and he nearly wants to laugh then; not because he doubts you at all, but because he doesn’t, and he finds it ridiculous that you would ever think otherwise. Here you are, worrying about him.

Kinich doesn’t have any doubts or fears. He never does when he’s with you.

Maybe that’s why.

With a light laugh, he lets his eyes flutter closed, finally allowing an uneven breath to fill his lungs. The natural light outside is slowly dimming, the fluorescent lamps dotting your street flicking on one by one. He knows he should go home soon. His car is sitting outside, the same one the two of you have had endless adventures, fights, and make-ups in. It’s the same one he will use when he moves an unfathomable distance away from you. The same one he will use on the day you will cry, clinging to him like your life depends on it, before watching him disappear into nothing but a mere dot in the distance.

His fist clenches at his side.

But you’re still here, the closest feeling he has to home, and you’re still in love with him, and he is still in love with you.

Maybe that’s why this is enough, for now.

Turning onto his stomach, Kinich sees you right-side up this time, and it’s like nothing has changed.

“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to.”

A knock echoes on your apartment door in the middle of the night.

You raise a brow at the sound, a bit unnerved—a lone college girl answering the door in the dark isn’t the safest thing, you think as you peek one eye through the peephole. But there’s a familiar figure standing outside, and it has your hand turning the knob immediately and flinging the door open.

He’s here.

“Kinich,” you breathe, in disbelief. Last you’d heard, he was somewhere halfway across the country, and certainly nowhere near your front door. But he’s here, in a black hoodie and grey sweatpants, looking like he’s just walked out of your dreams.

“Hey,” he says simply, as if his appearance hadn’t been totally shocking. He takes advantage of your shell-shocked state to invite himself inside, curiously looking through your apartment. “Nice place.”

You step aside in a daze. “Kinich—you—what are you doing here?”

He’s holding three flimsy bags in his fist, grocery store logos and restaurant labels stamped over the plastic, keys hanging off his pinky finger. He’d come prepared, clearly, but for what you’re not sure.

He towers over you a bit more than he used to, hair a bit longer, and everything about him feels so grown up. It reminds you of all the moments the two of you have missed over the years, how much change has occurred beneath your nose, maybe without you realizing.

He spreads the bags over your kitchen table—the mouth-watering smell of Chinese takeout filters through the air, and your stomach grumbles in reply. But it’s your tear ducts that react initially, a sting at the corners of your eyes as you squeeze them shut.

Kinich doesn’t notice at first, absorbed in inspecting the photos displayed on your wall—photos of you, photos of him, photos of the two of you together. It makes his chest warm that you still think about those times. He does too—after all, it’s rare that you leave his mind.

But he turns back to you, tears running rivers down your cheeks, and his breath hitches.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, carefully cupping your face. A lilt of panic laces his voice. “Does something hurt? Are you sick?”

“You’re here,” you sob, curling into his shoulder. None of it feels real. He’s warm and firm beneath your fingers, and you clutch at him tighter, half-expecting everything to disappear. It’s so much different than FaceTime or calling or anything else you do when he’s away. Because right now, he’s completely within your reach, and everything falls into place.

“Of course I am,” he murmurs. You cry into his hoodie, soaking the fabric with your tears, but he holds you close all the same. “Because you’re here.”

You spend a few minutes that way—you crying until your tears dry over your skin, and him comfortingly rubbing at your back. Air slowly returns to your lungs, and you sniffle, glassy eyes meeting his.

“But why? I mean, it’s the middle of the semester, isn’t it?”

A rare half-smirk graces his lips.

“We made a promise. I came back to you first. So I do believe that means that I win,” he says. If you weren’t so emotional, you might have rolled your eyes—of course, all he ever focuses on is winning.

He drags you over to the couch, laying down and pulling you on top of him, safe. You draw closer to him, tangling your limbs together until you’re not sure where he ends and you begin.

“You’re annoying,” you whisper, muffled into his chest.

Kinich shakes his head, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You’re still a sore loser. Thought you’d grow out of that by now.”

You grumble a few choice words at him, and he smiles—a sight that only you and the stars can claim to have ever seen.

And he’s right; you are a sore loser, and he’s been right just about every time he told you so. But you find it doesn’t matter, not really.

You could never win against Kinich anyway.

(Maybe you never wanted to.)

1K notes View Post

liyahbug

9 months ago

ღ 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞!𝐂𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐨 ღ

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏 𝐨𝐟 𝟐

18+ONLY MDNI

kizzatober series: Smooth Criminals

Kinktober Prompts: Clothed Male/Naked Female, Thigh Riding, Knife Play Synopsis: The university campus is being terrorized by a copycat Ghostface killer. As a popular sorority girl with a dumb jock bf, you are a prime choice to be his next victim especially given how he can't stop thinking about you. But you're no ordinary Sorority Girl bimbo, now are you? CW: AU college fic. blood obsession/hematolagnia, bimbo reader, murder, slight DV (from your npc jerk ass bf), unprotected sex, masturbation, slight age gap (roughly 21 vs 28) and dark content. NOTE: If death/killer romanticization related shit triggers you this is probably a fic to avoid because that is happening all through this bitch. I literally wrote a murder fluff smut fic lmfao. WC: 6.5k of 15.4k Lightly black fem coded (reader is an AKA lmfao) but no descriptors.

A/N: This is my first kinktober fic! I'm sorry this took so long y'all but last week been low key hell and I was sick for a lot of it. Also I did struggle with this a bit since this one I decided to do as an whole fic instead of PWP and now its gotten to be so long its definitely going to be in two parts. Sorry there's no smut in the first part, but there is some fluff and some juicy build up. I've never written for Choso before but he's so baby girl omg I'm obsessed with him now but still I'm a bit nervous posting this. sorry if its dog.

Enjoy!

“Ever felt a knife rip through human flesh and scrape the bone beneath?”

Those were the last words a nameless student heard before Ghostface's hunting knife shined menacingly in the air and came down to claim its newest victim.

Shluk! Shluk! Shluk!

Metal slashed through flesh with razor precision.

Gurgled death cries are silenced as the lifeless body collapses to the ground.

A thick pool of blood began gathering around them to fan out and travel around their body down the slanted titled floor to drain.

Choso breathed in deeply.

A wave of calm washed over him.

Peace.

Almost in an enlightened state, he felt the most serene after a kill.

It was beautiful.

Blood was beautiful.

The surging stream of blood that would eventually slow to a trickle, the abstract designs of its splatter and the way it swirled around the body splayed across the ground like paint on a canvas.

Like a painting.

A death painting… and the knife, his paintbrush.

This was his art.

Choso can recall the first time he actually saw blood beyond a minor scrape.

He couldn’t have been more than 6 years old. No doubt trying to impress his younger brother Yuji by balancing on top of the monkey bars. After all this time Choso isn’t certain as to how, but he lost his footing and fell flat on his face onto the unforgiving concrete below.

Screams of children filled the area once Choso pushed himself up onto his feet. He immediately felt wetness rush down his face. However, rather than cry or panic a young Choso cocked his head curiously when he noticed his reflection on the metal jungle gym. A warped view of his face mirrored back at him but he could still make out the bright red fluid cascading down his features staining him in red.

Choso didn’t know how long he stood transfixed, mesmerized by the sight of rouge river that flowed from him until Yuji ran back crying with their parents in tow.

It was how he had the scar across the bridge of his nose till this day, which became unsightly enough he had decided to get a black bar tattooed over it as soon as he turned 18.

From then on he couldn’t deny his growing obsession with blood and seeing it leave the human body. All of which had led him here to this university to attain a PHD in Forensics.

He picked this university, not only for their program but it was the perfect small town playground for Ghostface, a local urban legend from years ago he decided to revive once he felt as he had attained enough knowledge not to get caught.

Choso was meticulous in his process.

Ironclad alibis, no distinctive patterns and no victims with any connections to each other, nor him. Additionally, he had memorized all the angles of the university’s security system (thanks to a security guard he had bribed then promptly killed).

His victims' lives were just his means to an end for his art and most students on this campus wouldn’t amount to much anyway outside of that was how he justified it. Choso did like toying with them on occasion though, fear made the blood pump faster and spray harder once he finally did catch them.

Sadly, he could never admire his creations for too long though before needing to make his own exit.

Almost midnight.

Ten more minutes before campus security makes another round.

He took one last glance at the scene of carnage he had created before disappearing into the night.

☠

In just a mere 2 hours, the news of another Ghostface murder spread across campus.

The university’s students were either scared, scattering back to barricade themselves in their dorms. Or curious, lingering around the crime scene near the safety of the news crews and reporters who had gathered to see who the unlucky victim was this time.

No one however, is likely more curious than you: A third year forensics undergrad, who was just itching to get a real glimpse of your first real crime scene, a Ghostface copycat killer crime scene at that!

You had even left a huge frat party (to be fair it was about to get broken up soon anyway) to trek across campus in the bitter cold of late fall.

“Y/N, let’s go back–,” one of your pledges whined, “–it’s cold and my feet hurt in these heels!”

“Shh, Stassi, shut up! What if this is an initiation test?” another pledge whispered.

Your sorority pledges chatter on behind you and you almost forgot you brought them along. It’s not like you wanted to but, like it or not, they were attached to you at the hip like little ducklings until rush was over.

With a clap you turn on your heel to address them.

“Ladies–”

However you abruptly stop once you see your Forensics TA, Choso Kamo, taking what appeared to be a night jog across the campus quad.

Was he going to the crime scene too? Your face instantly lights up and your pledges look around confused.

“Wait here girlies! I’ll be 5 minutes max…. No, I mean it. Wait right here!”

Your pledges huff quietly, but agree.

They had no choice really as you were already skipping as fast as your not-so-sober legs would carry you in 5-inch pumps over the quad lawn. Truthfully, that was not something they were trying to do too, especially not to chase down what looked like some creepy emo nerd.

“Choso!”

You call out to him and wave, but he doesn’t look like he sees you as you hurry towards him.

“Hey Choooo! Wait up!” You puffed out, trying to maneuver over the grass in your heels.

Choso sighed recognizing your voice, reluctantly slowing his pace. He would have kept on jogging but he knew you would keep calling out to him and draw even more attention that he really didn’t need right now.

Finally catching up to him, you grab Choso’s arm and loop yours through. He flinched slightly at your touch but you knew he always seemed a bit jumpy when it came to physical contact, so this didn’t phase you.

If anything you thought his reactions were kinda cute.

“Where are you going weirdo? All the action is back that way!” You teased with a big grin and pointed in the direction of the crime scene.

Choso tries to ignore how his adrenaline was pumping even faster from you holding on to him than when he was running, especially dressed as you were.

You looked sexy as hell utterly ridiculous.

You were decked out in a sailor costume, which was pretty much just a poor excuse for lingerie at this point. Your white sailor flap collar attached to nothing more than a sparkly navy bra with shiney white and red trims, leaving your midsection exposed showing your cute little belly ring in the shape of an anchor.

This was complemented by a dangerously short yet matching sparkling navy pleated skirt which sat low on your thick hips. Your shapely legs were the most covered part of your body yet still looked overwhelmingly tempting in red glittery garters, attached to white opaque stockings in glittery red heels.

“I’m the weirdo… but you’re dressed like that in 40 degree weather.” Choso retorted, brow raised.

“Duh Choso–”

You released his arm to give him a twirl in your outfit, not noticing the way he nervously wet his lips watching your skirt rise with your little spin.

“–The ‘Get Nauti’ party was tonight silly, where have you been!?”

Oh you know, just casually killing someone. Choso resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

Of course he knew about the party.

The campus had been littered with fliers for ‘Get Nauti’ for the past two weeks. Nothing Choso would ever be interested in as he would rather stab himself in the face than attend a mind-numbing party with a bunch of bro-for-brain frat guys.

However, he did take advantage of the opportunity to create another death painting as Ghostface with the rest of campus preoccupied.

He couldn’t tell you that though obviously.

“Gym,” Choso said flatly and shrugged, “Heading back to the dorms n-”

“–You mean you aren't going to the Social Sciences building!? Don’t you remember?!” You cut him off in your excitement.

“The police said they would let us forensic students look at the next crime scene!”

Your face had a warm glow and your movements slightly swayed. You were clearly drunk.

“No Y/N, they said they might let the PhD students, like me, look at the crime scene… and that was only a slim ‘maybe’. You’re still just an undergrad”, he reminded you, much to your dismay as you puffed your cheeks.

But seriously, Choso thought, even the incompetent local police would have enough sense not to let you on the crime scene dressed as you are now, even if you were a PhD student.

“Awe no fair,” you whine dejectedly. “But you should go, Cho! Then you can tell me all about it! Pleaseeee, I’m dying to know what a Ghostface crime scene looks like. I hear it’s kinda gruesome!”

You gazed up at Choso through fluttering long lashes as you poked out your cherry glossed lips. It was a pout that could famously leave any frat boy at your mercy, but it never seemed to stir Choso much (that you could tell at least).

Choso swallowed.

On the contrary, your charms worked rather well on him. His mouth was dry and he unconsciously clenched and unclenched a sweat ridden palm behind his back.

The hell were you doing being this excited over a crime scene? One of his crime scenes for that matter?

Choso really didn’t know what to make of that.

“Y/N it’s late. I still have papers to grade. I’m going back to my dorm now and you should get home too,” Choso said flatly, trying to keep his cool although fatigue was etched into his voice.

He was in peak physical form but still feeling the strain given he just chased his last victim all over the Social Sciences building. Not to mention still having assignments to grade. All which would be fine if he also wasn’t on edge from you right now as well.

“Booooo…Choso yo– ahchoo!” You sneezed from the cold.

The effects of alcohol could only do so much to keep you warm in these low temperatures while you were standing still.

With another sigh Choso unzipped his black track jacket, taking it off and putting it around your shoulders.

He was doing so as much for your sake as his own. Choso couldn’t help but notice your boobs looking like they were going to pop out of your flimsy sailor bra at any moment when you folded your arms underneath them for warmth.

He was really doing his best to maintain eye contact with you.

“Awe thanks Cho, you’re so chivalrous!” You giggled, blushing as you snuggled into his jacket.

You could still feel his body heat lingering on the material but the heady scent of oak and sandwood from his cologne warmed you even more.

You also couldn’t help but stare as the black compression turtleneck he wore underneath clung to his body like a second skin. You had suspicions he was fit but you never saw him wear anything beyond his dark colored button ups and shaggy sweaters when in class.

“Now go home, Y/N. You shouldn’t even be out here alone this late.”

Choso’s stern voice snapped you out of your ogling.

“But I’m not alone silly!”

You pointed to the group of scared and shivering freshmen girls also in various states of sparkly undress all for the sake of ‘getting nauti’ standing on a paved path not too far off.

They looked absolutely miserable.

“I have my pledges!”

Choso gave you an incredulous look. You were too clueless.

“So let me get this straight… You are drunk. You have drunk freshmen with you, who shouldn’t even be drinking in the first place…and you plan on taking them to a murder scene? Where the cops are?” You made an “OH” face and absentmindedly laughed as you came to the realization it probably wasn’t the best look for Chapter VP of the AKAs to take a bunch of drunk and terrified freshmen pledges straight into a recent crime scene. Even if you could put an academic spin on it as it was relevant to your major classes.

