Heart To Heart // Sanemi Shinazugawa

[Thoughts about an MC who gets periods]

Getting periods in the Devildom must be pretty rough. Demons probably don’t get them, and the number of humans freely wandering around has to be incredibly low. If MC takes the form of a sheep then they likely don't have to deal with it immediately, but eventually that's going to wear off and they'll revert back to a human. Does the Devildom even have pads and tampons for sale?

MC might have to sheepishly ask Barbatos if he can acquire some in bulk from the human world. Barbatos would remain professional as always when inquiring about the use of these products and their role in daily life. He'd have to report it to the prince. They're both aware of what periods are, but only in a vague "oh yeah, humans do that" kind of way. (Perhaps in the future, Lucifer could use his secret Akuzon account to order more?)

There's surely some plant or potion that prevents them, but they're not meant for long term use. Probably tastes nasty over time and covers human skin in a weird oozing rash if consumed too often.

A month or two into the exchange program, MC might have to call up Solomon for aid.

---

“Can you help me with something?”

Solomon, not too interested in MC yet, agrees just to be amicable with his fellow human exchange student. They must be scared! They must be missing humans! “Is something on your mind?”

“You know how to do magic, right?”

What a silly question. It’s almost refreshing to hear. “I do.”

“Do you know… like, uh, smell…? Reducing magic? Something to cover up smells? Without being obvious, I mean. I feel like I stink and I was really hoping you could help me figure something out.”

How cute, he thinks. He can’t quite remember the time when he smelled fully human anymore, and he can’t really smell the distinct odor on people that demons can, but he knows demons can easily sniff out a human from afar. “Oh, don’t worry about that. It should go away on its own as you spend time here.”

MC isn’t convinced. “I don’t think it will…”

“Trust me. How are you finding Devildom cuisine? I know you’re not used to it, but eating more will help you adjust. I can whip up a few simpler dishes for you to try if you need help.”

MC is silent for a bit. Solomon thinks his job is done until they say quietly, “that’s not the problem.”

“What?”

“I’m pretty sure the brothers I live with can smell, uh, my cycle.” No use being coy about it, better get straight to the point. “They stare at me when I’m on my period. I think - no, I know - they can smell the blood. I’ve seen them sniff the air when I’m around. It's weird. And I can’t exactly stop it from happening every month.”

“Oh.” Now it’s Solomon’s turn to be quiet. He’s embarrassed and surprised, a little humbled, and also really interested in this problem. It’s not something he’s ever thought about before.

MC continues, “I think they can tell when I’m ovulating too, Asmo started lingering around more often, and Lucifer looked scarier than usual, and they all stare more, and-”

“I think I get it.” Solomon can’t stop his face from turning pink. Despite his usual grin, he doesn't think he’s ready to listen to the rest of MC’s sentence.

There should be an easy solution, but it’s something that warrants testing if MC doesn’t want the brothers noticing a sudden spell cast upon them. It could get mistaken for something malicious. Solomon says, “I might be able to help. Can you come over today?”

catching them fall on the ring camera

ʚ incl: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna, higuruma, shiu, ino, shoko, uraume

ʚ cont: crack, fluff

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

Thinking about Sanemi who is the king of consent and check-ins.

He grew up seeing his father treat his mother less than kindly and despises men who treat women in a similar way. So it doesn’t matter whether he’s been pounding into you for the last half an hour, calling you every derogatory name under the sun (with your prior permission) — if he changes in pace or position, he’s making you meet his eyes to check-in.

“Listen to that,” he pants, the hand he’s had gripped in your hair pressing your head down harder into the mattress. “Your pussy is so fuckin’ sloppy. You like when I fuck you like a whore?”

Your answering moan and the way your thighs somehow spread wider made Sanemi chuckle, the sound rich and dark in a way that made you all the wetter. “Yeah, you do, don’t you?”

Your whines were cut off in a choked gasp as Sanemi’s arms wound around your shoulders and tugged you up until he was laying flat against the bed, your back pressed against his front. Shifting, Sanemi grips the back of your knees and hauls your legs into the air, suspending them and keeping them spread wide for him. Somehow, he still has the dexterity to reach for your jaw with his fingers to tilt your head back against his chest.

“Hey,” his voice is throaty and rough with desire. Blearily, you open your eyes to meet his, and Sanemi smirks slightly at the fucked-out expression in your glassy eyes.

“You okay?” There’s a gentle seriousness in his tone, and you know that the second you were to shake your head or voice any discomfort, he would stop, and he’d bend over backwards to care for you in whatever way you’d need.

It’s that thought, coupled with the hot friction growing ever more pronounced between your legs as Sanemi holds perfectly still inside you, that has you nodding desperately, eager to have him thrusting his cock in and out of your walls with such vigor that you forget your name.

Sanemi’s answering smirk is soft in a way that you know his hips are about not to be. “That’s my girl,” he chuckles, and he relishes the strangled moan that tears from your throat as he gives a sharp thrust up, his balls slapping against your over-stimulated clit.

“You’re such a good little whore for me, aren’t you?”

Idk why this concept makes my heart so warm but I’d love to see something where the reader asks Leon to do her makeup for fun and he’s clueless! Like a lil date night activity!

Makeover!

{Leon tries to do your makeup}

Aww this is too cute!! Thank you sm for the request my lovely!! Hope you enjoy!! 💕

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“What’s this one again?” Leon asks, fiddling with the eyeshadow palette, shutting it and closing it over and over again as the magnetic seal clicks with the action.

You’re shocked at how willing he was to say yes to the idea of him giving you a makeover.

“That’s eye shadow,” you tell him, before going over the products one by one as he nods with an enthusiastic smile, and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t excited even if he was utterly clueless about what to do.

You take a seat on your desk chair watching as he takes the foundation, “This one first?” He asks a little unsure of what he’s actually doing, and you giggle as his brows knit together with confusion.

“It’s all you baby, whatever you think goes first” You look up at him with a smile.

“Alright” he smiles, and you watch, feeling a little nervous, as he holds the bottle to your face, the nuzzle pressed against your cheek as he squirts the product on your face, and you gasp at the sudden coldness, giggling as he mumbles a small ‘fuck’

He takes one of the many brushes dabbing it across your face to smooth out the foundation that sits against your skin, he stands back admiring your face with a proud smirk before turning back to the dresser and picking up the eyeshadow pallet he was playing with earlier, and you cringe at the bright neon colours, out of all the pallets he just had to pick that one.

“Don’t be so nervous you’re gonna look so sexy” he chuckles, as he takes one of the smaller brushes dusting it with the bright pink, and your eyes flutter close as he applies the eyeshadow so gently to your eyelids, you barely even feel it, his hand occasionally brushes against your cheek as he continues to use the bright colour.

“I’m not hurting you right?” He asks so softly, and you can feel his breath fanning against your skin.

“No baby you’re alright” you whisper back, eyes still closed as he makes a joke about switching job professions, ‘government agent turned beautician’ and you can’t help the giggle that bubbles out of you.

There’s a comfortable silence that settles between you both, and the only thing you can hear is the soft music that plays from your speaker.

Your eyes open as Leon cups your jaw, “I’m not doing a very good job” he chuckles, admiring your face and he can’t believe you’re still so beautiful even if he's doing a terrible job, he presses a gentle kiss to the corner of your mouth before going back to dresser picking up eyeliner with a confusing look.