Yikes, and on second thought, your house mom would flip her entire shit if she found out.

“Go home Y/N,” Choso said again, shaking his head.

“Besides, you should be more focused on the Chemistry lab midterm on Monday. You know you can’t afford to fail.”

You sulked but relented, he was right. On both accounts.

As your T.A. for that class Choso knew better than anyone just how much your grade depended on passing that lab and you hadn’t even so much as glanced at your notes yet this week.

“Aye Aye, Capitan Choso, sir!” you teased giving him a salute with a wink and lifted knee, your sailor skirt lifting a bit higher.

It was a cute move, or it would have been at least if it hadn't caused your weight to shift all on to one foot. The heel of the sparkly red glitter pump baring your weight sunk into the patch of soft soil beneath you causing your foot to pop out of the shoe as you tumble forward.

You would have definitely ate shit and embarrassed yourself in front of Choso, your pledges and whoever else was walking across the quad at this time of night if Choso’s quick reflexes didn’t catch you.

You let out a squeak and waved your arms as you fell tits first onto Choso’s hard chest.

Shit.

Choso could feel your hardened nipples pressing against him through the flimsyass costume you wore. He tried hard to focus on how cold it was outside. Anything rather than how warm your body felt up against him or how his biceps tensed from the tight grip of your delicate fingers that sought stability from him.

You grinned sheepishly. You thanked him for catching you not realizing the position you were in nor the torment you were putting this man through.

Setting you upright quickly, Choso crouched down to retrieve your shoe.

His plan was to simply place it near your foot but he felt your hand land on his shoulder and you raised your dainty foot up expectantly.

Any attempts to avert his gaze proved futile as Choso couldn’t stop his eyes from traveling up the length of your leg.

Your opaque white stockings practically glowed in the darkness illuminating the shapely calves it covered and thick thighs the tight material cut into. Your hips strained against your garters up until your –he caught himself and his eyes snapped up immediately.

He was a killer, not a perv at least he was trying not to be.

Gingerly making sure to only touch your ankle, you were giggling again as he put your shoe on your foot and placed it on the grass again.

“Thanks Choso! You really are a lifesaver, ya know! I can’t bend down in this skirt.”

“Don’t mention it.” Choso quickly replied, pushing his bangs out of his face in exasperation.

Really don’t.

Choso was trying to forget the flash of red lace he saw that barely covered your plump pu– No he had to stop, you were technically his student even if he was just a T.A.

He would surely have to kill you if he popped a boner right now. He was trying to keep a low profile already and did not need to add ‘sexual deviant' to his name from a student harassment claim.

“For real now, go home Y/N.” Choso silently pleaded you would just listen this time.

He always felt more compulsive right after a kill and didn’t know what he would do if you stayed around him like this much longer.

You finally relented to his relief, nodding and mumbling a sad little goodnight pulling his jacket around your shoulders tighter as you turned to leave back to your pledges.

Choso started to leave as well but your voice stopped him as you looked at him over your shoulder.

“You know Choso…” You smoothed your skirt down behind you and flashed him a pageant winning smile, “I don’t mind that you saw them.”

Before Choso’s short-circuiting brain could even process what you said you were bouncing off back to your pledges. “Okay ladies, now make like Bey and get in formation! Back to the Soro house!”

Your pledges erupted with various replies from–

‘Thank God!’’

‘Did you just go over there to steal that nerd’s jacket? Boss!’’

‘Was that your boyfriend, Y/N?’

‘Y/N’s bf is a starter on the football team, she doesn’t want that weird emo dork.’

‘No, sis did you see his muscles– That emo look is still kinda hot right now, huh Y/N?’

‘Awe, but I want to go back to the frat!’

–all fluttered from the group of chattering girls as you cheerily led them back to the Sorority house.

You laughed at their comments hoping Choso couldn’t hear them though, as they were a bit embarrassing.

Unfortunately for the both of you, there was no way for Choso not to hear your rowdy group of drunk giggling girls, he’s sure the whole quad did.

Choso rolled his eyes as a chill took over him as he started the jog back to his dorms.

He was glad he had given you his jacket though. The way his body had started to respond to you just now the frigid jog back to the dorms would do him good.

He just wanted to shower, grade a few papers then go to bed, he didn’t want to end up fisting his cock to you again tonight.

You had plagued his peace for too long. It wouldn’t do him any good to think of you, it’s not like he could ever have you.

Sure you went to the same university but you might as well have been from two different worlds.

You were a popular sorority undergrad with the attention of virtually the entire male population on campus.

Choso was a PhD student who was used to fading in the background, most avoided him due his looks and academic focus anyway.

He only had an affiliation with you because his scholarships were tied to being a T.A. for undergrad forensics classes.

Also you did have a boyfriend.

An asshole neanderthal football-wide-receiver boyfriend who he would have been tempted to kill already had he not served his own purpose as a reality check and barrier for Choso.

Oh and had an eccentric obsession with blood going for him and was also the Ghostface copycat killer, that too.

He was sure that would go over well with you, Choso mused sarcastically.

☠

Upon returning to his dorm Choso took a shower, graded papers and tried to fall asleep but inevitably jerked his cock off to you.

Twice.

The sounds and images of your ditzy little laugh and skippy little panties consumed him as soon as he closed his eyes. The phantom feeling of the way your nipples felt pressed against his chest and how you clung to him desperately had him feeling near insatiable.

Choso admittedly thinks of killing you often. Just to get some peace of mind.

It wouldn’t be difficult at all to pull off. It’s not like you could put up much of a fight against him.

He didn’t want to break his rule of killing anyone with a connection to him but Choso had also never had anyone stir him the way you did.

You were a distraction and liability to him. If he killed you he could finally stop thinking about you…right?

You would make a beautiful death painting too.

Choso imagines thick red blood splattered across your curves.

The fatal gash from the femoral artery in your thigh oozing out a continuous stream of blood. The cut would have to be considerably deep too considering how meaty your thighs were.

Would the blood streak down your long leg as you desperately tried to hobble away from him in your slutty red heels?

Or would you collapse in fear and surrender to him fully? Landing in such a way that allowed the blood to redirect backwards and soil the flimsy red panties poorly concealing the fat of your cunt as you cried out in fear.

Fuck.

He was hard again.

He reached over to his night stand for his lotion bottle– practically empty thanks to his nonstop fantasies of you.

God, he was pathetic.

☠

The school week that followed was relatively uneventful.

You passed your lab midterms much to Choso’s surprise. Although you always seemed to pass with a relatively decent grade despite how you struggled to get there. Holding firm to your B average in the class and 3.3 GPA in your major overall.

He had to admit you were a better student than he originally gave you credit for. It makes him recall when he first saw you last spring.

You were a late enroll to Forensic Biology 101. Not only that, you burst into the third class of the semester nearly 15 minutes late.

Oblivious to all the eyes your disruption earned, you leaned on your knees as your chest heaved from exertion giving the entire class an amazing view of your tits spilling from your pink crop top adorned with the prestigious “AKA” sorority.

You definitely would have given the class an additional show from bending over in your tight green jean skirt had your ass not been facing the door. Choso eyes couldn't help but travel down the length of your legs, your glossy white painted toes peeking out strappy pink pumps.

You smiled brightly once you caught your breath and apologized for your late entrance but you were newly voted chapter vice president and had just come from your first meeting.

Surely you had the wrong classroom.

“Er– this class is Forensic Biology 101 young lady.” The older male professor had given you a once over also thinking you must be lost.

“Mhm, yup! I’m Y/N! I just changed my major!” you beamed and handed the professor your schedule.

He looked at it and back at you twice.

“Hm, well so it is…but you are already behind, little lady. Go and take a seat next to the T.A. in the back, Choso Kamo, he will catch you up.”

Just his luck. Choso didn’t want to babysit some sorority bimbo who would probably drop this class in two weeks once the labs started.

Your university was famous for the forensics program. If you graduated you were all but guaranteed a job at a prominent lab in a major city but more than two thirds of undergrad students dropped it once the rigorous labs began.

You didn’t look like you would last.

Especially when you told him your interest in forensics came from watching Dexter. You told him how you thought the actor was hott and how his kill rooms were ‘so cool.’ Choso definitely rolled his eyes at that and wrote you off as a soon-to-be drop out.

You proved him wrong though.

You were a bit of a ditz and a huge clutz but Choso came to understand t's more because you had about a billion different things going on in your head at once rather than you just being dumb or careless.

You were also a hard worker.

It was admirable how many activities you were involved in yet still tried as hard as you did in your classes. You always came to his T.A. review sessions and even sought him out at times while he was in the research library to ask him questions.

You were a good student and he was a horrible T.A. for even thinking of you in this way.

The campus bell tower struck noon in the distance and Choso looked down to see that he had only read a single paragraph since he sat down to study thirty minutes ago.

Fuck, he had lost himself in thinking about you again.

Choso put a hand over his face.

He was sitting alone at a picnic table on the outer, less populated edges of the quad trying to read a textbook but every time he heard a high pitched giggle he snapped his head up thinking it was you.

Class schedules were a bit different due to midterms and he hadn’t seen you the entire week other than to administer the lab but that didn’t mean you didn’t still plague his thoughts more increasingly as of late.

It was making Choso a bit reckless.

Needing to relieve stress he had created 2 more death paintings. A mistake as it was rumored the local police would soon reach out to bigger towns for more help and perhaps even the FBI would send an agent soon to campus if this kept up.

He had to move more carefully.

Maybe make it look like there were multiple Ghostface killers for starters.

“3 Victims, One Week: The Copycat Ghostface Reign of Terror Continues!”

You read aloud adding a bit of dramatic flair to your voice as you recite the front headline of the campus paper and jar Choso from his thoughts of you.

Speak of the devil.

You approached Choso at his table and he immediately noticed you were wearing his jacket again, well more like swimming in it as it was clearly too big for you.

This time though you were bundled up in a scarf, leggings and heeled booties. He was glad his face was already a bit red from sitting out in the cold because he couldn’t stop the intrusive thoughts from forming that you looked even sexier cozied up and comfortable in his jacket than in the slutty sailor costume.

“I don’t know why you even bother reading that shit Y/N. They never have any interesting details anyway.” Choso tried to feign disinterest in your arrival but his leg was already slightly bouncing under the table, nervous energy returning.

“Well I have to! You wouldn’t go to the crime scene for me last Saturday, remember?”

How could he forget?

However a part of him did want you to view it though, his masterpieces, his kills.

See how glorious their blood looked sprayed on the walls, the ground, and the general surroundings of his victims.

But he knew you’d never appreciate them the way he did even if you were a forensics student.

“Oh and sorry!”

You interrupted his thoughts once again.

“I meant to give you back your jacket, I’ve been carrying it with me hoping I’d run into you but I ran out today and forgot mine…whoops! I hope you don’t mind me wearing yours a bit longer?”

Your saccharine smile has Choso sucking in a hard breath.

At this point he would prefer you to just keep it, he couldn’t trust himself if he had it back with your scent all over it knowing you had been carrying it around all week.

He would never know any peace.

“Keep it as long as you need.”

“Kay!”

You smile at him as you haphazardly plop your overstuffed tote bag down next to him, which of course spilled all its colorful contents all over the table.

“Oh Crap!”

You lean over to reach for your bag but almost spill the tray of hot coffees in your hand.

“Y/N, Watch out!”

Choso grabbed the tray before it could spill all over his and your belongings and sat it down on the table with a small exhale.

“Oh! Thank you!” You flash him a big grin. “I got this one for you!”

You handed him a grande cup with ‘pumpkin spice dirty chai’ scribbled on it.

Choso preferred his coffee black and he has definitely told you that before but you always just brought him whatever sugary drink you ordered saying he needed to ‘try new things’.

He wasn’t about to turn you down though, caffeine was caffeine and as a PhD student he needed all he could get. Choso also knew it was your way of thanking him for helping you so much in forensics.

“Thanks...” Choso mumbled taking a sip. Shit this is actually good.

You sat down next to him, a little too close for comfort with your spandex clad thigh brushing up against his leg.

“Whatcha reading? Is it for your thesis?” You were perilously close leaning on him as you looked over his broad shoulder onto his textbook.

“Yeah, some forensics texts I need to review for citations. This section focuses on serology and bloodstain pattern analysis,” Choso stated knowledgably.

“Oh! Like in Dexter!”

“Yeah, Y/N, like in Dexter.”

Maybe Choso is growing a bit soft as he can’t resist but to crack a small smile at your kid-like-enthusiasm for the subject, you were incorrigible.

Choso also doesn’t miss the way your eyes sparkle when you ask him to tell you more about his research.

And so he does.

Sometimes Choso forgets how easy you are to talk on the subject. To be frank no one outside his own PHD program ever asks him about his thesis so before he realizes it he’s letting his guard down to indulge you.

You both get so lost in the conversation to the point it hasn’t even phased Choso yet that you are now actually leaning on him.

Your soft cheek rests near his shoulder and your body angles deeper into his as you point to ask him about a passage on the page which he begins to break down.

You try to focus on his words but in the midst of Choso’s explanation your eyes stray from the text up to his face.

You feel your body start to warm.You always thought he was attractive. His dark looks never deterred you if anything they were refreshing from the crew cut preppy jocks around you. Even more so with his piercings in.

Choso never wore any of his piercings during classes or while in the research library. You counted six facial piercings in total from the three on his brows to the septum, labret and finally the black bar piercing through his tongue that darted out exposed with the movements of his mouth.

Studying him further you discover for the first time his tattoo across the bridge of his nose was actually covering a scar. It looked old but like it had been deep.

You couldn’t help but wonder if it had hurt him and why he chose to cover it.

You didn’t even realize you had reached out to touch it until you felt his gaze snap to you.

Stunned and a bit embarrassed, you withdraw your hand.

“Ah, sorry I just noticed your tattoo was covering a scar…” you trailed off hoping he wouldn’t be annoyed with you.

Annoyance was the last thing on Choso’s mind as finally registered how you had melded yourself into his side body.

Although his usual reaction would be to withdraw back, you might as well have him chained down to the table now as he was practically immobilized by you not even being able to look away.

“Uh, yeah it happened years ago when I was a kid...I fell off the monkey bars, there was a lot of blood.”

No one had even recognized it since Choso had it covered years ago. You were the first.

“Oh no! I loved the monkey bars, we used to climb up on them all the time when I was little. I guess those things are kinda dangerous huh? Actually, I’m kinda shocked I never fell, a miracle right?”

You laughed and Choso found himself smiling at you again.

You were too accident prone so it really was a miracle.

“Yeah, good thing you never fell Y/N… It would be a shame to have to get a big ugly tattoo on that cute face.”

Choso swore on his life those last words only were said in his head but from the way your eyes widened he knew he fucked up.

“I- that is.. I meant-”

Choso smacked a hand over his face. He can’t believe he just said that out loud to you. He was really losing it.

“So you think I’m cute?” you teased giggling. You angled your head so you could look up at him from underneath his hand.

“Yeah, about as cute as the blood splatter diagram on this page.” he teased you back. A small smirk on his features as he peeked at you through his fingers.

“Hey!”

Choso chuckled. Little did you know he actually paid you a huge compliment comparing you to something he thought so alluring as blood.

You grab the hand covering his face as your smile widens and you playfully struggle with Choso.

You don’t become aware of your close proximity until you almost bump noses.

Choso locks eyes with you and you feel your tummy tighten as you bite your lip.

You’re still holding his hand and after a while you work up the courage as your other hand comes up to touch his face.

“Your tattoo isn’t ugly Choso,” you breathe out softly.

Choso closes his eyes as you trace the scar beneath his tattoo.

You weren’t sure what you were doing but your hand involuntarily begins to travel across his face and his piercings until they graze over his lips and he opens his eyes again.

Startled by the sudden hungry look in his eyes you pull back your hand but he captures it in his own, him being the one to trap you this time.

If either one of you just moved even an inch forward your lips would touch. You see Choso’s lips part when–

“Yo! Hands off my girl, freakshow!”

“Dean!?” You pulled back out of Choso’s embrace, floored to see your boyfriend and some more of his football buddies heading towards you as you knew they still should have been at practice around this time.

“Oooh he’s in for it now messin’ with Dean’s girl.” Dean’s football friends snickered.

Choso audibly breathes out in exasperation. The moment was ruined and he really didn’t have the patience to deal with your neanderthal boyfriend and his football lackeys who all shared a singular brain cell.

Didn’t they have a ball or something to chase?

“Uh hey, Dean I..”

You stop yourself when it’s clear Dean is ignoring you entirely as he approaches the table. Not even looking your way to greet you.

His aura oozes faux tough guy bully and walks straight up to Choso to size him up leaning on the table to tower over him.

“I’m talking to you, freak. You think you can put your hands on what belongs to me?”

Choso doesn’t look up at him but his grip instinctively tightens on the pen in his hand under the table as if it was Ghostface’s hunting knife.

Dean’s show of bravado going ignored by Choso pisses him off even more that his teammates are with him and the tough guy act is failing to have any real effect.

Tch.

With a swift movement Dean knocks Choso’s coffee over on the table, its half drunken contents falling on both you, Choso and his books.

This has Choso rising out of his seat as he thinks your boyfriend must have an unknown death wish.

Choso’s pen is still in his grasp but by his side now. It would be too easy to drive it into Dean’s neck before the dolt even knew what hit him. A bit extreme, but it could be considered an unfortunate accident of self defense if Dean struck first.

Fortunately, you stepped in between the two in order to diffuse the situation without picking up on Choso’s murderous intent.

You chewed your lip. This was low key, your fault. You technically were dating Dean. Although Dean was always the furthest thing from your mind when you were around Choso.

You didn’t even feel guilty for being caught as you’ve had your own suspicions for a while Dean had been cheating on you anyway, you just couldn’t prove it. You were still dating him more out of convenience than anything else, other jocks and frat boys left you alone knowing you were with him.

The only guilt you actually did feel was for Choso. This wasn’t his problem or relationship but of course Dean was a big enough asshole to make this into an actual issue with Choso since it was becoming clearer how little respect he had for you.

“Dean, what the hell is your problem!? You got coffee everywhere, this isn’t even my jacket.”

“Don’t what the hell me Y/N, you're so fucking dumb you’re going to let this freak get in your pants when– wait you’re wearing fucking his jacket!?”

Dean was yelling now and a small crowd was forming and starting to take out their phones to record.

You could not let this turn into an incident.

“Dean chill the entire fuck out, would you?! It was cold, so he let me borrow it– He’s just my T.A.”

A wave of harsh realization washed over Choso.

Just her T.A.

Right.

Choso is no one important to you, especially with your football boyfriend and social standing on the line.

He’d let whatever the fuck almost happened between the two you just now make him forget that.

Not anymore.

“That’s right. I’m just her T.A. So if you’ll excuse me.”

Choso turned from you both to salvage what he could of his books and leave.

You couldn’t place the emotions in Choso’s words and it made your chest tighten up. But you weren’t trying to write him or your almost-kiss off.

You didn’t mean for it to come out that way but you really lacked the proper words in these kinds of situations.

“Where do you think you’re going, loser?”

Dean grabbed Choso’s shoulder but the intense murderous look in his eyes made Dean release him just as quickly as if he had been burned.

Even his football goon friends unconsciously took a few steps back feeling the very real threat in Choso’s eyes.

Choso smirked as he left. Thought so.

“W-wait Cho–”

You want to stop him but feel Dean’s rough grip on your wrists.

“Whatever, let’s fucking go Y/N. We have an important party to throw later.”

Dean grabs your wrist and jerks you away with you barely being able to grab your bag.

Your stomach twists and you are at a complete loss for words but manage to flash an apologetic look at Choso while you are dragged off.

However when your eyes meet he looks right through you.

The expression on his face is stone cold and it sends a chill up your spine.

© ʙʟᴋᴋɪᴢᴢᴀᴛ 2023. ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛꜱ ʀᴇꜱᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ꜱᴛᴇᴀʟ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ, ᴄᴏᴘʏ ᴏʀ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ ꜰɪᴄꜱ, ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇꜱ, & ɢʀᴀᴘʜɪᴄꜱ. ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴀʀᴇ ᴀʟʟ ᴍᴀᴅᴇ ʙʏ ᴍᴇ ᴜɴʟᴇꜱꜱ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀᴡɪꜱᴇ ꜱᴛᴀᴛᴇᴅ. ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ

A/N: I promise it won't take as long for the second part to come out. I'm half way done with it already! I was just going to wait and post it all together but a like 12k+ word post all at once would be insane lmfao. After I am finished with this prompt the next 3 stories I will do will be from Thrilling Ghouls as they are all much shorter PWPs in the 3-5k range and I won't have to stress so much since I'm realizing all my Smooth Criminal prompts are longer fics and it takes me like a week or more to write them.

ღTaglistღ: @callm3senpaii @arxliana @jujutsualy @luxiethefairy @akaza-simp01 @fredswh0re @missphanosaur18 @moon-esque @samicamy-13

comment on m.list to be tagged in future Kinktober '23 stories

please stop to take a look at this wonderful art of the last scene that @laikatsuki created, tysm again pookie bears!!!

Reblog for Ghostface!Choso to come steal your panties although comments and likes are appreciated all the same!

PART 2

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liyahbug

8 months ago

hiding from pursuers w Levi, him clutching you tight around some corner. is he just being careful? then why is your heartbeat flying? you feel the way his muscles are tensed against your back, ready for anything whenever it comes. just the heat of his body against the otherwise cold night. your pursuers pass. but is he just being careful when his touch lingers a little longer than it should…?

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liyahbug

8 months ago

Satoru's Psyche|Teaser

"Now…would you say that human nature led me to this? Or am I a product of the cards I've been dealt?"

🗂️Patient File: Patient Gojo has been admitted to a specialized psychiatric hospital following a compulsive massacre and assault on the city of Shibuya|Causes/triggers that led to the patient’s mental decline and subsequent carnage in Shibuya are currently speculative; however, they are suspected to be linked to a prolonged period of confinement within a cube-like structure. Information regarding the mechanics of this structure and the patient’s history remain undisclosed to the ward and the public. 🩺Job Description: You are the only nurse in Tokyo—specifically assigned by an unknown secret society related to the patient—who is able to manage and care for patient Gojo. His violent and erratic behavior has left multitudes of staff members in shambles and disarray as he quickly disposed of them one after another. But for reasons unknown—a complete mystery to yourself as well—you have somehow managed to cross Gojo's barriers and earn his approval to be his one and only caretaker. Your duties include: daily routine patient care, observation and monitoring, therapy, adherence to protocol, and thorough documentation to be directly reported to the Director at the end of every shift. Be wary: Patient Gojo exhibits characteristics consistent with an extensive history of manipulation, obsessive behavior, and charismatic engagement. The patient's ability to charm and manipulate requires that staff be particularly cautious about their own psychological well-being. Exercise heightened emotional regulation and remain professional at all times to ensure that personal feelings do not affect judgment or quality of patient care. 📋Length of Admission (w.c): 10 unpredictable intervals 💊Intake Chart (tags): Patient is prone to: sporadic fits of violence; manipulation; flirtatious conduct, verbiage, and assault; over-obsessive tendencies; fluctuating attachment styles, narcissistic dialogue, and an insatiable compulsive urge to [REDACTED]. 🏥Orientation: August 14, 2024

doctor's angel's note: - Check the acknowledgment box (like) - Forward your copy (reblog) to accept this position. - Sign below (comment) to subscribe to the patient's weekly updates (tag list). S/O: @blkkizzat for the teaser inspo|Check out their teaser of the juicy, delectable Yakuza!Toji x Reader story that I cannot wait to get my hands on, The Nursery

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liyahbug

9 months ago

warnings: mermaid hybrid satoru, exploration kink?, suggestive nsfw🔞 this is a long one~

“nngh!”

sounds of distressed whimpers force your head out of your book with furrowed brows—you can barely hear the cries under the steady crashing of waves and birds singing in the wind. part of you thinks you might be going crazy considering no one is within your proximity on this side of the beach. you blink rapidly as you attempt to listen in on the sound and when it doesn’t fade, you hesitantly stand and attempt to make your way closer to it.

but when it leads you to a cluster of all different sizes of rocks near the shore, you sigh. you’re close to just deem yourself crazy, maybe your fantasy book is just encouraging your imagination. but when the whining turns into a faint cry, your curiosity only grows. you squint at the area in attempt to spot the source as you take your shoes off and throw them closer to the dry sand along with your book, as to not get them wet.

you take a step into the wet sand at the very border of the shore where the waves meet your feet as you eye the area.

“is someone there?” you hesitantly call, cringing at the sound of your voice as you look around to make sure no one is seeing you speak to the ocean like an imbecile.

immediately the whining and sobbing halts abruptly, making your brows furrow further with curiosity.

“are- are you hurt?” you ask, taking another step closer to the rocks. the rocks are a bit intimidating even though they’re not submerged much since the tide has shifted so you gulp as you near them.

you’re now ankle deep into the water, no longer needing to go in any deeper to approach the rocks.

it’s silent now. you’re now second guessing if you even heard anything in the first place, but it’s too odd that the noises seemed to stop once you had spoken.

so you finally approach the rocks, laying your palms down on a large one to peek your head over it, half expecting to see a child that’s lost their way.

and what you see makes your eyes widen and the blood drain from your face. you gasp in a mixture of shock, fear, and confusion when you make eye contact with what looks like a fairy tail creature.

you jump back in surprise, stumbling and falling straight onto your ass, completely soaking your bottoms and the hem of your shirt.

“w-what-what the fuck?” you stutter to yourself, shaking your head harshly as you clench your eyes shut and grip the wet sand. maybe these fantasy books are finally getting to you or maybe you fell asleep on the beach and this is all a dream.

a moment later, you blink rapidly as you shakily stand. and this time, you walk around the rock so you can properly see what you think you saw without something in the way.

and once you do, you see it again, staring at you with wide piercing blue eyes. you can’t even speak as you analyze it, much less breathe. it looks deathly afraid of you, whatever it is, and it eyes your every step with the upmost observation and fear.

it’s long scaly fish like tail is a beautiful blue color, but it’s torso and head is seemingly human. it has milky white skin, pecks with nipples like a man, toned arms with little blue fins attached, and hands with fingers— though they seem more webbed than a normal persons. it’s tail begins where a normal humans legs would. it’s some kind of a creature that’s half man and half fish. if you didn’t know any better, you’d say it looks like a mermaid.

you don’t dare to take another step closer, staying a few feet away with caution. it’s tail is caught in some kind of netting connected to the rock and it looks as though the grip it has on it’s tail is so tight that there’s a bit of red blood seeping from it.

it’s not moving one inch as the baby waves crash gently on it. the creature is so still, in fact, that you’d believe it was dead if not for its eery eyes watching your every breath and the way it’s blinking every now and then.

you’ve had the ‘do aliens exist’ talk before, everyone has, but no matter your stance on it, actually seeing something inhuman and seemingly otherworldly is a whole nother conversation entirely.

your breath is shaky as you squint at the netting because even though you have no idea what this creature is, it looks like it’s in pain. you can’t help but wish to help it.

you gulp and take a step closer to get a better look at the netting but the moment you do, it flinches and it’s tail begins to slam against the sand with force— like it’s trying to scare you off by splashing you with the small amount of water under it.

and if his intent was to scare you, it works because you fall right back onto your ass with a gasp as droplets of water litter your face.

“i-i-i’m sorry! i- won’t h-hurt you!” you stutter out, voice shakier than it’s ever been as you wipe your face of the water. you aren’t even sure if this creature can understand your language, but even animals can understand intent so you figure it’s worth a shot.

hesitantly, it slows it’s flopping and tears begin to fall from its beautiful, gleaming eyes as soft whimpers fall from its lips. it seems as though it’s accepted its fate, that you will hurt it or even worse, kill it.

your brows twitch in sympathy as you stand once again. its teary eyes follow you every step of the way as you inch closer to it ever so slowly with hands extended, as if to communicate that you won’t hurt it.

and once you get close enough to potentially touch its tail, you crouch in front of the mid part of it with caution, eyes trained on it’s terrified face.

you gulp. “i’m going to t-try to get this off, okay?” you voice, knowing it likely doesn’t understand you.

it’s face contorts with confusion and eyes flicker down to your hands that are steadily moving towards it’s tail.

you pause for a moment, giving it time to process what’s happening before attempting to make contact. as you get just inches away, it flinches violently, tugging against the netting and letting out a painful whine.

“it’s okay! don’t move— calm down.” you coo, attempting to adopt a calming tone to your voice. it seems to help a bit because its tail stills, though still obviously hesitant.

although your natural curiosity urges you to touch its tail to learn more, you don’t want to frighten the injured creature any further. this is your first time encountering such a being, and it's likely the creature’s first time seeing a human.

you gently place a hand on the net around its tail, careful not to touch the tail itself to avoid scaring it. you carefully maneuver the netting, examining what can be done. the knots are tangled, but not impossible to undo.

you gently let go and look at its face once again with sympathy.