He removes the cap, his eyebrows rising with shock, “What is this?” He asks, looking back over at you.

“Eyeliner” you smile, and it only confuses him more.

He study’s the product trying to make a guess on how you use it, “It goes on your eyes?- How do I?” he trails off manoeuvring his hand to try and figure out how to apply it, he stares at the brush tip with a very baffled expression.

You explain it to him, giggling at his horrified look he leans into you with hesitation and it makes you a little nervous, “Just be careful, don’t take my eye out” you tell him and he nods with a nervous chuckle and it definitely doesn’t make you confident.

His hand leans against your cheek, as he ever so gently drags the brush tip along your eyelid and he winces at how messy the line is, “Don’t open your eyes” he whispers as he does the same to your other eye, and it’s considerably worse than the other.

He pulls back laughing at how wobbly the line is, and it definitely doesn’t look the same when you do it, “Am I still pretty?” You smile looking up at him.

“You’re always pretty, the prettiest girl in the world,” he tells with a loving tone, handing you the mirror with a teasing ‘Ta-da’ and he chuckles at the boisterous laugh that erupts from you.

“Woah baby, it's a good attempt” you giggle, studying the awful job he’s done.

Leon looks down at you, how your eyes crinkle with joy and a loving feeling blooms in between his rib cage and it makes his heart flutter with adoration, the sweet sound of your laughter could brighten his day without fail always.

He picks up the makeup wipes taking one out, “Come here pretty angel” he says, wiping away the makeup gently, he knows how to do this part as he thinks back to the times when you were too drunk to do it yourself, and the cool sensation washes you with relief.

He wipes the makeup until your face is completely clean, and his big hands cup either side of your face making you look up at him, “My beautiful girl” he smiles leaning down the press a kiss to your lips.

You smile against him suddenly feeling awfully bashful, “Are you, hungry baby?” he asks, and you watch as he cleans up the space.

“Mhm, you wanna make pizza?” You ask, and he nods putting away the makeup products back to their rightful place before you both make your way to the kitchen.

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them texting you after you die

ʚ incl: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, choso, sukuna, higuruma, shiu, ino, shoko, uraume, ijichi

ʚ cont: heart crushing angst

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ ࿔

Arty with Ninja SH)💙💜

08.09.2024

Is it just me or Satan is a pretty demon?

Like look at him! How did I ending up having a dream on my sleep about him being intersex!?

(My dream became my headcannon, some of the demons and one of the angel are intersex...)

sincerely not. (final)

↳ gojou satoru/reader

with an arranged marriage set in place, the sacred bond is doomed with a wife who wants to make the relationship work and a husband who’s ready to ruin it all. unbeknown to him, a tragic fate already lies within the pages of his romance book.

genre. heavy angst, unrequited love, arranged marriage, modern au, 18+

tags/warnings. mentions of trauma, mentions of depression, blood

notes. last chapter everyone! donut be scared :] the angst is lesser than part 19. thank you for the overall support this series has received! please see more notes after the cut

series masterlist -> sequel

additional notes. i don’t wanna be too dramatic so i’ll try to keep it short, you guys probably have heard about this a million times whenever i answered asks, but sincerely not was supposed to be my last piece of writing on tumblr. i had such a terrible writing slump before i posted it and it came to a point where i wasn’t satisfied with all the content i’m putting out. i didn’t expect that sn would blow up, or let alone have such a loyal and supportive audience that now became the reason why i work hard every week to pump out long chapters. i sincerely can’t thank you guys enough for going through this 5-month journey with me. with more than 200k words, 20 chapters, and a community built because of this series, this is perhaps a work that i will cherish and remember for the rest of my life. thank you to each and everyone who stayed up all night reading this series, to those who always eagerly left comments and theories under every post or in my ask box, and to those who contributed amazing fanarts for this fic. from the bottom of my heart, thank you and i love you. - sincerely, saint ♡

3 YEARS LATER

“As you all know, three years ago, I lost control of this company.” Standing in front of the executives and the shareholders was Satoru Gojou in his three-piece Zegna suit. “The market cap suffered a significant decrease to eight billion less. Because of the scandals and mismanagement on my end, not only did many investors pull out, but we also lost some of our most brilliant employees who all have contributed to the company’s growth over the last twenty-five years.” With all eyes set on him, the tips of his fingers felt unusually cold, but he had to continue his talk by walking around the new faces that filled up the conference room. “I know what you’re all thinking: ‘Why is the Chairman talking about his sob story?’ After all, no one would have thought that a person like me could still save the Gojou Group from its massive decline. Many journalists even referred to it as a major corporation failure. When my company’s stock price bottomed out, many people took the chance to buy stocks dirt cheap and I was already foreseeing how long it would take for me to file for bankruptcy. I went through terrible depression, my health deteriorated, and my mind was in a dark period for a year after I got divorced, but I still did everything I could to salvage the only thing I had left. But how could I? Where do I begin? At the time, it was nothing but a hopeless and ambitious thought.”

Satoru stopped from his leisurely gait and placed a hand on top of his CFO’s shoulder. As he looked down at the blond with a grateful smile, he then proceeded to finish his speech, “To play this game or any game, you must have a good mentor. Mine was my colleague, Nanami Kento, who once told me that if my life crumbled apart after I lost my wife, I should also think about my innocent employees whose lives would be far more affected if I didn’t do anything to save the company. He was right. I couldn’t possibly mope around and watch more people suffer from the difficulties I've caused. And so, I sought his advice and worked with him to rebuild the Gojou Group from ground zero.” Satoru turned on his heel as he finally arrived at the far end of the table. “Just like Nanami, you are all here because you’ve given me another chance at reconstructing the company from the damages I had done. It was a tough three years and we’re still working to restore everything back to how it was, but I just wanna take this time to express my sincerest gratitude to each and every single one of you inside this room for inspiring me and allowing me the opportunity to rise up from the bottom. In return, I will ensure—as the Chairman of the Gojou Group—that you will all be generously rewarded for your dedication and hard work. Thank you.”

After the general shareholders meeting, Satoru was back in his office with his CFO and his secretarial staff who were seated on the couch to deal with schedules and paperwork while discussing the spontaneous speech he had just done at the meeting.

“What in the world was that?” Nanami asked, unfolding a newspaper before resting his back against the couch. “You made a speech like you were stepping down from your position.”

Satoru chose to sit at the edge of his office table as he took a sip from his coffee mug. “Why? Do you wanna be an interim CEO again?” His tone was playful, although remembering how difficult it must have been for Nanami to be in the highest executive position at such a desperate time. Back to the days when Satoru was mentally and emotionally incapable of making good business decisions, the Gojou Group and its twenty subsidiaries would have all collapsed if not for Nanami’s immediate action plans to keep the company intact as one of the nation’s largest conglomerate in terms of assets and the second largest in terms of sales.

That being said, the blond didn’t even hide his year-long exhaustion after becoming the company's major pillar of support. “Please. I’d rather retire early than have you punish me with that title ever again, interim or not.”

“Don’t say that, Nanami. We’re gonna have a really long loving relationship as Chairman and CEO-to-be, you know.” Satoru continued to tease and earned Nanami’s glare as a response, all before the former noticed his secretary who was chuckling at the sight. “I think Miwa has better time management when she’s reporting to you, anyway.”

The blue-haired girl was quick to deny. “Not true, Chairman!” said Miwa while arranging some papers on the coffee table. “I always handle my time perfectly well no matter who I’m reporting to.”

Undoubtedly. Even if he treated her like a robot sometimes, Satoru was lucky enough to have had the chance to see Miwa’s professional growth from the past three years that she had been his executive assistant. He would never in his life forget that this girl stayed by his side during the lowest period of his life. Her loyalty was what led her closer to him to the point where they grew a sibling-like connection. Although they maintained a professional superior-subordinate relationship, he was able to joke around with her while she was given the rare opportunity to speak to him informally at certain instances: one, when he needed a good scolding and two, whenever he was teasing her about Yuuta (but that was a story for another day).

“Let’s see… What if I reassign you to be Yuuta’s secretary one day?” Satoru grinned in mischief as he set the coffee mug down. “He’ll be graduating next year and I’ll appoint him as the Vice President once he returns to Japan.”

Instead of Miwa whose cheeks were suffused with a pink tint, it was Nanami who immediately reacted in surprise. “You’re really gonna train him for the position as soon as he comes back?”

“Yeah.” Satoru offered a nod before signaling his secretary to reach for the special suit she carefully hung on his rack this morning. “He looks forward to it. He’s smart, responsible, and analytical, so you won’t have a hard time mentoring him.”

The man exhaled deeply, languid as he flipped the pages of his newspaper. “Why do you always leave the job to me?”

“Because you’re the best, Nanami~! Take it as a compliment.”

“I don’t need compliments, I want a Bugatti in return,” he made a quick bargain, “a mansion in Aoyama and a one-year vacation leave to Kuantan, Malaysia with no texts, calls, and emails from you.”

Satoru was better off as a statue after hearing his CFO’s offer. “And that’s what I call a good businessman!” He gave him a well-deserved clap and turned to his secretary in haste, “Miwa, take note. This kind of brazenness is something I wanna see from you.”

The girl simply laughed at the good-humored exchange between Nanami and Satoru while she held the expensive suit in front of the latter. As if she had read his mind, Miwa suddenly asked, “Are you really going to… do that today, sir?”

It would be nice to blame the air conditioner for the sudden thickness in air density. Not even ten seconds had passed and the mood swiftly changed into something more sullen, more gloomy. As Gojou took off his Zegna coat and unfastened his cufflinks, his gaze fell down on the visible scar on his forearm. Once a deep gash that required multiple stitches, now a reminder of that cold December night where blood and glass shards surrounded him as he sobbed his heart out in his mother’s arms.

He could ask Miwa’s questions to himself and only one answer would come out each time. “I have to.”

“Want me to go with you?” offered Nanami out of genuine concern. “I can reschedule my meeting with the finance department.”

Satoru, despite being genuinely appreciative of their concern, did not muster enough courage for the past two months anticipating this day just to back out at the last minute. “No, I got it.” That was all he had to tell Nanami and Miwa before he changed into the classic Givenchy tuxedo that was gifted to him three years ago. “Take care of everyone here while I’m gone.”

Gojou could barely remember what the atmosphere was like on his own wedding day. Because it was rushed and planned by everyone else except the bride and groom themselves, he didn’t have a great archive of memories relating to that special day that ultimately changed his life. Frankly, he was fairly busy with the company back then so he didn’t have much time to participate with the whole wedding preparation, leaving the designers and wedding planners to be the ones who visited him in the office just to remind him that he was going to become a married man. His distaste towards the forced marriage doubled his anger towards an innocent bride that later became a vital part of his life.

Many people asked him this: would Gojou consider marrying again? His answer would depend on the person. The answer, among many options, was only one particular woman with a selfless heart and an altruistic soul. Satoru couldn’t think of getting married to anyone else other than his soulmate whom he had promised a wedding back to when they were six year-olds. His childhood friend who had spent his birthdays with him just before they grew apart. His other half whom he had shared the most memories with from then and now. The lover, the wife, the mother of his child.

His one and only.

In an alternate universe, he had the option to restart his life back from where it all began. On the wedding day, where white primroses adorned the trellises, where satin linens complemented the dome of cloudless skies, where elaborate details and enchanting décor ignored the idea of ‘less is more’. But no matter how grandiose the setup was—whether it was whimsical or glamorous or traditional, in his previous life, he had forgotten the true essence of his own wedding—it was being united with his partner in life.

Beyond everything, marriage was a sacred bond between a husband and his wife.

The reminiscence of being surrounded by wedding decorations was déjà vu for Satoru who had not paid the slightest bit of attention to it three years ago. Or did he? Because with the way he recalled the tiniest details of his first wedding, it looked like he did pay a significant amount of recognition to the special day as much as he initially thought. The redolence of jasmine added to his nostalgia as he continued to walk like a ghost along the pathway where the wedding planners were passing left and right. They were oblivious to the man with white hair in a black tuxedo, concealed by a face mask while keeping himself unseen by blending amongst the low number of guests who had just arrived. The French baroque cathedral boasted of timeless elegance and one look at the ceiling gave him a breathtaking view of the magnificent Rococo art. Didn’t he get married in a garden? The decorations were either just black, ivory, and champagne not apricot and periwinkle blue. Right, Gojou remembered. Every stark difference was screaming to be remembered. The color palette, the theme, the flowers, and even the venue.

This wasn’t an alternate universe nor was this his own wedding.

This simple and yet sophisticated church wedding was his Earth-shattering reality to serve as a reminder that the tragedy was in his romance book, not yours.

With over seven billion people around the world, he was granted to be with only one person that had been his supposed life-long partner. Unfortunately, life could no longer offer him a rewind after everything that had happened. He didn’t have a free pass to travel back through time and rewrite his past. Just like the ugly scars on his forearm, some things just never fade. What he had for himself was the future—the chance to be a better man without the expectations from a yearned woman. A closure, not to accept his defeat, but more so to prove his eternal love.

Not many guests were familiar to him except for your cousins and the groom’s immediate family. The wedding in itself was an intimate setup, seemingly only for those who were dear to the wedded couple-to-be. It was a great contrast to your first glamorous wedding where almost every famous personality was invited amongst the swarm of influential businessmen. In this wedding, attention was not being waved at his face because the primary focus was the ceremony that would soon unify a man and a woman as one.

He wasn’t even invited, so why the hell was Satoru Gojou in here?

Thankfully, no one had really noticed him as he managed to escape from any unwanted attention by sneaking close to the walls until he finally reached one of the exits that headed towards the back. There was a pavilion just a couple of steps away from the church where they kept the bride before the actual ceremony would begin. Needless to say, Satoru’s blood had drained from his face as soon as one of the notable bridesmaids walked out of the door.

“Ieiri.” Gojou took off his face mask and noticed how his voice had become unstable. “Where’s she—”

“Inside,” replied Shoko, pointing towards the room. “She’s with her friend, but it should be fine. Gen went to see their father. Did anyone see you?”

“No, I don’t think so.” His heart was pounding on his chest. His head, pulsating. Air was luxury for him to breathe at this moment when he thought of the man he would become once his eyes were set on you again three years after you left.

Ieiri must have felt his temperature rising (or falling in that sense) because cold sweats started forming on his temples, but not until she snapped her fingers in front of his face to wake him up from his trance. “Hey, it’s okay.” A couple pats on the back lessened Gojou’s tension. “You can do it. This is your last chance.”