“that must hurt, huh? poor thing.” you coo as it softly sobs, “i’m going to unknot it now.” you explain with a newfound determination.

you begin working, carefully untying the netting as gently as possible. when the creature’s whines intensify from a particularly painful tug, you pause, easing up to show that you mean no harm. this gesture seems to soothe it, enough that its gaze shifts from your working hands to your focused face, filled with curiosity.

you notice that whenever your fingers get close to its tail, there's a subtle resistance, as if an invisible barrier is pushing against you, protecting it from your touch.

finally, you get it untied and you pull the ropesoff of it’s tail with an accomplished sigh. “all done.”

it’s eyes widen in shock as its tail suddenly moves freely. you huff with a cheerful smile, watching as the creature realizes it’s free and no longer doomed to die here. you can’t help but wonder why it was so close to shore in the first place.

then, suddenly, as if realizing you might still pose a threat, it swiftly turns and glides gracefully into a deeper part of the ocean.

you stand up with an expression of bewilderment as you watch it swim into the water, disappearing with a splash of its large tail.

you chuckle to yourself in disbelief, rubbing a hand down your face. your eyes remain fixed on the spot where you last saw it, hoping to catch just one more glimpse before you leave. you know no one would believe you if you told them what you just witnessed, but maybe that’s for the best, given how cruel humans can be.

just as you’re about to turn to retrieve your book and shoes, your eyes light up when it’s white haired head pops up, exposing its face as it stares at you from afar.

when it doesn’t move to leave immediately, you lift a hand and awkwardly wave, mentally cursing yourself when you realize it probably doesn’t know what that gesture means. sure, the way it’s just watching you is a bit unsettling, but it doesn’t seem to have any ill intent. you’re fairly certain it understands that you set it free—or at least, you hope so.

and then, you exhale sharply in bewilderment when it surprisingly copies your gesture, lifting a hand and waving back at you before disappearing back into the ocean.

the next few days you can’t help but visit the same area of the beach again, hoping that maybe you’ll see the astonishing creature again. but you don’t, not for days.

after about a week, you finally see it again, but any hopes or expectations you had are quickly dashed when it merely observes you from a safe distance in the water. you don’t dare to push the boundary and enter the water, fearing that it might scare the creature away or even the possibility that it could hurt you.

in the days that follow, it surprisingly returns each day at the same time to watch you for hours at a time. whenever another human comes by, it vanishes into the ocean in the blink of an eye, only to reappear and gaze at you again. you’ve noticed that it seems particularly interested in watching you read for some reason.

unfortunately, you have college classes to attend still so you’re forced to skip a beach day. the entirety of the class, all you can do is wonder if the creature is waiting for you to show up.

the next day, instead of lounging on the dry sand, you sit in the shallow water, where it reaches up to your waist, wearing your swimsuit.

to your surprise, when it pops up like usual, it doesn’t seem afraid of your new proximity but it stays a long distance away as it eyes you. its expression reads curiosity but you can’t be sure from this distance.

after spending about an hour idly watching the creature and playing with the wet sand under your hands, you grow comfortable. you even close your eyes and bask in the sun.

but when you hear the gentle ripple of water— as if something is moving, you peek open your eyes to see it much closer now.

it scares you at first, making you gasp and scoot back a bit with fear. but your reaction seems to scare it too, making it quickly retreat into the water again.

“n-no! wait! i’m sorry— come back!” you plead in fear that it might never return as you crawl in deeper on all fours, unsure if it can hear you beneath the water.

a moment later, it peeks up at you again, much further than before but still close enough to see. immediately you smile and wave, hoping it recognizes your gesture again.

and it does recognize it, showing a sort of naïveté as its eyes light up and it swims closer, shockingly fast. it’s a bit unnerving how fast it moves but maybe you should have expected as much from a creature of the water. you try not to show any signs of fear or shock at its movement so you don’t potentially scare it away again.

it then exposes its entire face as it lifts a hand and waves back with wonder in its eyes, only feet away from you. it seems it’s hesitant to come any closer because you’re in a shallow part of the shore— though you think that’s for the best because even if it hasn’t hurt you thus far, it’s an unknown creature that you know nothing about. it’s best to keep a small space between the two of you for now.

you take a seat in the water that’s now up to your lower ribs as you examine its beautiful features while it examines yours.

it’s facial features are that of the most beautiful in the world, you think, surpassing even the most famous of beauties in the human race. and it’s eyes are a color that shouldn’t be possible, so piercing blue that they’re almost glowing. its hair is milky white, much more pure of a white than any bleach could ever turn a humans hair— matching its eyelashes and eyebrows. you aren’t sure, but it looks like a man in his twenties.

“beautiful, you’re so beautiful.” you breathe out in awe, making it’s head tilt in curiosity— reminiscent of a puppy.

and then it suddenly speaks, but the language scares you. it’s like no language you’ve ever heard before and it’s tone sounds bewildered. it’s voice is deep and raspy, like a man and you’re not sure what you expected but it wasn’t that.

you can’t help but flinch and gulp a bit at the sound of it, it’s only natural to be afraid of such an unknown sound but you’re trying your best to be open minded.

as if responding to your sign of fear, it begins to speak again but this time— in english.

“c-calm— d-d-ow-n, poor th-thing.” it stumbles over its words, attempting so hard to copy your words and cooing tone from weeks ago when you were freeing it.

you can barely grasp what it’s trying to say, but as you piece it together, your jaw drops in awe. you’re amazed that it remembered what you said well enough to repeat it—especially since it’s using the same calming words you used on it to try to soothe you. It’s as if it’s trying to calm you down, even though it probably doesn’t understand the meaning of the words.

“amazing,” you breathe out, blinking in utter disbelief.

“ama—zong,” it repeats with a curious tone.

you giggle with your eyes crinkled closed as it mispronounces “amazing” as “amazong,” and your laughter only seems to intrigue it further. its white eyebrows twitch as it swims closer, trying to catch more of your laugh.

when you open your eyes again, you find it closer than before, causing you to stiffen and gasp. it’s now only a few feet away, and because it’s in such shallow water, it’s forced into a horizontal position, with parts of its tail visible behind it.

then, it speaks again, slowly, but in its own language like it’s trying to teach you a word.

“sa-tor-u.” it coos, sounding out the word for you to learn with gentleness.

the fear that rose when the creature came closer is quickly replaced with fascination as you focus on the word.

“satoru.” you repeat the word slowly and immediately it smiles as it lifts its tail and splashes the water excitedly.

you chuckle at the sight as droplets from the splash of its powerful tail land on your cheek.

“satoru. what does it mean?” you question with a smile, more to yourself than the creature as you wipe the water away from your cheek.

and as if detecting your questioning tone, he quickly points at itself and repeats the word again.

“you? your name?” you ask, eager to learn more about the creature. but he doesn’t understand your words and simply blinks at you. it’s astonishing that he wants you to know his name—not that you think he’s unintelligent, but you weren’t sure of his level of awareness. ‘satoru’ is primarily a male name, you wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve come across some humans with the name.

“uh- um,” you then point to yourself and speak your own name slowly, eager for him to learn yours now.

he repeats your name with determination to pronounce it correctly, and you nod with a big smile, delighted by the sound of his beautiful voice saying your name.

then, as if the setting sun is a curfew, satoru suddenly turns and dives into the ocean with urgency. but before disappearing for the night, he resurfaces briefly, waves with a smile, and then vanishes once more.

the following days are some of the most exciting of your life, stories you’ll tell your grandchildren about teaching a beautiful merman to speak english.

unfortunately, the first thing you teach satoru is how to say, ‘stay back or i will hurt you.’ its a bit tough to explain the meaning but once you point to his tail to remind him of the painful netting, he understands for the most part.

you’re afraid someone less moral will come across satoru who’s so beautiful and naive and innocent to the human world. you have to explain that not all humans are like you and though he’s a bit confused, he mostly grasps the concept.

you’ve found that the easiest way to teach satoru about words and meanings is to read to him. he listens to you for hours and when you begin to pick children’s books that help in learning english, he excels quickly.

soon, he’s able to speak at a moderate level and you’re simply aching to ask him every question in the book as you sit in your familiar place in the shallow water by the rocks.

“are you a mermaid?” you inquire, knowing it’s a silly question to ask considering ‘mermaid’ is a silly human term for fairytales.

“‘mer-maid?’” he repeats with curiosity, and you chuckle to yourself. you should have expected that response.

“where were you born? how old are you?” you instead question, eagerly.

he points to the open ocean before turning back to you. “eight— six.”

you hum in thought, recalling how you’ve already tried teaching him about human days and years, but it seems he has his own way of measuring time. you’ve discovered that in his terms, eighty-six translates to twenty-six in your time.

“are there a lot of your kind?”

“yes. lot.” he nods, seemingly happy to be able to communicate with you.

“are you able to get out of the ocean completely? or do you need the water to breathe?” you ask.

“no, i can get out. but we are not supposed to. rules,” he grumbles, clearly annoyed by the rule. you wonder if he might be a bit of a rebel in his society. this also explains why he was treading so close to the shore when he got caught in the net.

“can i ask question too?” he suddenly questions.

your brows twitch in slight surprise at his curiosity and you nod with a smile.

“why do you save me?” he suddenly asks, referring to the time you met and you freed him from the netting.

you exhale with sympathy as you gaze at him.

“why not? i saved you because you were in pain.”

he blinks at you with utmost wonder in his blue eyes and then quickly refocuses onto his next question— as if he’s afraid he won’t have time to ask everything he wants to.

“how many are you?” and his question slightly confuses you until it clicks that he’s asking your age.

“uh— in your time, i’m eight-one,” you explain, converting your age of twenty-one into a number he can understand.

he immediately coos, “cute. you are young. in my home, you would be offered up to mate.”

you blush a bit and gasp a bit before chuckling nervously. “o-oh!”

“do you have a mate?” he asks with gleaming, glowing eyes.

you breathe out a laugh. “no. do you?”

“how do you say—” he hums in thought, likely looking back on your language exercises, “—hell no.”

immediately, you burst into a fit of giggles. that phrase was one of your favorite to teach him.

“beautiful. you are beautiful,” his smile broadens at the sound of your laugh, breathing out audibly through his nose— making a noise reminiscent of an awe.

your eyes widen at his compliment, blinking rapidly as your cheeks burn. “w-wow, me? says you.”

“thank you!” he cheers, like a child who has been taught to say thank you after every compliment— it makes you snap out of your flattered state and giggle a bit.

“what are these? why?” he questions and you jump when you feel his fingers graze along your calf under water.

“m-my legs? um- i’m not sure why. to walk i suppose.” you shrug, slightly shivering at his touch with a blush. you hadn’t made physical contact yet and it’s a bit unnerving. he doesn’t seem to be the shy type.

“painful?” he questions with concern, fingers still curiously exploring your legs gently.

you giggle softly at his assumption, and he tilts his head at you with a curious smile. you figure he thinks your legs must be painful since they’re split in two instead of being one piece like his tail.

“no, not painful,” you shake your head, attempting to eye his hand traveling up your thigh through the murky water as you grip the sand.

“soft,” he says before dipping his head under the water, intently examining your legs. he runs his hands along them, but when he reaches the inside of your thighs in exploration, you gasp and quickly grab his hands to stop him before he can reach your private area. he surfaces, looking at you with a puzzled expression.

“hurt you? sorry, i’m sorry.” he pouts, slightly pulling back and lowering himself to show that he’s a non-threat submissively.

you huff and gently pull his hands from your legs so you can interlock yours with his— partly to keep control of where he puts them and partly to just feel his skin.

“you didn’t hurt me. that area is just,” you pause, thinking on the right words to use for this, “-sensitive and private.”

he moves closer again, your friendly gesture of holding his hands helping him to relax, as his fear of hurting you fades and interest takes its place. he says a word in his own language and you blink at him with confusion.

“what’s the word for— is it—mating organs?”

“um— ‘mating organs’?” and quickly you realize that you had never taught him a word for your reproductive organs and your face burns in embarrassment. “oh uh— yes, sort of.”

“can i see?” he questions, making your embarrassment sky rocket. it’s obvious he’s simply intrigued with the human body, without ill intent.

“uh— that’s not a good idea,” you quickly utter, letting go of his hands and shutting your thighs tightly.

he starts pouting, and if there’s one thing you’ve learned about satoru over the past few days, it’s that he’s kind of needy and playful, and definitely prone to pouting when things don’t go his way.

“why?” he whines, hands returning to caress your ankles gently.

“uh-um because— well, that’s like me asking to see your- fish-tail-mating area,” you exclaim dumbly, unsure of if he even has male reproductive organs like humans do.

he blinks at you, pout still prominent.

“‘fish tail?’” he repeats, thinking for a moment before his brows raise in understanding.

“you can see and i can see!” he shouts, as if he’s just solved the issue easily.

you gulp and your gaze flickers around, avoiding his gaze in utter disbelief. you’re pretty sure that he’s insinuating a ‘i’ll show you mine if you show me yours’ situation.

“please?” he pleads, and you wish you hadn’t ever taught him the word because his sweet, graceful tone sways you, as if his voice has a spell woven into it.

you can’t deny your own curiosity about his tail and his anatomy, so you find yourself looking around the empty beach before gulping and nodding—for research purposes.

he brightens up and promptly adjusts into a seated position. using his palms, he scoots closer to the shore, encouraging you to move back until his tail is completely exposed. he rests his back against one of the many rocks by the shore as the baby waves crash against the both of you.

you gulp as your eyes linger on his stunning physique, sitting back on your calves while you focus on where his abdomen transitions into his tail. he seems to notice your ogling, taking your hand and gently guiding your fingers from the wet ridges of his abs down to his scaly tail.

“w-wow, you’re so beautiful.” you breathe, lips slightly parted as your breathing deepens in astonishment.

he giggles, as if he’s quite used to this type of admiration, and lets you explore his tail. when you reach his fin, he playfully flicks it up, huffing in amusement when you flinch and gasp.

you then bring your hand to press against his warm chest, where his heart is and your jaw drops when it beats in such an irregular way— unlike any human heart.

“your heart! it’s- amazing.” you breathe in awe, moving your fingers around slightly to feel it better.

his head tilts in wonder before reaching out and pressing his own finger tips to your chest, just between your breasts.

and after a moment of waiting, he gasps and hunches forward to suddenly press his ear to your chest.

“boom! boom! boom! boom! boom!” he breathes in astonishment, now understanding why you were so amazed at his heart beat. he thinks yours sounds so comforting, he could stay pressed to your soft chest all day.

you chuckle and blink down at him, slightly embarrassed that he’s pressing into the fat of your breasts. but after a few long moments of him simply listening to your heart, you gently pull his head up to lean against the rock once more.

“you keep feel?” he questions, asking if you’re done exploring his body or not.

although you feel a bit deranged for letting your mind wander, you can’t help but ponder how his kind reproduces. you don’t see any visible dick of any kind but you do see a slight bulge where his dick should be.

you tilt your head at it, hesitant to ask but it seems you don’t have to because he notices.

“under. like your cover.” he gestures towards your bathing suit bottoms with a slight blush dusting his high cheekbones.

“o-oh, i see,” you stutter with a bashful smile, lowering your chin in an attempt to avoid eye contact with the bulge beneath his scales.

as if reading your mind, he then tilts his head down to make eye contact with you.

“you want to see?”

you part your lips and stutter, blinking rapidly.

“um- if that’s okay.” you gaze up at him nervously, biting your lip coyly. you figure if you’re ready to reveal what’s beneath your bottoms, it’s only fair that he does the same.

though he seems quite shameless and confident, he grows shy as he moves his scales to the side and exposes a slit.

your brows furrow, eyes squinting briefly as you focus in on the area. you can’t help but gasp when a long, thick member resembling a human cock slides out. it’s nearly identical to a humans, except for the fact that it has blue scales near the base.

it bobs, seemingly hard, but you aren’t sure if he’s naturally this size or not. you wonder if it’s potentially arousing him to show his genitalia to a human but you can’t deny the possibility that you’re just demented.

“w-wow, big,” you gulp, in a slight haze as you watch a bead of what looks like pre cum dribble out of his tip. you don’t even realize what you just said until he’s chuckling.