They said during moments of panic, it was normal for a person to feel numb. Everything was in slow motion and very few sounds were picked up by the ears as all the unnecessary hubbub would be blocked out. While he tried to reach for the doorknob, Satoru’s hand was visibly shaking due the accumulation of anxiety that he never realized had built up upon coming here. His nerves were like seismic waves forming ripples on a pond. What was he scared of? He had gone through so much alone for the last three years, but even so, this day might be the summit of his pain. It would mark as the highest point in his mountain of broken heart and eternal loneliness.

It was different in his head than when he actually opened the door and stepped inside the room. A girl with dark hair in a half-updo was smiling at you from the mirror as you two were unaware of the new presence that had entered the room. Even from afar, even when he could only see your side profile, Gojou had already fallen weak on the knees. A wave of strong emotions washed over his body as he saw the very woman that he loved and still undeniably did.

“…Y/N.”

When had he last called you by your name?

To him, the name that rolled off his tongue had also sparked a flame to his heart. To you, on the other hand, the voice that called it out was nothing more than a stranger from the past that you wanted so badly to erase. He could see it in your eyes with how they widened in shock, leaning on the negative scale more than the positive as you hastily got up from your seat. “W-What are you doing here?”

The girl who stood by your side kept a guarded stance while she mumbled, “Y/N, should I call for Toji?”

“No need.” Satoru blinked thrice in the same second and shook his head. “He knows I’m here. He…” trailing off, he drew in a deep breath, “He told me to see you before the ceremony.”

It happened a week ago when Gojou found out you came back to Tokyo after three long years. He heard rumors about you dating Toji, but he never really thought that your bond was deep enough to lead to another marital union. Wasn’t it such a cruel fate? Someone who was once his bride, was now someone else’s.

As hard as it was for Satoru to swallow, he knew that Toji Zen’in must love you a lot and he wasn’t even surprised that you ended up with his rival after all the things that had happened. Not many guys would allow an ex-husband a chance to meet his bride on the wedding day just for the sake of closure. But you see, your groom respected you and trusted you and cared for you enough to understand that this was something you and Satoru had to have. A private moment to conclude the relationship that scarred both you and him, which could possibly cause complications in any of your future marriages if not resolved. There was no harm in having this much needed conversation, especially since three years had gone by and you were close to strangers at this point. Or at least, he was to you. Any feelings you once harbored for him were completely gone like how the same gleam in your eyes that used to shine for him was now empty.

You must have realized that fearing Satoru Gojou would not help you in the long run, so you ended up allowing him inside before you turned to your friend. “Akemi,” you spoke to her calmly, “can you excuse us for a while?”

From the corner of his eyes, Satoru noticed how the woman with the gentle face glanced at his way before she decided to trust your words and subsequently made her exit. With the door shut in a 33-square meter room, it didn't seem as if the distance between you and him was there. Not when he had become too enamored of your ethereal beauty to a point where he couldn’t breathe.

And he had to swallow. Hard. Because you were so goddamn beautiful that his eyes were filling up with tears. Are you real? The pain he felt sure was. Are you really in front of him? He scanned every inch of your face and remembered how he used to wake up staring at those eyes each morning, how he used to touch those cheeks, how he used to kiss those very lips. He never had the chance to appreciate you back on your own wedding day and his greatest regret in life was not telling you how breathtakingly regal you looked in a wedding dress. Forget the swarovski crystals that hugged your figure or the natural make-up that enhanced your features—Satoru believed that no other woman could beat your grace and elegance in his eyes even if you were wearing a simple white dress with a bare face.

You aged three years older after you last saw each other, but the most fascinating part of it was seeing you in the best version of yourself. Not a trace of heartbreak. Not a hint of loneliness. There was that certain class and maturity that made him fall in love with you all over again.

“You look beautiful,” he meant to say it aloud despite the clench it caused his heart because he had to let you know no matter how shameless. “I know I never got to tell you this before, but… this, this is also how beautiful you looked on our wedding day.”

You watched him take a deep breath as if he was the rightful groom who was star-struck at the sight of his bride. “You never even looked at me on our wedding day.”

“I did, I know I did…” He stared at you in pining melancholy. Did Gojou imagine having this casual talk with an ex-lover? He was afraid that this might be the calm before the storm. “I’m sorry for bringing it up. I-I don’t intend to stay throughout the ceremony today.”

“So, what are you here for?”

“…”

“Satoru.”

“I just think that, maybe…”

With a distant gaze, your impatience led you to go straight to the point. “We’ve been divorced longer than we have married, Gojou.” But what hurt more was the way you avoided meeting his eyes. “If you have nothing important to talk about, save it. If you’re here to congratulate me, thanks. I hope you find someone else to marry, too—”

“Why did you let go?”

The sudden question rendered you speechless, so much that you almost sympathized from the guilt and agony that casted your ex-husband’s face. Satoru had been suffering for three long years thinking of the picture perfect family that he had lost and all of those unwanted memories during his darkest days were now swallowing him in whole. They were burying him six feet under and pulling him back into that abyss of torment that he thought he had already escaped. It was endless, bottomless, complete darkness.

But even with the obvious pain in his visage, you couldn’t find the right words to answer. He had to be the one to clarify it further. “Our baby,” his voice broke and his words took him back to that sorrowful day at the hospital, “I wanna know why you let go. I-I don’t understand why you did it.”

“You know why.” Tears were threatening to spill from your shiny eyes. “Don’t bring it back. I don’t wanna talk about it right now.”

It hurt. It hurt so much that he wanted to hug you, but couldn’t. That he wanted to wipe your cheeks, but couldn’t. That he wanted to kiss your forehead, pull you into his arms, hold you close. It hurt how much he longed for you day and night for the past 1,095 days, hoping that you would come back to him and be his wife again. How foolish. This woman in front of him wasn’t the same one he married for that woman had given up on him, but him—he never once gave up on you. He kept holding on like you were the last buoy keeping him afloat in the vast sea. “I messaged y-you nonstop.” His breathing hitched as a sob rose in his throat. “I sent you hundreds of voice mails even if you had me blocked everywhere. I followed you to New York and tried to search every corner of it for you, b-but I was told to leave you alone. In the end, I had to leave you alone and give you space, because I didn’t want you to hate me more than you already do. Do you know how it feels to be… to be abandoned by someone you love, and three years later that person comes back only to marry someone else?”

Out of the many things Gojou learned from his therapist: you can never suppress sadness. It always managed to seep out and the best way to handle it was to release such a heavy emotion out of the bottle. His face was already a screaming sign of Fragile: Handle With Care. But if anyone were to break him, the privilege was yours.

“Satoru, we never should have married in the first place,” you argued, eyes glistening with similar blues as you looked up at him, “We were doomed from the beginning because that marriage was never genuine. Stop holding on to me like I’m more than just a key to your personal goals.”

“Y/N, I love you…” At this point, he couldn’t stop the waterfall that gushed out of his eyes, emptying his sockets until he could no longer cry. His voice was thick with tears, his words were strangled in his throat. “I love you, I cherish you. I still do. I still fucking do and I’m so miserable without you. Don’t say that I was never genuine when I truthfully fell in love with you.”

You refused his words and swallowed the pity forming at the back of your throat. “No, you fell in love with the idea of me. You fell in love with the idea of having your own happy family regardless of the person you wanted to share it with.”

Satoru attempted to reach for your arm, but felt wrong for having tried because his cold hand didn’t deserve to touch your sacred warmth. “That’s not true.”

“I’m not your wife anymore.” Your reminder served numerous stabs in his hollow heart. “Gojou, you need to move on and live your life without me. You’re young, you’re single, you can easily go back to the way you were before you were ever married. You can even forget our marriage happened. Just please… Please find your happiness elsewhere.”

“I don’t… I don’t wanna forget.”

He came here promising himself that he was only going to apologize and clarify his intentions, it was never part of his plan to be a sobbing mess in front of you while begging for the love he had taken for granted. He wanted his wife back. He wanted Y/N Gojou to accept him again and give him another chance to be a better husband. But that was not the agreement he had with Toji when he allowed him to have this talk with you. Gojou had to remind himself not to steer away from his original path and respect the boundaries that were set in order to live a guiltless life. He ought not to be selfish, but more selfless because that was something he learned from you.

And in saying that, his only option for you to achieve your peace and true felicity was to let you go. Like setting a dove free from a bird cage, spreading its wings into open air before flying away—you had to have that freedom without a pathetic ex-husband clinging on to you. All he ever brought you was misery and heartache, so the best way to repent for his sins was to cut the thin string that kept you tied to him.

“Do you love him?” he asked once and for all, even though it shattered him inside, even though it squeezed his heart and every artery. Layers of unsettling emotions overcame him as the thought of you marrying someone else, having a family with someone else, doing the things you did with him to someone else—absolutely, agonizingly wrecked him. “Will you be happy if you married him?”

Along with your modestly downcast eyes, you took the chance to dodge the direction of his desolate gaze. “Probably so much more than when I married you.”

Who knew that an honest answer could make one’s world crumble into ashes?

In every sad song, sad movie, or sad novel there was, Gojou believed that his tragedy could sell billions of copies because there was nothing more satisfying than reading a story about how the man who once had it all, in the end lost it all.

As for you, your immediate thought was to turn away, searching through your jewelry box on the table before taking out the very last piece that connected you to him.

Your wedding ring.

The same ring he was still wearing to this day.

“Satoru, I loved you.” Your words flew past your mulberry lips as you reached for his hand. Throughout your marriage, it was for the first time he ever heard you say those three words. Three words that were now in the past just like the ring that you placed on his palm. “If you ever wanted to hear it, I did love you. I loved you so much that I stayed that long because I wanted us to work. I love you enough that I want you to be happy, even if we’re no longer together.” Gojou’s eyes were the loneliest shade of blue as he felt your thumb running across his cheek. “For the eleven months and twenty-two days we were married, all I did was to try and fix you. Now let me fix me.”

Didn’t you know? When you were in love, your voice was always the calmest. Your eyes, the dreamiest. Your face, the softest. It was a slapping contrast to the loom of darkness that swept over your ex-husband’s face—the man you once loved and was bound to by vows. But if his sorrow meant that you would find your joy, then he was ready to have his heart broken over and over again by the one person he loved the most. You.

Words needn’t be said. He accepted the ring you returned with a great wretch of sadness, keeping it safe in his own hand like he was holding onto a person in the form of a gold wedding band. In an hour or so, another ring would adorn your finger and it would be much more beautiful than the one you previously had from an ex-husband that you easily forgot about.

Your love story ended here.

On the first day of spring, where flowers bloom to signal the start of your new beginning. The radiant woman he loved the most would start a new chapter in life with someone else. And unlike you, Satoru was stuck in his cold, winter sorrows. There were no four seasons in his calendar for his days remained in the coldest months of the year because his source of sunlight found another world to shine on.

“I have to go.” The soles of his feet wanted to stay, but he couldn’t linger around any longer than he should’ve. What last words would he have to say to his ex-wife? ‘Have a happy marriage’? When that, in fact, was a form of self-punishment. But on a similar note, he felt the longing in your eyes and it allowed him to wish for nothing but the best for you. “I know he’s gonna take care of you, but… just in case,” he trailed off, forcing an upward curve on his lips, “I hope he kisses you every morning when he wakes up.”

“Satoru…”

His words were surprisingly cathartic. “I hope he’ll call you beautiful each day, stroke your hair when you lie on his lap, take you out on movie nights and spontaneous dates.” To make it more lighthearted and less dramatic, he added a few happy memories. “I hope he won’t drink straight off the milk carton or forget to turn the lampshade off at night. You deserve to be with someone who lets you spend pink toilet papers and expensive skin care masks on his credit card. Someone who stares at you in your sleep, thanking God for blessing him with a wife like you.”

Your lips quivered, eyes achingly staring at his.

Gojou ignored the weakness gnawing his chest and offered a smile that may have a million meanings, but truly only translated to one: I’m happy when you are. And so, he tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and leaned in to plant a kiss on your forehead. It was a harmless, unassuming kiss to let you know that he would always care for you the same. “I love you.”

Hesitance then bathed your eyes as he pulled away. Was that guilt in your gaze? Or was it pity? Either way, you squeezed his hand and opened your mouth reluctantly. “Wait, I… There’s something you need to know.”

At the rate of your growing anxiety, Satoru decided for himself that today was not the day for you to deal with it. He may have been selfish all his life, but he didn’t want to ruin your wedding for his sake. With the Zen’ins was where you belong. After all, they were a family void of drama or any ulterior motives that could break your trust in the long run. That was the household you deserved to be in.

“Will I be crying on my knees if I did know?”

You held your breath. “Maybe.”

“Will it fix us?”

“I don’t think so.”

Knowing a disappointing truth was better than wondering forever. But in that moment where palpable silence became one of his biggest fears, he decided that the less he knew, the better. “It’s okay. You don’t have to say it,” he assured, backing away and learning the art of letting go, “I should head out.”

“…Okay.”

His cue to leave was your sudden sympathetic gaze. His signal to turn around and step out of the room was the fact that he despised seeing sympathy in your eyes because it made him yearn and seek for your love. He didn’t need your sympathy, he needed you. It was a dangerous zone that he ought to avoid or else there was no going back.

The only way was forward.

Walking through the hallways alone gave him a newfound sense of catharsis. Although the other half of his soul remained with you, lovers didn’t necessarily have to be soulmates. They came in different shapes and forms, be it with a childhood friend, a past lover, an ex-wife. He was content for not sticking to his brand of selfishness which cost him a wife and a child in return.

Fate must be playing with him, because just as he turned to the corner of the hallway, he stumbled upon a little boy with white hair who was hiding his face against the wall.

Could it be…?

Stopping in his tracks, his eyes widened and brimmed with tears. He must be imagining this whole thing. He must be hallucinating. Why did his chest hurt this badly? Why did the atmosphere suddenly make him feel queasy? He felt sick to the bones after remembering the depressive episodes he went through because of his unborn child. The pain he suffered from his loss was more than a person could take. And now, this…

“‘Gumi!” The giggling kid ran past Satoru to meet Toji’s teenage son who immediately carried the little boy in his arms.

“There you are,” Megumi spoke to the child with a rare smile on his face, “You’re not supposed to show yourself when you play hide and seek.”

Satoru’s heartbeat quickened exponentially. His pulse was thumping with a heavy beat. It wasn’t until Megumi saw his figure down the hallway when the dark-haired boy became nonplussed. He knew what the older guy was thinking, and he didn’t seem to know how to react to it.