“human not ‘big’?” he questions, almost slyly. he seems quite confident in his body, which he absolutely should be considering how ethereally gorgeous he is from top to bottom.

you clear your throat and force your gaze away from his throbbing member.

“n-not usually that big.” you mumble. “are those.. scales?” you point at the scales near the bottom of his cock.

“yes, touch?” he asks, reading that look on your face as a look of a creature that wants to mate— though he’s not so ignorant as to be unaware that you’re likely just curious like he is.

your eyes widen even wider and your mouth opens and closes as you try to put your thoughts in order. you aren’t sure if he’s so shamelessly lewd as to ask you to jerk him off.

“no mate, just touch,” he attempts to clarify, delicately grasping your willing hand and moving it close until it’s just inches away from the scales you were curious about.

how many human can say they’ve ever had this opportunity before? to explore a merman’s body? you figure as long as you just touch briefly, it’s fine, it’s not like you have harmful intentions.

you gulp and your gaze flickers up at him as if to make sure it’s okay to be doing this before focusing on his cock.

you softly brush your fingers along the ridges of the bumpy, slick scales at his base, causing his cock to twitch. you glance up at his face as he whines a word in his language and unintentionally thrusts his hips toward your touch.

the scales are soft but textured at the same time, and they seem to ripple in response to your touch—as if they’re just built to react to stimulus that way.

“o-okay you can put it away,” you quickly mutter when you form the instinct to wrap your hand around his cock and pull more of those adorable whines out of him.

he nods, eyes lidded and breathing deeper than before. you watch as it slides back into his slit and he covers it with his scales once again. it’s a bit bizarre the way it retracts and moves but mostly fascinating.

“my turn?” he questions eagerly, gently nudging your legs with one hand as to make them part while the tip of his fin grazes your outer thigh.

your nerves rise as you close your eyes and take a deep breath. a promise is a promise and though it’s nerve racking, you want to prove that even though you’re a strange creature in his eyes, you’ll stick to your word.

“y-yes.” you nod with a nervous smile.

excitement litters his face as he moves to lie on his stomach, tail playfully tapping against the shallow puddle of water beneath.

you tentatively and somewhat embarrassedly get into position, with your legs bent on either side of his head and leaning on your elbows to watch what he does.

you attempt to take deep, steady breaths as he gently pushes your thighs apart with warm hands.

shakily, you let them part ways, allowing him to push them as far apart as they go until you feel the subtle burn of the stretch. it’s really not his fault, he’s likely completely unaware of how far your legs can push apart.

you can’t help but imagine how startling this sight would be if someone were to stumble upon it. he then pulls at the material of the gusset of your swimsuit with confusion, making your abdomen gently flinch.

“is this connect to you?” he looks up at you. it seems he’s asking if your swimsuit is similar to his scales that cover his slit.

“no, i can take it off.” you utter shyly before simply pulling it to the side so he can see your pussy.

immediately his eyes widen and he leans in so close that you can feel his breath fan over your twitching folds.

you’re aware he’s likely never seen a humans genitalia before and has nothing to compare yours to but it doesn’t stop you from growing self conscious under his stare.

“like me?” he asks, blinking up at you with furrowed brows. he’s attempting to ask if you have a cock that comes out of your slit as well, though your slit does look very different than his.

“n-no, no. it’s just a.. hole.” you explain, humiliated, blushing, and gripping the sand to cope with the embarrassing words.

“what is this bump?” he questions, pointing at your twitching clit, fingertip only breaths away from making contact.

“um— mating.. tool?” you cringe at your choice of words but he chirps a hum as if understanding— though you aren’t sure how much he could possibly understand form your poor explanation.

“touch?” he asks, not taking his eyes away from your slit. he doesn’t miss the way your ‘mating tool’ spasms when he speaks.

you gulp and close your eyes with a sharp exhale through your nose, trying to collect yourself and your naughty urges.

“why?”

“to see more,” he explains, “so compact.” you can tell he’s referring to the way your outer lips keep your inner lips closed to an extent in this position.

“o-okay,” you nod, watching him like a hawk as he reaches out and pulls one of your outer lips to the side, making your folds straighten out on that side. it allows for a peek into your clenching chasm and it only intrigues him further, squinting his eyes to look into your hole.

“smells yummy,” he whines out, causing your pussy to clench around nothing and slowly leak a bit of arousal. you bite back a moan at his unintentional compliment.

“a-are you done?” you gulp, hoping he doesn’t question your slick leaking out.

“this is your mating hole?” he refers to your pussy and you bite into your bottom lip, mind racing with ideas of ‘mating’ with the beautiful creature in front of you and how it would work.

“y-yes,” you stutter, breathy.

“you have mated before?” he asks, gaze flickering up at you and gently letting go of your lips. it takes everything within you not to laugh at his question, he’s basically asking if you’re a virgin.

“no, have you?” you turn his question back on him with a small smile.

“no, that’s for life long mate,” he admits with a matching smile, leaning in and licking an affectionate stripe up your inner thigh.

you gasp pathetically in pleasure and your thighs clench, making you quickly cover your pussy with your bottoms once again in fear of your urges pushing this experience too far before you know it.

“o-okay no more.”

he frowns a bit at the sight of your covered pussy and gently pushes back into the water to submerge more comfortably.

you settle into a criss crossed position after scooting closer until the water reaches your waist.

“thank you for showing me, you are interesting,” he coos with a smile, gently lifting a dripping finger to brush it down your cheek, making you shiver.

you exhale slowly and lean into his touch. “will i see you again?”

he suddenly seems as though he has an idea or remembered one, face lighting up.

“i be back—wait,” he voices briefly before turning and diving into the water so fast that you’d have missed it if you blinked.

you can’t help but furrow your brows and reach out to the ocean in fear that he might never come back— even in spite of his words. but a few moments later, he re-emerges, making you exhale in relief. he seems to have brought you a large white shell.

“watch,” he coos, keeping eye contact with you as he brings it to his lips and blows. a beautiful sound comes out of the shell, inducing a peaceful tranquil feeling deep within causing you to light up with awe.

“you call and i come,” he explains softly, wrapping your hands around the shell like it’s a precious gift.

your heart flutters at his words and the feeling of his hands around yours, eyebrows twitching in a pout when he lets go.

the sun suddenly sets below the ocean and now it’s his turn to pout. “i must go.”

and just like that, he kisses the back of your hand before escaping back into the dark ocean, leaving you to wonder when you’ll see him again.

—————-

i am so in love with mermaid satoru bye

12K notes View Post

liyahbug

8 months ago

🤌

Satoru's Psyche|Surfacing

"Power dynamics, they're fluid."

🗂️Patient Chart Update: Routine patient visit and care performed. Patient is stable, mostly corporative, and only mildly rowdy today. Vitals are clear, appetite is normal, nothing of interest to report other than slightly abnormal behavior resulting in the [REDACTED] incident, pending Nurse deliberation on how to proceed with patient disciplinary action. 📋 Length of Session (w.c): 5.2k out of "we will cross that bridge when we get to it 🤠" 💊Intake Chart (tags): this is a full-blown AU with a slowww build-up, yandere-ish behavior, pet names, angst, compulsive flirter Gojo (he literally cannot help it), mentally unstable Gojo, Nurse!Reader ✏️doctor's angel’s note: there’s something very, very special about how this story was born. extended author’s note at the end of this chapter if you’re curious|kk I'm done talking - enjoy Satoru’s Psyche. 🎼 Waiting room music: Child's Play|SZA

They all worshipped the strongest.

But no one saw the man; no one noticed the cracks until it was too late.

The first appeared after the Star Plasma Vessel mission—Gojo's near-death experience and first awakening.

Then, it was his best friend, Suguru Geto. His betrayal, death. Murder.

The blood on Gojo's hands left such a deep mark.

Devastation. Irreparable damage.

No matter what Gojo did after that, death followed him like a loyal dog.

And when the final crack happened in the Prison Realm, with no distraction from his own thoughts and burdens and painstakingly harsh reality, Satoru Gojo bent..then snapped.

He can't remember what happened after being unsealed.

All he knew was the blood that came afterward.

Apparently, he went on a rampage, but in his psyche, it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered.

And he didn't feel guilt—not in the slightest.

They must have gotten what they deserved, right?

The thoughts were deafening.

But Gojo’s natural tendency to play the hero was even louder and got the best of him. The realization of what he’d done was haunting—plaguing and persuading him like a Devil in his ear until he turned himself in to shut the voices the fuck up.

Once again, good ruled over evil and the world was safe.

In Gojo's own sick and twisted way, he had once more saved the day.

And as a thank you? He's here, in a fucking straitjacket, seals all around to make his cursed energy dormant. At least, that's what those old fools believe…

Gojo can't help but scoff, recalling all their nonsense.

“You're unstable. The mind needs to be healed.”

Blah fucking blah. What a load of bullshit.

However, society never took too kindly to a little mass murder, so fine.

Gojo will play nice... for now.

And for the most unexpected reason why.

His grin only deepens, a borderline predatory look as he hears those familiar footsteps.

Ah...how wonderful.

“There you are.”

The man waits by the door, shoulder framing your entrance and leaning on the wall. Welcoming, warm and expectantly, before the locks can disengage.

Like many times before, your eyes meet through the window pane. A dull blue under snowy white lashes, heavy and following yours, but barely piercing the plastic—small and artificial—only a thin layer of careful separation, but you both see right through it. Neutrality on your face but wavering sharpness in your eyes. And a glint in his as the familiar buzz! ushers you into his world.

“How’s my favorite nurse?” he asks like a broken record. All casual-like, as if his arms aren’t meticulously tucked into tight restraints that work hard against his muscled frame. “Missed your favorite psychopath?”

He couldn’t sound more arrogant, but still has to smirk watching you brush past him—expecting nothing less—but feels a different air.

There’s a pep in your step, carrying you into the stark white room and making it impossible to miss the subtle sway of your hips and dangling supply bag on your arm. Naturally fluid as if you’re oblivious to its sensual nature.

Gojo rarely saw you wear any emotion on your sleeve, let alone what he thought was hints of joy, but something was slipping through the cracks.

And what’s that? A slight grin on your face?

What exactly do we have here?

This attitude is foreign. Better than the blank slate or frequent exhaustion you usually walk in with, but this was a side of you that was unfamiliar.

What’s got you in such a mood, he wonders? And what else could it be, if not him?

It’s all because today is an “okay day”. And in places like your ward, “okay” is as good as gold.

Rounds have been fairly simple in the usually chaotic hospital—a small win if you put things in perspective, but it’s enough for you to feel good about it.

Hell, with the way things usually go around here, it feels like Christmas came early and you got just what you wanted.

A big, whopping present called “all of your co-workers showing up to work”. The standard for most workplaces but here, such miracles only exist in your daydreams to get through your usually fucked schedule.

But not today. Today, the angels personally visited your ward to carry your burdens and lighten your load. For the first time in months, you didn’t groan the second you saw your patient roster for the day and instead had to do a doubletake because the list was surprisingly short. Only your regulars sat on it and that could only happen if the ward was fully-staffed.

You thought it was a mistake when you checked the schedule this morning, but no, everyone’s name sat prettily on the sign-in sheet at the front desk—a sight you hadn’t seen since orientation and was confirmed with every familiar and slightly foreign face you passed in the halls.

There were no call-outs, no extra work, and the best part, no unexpected shift changes.

Overtime would not get its hands on you today and the thought alone made you feel lighter because enough time is spent in these melancholy walls as is.

With thoughts on the week’s end, you found yourself drifting through the day on autopilot. Wondering if you should make plans—doubtful you’ll see them through—and time seemed to be flying by with your thoughts. Following the rarely-seen routine you know like the back of your hand helped you blaze through the morning and grow closer to sweet rest for your already aching feet.

Miracles were coming in left and right, proof that today just might be your day. It’s still early, but no one had broken out of their room or flung any property around yet. Guards sit comfy and reclined at their posts, lounging around more than they’re being called, and you haven’t even had to run off to the lockers to change your scrubs that are usually ruined by now. Luck is keeping you high and dry—free from accidents or patient tantrums, both of which are all too common. And always seem to have your name on them.

But the cherry on top, second to none, pièce de résistance.

Is a possibility.

Just the teeniest, tiniest, sliver of a chance…to walk out of these doors early.

Be still your beating heart.

Early release?? Unheard of. You almost skipped through the halls thinking about it. Dreaming of the reclaimed time—the deliciously healthy heap of rest.

With no signs of trouble, aside from forcing yourself to chug a wildly unhealthy energy drink to fight off tendrils of sleep, you just may be in the clear.

Things seem steady in the sleepy ward today. So sure, you’re in a relatively good mood.

But is it good enough to deal with Gojo?

It puzzles you, how he always knows you’re coming before he sees you. How he sort of announces your presence before you get the chance. Like the honor belongs to him.

The psychopath.

Your head tilts at the diagnosis, hearing it come from his lips for the first time. Even if unseriously.

He’s self-aware, at least. Not that the confession makes your visits any easier.

Over time, after working so closely with a personality like Gojo’s, you’ve learned to take everything he says with a grain of salt. Especially when it comes from such shameless lips.

Answering his question with an eye-roll, you set your supplies down to pull out your clipboard and check his vitals. Something that once upon a time made your palms sweat and throat dry, but never showed on your face. You knew what the role required, what it would need for you to survive—intimidation and cowardice were not a part of it—and eventually, after you banged that into your head enough, even if you had to fake it til you made it, you became used to the routine.

As has Gojo, complying with each step on the checklist like it was second nature. Walking over to his favorite spot to be taken care of, the bed. Lifting his tongue to take his temperature. Offering his arm to check his blood pressure. Noting that his eyes aren’t bad today—not needing to wear his blindfold due to the security system. Doing it all without needing you to say a word. All within his control.

But the one thing he can’t get a grip on is how his heart begins to beat. Every time like clockwork the moment you lay a hand on his back to listen to it. Racing in his chest—thumping through your stethoscope—while he wears the calmest face.

Curiosity called you after noticing it a few times once you determined it wasn’t a condition. Guaranteed to start up with the gentlest touch that he was surely used to.

So, what exactly goes on in his mind in these moments? Despite hiding it so well?

What could possibly be making Tokyo’s most unhinged, mass-murderer, so flustered?

You never have much time to think about it because it won’t matter in the next few seconds anyway. Sitting still enough to get through vitals was as serious as Gojo gets, making the quickest part of your visits with him the easiest.

Everything that follows the second you put your kit away is pure…surprise.

“So…are you gonna undo the straps this time, sweet nurse? My arms are sore.”

He pouts. Sweetly. So devilishly charming. As he did so often with a flash of those cerulean, blue eyes that could make and break hearts.

You sigh. One could almost forget that by society’s standards, he’s a “dangerously unstable individual.”

Something you’re acutely aware of. And trained for. Which is why you don’t mind the coquettish jabs he throws your way—and why he keeps on throwing them.

You aren’t aware but these hourly visits, along with his agreement to stay put, are the only reasons why he’s still here despite being Satoru fucking Gojo and simply walking out. It’s not like anyone could stop him if they really wanted to, and he knew that.

Truth is—it pissed Gojo off, being stuck here. Cooperative. It was fucking irritating, to say the least.

He’d rather be tortured than bored and might’ve second-guessed his decision to surrender if he knew the punishment would be…this.

But lo and behold, here you are. Relief in the flesh while he bides his time. One that he wasn’t expecting.

“You sure are possessive today.” You hide a smirk, draping the stethoscope around your neck, his heartbeat returning to normal after losing your touch. “Am I really your favorite?” The leather straps hug his pale skin a bit tightly, but his mobility is good enough to ignore his request to loosen them. That would be suicide.

He tsks, eyes sparkling at your words—a warning glimmer hidden beneath the icy gaze.

Chilling. But the least bit surprising.

Gojo and cattiness go together like love and war—and he wears it with his whole chest.

Even when unprovoked, he’s known for being….testy. Trying his hand again and again until he gets some kind of reaction. Waiting to see what makes someone bite.

But there was something disingenuous about this petty quirk. The repetition and how it seemed to lack a goal. How he seemed almost…desperate for interaction—attention—any attention.

Eventually, once you sat in his face long enough to learn how to disassociate with a straight face, you figured out that he just loves to hear himself talk. Like that one kid in class who’s always inserted themselves into every conversation and made it about them.

He rarely gives you a hard time though—less than most of your other patients in fact—and usually sends more kisses than cuts. Occasionally, when you find them…okay, or tolerable enough, you indulge him and this charade between you two—like the high school crush it resembled. Strict. But harmless.

And you’re only entertaining him now because he’s one of your last patients for the day. A fact not lost on him, but disregarded nonetheless. Even if you were just playing along, he knew there had to be more depth. All the masks in the world couldn’t hide that smile on your face.

His laugh breaks the tension. “I'm a yapper, not a liar...Am I yours?” He raises a brow. “You didn’t answer me earlier.”

His low tone carries an unspoken weight. Cryptic. Eerie. Needy. Almost calling you like a possession more frequently than ever.

It isn’t lost on you that his affections have blossomed as you’ve spent more time together. Visits are supposed to be 10, 15 minutes tops—collect vitals, serve meals, give meds, and avoid accidents. But Gojo? He drinks up your time. Going on 30, sometimes 45 minutes of routine maintenance and “extra care”. This wasn’t standard practice, but they didn’t tell you that, among other things when you accepted the position.

Every time you cross Gojo’s threshold, you’re reminded that you’re not actually supposed to be here. You’re just a nurse after all, not a therapist, and lacked the credentials to even begin to handle a patient like Gojo. But in the end, qualifications don’t matter when his staff has a famous history of running away.

A fate shared by his previous nurse and therapist. Both fell victim to Gojo’s whimsical and relentless personality and suffered a mental breakdown from hell before quitting the ward. Capacity for hospitality completely shot, they nailed the coffin shut by ditching the healthcare industry altogether.

And that was after only a few hours.

In the beginning, you had absolutely no faith in yourself. Swore it was a sick joke as you couldn’t begin to fathom why they would even consider you for the job.

You??

Gojo the Psycho’s nurse? It would’ve been easier to turn in your resignation right then to avoid living in hell.

You wondered how your life would change as you got to know the world’s most hated man.

How long you would last—if he would let you.

Anxiety and nausea gnawed at the back of your throat as time grew closer to meeting him. But eventually, after running the scenario in your head a million times over and trying to come up with some sort of plan or plea for your life, the day came, and you stood before the unpredictable man who looked like he saw right through you.

Just the idea of being in Gojo’s presence is enough to let you know it’ll be unnerving.

But the moment was…odd.

Naturally, you wanted rely on book smarts and previous patient experiences to get you through what you knew would be a short and traumatic failed attempt at connection. But then you took a second to really look at Gojo, not study, but a kind of look that catches something…a conflict in his eyes—and instantly knew he was no ordinary patient.

He was something you’d never met before, and any attempts to use a cookie-cutter facade would quickly be chewed up and spat out.

So, you went with your gut—hoping to escape with some remnants of your sanity at least.

Who knew you’d end up surprising not only yourself but also the Director and all the other staff in the ward who watched with held breaths?

Gojo practically welcomed you with open arms. Flashing his pearly whites and dimples in a closed-eyed smile. You could hear a pin drop.

He didn’t bark, he didn’t bite. Only teased, feeding you sultry words with cunning lips until your face visibly flushed with blush. They didn’t warn you about charm. Debatibly the “worst” part about working with the blue-eyed lady-killer. Or that his devilishly handsome face would make you second-guess his sanity and guilt.

But you knew what this was. Or at least what it wasn’t and quickly put on blinders to every distraction he threw. Holding your breath the whole way through and surprising yourself every time you walked out his room. After your trial period had run for a few days with no mishaps—the opposite, really— you were promoted. And given a big, fat new check (certainly not for collateral).

You didn’t know whether to breathe a sigh of relief or concern.

Congratulations! You were now in charge of Gojo’s physical AND mental health.

Which meant longer, more thorough visits.

The idea was nerve-racking for weeks, to say the least. And because he has the nerve to be a karate-chopping ‘sorcerer’ or whatever it is that makes the man so dangerous, he needs careful safeguarding. Which means having his very own wing and accommodations in the ward. The only barriers between Gojo and doing whatever the hell he wants is one guard stationed near the entrance and some type of security system they can’t disclose to you. It’s supposed to suppress his abilities or something, you don’t quite understand itself yourself, but most importantly, it keeps him tame.

Still, choosing to grace his space almost daily always feels like tempting a snake.

But somebody has to do it.

And in a way, by his own means, offering a satisfied grin and all, Gojo had chosen you.

Even in the confines of a cell, with seemingly nothing left to live for and no room for emotions, you, this wonder, have managed to catch his eye. In a way that made him want to sink his teeth in and soak up your attention. For reasons you couldn’t be more unsure of.

“It would break my heart if it weren’t true,” he continues, sitting in the only chair in the room, “You’re my entertainment, you know? My doll to play with.”

You scoff, arms folding. The word doll echos in your ear like a chamber. That was a new one.

“You sure talk a lot of game for someone in your situation.”

“I love games.” He leans, eyes drinking in his favorite powdery blue scrubs that hug your frame in an all too professional manner. “Play with me, Nurse.”

Time belonged to Gojo, and he chooses to bide it with a little fun until release—or escape. His ever-changing mind hasn’t decided yet but it was far from a concern. Because the truth of this truce was painfully obvious. He knew he wouldn’t be here forever. And is quick to mention that he’d love to take you with him.

“If you can handle me.” He licks his lip. “Unless I’m too much for you.”

And there it is. That cool smile that sends shivers down spines. Irresistibly stirring your core every time he parts his lips.

You hated it—no one could deny his charm or his intimidating presence. Even in chains, shackled and restrained, he maintains some kind of control: crumbling walls with his charisma, waving around his amorous, overassertive reputation like a big red flag.

But you’ve already proven to not be like the rest, easily swayed or reduced to puddles. Your wall is firm. Solid. He baits you time and time again—a smile here, a sinful gaze there—only to be met with dismissive yawns. Rousing something inside of him that deemed you a challenge. Something worth exploring. You were…difficult.

You’re the one who laughed this time, shaking your head and tucking a hair behind your ear. He oozes confidence from every fiber of his being—and bores you.

“Are you going to tell me what you’d like to lunch today or just keep bothering me?”

And goddammit he has the audacity to grin. To tuck his lip under his teeth slow enough to make you catch it.

Your insolence is adorable, yet maddening; a cocktail he drinks with delight before realizing how much he loves the taste.

You were becoming really good at it, beating up his ego and turning a blind eye to his silly little flirts, but interest never faded from his gaze no matter how careless you seemed. Or were trying to.

He tsks. “C’mon, Nurse. If I can’t have fun here, where can I? Besides,” Sunlight streams in from his barred window as if on cue. “You’re the only thing here worth talking about.”

Butterflies? Knots? Maybe both fill your stomach.

Neither can be good for you in a situation like this.

The dreamy words whisper sweet nothings into your ear, and stroke your ego with a delicate thumb. Soft and gentle—and from a shell of a man.

A good turned evil.

And you don’t have to look too far to remember how he got here—to remember why the enchanting man before you is dressed in heavy white restraints and public enemy number one.

Guilt tugs at you for even joking around with him sometimes. You picture his victims. The lives forever changed. And how he didn’t seem sorry for it.

Besides, even if Gojo wasn’t a basket-case, it’s hard to look past how childish he is anyway—something you heard has always been a part of him. Something you couldn’t imagine dealing with for too long, even casually. It certainly wasn’t your taste, and under different circumstances, you’d no sooner fall for him outside of these walls than you would now.

But above all of the boundaries, restrictions, and pep-talks you give yourself, is the simple fact that you aren’t the day-one nurse he once knew. Now, you have a backbone and don’t hesitate to remind him.

“You’re such a flirt, Patient Gojo.” You make sure to catch his eye when you say it, “But compliments only get you so far.”

Patient.

It hangs in the air. Brisk and stale. A bit sour on the tip of your tongue. And acid in his ears.

With that, Gojo sits back, resting his cheek on a propped-up arm, gaze long and longing. Breathing slow as he thinks and nerves buzz between you two. Then his request comes, simple and direct.

“How about sushi? Raw and fresh.” And a psych ward delicacy.

He’s the only patient in the entire facility with such privilege—envy-worthy and used to his heart’s content. With full-scale unlimited access to all the gourmet treats and fine dining he could ever want, his meals are often better than the ones you bring to work. Gojo is above common hospital dishes, of course, and his indulgent appetite would accept nothing less.

But it wasn’t just about the food, no, negotiating that was too easy and barely worth mentioning.

This is a conveniently constant reminder that he is still capable of influencing things and making decisions with ease, from those he’s allowed to have access to him, down to his choice of meal.

It intrigues you. How he subdues himself to the masses but finds meaning in smaller wins. What he finds significant.

But none of that mattered right now, you’d finally been given an order and another win, even if it felt like pulling teeth. For now, it’s time to feed him and let him believe whatever he wants.

You pick up his tray from this morning, scanning the room to make sure no cutlery or dishes are missing. “Sushi it is,” you wink and call to be let out.

None of his staff are allowed the room key as a preventative measure to keep his chances of escaping to a minimum. As if a door would stop him but a key does exist and you’ve only seen it on the day the Director introduced you two, and it looked nothing like the keys used for other rooms.

When you come back with lunch, Gojo grows curious. Noticing how your body has relaxed over time, getting used to his presence every time you come in. Little nuisances like how you breathe a little easier in his space and sometimes smile with your eyes when he tells a stupid joke. The air is…changing. He wonders just how comfortable have you gotten?

“Finally back? I started to miss you.” It’s light but he can’t possibly resist testing the waters. “Would you like to eat with me, pet?” And it takes everything in you to suppress a visceral reaction.

He’s on a roll with the names today and you wonder what his affections might have been like in his life before. Sure, he’s a talker and a flirt, that much is obvious, but you wonder what his actual love was like? How did he show it if he ever got to? And if so, if he ever left anybody behind?

“You know the procedure, Gojo.” You wait with the tray in hand, brushing the thoughts away. Though the temptation savor what you knew would be premium cuisine begs you to do it, you know better than to start breaking boundaries now.

He deflates, brows furrowing. “Is it…really so necessary?” He knows the answer, of course.

You gesture for him to turn around but he holds your gaze, having a little stare down like he enjoys the silent confrontation. You raise an annoyed brow. “The food’s getting cold,” and tap the tray.

“It’s sushi.”

You huff.

He smirks before finally facing the wall, stilling his body in the tight jacket. When you’re sure he won't move, you set his food to the side and slowly approach to attach him to the latch on the wall.

Skilled fingers reach across his waist and you have to crouch a little to glide the heavy chain towards the loop at his hip. His skin flushes at your warmth, your proximity, as he can’t help but enjoy the intimacy of the routine power shift. Even if it was a sham, it was still one he reluctantly agreed to. To play nice. To be weak.

But this exchange, giving himself over to your authority, was oddly invigorating—like placing himself in his victim’s shoes to get a minuscule taste of his own medicine.

“Well, don’t look so happy about it,” he chuckles. Relief finds your face as you gently tug on the chain to make sure it’s secure, amusing the man towering over you.

The thoroughness is cute, all a part of a job well done and strict boundaries that drive a heavy wedge between you two. But it doesn’t bother Gojo. Because he’s certain, he knows, that your guarded walls will crumble sooner than later. All it takes is patience.

“Remember, Nurse,” he doesn’t turn around, “Power dynamics….they’re fluid.”

And you can almost hear the wink—the implied warning living on his slick tongue that pokes and prods with every interaction and sends heat to your rosy cheeks.

“You have a way with words, Gojo.” Again your eyes roll as you reach for the key to his restraints. The shackles fall to the ground, shrilling in the mostly empty room to allow him to feed himself.

A mix of groans and relief escapes his lips as he relishes the freedom from the stiff leather. He sighs, “Thank you, Nurse.” and rubs his tender wrists before abruptly filling your space. Nearly knocking you off your feet, but stopping just shy of your face. The monstrous chains strain against the wall, playing tug of war with the beast of a man and the florescent lights cast a spotlight on the sudden distance between you two.

You had never been this close.

“But don’t forget, I can turn these roles around. Anytime.”

Twinkles play in his eyes, dazzling you with a shine so bright you can see your reflection. But you also see the unhinged nature behind them just as easily as he sees the quiver of your lip feeling his breath graze the curve of your neck and raise goosebumps on your skin.

This isn’t just idle banter. It’s a stark reminder of Gojo’s capabilities that you had grown comfortable enough to forget. That you thought maybe you had become the exception to.

As he steps back and leans against the wall he could’ve torn down, there’s an unmistakable silence filling with tension. Hot and sharp like pins and needles. But instead of pushing you to run for the hills, to quit while you’re ahead and savor what’s left of the life you know, for once, your unrelenting mind dares to wonder where this twisted ballet will go.

It kills you to admit that their is something interesting about cat-and-mouse game he thinks you’re playing. Just as his affections have grown, your thoughts push you to imagine what could happen if you were actually…caught..

It’s idiotic, you know. You don’t need a sign telling you not to play with your life.

This is Satoru fucking Gojo, for Godsake. The murderer. The villain. A literal stain on the face of humanity.

Forget about what he may have been before. You never saw that Gojo, and he’ll never be seen again.

Your motto has always been that everyone is redeemable—but these types, Gojo’s type, are so beyond saving that it feels more like babysitting than redeeming a mentally unstable murderous toddler who could destroy a city in seconds.

Even for a man who speaks so carelessly, but teases a sugary-sweet tongue, it’s easy to see how and why he ended up here. Life had made him an example.

Proving that too much of a good thing will always spoil.

And as you watch him turn a wink and begin to casually snack on his meal, completely unconcerned with you or your reaction or response, it’s plain to see that his “affections” spare no one. Not even you.

You clear your throat and steady a breath. With the lightest voice you can muster, you remind him, “Empty threats are the best you can do, patient.” And turn to leave.

“I’ll be back later for your bath. Or maybe send someone else. Since you’re so excitable today.”

He pauses. “Oh?”

Is that a challenge?

His laugh echoes around the room like something out of a cartoon, fading away just as quickly as it came. He leans back, hair blending into the wall as he licks bits of rice off his thumbs—gaze sharp despite the jest.