The little boy with similar white hair was facing away, so Gojou was yet to see if the kid looked like a splitting image of him to confirm his questions. He was already shell shocked and he would probably break down had he learned that the child was indeed his.

But seemingly hearing Satoru’s trail of thought, Megumi took the chance to keep the little boy away. “Come on, let’s go see your mom.”

“Mama?” The kid turned around, noticing Satoru’s presence as the person who carried him walked further and further away. Each growing distance did not do anything to melt the block of ice he had become. Frozen as he stood there, eyes wide at the sight of the child with white hair and baby blue eyes.

This couldn’t be real.

At the beginning of spring, the sky was crying and so was he. You were moving into new spheres, but this heart of his could love so infinitely that everything becomes muted. His heart could love so blindly that everything you do merited its forgiveness. It was unimaginable for anyone who actually cared to understand the gravity that had fallen on Satoru as he rushed into the parking lot. In a daze, lost in his own thoughts while putting the missing puzzle pieces together.

Three years in New York City.

Had he been deprived of a child that he believed hadn’t been born at all?

He was searching through his many antidepressants in the glove compartment of his car. Satoru had been so full of anxiety for this day that he missed taking a couple of pills that he strictly had to take to aid his severe depressive episodes—one of which was about to happen in a few. That child of his could have been a hallucination after all. His mind liked to play tricks on him ever since his mental state went on a downward slope. It wasn’t your fault nor anyone else’s.

It was his.

The onus was always on him. The blame, the criticism, the hatred even to himself. While the wedding was on going, Satoru was in his car crying silently to himself with his head on the steering wheel as his saddest thoughts haunted him. He could easily walk out of the car, crash your wedding, and perhaps confirm if that child was not just a fragment of his imagination.

But what scared him the most was getting a confirmation that you did hide his child for three years without telling him. Why did that scare him, you wonder? Because it meant that he would have to hate you again. It meant that he had to feel strong hostility towards you, when that feeling was the last thing he ever wanted to feel for his own wife.

During his lowest moments, the person he ran to was also the person who once ran away from him. You weren’t aware, but his mom never once left his side at times where the world felt hopeless. Or when breathing felt like luxury than a need. Or when simply existing felt like an undeserved privilege. She stayed and nurtured him to make sure that he wasn’t alone as much as he believed. It was her duty as a mother to care for her child. The only person who truly understood his never-ending pain.

“Mom.” One minute he was crying soundlessly in his car, the next he was on his phone choking a sob. “Mom, I-I can’t do this alone.”

“Satoru? What’s wrong, honey?” Worry laced her voice on the other end of the line. “Where are you?”

His chest rose and fell heavily. “I w-wanna wake up from this nightmare. I wanna wake up next to her.”

“Where are you?” His mother repeated her question with her anxiety increasing tenfold. It was one of ‘those days’. Those terrible, dark days where the other side was whispering in her son’s ear, tempting him to escape this world in his own hands. “Did you go to her wedding? My son…”

Gojou released a sigh, but it sounded more like a plea for help. His eyes were bloodshot and forlorn as he stared at the ceiling of his car. “I saw her and she looked beautiful. Sh-She’s happier, she’s… she’s… Mom, I love her.”

“I’m coming to pick you up.” He could tell his mother was tearing up. “Stay where you are, Satoru. I’ll be there as soon as I can—”

“We have a child,” he spilled out of the blue and the way it flew past his lips only brought a burning ache in his chest. “Our son, he looks j-just like me.” He pictured it all out in his head—how his son would look sleeping in your arms, how his son would run towards his stepfather each time he came home, how his son would look at Satoru Gojou without recognizing him as the father who anticipated his birth with such excitement five months into your pregnancy. “I have a son and he doesn’t know me.”

Deafening silence took over his mother, though it didn’t last long until she spoke in a careful voice. “What are you planning to do right now?”

There was no handbook on what to do after finding out that your ex-wife faked her abortion all along. He wanted to be angry, he wanted to yell the nastiest profanities for the absolute fool he was seen as, and yet everything he would do would just be futile at this point. He was already having difficulty in processing the idea of your marriage with someone else, much less a child with you. Instead of fighting for the family he lost, he felt like he would actually just lose a hundred battles more.

He had to think. Think, away from this place, away from the wedding that was happening inside the cathedral. He needed to clear his mind and figure it all out on his own. For one, was he supposed to pretend that nothing happened? Were you supposed to hide the child from him forever? Were you going to let another man be a father figure to a child who looked exactly like the husband you escaped from?

In a minute, Satoru revved his engine and accelerated the car past forty. He hit sixty when he drove through the street, then he hit a hundred when he reached the freeway. He tightened his grip on the steering wheel and drove with blithe disregard for the rules of the road as tears blurred his vision. But maybe, instead of finding a way on how his presence could contribute properly to an ex-wife and a long lost child, he had to choose the easier option—to disappear. Because for all its worth, he wasn’t needed anymore. You managed three years without him, and you could manage fifty more years without him.

His little boy could continue his life not recognizing his shameless father who cheated on his mother, neglected her, ruined her. He was a bad influence and that was solid proof that Satoru could have never been a great dad as much as he liked to believe.

Though, for one reason, you were wrong. As he stomped his foot on the gas pedal, he remembered your words from earlier, ‘you fell in love with the idea of having your own happy family regardless of the person you wanted to share it with’. He didn’t want that family with anyone else but you. That mansion he purchased wasn’t meant for Sera, but for a home he pictured out with a woman he would marry and have dozens of children with. He wasn’t given a chance at explaining himself nor was his voice heard when he tried to beg for forgiveness. You didn’t owe him one, but it broke him to know that because of that miscommunication, your love couldn’t be fulfilled in this lifetime.

This was a world where he was and would always be alone.

Reaching for his pocket, he took out the ring you returned to him and placed it between his fingers, reminding himself of a piece of you that he could still hold onto.

Other than the ring, he also had memories of both good and bad. The wedding day, Iceland, the auction, the morning after his father’s birthday, Bora Bora, Nana’s death, finding out you were pregnant, knowing you had stable angina, that sunset in the yacht, Eula going to jail, him losing everything including you. If any author decided to write about him one day, Satoru hoped that people could learn from his tragedy and value their marriage before it was too late.

Wasn’t it pathetic how he barely remembered everything he had done for the past three years except for those moments with you?

His phone rang wildly from the cup holder as his mom ceaselessly called him. But before he could manage to reach for the gadget, he failed to hit the brakes when the traffic lights turned red. Another blinding light greeted him in slow motion—he realized that the lights were from another car. A much bigger vehicle was speeding towards him when the corner of his eyes saw it from a split second and it was all too late when he tried to steer himself away given the car’s screeching sound, the cacophony of horns echoing left and right, and the tires skidding on the pavement. The collision happened faster than his mind could take. Although his ears picked up the sound of a glass shattering, his eyes didn’t capture the sight of the vehicle that led him to a fatal crash.

There was no deus ex machina to save him from the accident and neither were there flashbacks of his life from childhood until now. There was only darkness that pulled him in and embraced his soul into that empty, inescapable void.

On your second wedding, you expected that things would be easier this time around.

It took you three years to rebuild yourself to be the strong, independent woman that you were now. The process was a difficult path and you could admit that many times, you wished that you didn’t have to go through all of it alone. Being a single mother and studying fashion at the same time was a tough journey, but also the best decision you had made in your life. You learned how to love yourself, along with your son who grew up to be a very sweet kid, while understanding what your real worth should be in a society where being a divorcée at age twenty-eight was considerably acceptable.