Because the stakes are clear and you’re both aware.

But in case you don’t know the consequences he asks, “Do I seem threatened to you?”

You shift your weight. If Gojo is anything, he’s always playful. The man does not have a serious bone in his body, which makes him damn near intolerable sometimes, but it’s something you’re used to it. But not this tone. This tone has rocks in it, hard and heavy as he calls your bluff.

“Because my threats—,” he continues eating, “—are never empty.” He pops the last roll into his mouth. “You sure you wanna do this?”

There’s no denying the chill running up your spine at those words—playing out like casual banter over lunch instead of the battle royale it was.

As if the question were rhetorical, he adds, “Okay but like,” and coughs up another laugh, as if finding the entire idea ridiculous. “Who’d be dumb enough to replace you?”

To feed or not to feed? Now was a chance to bail out.

“Don’t worry about that.” And you don’t as you call to the guard, hoping to catch your break on time. “Just behave yourself.” Gojo would keep you here playing 20 questions all day if he could.

A bemused smile settles on his face and he shakes his head at your antics.

You were becoming increasingly enjoyable to interact with. And steadily digging yourself into a hole. You’ve been sitting front-row to the darkness within him enough times to be sure it is, in fact, very real, but still it’s impossible to ignore that there’s something driving you to pick up the shovel.

It isn’t just his pretty face and boyish charm. No.

It’s like he wants to get under your skin. In the best way.

Yeahhhh, this death wish is turning you every way but loose.

It’s silly, so stupid to even think about. Giving Gojo a smidge of an inch just because you feel there may be something more. Like there’s depth to his pretty words and clashing ways. Who's to say any of it is “real” anyway? He is insane after all.

Your mind and the door shut behind you, and you turn to peer at him through the small window. A mischievous yet bored look rests on his face.

You think you actually will send someone else. Just to show him what happens when he crosses the line. To reinforce business and boundaries.

You could also use a break yourself—Gojo is starting to feel… claustrophobic these days and if you aren’t careful who knows what could happen.

“Choose wisely,” came his voice from within the room,. “Every move you make counts. And cheating has consequences.” Footsteps approach the door. “You may think tagging out is all it takes to avoid our game, but let me tell you something…” He stops. “...you underestimate how quickly I can escape confinement before I’m noticed.”

And suddenly, this isn’t just a game anymore. And Gojo isn’t just some harmless tease.

Your throat is too tight to swallow and you fidget with your lanyard as if responding to his words.

Of course, he’s capable of breaking free. That’s not what’s worrying. But if it was because of you poking the bear, you trying to get on even ground with him and have the upper hand, would you be responsible if he did?

“No matter where they send you or who they send instead—” And Gojo’s comment makes it crystal clear.

“—I promise you, you’ll end up right back here.”

extended angel's note: first and foremost, just to give credit where credit is due, this is a chatbot i turned into a short story🧍🏾‍♀️. it was actually my first time dicking around with janitor a.i. back in like...april? and i came across this gojo bot with a suuuuper interesting prompt. [all of the prompt idea and calibration credit goes to the original creator.] i didn’t decide to actually get serious and start creating a story until around the end of part 2 - i realized i was having too much fun and was in too deep 🙇🏾‍♀️. SO after my decision to indulge madness, i didn't want to run up 10000 messages on janitor a.i. and decided to create the rest of the story on my own from there. everything after the prompt are my own words and i've had to weave every last bit of part 1 and 2 into a coherent story but everything afterwards is all me.

you can find the chatbot and play around with it yourself here but i strongly recomment doing so after finishing this short - think of it as a choose your own adventure afterwards in case you want my head on a stick after the ending 🤠.

tags list p.1: @reddiamondjazz @blkkizzat @kiwismoother @rune1920 @suguwife

@xerroe @enthyn @gloomuri671 @startatdawn @heijihatsutori

@inluvkai @ixqiix @strawnanamilk @rosso-seta @05-simply-06-simping

@sims-4lifers @bratidol @hyunsuks-beanie @luna-v-roiya @neteyamsluvr111

@supsiii @natadecoco30 @chiyokoemilia @ririoutspoken @kyoxko

@strawberrymilkshakes-posts @nen-nyy @cinnamorochiroll @kazeniya @maybe7tommorow

870 notes View Post

liyahbug

4 months ago

— I CAN SEE YOU ⊹₊⟡⋆

scaramouche x f!reader social media au

SUMMARY — you’ve been stanning scaramouche, a soloist, since before you can even remember. with the thinking that “he is out of your reach” and “we live in different worlds” already ingrained on your mind, just what are the odds that he already happens to be one of your stan account mutuals?

status: on-going | taglist: open — please reply to this masterlist in order to be added !! note: asks for being included will be invalid; only those in the replies will be added so that we're organized tyy ^^

genres: social media au, celebrity au, modern au, crack, fluff, a sprinkle of angst (?), hidden identities

extras: playlist — [click here] 🤍 (still a wip tho hehe)

author's notes:

3rd smau hello???

privacy (my ayato smau) spinoff !! scara will finally have his own story after 2? 3? years ToT

updates may be inconsistent, i don't have a posting schedule :>

again, idk what i'm doing haha

english is not my first language so expect grammatical and typographical errors (bear with me please :"D)

will contain swearing

ılıılıılıılıılı FEATURED ARTISTS. ---- sky.

----- scara.

TRACKLIST. ılıılıılıılıılı

intro (prologue): being a scara stan

track 01: him again ▸ track 02: make me track 03: not in public ▸ track 04: our little secret track 05: tba ▸ track 06: tba track 07: tba ▸ track 08: tba

outro (epilogue): tba

TAGLIST I (closed; 50/50) @kararisa @aries-afk @aetherialcrafter @jamieexistss @lordbugs @aerisellesuchi @adres-tia @luvlockettt @kinichval @miiltrix @suzueuieeeee @automaticpatroltragedy @ahirusstuff @kyuki07 @kunikuni1819 @hungryreadingaddict @deariroha @rosieyama @slayzzz @tired-jaz @mellowberrie @kyouzki @riabriyn @ravenbc @lalalaloveallmydays @moonlitreveri3 @skyoverkill1 @xiaomainlmao @phoenix-eclipses @yomishen @anemosmybeloved @iaraluvs @kunikuzushiit @lockandkeys @yoursockstinks @idkwhattoputasmyusernme @d1gital-data @shyentsmissingink @liuaneee @najaemism @mywillt0live @aswiftiechildofapollo @toekissers @meigalaxy @nishiriks @executeher @verafunny @gl00muraaii @lily-isalittlegirl @just-a-hopeless-romantic @franaby @shrimplyasleep @scaraenthusiast1 @kyon-cherri @kunikissr

TAGLIST II (open; 19/50) (can't mention bc tumblr limits 50 mentions per post :'( but rest assured you guys are added ^^)

@withnners @audristarzz @heusalettle @mayarisan @eternallykira-143 @cindywasneverhere @meowrenapurrdo @itsjustmillie @flowzel @ohmyfinggod @zuhahearts @scarasbaby @euphoraia @yotraumainthebuilding @pinkismyfavcolor @dazqa @jym-jazzily @usagiarchive @ddivilove

TAGLIST III (open; 0/50)

1K notes View Post

liyahbug

8 months ago

Iguro isn't used to Kaburamaru disappearing from his typical place upon his shoulders. And he's definitely not used to the snake being gone for long periods of time. Maybe that's why he's freaking out a bit more than usual trying to find the damn thing. He'd been training within the walls of the Butterfly Mansion when he realized that familiar weight was missing. And now he has to forgo honing his sword skills in order to stomp around the grounds, asking everyone he comes across, and keeping his eyes peeled for any kind of movement.

He doesn't have time for this but he loves that snake with all his heart so there's no way he'd be able to focus knowing he's missing.

Little does Iguro know, Kaburamaru left in search of something in particular. Or someone. The snake slithers along the ground quickly until he's on your heels and nearly trips you by wrapping himself around your ankles. It had scared you at first, making you yelp and leap away.

"Hey little guy," you steady your racing heart and kneel down with your arm out for him, "what are you doing? Where's your owner?"

Kaburamaru moves forward and coils himself around your wrist, flicking his tongue at you with what almost looks like a smile. He makes his way up your arm and drapes himself across your shoulders the same way he usually does with Iguro. You feel warmth bloom in your chest at the show of affection.

It's odd, ever since you met the snake hashira his pet seemed to take a liking to you. One that his master clearly doesn't share. Iguro always gave you silence and cold glares that made you feel like even though you've only known him a short time you'd personally slighted him. When he did speak to you it was always short and to the point. Which constantly leaves you even more confused as to why he let's his snake snuggle up on you.

You let your knuckle brush along the smooth scales and Kaburamaru's tongue pokes out to brush over your cheek.

Had he gotten lost? It wasn't common for him to go off on his own from what you'd heard from the other hashira. He's always glued onto Iguro. And according to Shinobu, he isn't friendly with anyone other than his owner. But he's different around you. He always sticks his head out toward you for scritches when you're nearby and he goes out of his way to rub against you when he can. You aren't sure why but you're happy to see that he likes you somewhat.

"Come on let's go find Mr. Iguro," you say, poking your finger on his snoot lovingly.

Finding Iguro proves to be a challenge for you. Out of all the hashira he's the best at keeping himself scarce especially if he doesn't want to be found. You start by checking all the obvious places, like the trees surrounding the mansion, even climbing a few of them yourself just in case he's higher up than usual. No dice. Then you check the training grounds because you know he likes to work on his technique when he has nothing else to do. Again, no luck.

Finally you suck it up and start to ask around.

Which for some reason is a lot more stressful than it should be. Every servant or kakushi you ask gives you a sideways glance with a smirk and comments about Kaburamaru. You try to explain but they don't really listen, clearly coming to their own conclusions regardless.

Prancing up the steps towards an open door to the mansion you spot three young girls going on about their day. You wave them over and figure they're worth asking too. They always seem to know the most random information so maybe you'll get lucky. They all blink up at you in sync, shouting out a cheerful hello, and stop what they're doing to listen.

Iguro doesn't really know how long he's been searching by the time he rounds the corner toward the front of the mansion. He sighs as he sees no one there. Not even a servant. He's starting to get anxious about Kaburamaru. He can't remember the last time he's been separated from him for so-

"Hello Mx. (Y/n)!"

The sudden sharp sound of three high pitched voices catches his attention with a grimace. He shuffles across the open space and peers up at the doorway. He can't see the girls, he knows it's clearly Naho, Kiyo, and Sumi, but he can see the back of your form. You're hunched over with one hand planted on your bent knees to reach closer to their height and your other hand up brushing over-

It's Kaburamaru! He's curled around your shoulders and neck, resting limply with his head nuzzling into your cheek, his tongue flicked out with a happy snake smile.

You've had him this whole time?! Iguro feels his eyebrows pinch together as he moves to leap the porch but he pauses as you scratch the underside of Kaburamaru's exposed belly. He's thinking now, about how much that snake seems to like you. About how every since you started coming around Kaburamaru seems to seek your warmth. Iguro watches you coddle his pet and feels fluttering butterflies in his stomach. They bounce around his ribcage as if they're trying desperately to escape.

He always feels this way when he looks at you... hell when he thinks about you.

"Have any of you see Mr. Iguro anywhere?" You ask in a chipper voice.

He hears an array of "no" from the girls.

One of them gasps, Sumi, he thinks, "you got Mr. Iguro's snake!"

You nod with a soft laugh.

"I think Kabu here got lost so I'm trying to return him but I can't find Mr. Iguro anywhere."

Lost? Kaburamaru never gets lost. He knows the Butterfly Mansion inside and out. And did you just call him Kabu?

Iguro's nose twitches behind bandages.

That damn snake hadn't gotten lost. He went looking for you! On purpose! Iguro is starting to regret speaking about you so much in front of him. All of his frustrated rambling must be getting to his head and confusing him. But then again he'd been that way the entire time you'd been around even before Iguro started complaining. So maybe Kaburamaru just likes you.

Just like his owner.

You stand back tall and the snake adjusts his position, "If any of you see him will you tell him I'm looking for him?"

A cacophony of "uh huh" follows and Iguro sees you heave out a big sigh. Soon three little sets of feet pattering on tatami mats echoes out the door and the girls come barreling out to go back to their work. They all freeze when they see Iguro with his palms and one foot resting on the edge of the porch.

Before he can stop them, they all shout, "We found him!"

Iguro quickly puts himself back into a regular stance on the ground and curses in his head. Just a second after, you poke your head around the doorframe and you light up at the sight of him. Oh how he adores such a view. The way your eyes shine and crinkle with the bright smile you give makes him feel sick.

In a good way.

You wander to the edge of the porch in front of him and drop down lightly, "I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Iguro doesn't know what to do. Is he supposed to say something? You're standing in front of him looking at him like he's supposed to respond. Is his heart racing? Is he okay? Iguro's fists clench onto the bottom of his haori until he feels it burn in his bone white knuckles.

Speak you idiot, he thinks.

"I don't have time for childish games."

You're confused by his words.

He's blinking at you with those beautiful multicolor eyes without much expression. Is he mad at you? You haven't done anything but your stomach drops at the thought. Out of all the hashira or even all the other slayers he's the one man you don't want to upset. You want him to like you. Maybe even see you as a friend. But he looks so stoic that it worries you.

"What are you talking about?" You ask.

Iguro hates the way your voice wavers just slightly. He didn't mean to upset you. His eyes dart away quickly, settling on a patch of dying flowers by the steps. There's no way he can bring himself to look at you especially with his pet so comfortably snuggled around you like that. It's making his blood rush in his ears.

"First you steal my snake and now you're playing dumb," he says, "I had to stop training for this."

"I didn't steal him? He actually found me. Almost tripped me into a thorn bush too," you explain.

The creature in question hisses but it's clearly not threatening as his following act is to flick that forked tongue over your cheek. You giggle at the tickling sensation and Iguro thinks his heart is about to burst from his chest in an explosion of messy and hidden feelings. He can't stand it. You make him feel ready to fall apart.

But damn he really wants you to laugh like that more.

"I'm sorry you were distracted from training-" you could distract him anytime, "but I wanted to make sure he got back in your arms-" would you like to be in his arms, "I know how much he means to you," do you know how much you mean to him?

Iguro lets his eyes flicker to you for a second but finds it's too much for him to handle. He huffs in frustration, "can I just have him back now, please?"

"Of course," you poke Kaburamaru under his jaw playfully, "go on now you freeloader. Shoulder ride's comin' to an end."

At first, he doesn't move. He just accepts your poking and tightens around you. It's not until Iguro meets his pink eyes and narrows his own that the snake droops sadly and begins to unwrap himself. He does so slowly, as some kind of show of defiance, until he begins to stretch out midair towards Iguro's strangely barren shoulders. It actually looks wrong to see them empty.

"I promise I took good care of him while he was with me," you assure, sensing the anxiety rolling off of him but assuming it was all from the absence of his closest friend and not partially you.

Iguro hummed in response.

Kaburamaru's head drops onto one of Iguro's shoulders while most of his body unfurls but remains on you.