You had your father and Gen’s support while raising your son in a country minus the spotlight from the media that could have caused you more stress three years ago. You hoped Satoru could understand. You just wanted to raise your baby in an environment without all the negative energy that surrounded him and your past marriage. So even if he would end up hating you now, you only ever wanted to prioritize your child. Your decision not to tell him was because you no longer had any connections as husband and wife soon as you divorced. Keeping the baby back then could mean that it would be harder for Satoru to let go, so despite having heard his heartbreaking screams that day in the hospital, you had to act on the advice that your father and sister gave you which was to finally put an end to your arranged marriage.

Besides, you were still blessed with a respectable man who had been there for you through thick and thin. A man you would soon lock eyes with once the towering doors by the vestibule was finally opened.

But at the thought of marriage, you suddenly remembered your first husband. You were foolishly thinking of Satoru Gojou at a wedding with a different man. Your trembling fingers matched the increased pace in your heart, just as much as how you blinked through the sting in your eyes. You realized that you were blinking tears until the wooden doors swung open to welcome you into another marital union that once put you through hell.

There they were, awaiting for you to walk down the aisle in your glamorous bejeweled gown. You saw your small audience of families and friends smiling at you as they eyed you with admiration. You saw Toji Zen’in at the far end of the aisle, handsome and perfect in his classic tuxedo while anticipating his status as a married-to-be.

With all eyes on you, you slowly made your way across the aisle, but each step was suffocating. The thought of going through marriage—hoping that it would be perfect only to be crushed by reality in the end—scared you. You didn’t realize that you had developed trauma with weddings all because of a certain white-haired male who altered your vision of what marriages were supposed to be.

Three steps.

Could you really do this again? Could you become someone’s wife and be locked under the vows of marriage for better and for worse?

Two steps.

Could you really offer yourself with wholehearted devotion towards a man who could end up ruining your trust once more?

One step.

The loud thumping of your heart was the answer: maybe you could. For Toji. For the love you deserved. For the marriage you always dreamed of.

But although you concluded with that answer, your hand lost grip on the flower bouquet as you saw another future as a wife back to square one.

“Call the ambulance! 911! Somebody help!”

“Sir, please stay with me.”

The light came back to him while he was sandwiched between the cold dirt and the hot metal of the car. The heavy weight of the vehicle was pressing down on him and keeping him paralyzed amongst the broken shards of glass. No voice escaped his hoarse throat, but he could feel blood dripping on the side of his head where a throbbing sensation had just started to grow.

Yet all in all, he was numb.

He couldn’t move his hand, couldn’t see beyond the confines of his car, couldn’t breathe more oxygen that his lungs needed—all his mind could process was the thought of you. Right when the shiny gold ring was within arm’s reach on the concrete floor, Satoru lifted his broken arm up just to hold onto that one piece of memory he had of you.

He wasn’t certain if he was only waiting for death or something much worse, but at the rate of the excruciating pain that his brain was giving him, he knew one way or another that he would lose a part of himself from hereafter.

But he hoped to every saint that he wouldn’t lose that part of him that loved you.

That Satoru who first fell in love with you at the age of six, got married to you at the age of twenty-five, and still loved you at the age of twenty-eight was the version of him that he wished not to lose.

He was an antagonist in his own tragic story and was merely a plot device to set up conflicts, obstacles, and challenges for the protagonist. Although in most fairytales, the main characters were granted a happily ever after, you and him were given an inevitable twist of fate.

Perhaps this was the end. Or perhaps it wasn’t.

Sometimes the end wasn’t really the end.

After all, this was a universe where he was a character with unmistakable flaws that could not be redeemed. While that may be true, he hoped that you wouldn’t forget that at a certain point in time, he was truthfully, unselfishly in love with you.

That in this universe and in all other parallel universes, he was and would always be sincerely yours.

jjk general taglist: @kity @deeznutss @suhkusa @wonyoschubs @the-golden-jhope @6mattsun9 @hokageyamz @ermahgerd-larry-and-ziam @crashica @aizawap @juniorhooter @atsumusoup @gxtitobxby @dora-the-grownup @softy-woo @tsumume @kac-chowsballs @anime-nymph @kageyamakock @onlyonew @underratedmage @crapimahuman @alicia-1725 @fatal-impact

sincerely not taglist: @itsnotsoni @pluviophilefangirl @daphnxy @choso-bee @omisemi @captainchrisstan @http-strawbebbies @xllance @jonsncws @and-you-found-me @tobiotetsu @jeonjungkookismyfuture @d-efend @honouredsatoru @my-reality-is-in-my-head @blueowl51 @misslovingpearl @cuteissei @japanesevenom @borpcorp @ushi-bakatoshi

breeding w di Leon ??????????😩😩

leon x afab!reader

wc: 1.8k

tags: explicitly 18+, breeding obvs, pregnancy mention, reader has breasts

“I’m getting old.” Leon mutters, pausing momentarily to sip at his mug full of coffee that you’d brewed for him a few moments earlier. You raise an eyebrow at this; head turning ever so slightly to meet his gaze. It’s been a few weeks since he’d been on the mission to Alcatraz. There’s been a personality shift that’s come over him in this time—at first, you just chalked it up to self-reflection from a near death experience.

Maybe there’s something else to it.

“You keep saying that,” you note, attention back on the kitchen counter as you prepare breakfast for the both of you. “You’re not.”

“I am. You can’t deny it. And you know, well…” he sighs, setting the mug down. “I’ve been thinking about some things. About us.”

This gets your attention. You turn fully to face him now.

He stands, advancing towards you, trapping you in between his body and the counter behind you. Leon’s lips are on yours nearly immediately—and while you appreciate the gesture and the taste of hazelnut coffee creamer that lingers in his mouth, you’re feeling a bit…

Nervous.

Your nerves quickly shift into a feeling of something else, the sensation of Leon’s hands squeezing on your waist quickening your heartbeat—that familiar aching between your thighs reddening your face at his touch. His eyes are on you as you part, examining the pretty slopes and curves of your face—but your nerves quickly shift back to that feeling of uncertainty.

“I love you,” he starts, hands furthering up your torso. One hand runs over the curve of your stomach, shifting back to the fat of your hip. “And I’ve been thinking about just how good you’d look pregnant.”

Your breath comes out in slight pants at the feeling of his hands tracing over the contour of your body. Leon leans in, placing feather-light kisses over the soft skin of your neck—the feeling of his lips and the prickle of his stubble admittedly making your knees weak. He smells good, like home; like aftershave and cologne from the night before when he’d fallen asleep with his arms around you.

His hands snake up the long shirt that you’re wearing—one of his that you’d fished from his dresser ages ago—traveling from your waist up to cup your breasts. His tongue runs over the shell of your ear, warm breath fanning over the sensitive feel of your skin. You shudder.

“Think about it. Me, you, a family…” Leon’s tone is hushed as he speaks in your ear, thumb toying at the sensitive peaks of your nipple. You feel him smile as he places a kiss on your temple, something you can hardly focus on from the feel of his hand caressing your breasts. “Don’t you want that?”

“I—” Your breath hitches at the feeling of deft fingertips running along the now sodden cotton of your panties, thighs shifting and molding around the shape of his hand between your thighs. “I… yes, of course. I mean, I’ve thought about it, but…”

“But?” He questions, tugging the wet fabric aside enough for his fingers to drag along your sticky folds. Leon’s breath fans on your neck, his cock stiff against the inside of your thigh. It’s thick and hard and throbbing and has your walls clenching around nothing—needy from just the idea of him being inside of you.

“But…” Your voice is low, teetering out pathetically at the feeling of the pad of his thumb toying with your clit. His movements are slow and methodical, circling—almost too much while simultaneously being not enough. “Your job, and…”

The way your bottom lip catches in your teeth makes him want to kiss you—and fill you with his cum—all the more. It’s been plaguing his thoughts ever since Alcatraz.

“We can work that out,” he mumbles, finger hovering around your entrance, collecting the arousal that seeps from you in anticipation. Your nails dig into the muscle of his forearm, head hanging low at the feeling of the digit threatening to breach inside of you. It’s too much. But not enough. “Work’s been slowing down. Doubt that they’d want to keep an old man like me out on the field too long anyway.”

You go to speak—you want to scold him for calling himself old, even though it’s undeniably true—but you’re cut off by the sound of your own whine at the feeling of his finger pushing its way inside of you.

He only goes as far as the first knuckle… but the gasp that falls from your lips coupled with a low moan has him a bit too eager to hear more from you. Leon inserts a second finger, the pad of his thumb pressing a fleeting amount of pressure on the sensitive bud of your clit. He’s patient as he finger-fucks you, scissoring you open with methodical movements that have your knees weak and your face hot.

You’re too busy whining his name to realize the way he’s looking at you.

Too needy to notice the way his cock throbs at the feeling of your wetness around his fingers; too drunk on his touch to see the way that his blue eyes are trained so intently on the sight of his fingers slipping out of you and pushing their way back inside. He slides his fingers out of you, marveling at the strings of sticky arousal that cling to them.

“So,” he pauses momentarily—brings his fingers to his tongue—and wraps his lips around them. “Did I convince you?”

You nod.

It’s not long before you feel the coldness of his fingers—wet from you and from his own mouth—hooking along the lace hem of your underwear to tug them down. The cotton pools at your ankles.

“You’re fucking me on the counter?” The question falls from your lips breathlessly; the feeling of his hand squeezing at the fat of your ass eliciting more noise from you than you’d be willing to admit.

“Sure am,” he mutters, the ghost of a smirk on his lips as he pulls the fabric of his pants down just enough to free his cock. “Don’t worry. We’ll have plenty of time to make up for this. I intend on—“

He hoists you up properly, arm keeping you suspended in the air, eyes on the slick sticky mess that’s littered your thighs. Instinctively, you wrap your legs around his waist. The head of his cock prods at your entrance—leaking precum enough to leave you wondering if he’d left a sticky stain on the cotton of his gray boxers.

“—stuffing you full of cum everyday until I see a positive test.”

Something tells you that he plans to make good on his promise.

He slides into you slowly; the pace agonizing as his cock stretches and splits you open—your walls shaping around his size, nails digging further into the skin of his arm. You shudder at the sound of his voice in your ear; low and needy and whiny for the feeling of the warmth of your walls instinctively gripping around his shaft.

“Leon,” he audibly groans at the sound of his name from your lips—how breathless and pretty and needy you sound for him. “Please, I—“

His fingers leave indents in the skin of your ass, his hips pressing into you so agonizingly slow to the point where you’re beginning to ache from the feeling of needing him so desperately.

“Come on,” Leon buries himself to the hilt—reveling at the feeling of the softness of your body against his. The granite edge of the counter digs at your back; a non-issue considering the fact that you’re struggling to keep your composure at the feeling of Leon balls deep inside of you. “You can take it.”

You nod.

Crescent moon shaped indentations are left on the muscle of his back, red and angry—unnoticed by the feeling of him plunging into you; his hips flush against yours with each slip of his cock inside of you. Sticky strings of arousal begin to line down his thighs—the creamy ring pooling at the base of his cock fueling the pathetic whimpers that slip from your and his lips.

Leon roughly fucks into you, pace unforgiving as your insides uncontrollably quiver and squeeze around him. You pray that no one can hear the both of you through the opened window of your kitchen—the sound of his balls slapping against your skin entirely too loud—coupled with the noisy moans that seep from your lips and the low grunts that seep from his. You can hardly tell the color of his eyes; his pupils blown so wide that you’d mistake them for brown if you weren’t aware they were blue.

He leans forward—hips still snapping against your own—and presses his lips against your own. It’s uncoordinated. It’s needy. It’s wet and sloppy as he struggles to focus on the fact that he’s supposed to be kissing you when you feel so good and tight and wet and warm around him.

He greedily tongues at your lips and greedily ruts into your pussy, movements bordering on feral at the feeling of you and the thought of stuffing you with his cum. The pretty noises that fall from your mouth drive him forward, lips still on your own as he swallows every semblance of a mewl that you make from the feeling of his cock dragging along your walls.

Leon pulls away for a moment—lips reattaching to your neck, trailing to your throat, savoring the taste of your skin. He’s losing himself. Losing himself to the overwhelming urge to put a baby in you; to the idea of your body softening and breasts swelling and hips widening—to the idea of just how perfect you’d look with his kid in you.

You squeal at the feeling of the pad of his thumb on your clit, thighs clenching and trembling and shaking around his waist—nails digging further into the meat of his back as his relentless pace falters and rhythm stutters towards sloppiness. Leon coaxes you further towards your orgasm, motion of his thumbs pulling an orgasm from your swollen, throbbing clit; the pulsating of your walls pulling him deeper into you and effectively milking his cock.

The sight of you—back arching, legs trembling, jaw slack, body spasming—it’s too much. His cock twitches, his hips sputter; his grip on you borders on pain—and you can’t do anything but take it. You feel it before you realize it. You feel the slight quiver of his body against yours. You feel his lips on your throat, tongue pressing on the rapid pulsing of the vein on your neck. You feel the warm, sticky ropes of his cum that he’d stuffed in you with no shame.

He places slow kisses along your jawline—cock still stuffed in you, plugging his cum inside—and again, you feel the ghost of a smile on his lips.

“Mm.” Leon’s voice is barely audible as he mutters in your ear. “S’ not enough. Let me give you some more.”

nsfw || dom+whiny Mammon>>

"Lift your hips, baby-" Mammon whimpered, hands gripping your waist desperately. Your back was forced into an arch, hips raised upward to make his cock slide even deeper. His eyes rolled back as his thrusts got even harder.

"Fuck, yes!" His voice was a low, broken growl, pupils dilated so much the blue was almost drowned out, and fangs peeking out from behind kiss-bruised lips. "You. are. so. fucking. pretty. under. neath. me."

The blankets on his bed were strewn carelessly on the floor, knocked off by the pace of your fucking. One side of the sheet was slipping off the mattress, and the mattress itself was out of place, halfway on the floor.

"Gonna make me cum..yeah? 'S that what you want? Because I want it...I want it so fucking badly, baby, I wanna cum inside you...oh, please, please, fuck, yes, you feel so g-good!"

Mammon's voice broke, whimpers and whines and pleas leaving him mindlessly as he babbled through the haze of pleasure, completely gone with how good you made him feel.

"Y-yeah, yeah, yeah- fucking take it, baby, take it all, f-for me? Yeah? Yeah, take it for me...fuuuck..."