You bite the inside of your cheek as you glance over Iguro. You could never seem to get over how pretty he looked especially as the setting sun brushed his features. Soft cheeks that you can just see the top of with the bandage, a sharp nose, a diverted gaze filled with gentle light. Your heart is pounding wildly and you swallow down rising acid.

You shouldn't be thinking about him that way!

Kaburamaru suddenly tightens his hold on you in a vice grip and before you register it he's using the leverage from holding both of you to yank you forward. A yelp tears through your throat. You stumble and so does Iguro, although him much more graceful, and his warmth encompasses you. The snake doesn't let up with his hold, pinning you both into place.

The fabric over Iguro's nose rubs against your own and you're left frozen. Your eyes cross as you try to look at where you're now connected and a burning flush rushes to your face. Iguro's own pink creeps up his neck and the bridge of his nose.

Gorgeous eyes, one green and one gold, stare into yours when you tear your gaze up. A shiver pricks up your spine. He looks so intense.

Iguro's mind is a jumbled mess of chaos and fire with alarms ringing from somewhere he can't quite decipher. You're so close. So warm. So soft. He can almost feel you breathing if you were just a smidge forward then your entire front would be pressed against him. Embarrassment twisted his stomach.

Both of you try to speak and both of you stop when you hear the other start.

For a moment, neither of you try again.

"Y-you're getting kind of red," you comment.

Iguro lets his gaze leave your eyes but finds that with the proximity it's hard to look anywhere and not see you. He settles on your hands where they seem to be afraid to move.

"Making fun of me now?" He mutters.

"No," you just barely seem to stop yourself from yelling, your voice dropping into a whisper in that musical cadence he so adores, "not at all."

He's going to be sick.

Iguro is genuinely going to be sick.

You might as well.

There's no chance at even attempting to fight Kaburamaru's grip. He's got the insane strength of a snake and even if you could you're too worried about hurting him. Iguro seems to think the same.

"You got a new haori," Iguro says.

The realization that he pays attention to you makes you feel like cupid's arrow strikes through your heart. He's right, you did get a new one, your last one was something you’d gotten when you were young. It wasn't a design you liked anymore.

"Uh huh," is your stupid, awestruck response.

Iguro feeds on that like a starved man placed in front of a buffet.

There's a pause as neither of you move and Kaburamaru tightens, pressing you together. He doesn't seem to be planning to let go any time soon and Iguro is too out of it, lost in his own crushing thoughts, to do anything.

Iguro finally let's go of his own and lets his fingers brush your haori affectionately, "it suits you."

You're sure he must be trying to kill you.

"Kaburamaru likes you," Iguro says, "he doesn't like anyone."

Your gaze drifts to the snake that's curling himself in his owner's hair, "I'm glad."

Iguro mutters something so quiet that all you get from it is the rumbling of his chest. You can't see his lips so there's no way to try and figure out what it was and you're sure if you ask he won't repeat it.

"I like him too," you say, trying to convince yourself that you're still talking about the snake.

You're not. And you know that.

Iguro's throat tightens as words attempt to jump ship and spew out of him like a faucet. He could almost lean forward and kiss you if he wanted. He wants to. If he asked what might you say? Would that precious flush get darker? Just before he loses his already thready control, a booming voice cuts into the courtyard. You two turn your head's to look.

"Oh my! Are you two finally going to kiss?"

It's Rengoku, standing on the corner of the far side of the porch in all his glory, his hands propped onto his hips and a bright smile on his face. The embarrassment you feel is almost enough to make you faint as he seems way too excited about catching you in a compromising position. You wonder how it looks from an outside view. Iguro and you are pressed chest to chest, hips to hips, and his hands are grabbing at your haori.

It must look inappropriate.

"Wonderful!" Rengoku shouts in excitement, "I shall let the others know. Join us for supper when you are ready my friends!"

Let the others know? The other... hashira? You and Iguro come to that conclusion at the exact same moment and share a braincell. Both of you yell out to stop Rengoku as he turns on his heel to head towards the dining room. Kaburamaru doesn't get the hint and remains in place causing both of your voices to clash together in panicked yelps as your feet tangle together and you tumble to the ground.

669 notes View Post

liyahbug

11 months ago

My first ever repost. This was too damn good. It had me giggling and kicking my feet like a weirdo🥰. Every few seconds I’d have to pause for few minutes to fangirl over how cute this was☺️💗

be my angel — leon kennedy

wc: 2.3k

pairings: re4r! leon kennedy x fem! reader

synopsis: leon hated coming home late. hell, he hated going on those morbid missions in the first place. he can’t help but feel like a sweet girl like you deserves better than some guy who goes away on missions for long periods of time without even telling you much about them. thankfully, you’re there to tell him just how much this stupid blondie means to you.

warnings: none. slight sexual content but nothing more than making out really.

author's note: inspired by the mazzy star song! the lack of leon kennedy fluff is concerning. also first time posting on tumblr yay.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55001149

if it weren't for you, leon probably would've lost his mind a long time ago. you were so sweet, so gentle, so understanding—he sometimes questioned if he even deserved someone as unscathed as yourself. it was comforting dating a regular civilian, someone who wasn't exposed to the daily nightmares he faced in his line of work. being so blissfully ignorant to the horrors of the world was a luxury he no longer afforded, never did.

leon hated the sad look that'd cross your perfect features as he left for one of his gruesome missions, that last goodbye kiss that had him tightly gripping the steering wheel as he pulled out of the driveway, the asphalt crackling beneath the tires. the fact that he couldn't tell you much about said missions, given their classified nature, only made him more upset—it felt like wordlessly forsaking you for one-to-two weeks at a time.

oh, but the sweet expression you'd have on your face as you twisted the metal doorknob, the way it lightened up at the mere sight of him. it had leon's chest tightening and breath hitching, wanting nothing more than to pull you into a long, hard kiss. you had him acting a fool, needless to say.

tonight was a little different, though. the digital clock on the dashboard read 12:47 am, causing leon to scoff lightly under his breath. he disliked coming home late, knowing most likely that you were probably up, huddled on the couch with thick blankets wrapped around you, wishing it was his arms keeping you warm instead.

leon's gaze then drifted back up towards the heavy rain thrashing vehemently against the ground, the deafening silence disrupted by the droplets pattering against the window and the swiping of the windshield wipers doing their job, giving him a clear view of the road ahead. he was still a good twenty minutes away from home, and that fact alone makes him press his foot against the gas a little harder, damning any traffic laws at the moment.

though, crashing the car in an attempt to see you sooner was a bit counterintuitive—and he'd be seeing god, if anyone.

once leon finally pulled up to the quaint little townhouse the two of you owned together, he parked the car, pulling the keys out of the ignition and shoving them into the pocket of his black cargo pants. with a soft sigh, he quietly shut the car door, and walked up the steps to the front door. the rain had calmed down a bit, simply drizzling now.

knock, knock, knock . his fisted hand gently rapped against the door a few times, but to leon's dismay, he still hadn't heard your footsteps leading up to him. it then hit him that it was one in the morning, and it was more than likely that you'd fallen asleep—possibly from staying up for him. a frown creased onto his lips, upset with himself for coming back so late. even if it wasn't his fault, he still felt guilty. despite how much you reassured him, leon always thought you could a whole lot better than him.

reluctantly, leon pulled his set of house keys out of his pocket, and slid the metal through the lock, opening the door with a click . inside was dark, quiet…yet peaceful. as he padded across the area, the floorboards lightly creaking beneath his feet, he took notice of how clean it was; someone had used their time wisely, he thought with a smile. well, either that, or you had just gotten so bored out of your mind waiting for him. he was well aware of how antsy you'd get on the days you knew he was coming back.

leon was also now aware of how disappointed you probably were now, seeing as he came back far later than anticipated.

that's when his eyes land upon you, snoring away softly on the sofa, and—just like he imagined—curled up beneath a warm, knitted blanket. the open tv cast a soft glow across the tidy living room, alongside a few warm-scented candles you had lit. that, alongside the rhythmic thrumming of the rain against the windowpane, made for a very cozy atmosphere. leon took careful steps towards the couch, kneeling down in front of you.

"i'm sorry, angel," leon mumbled, his voice soft as to not wake you up. he brushed a few stray strands of hair behind your ear, the contrasting feeling of his calloused fingers against your soft skin roused you a bit, causing you to stir in place. leon chuckled at your tired grumbles, pressing a chaste kiss against your forehead.

the kiss is what fully wakes you up, instantly jolting upwards, sitting yourself upright. the blanket rustles around you as your sleepy eyes widen, registering the fact that your boyfriend—that you hadn't seen in two weeks—was right in front of you, giving you the softest smile. "leon?" you muttered, still in disbelief.

"go back to sleep baby, we can talk in the morning," he said, peppering gentle kisses across your face. your skin burns beneath his lips, any feelings of exhaustion slowly slipping away. if leon really wanted you to go back to sleep, he damn well knew better than to act all sappy like this.

"no, no, no," you quickly—and incoherently—mumbled, blinking a few times to adjust your eyesight, "it's okay, i'm not sleepy. i was waiting on you anyway," that's when you started to excitedly ramble, "i just…forget about me, what kept you so long?" you raised a curious eyebrow. "something bad happened?"

"nah," leon shook his head, still smiling—god, it felt so good seeing you after so long. "writing up that report took a little longer than anticipated. i'm really sorry, pretty." his smile then shifted into a frown, a soft sigh escaping from the depth of his lungs. "so sorry," he whispered as he kissed your lips for a quick second.

the look of pure anguish contorted on his sharp features sent a pleasant shiver down your spine. despite how tired you were, seeing leon look so upset over the fact that he couldn't see you sooner made your mind dizzy with love.

"that's okay. it happens. i understand." you replied honestly. you were aware of leon's job before getting wrapped up in a relationship with him. and you also knew just how much this man loved you, even if he couldn't see how amazing he was. flaws were human, you'd tell him. people tended to forget that—leon might be a zombie-killing machine, but deep down, he was only a man. one with feelings and emotions.

dating leon made you feel like such a special girl. he was a closed-off, reserved man. just one quick look at him and you could tell that he most definitely could kill a man with his bare hands alone—if he wanted to, that is. he was cold, intimidating, and brutal on the field. but you didn't see that side of him.

no, you saw a total sweetheart. in your presence, leon was a complete softie. it was actually quite adorable seeing him sleepily pouring himself a cup of coffee at the crack of dawn, dressed only in loose pajama pants, his chiseled abs put on display just for you . his blonde hair framed his face so perfectly, the soft strands falling in front of his face. despite being a total fucking unit, having biceps nearly bigger than your face, he was so gentle with you, treating you as if you were a porcelain doll.

at least, he tried to be, but sometimes he got a little… carried away .

you were the person who got to see him leaning over the bathroom sink, holding a razor to the lower half of his face, shaving away the light stubble that had formed after neglecting the duty for a few days simply because he got too lazy. you saw him narrowing his eyes at the god awful instruction booklet that came with ikea furniture as he attempted assembling a new bookcase. you loved the way he would sometimes squint while looking at something afar, then claiming he "didn't need glasses" when you pointed it out.

it was so raw, so real.

leon just sighed, shaking his head in disbelief, "you do realize you are too sweet for your own good sometimes, right? you should be upset i was late, i promised i'd be home for dinner." he chuckled dryly, climbing onto the sofa and taking a seat right next to you, sitting above the comforter.

"i dunno what i'd do without you," his gaze was trained on you, admiring how pretty you were in this state—with messy hair, half-lidded eyes, and puffy cheeks. "i love you so much." would it be too awkward to mention that he'd marry you in a heartbeat at this time of night? probably.

you can only laugh in response, trying to downplay how much his words were affecting you. "you're so corny. i love you too, lee." yeah, if he was so corny, then why was your heart beating of your chest?

leon was being dead serious, even if his execution made it seem like he was just playing around. you were his light in the darkness, his sole comfort amidst his disastrous life.

he slid his brown leather jacket off, letting it fall to the ground. your eyes fall to his arms and how yummy they look in his compression shirt. would it be weird to say you just wanted to take a bite out of them sometimes? lovingly, of course. "i missed you," leon mumbled, his own voice taking on a sleepy lilt.

"me too." you shook your way out from beneath the thick blanket, scooting closer to your precious boyfriend. you cradle his cheeks with your hands, smiling as you stared into his icy blues. his eyes really were to die for, you could just get lost in them sometimes. he leans into your touch, eyes fluttering shut. you go in for a kiss, soft lips meshing with his chapped ones.

the action elicits a soft, content sigh from leon, his big hands running up and down your back above your thin tank top as the two of you stayed like that for a few moments, lips moving against one another languidly. your chest presses up against his, sending a pleasant rush through leon's veins. when you two pull away for air, a bit breathless and frazzled, you can only marvel at the sight of him before you.

his lips were parted, taking slow and deliberate breaths, his pale cheeks now a little rosy, and his tired eyes now glazed with lust, drunk on your lips alone. you chuckle softly, your hands still cradling his cheeks as you brush your thumb over his bottom lip. he kisses the tip of it, allowing you to slid it between his lips for a split second. it's so awfully intimate, causing waves of satisfaction to wash over leon.

that's when you plunge right back in, this time your tongue slipping past his lips, interlocking with his. he moans so softly, his hands roughly gripping your hips, drawing out a sigh of your own. leon mutters hoarsely, "you're too good for me, sweetheart. way too good. what did i do to deserve you?" he's still so in disbelief that a precious thing like yourself is all his .

this causes you to part again, a slight look of confusion crossing your features. "are you serious, leon? what didn't you do?" you shake your head, sighing. "you're way too hard on yourself, baby. i swear, i've never had a man that's as perfect as you before, regardless of what you might think. you deserve this. you deserve everything after what you've been through."

you loop your arms around him tightly, hugging him as your bury your face in his chest. your thumb traces little circles on his back, as you whisper, "don't ever think you aren't enough." that was a little something you'd picked up on in the three years you'd been dating leon. he was very unsure of himself. he didn't deem himself worthy of love, no less the amount you poured out for him.

"i love you, in all your blonde glory," you chuckled, not wanting to sound too deep, even if your words carried an incredibly heavy weight.

leon couldn't help but feel a swell of emotions all at once, instinctively holding you even tighter, pulling you close and never wanting to let go of you. not even for a single second. "you're so corny," he mocked, letting out a light laugh as he pressed a kiss on top of your head. god, you fit him just like a puzzle piece.

"it's all your fault, asshole. you started it." you grin, lifting your head up from his chest, and leaning into kiss his perfect lips again.

"hmm," leon mumbled, a low chuckle erupting from his throat, "guess that's too bad, then."

finally, after kissing him for a good several minutes, taking labored breaths through your nose, you pulled apart, a thin trail of your mixed saliva following suit, now dripping down your chin. you chuckled, wiping it away with the back of your hand. your hips shift a bit suggestively as you climb off of his lap, causing leon to inhale sharply.

"you need a shower. i'm going to bed." is what you say with a snicker as you turn on your heel, padding across the wooden floors to your shared bedroom. leon just scoffs, and shakes his head, watching as you stumble away from him.

"that's not fair." he grumbled to himself, his hands falling to his thighs.

he did tell you to go back to sleep earlier, though. damn it.