Fic Recs - Blog Posts

james wilson recs

angst: ✺ // fluff: ✿ // smut: ♡ // suggestive: ☆

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hehe many of these recs are works by my moots :')

x reader

⤷ 10:37 by catchyouintherye ♡

⤷ absolutely by misterdoctorwilson ♡

⤷ after hours by catchyouintherye ♡

⤷ james joint by @theogonize ☆

⤷ lonely doctors on a friday night by catchyouintherye ♡

⤷ selfish by misterdoctorwilson ♡

⤷ *any blurb by: @theogonize ♡☆

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hilson (house x wilson)

⤷ an inch away by @wanderingbue ♡

⤷ codependency and pillows by @occultbooks ♡

⤷ give me some tenderness beneath your honesty by @occultbooks ♡

⤷ if you ever hunger, hunger for me by petrodactyl352 ♡

⤷ taste me, too by @wanderingbue ♡

⤷ you're toxic, i'm slipping under by @occultbooks ♡

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misc

⤷ caught you hiding in the smoke by chychyd (hudson) ♡ | took me over like a fever (pt 2) by chychyd (hudson) ♡

⤷ kiss me once, then once more by catchyouintherye (hilson x reader) ♡

⤷ one for two by catchyouintherye (hilson x reader) ♡

⤷ something you all want (hilson x reader) by @occultbooks ♡

How do you feel about pretty woman au with Nanami hehehe

Idk if this is the same person but since I've gotten TWO asks about it, I might as well write a Pretty Woman AU for Nanami 💕

CW: sex worker reader, fem reader, implied smut, kind of a slow burn

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So, I imagine it going like this: Nanami has this big event to go to for work and his coworker, Gojo, has been bugging him to get a date, and his parents have been on his ass for months about dating and finding a wife, and quite frankly Nanami is sick of it all.

What's his solution? Hire a sexworker for the week so he can go this dumb party to get Gojo off his back and go to dinner with his parents to get them off his back. Hopefully if they see you two together and he claims you're his girlfriend, they'll stop pestering him and meddling with his personal life. Killing two birds with one stone.

So, he hires you from an escort website. You're high end, "classy", pretty and negotiable, the perfect person to play the part of his girlfriend.

You two have lunch to settle the details a week beforehand. You agree to his terms—pretend to be his girlfriend for a few events, convince his family and coworkers that you've been dating for months—but you have some terms of your own.

"Sex has to be with a condom only," you say as you chew, already browsing the dessert menu. "No kissing, no sentimentality. Sex is sex, nothing more. I don't want you falling in love with me."

"I didn't plan on having sex with you," he replies, wiping his mouth with his cloth napkin. "I also don't plan on falling in love with you."

You scoff. "They all say that."

You're a bit crude at times, but otherwise you're a perfect fit. You agree to each other's terms. He sends you a large pdf file with important details about himself, details about "you", and details about your "relationship".

"Memorize this by next Friday. We'll be going to a party for my company, and then we'll have lunch on Saturday with my parents. They'll be in town for a week, so we'll be spending a day or two with them."

You hum, swallowing the chocolate mousse off your spoon. "You know, I expect to be paid by the hour..."

"I'll give you $50,000 for the whole week."

You almost choked on your dessert. You recovered quickly, covering your mouth, clearing your throat.

"Y-Yes... that..." You cleared your throat again, sitting up straight. "That seems agreeable."

He huffs, taking out his wallet, handing you a credit card.

"You'll need some proper clothes for these events. Don't worry about the cost; I won't take it out of your paycheck."

You take the card, eyeing the metallic rectangle.

"How do you not have a girlfriend?" He shrugs, picking up his wine glass.

"I don't have time for relationships."

───────────────

"You clean up nice," he remarks as he meets you in the lobby of his apartment building. You smile, giving a twirl.

"Don't ask me how much it was."

"Wasn't planning on it." He holds out his arm for you and you grab it, walking out of the building together. You reach his car, and you're off into the night.

"You left your bags at the front desk, correct?"

"Yep," you reply, popping the 'P' at the end of the word. "I had to buy another suitcase to bring everything."

"That's fine," he replies. "The guest room is ready for you. We'll have to share a bathroom, but the guest room is all yours for the week."

You hum slyly, tiptoeing your fingers along his thigh.

"You sure you don't want to share a bed with me?"

He sighs, taking your hand, linking your fingers together.

"I told you. I'm not looking for sex."

"Mmm, alrighty then," you say, leaning back in your seat. "I'm just trying to make this realistic."

"It'll be fine if you memorized everything I sent you—"

"I did, I did." You squeeze his hand, causing him to glance at you. "Don't worry. It'll be fine. I won't mess up."

He nods, bringing your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it. The small action makes you shiver slightly, but he doesn't seem to notice.

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"Huh?! A girlfriend? When did this happen?" Gojo exclaims, almost dropping his champagne. You laugh girlishly, wrapping yourself around Nanami's arm.

"We've been together for almost six months now. Isn't that right, honey?"

"Yes, dear," Nanami replies calmly, sipping his wine. "Six months on the 21st."

"Oh, you're so much better at dates than I am! This is why I like you." His lips twitch into a smile as Gojo scoffs.

"Damn, Nanami. Who knew you were keeping such a cutie all to yourself this whole time? You should've brought her to the New Year's party! You would've had a blast."

"I don't—"

"Oh, shit, hold that thought: the president's coming over." Gojo takes your free hand, kisses it swiftly. "Nice to meet you, lovely. Call me when you dump this sack of wet laundry."

"Hey—"

"Okay, bye!" he replies quickly, rushing off to another part of the room so he could avoid the president. Nanami sighed, watching his colleague run away, shaking his head.

"For the record," you start, putting your empty glass on a waiter's nearby tray, "I don't think you're a sack of wet laundry."

"That's kind of you, but it's alright. Most of my coworkers think I'm boring."

"You're not boring," you reply, facing him. "Serious, definitely serious, but not boring."

"How sweet of you to say." He finds himself smiling when you laugh genuinely. He looks you over once again, one of many times that night. "That dress suits you."

"Why thank you! I got some help from the girl who was working. She said it would 'accentuate my curves'."

Nanami hums softly. "It does."

You feel your cheeks warm and you clear your throat, adjusting his tie.

"I've got an even cuter dress for tomorrow. It's pink with flowers and a pretty ribbon around the waist." Nanami lets you fiddle with his tie for a bit, smiling softly at your nervous behavior.

"I'm sure you'll look stunning."

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"Oh, she's a doll, Kento, just a doll!" his mother exclaimed, patting your hand and smiling at you. "I can't believe you kept her from us to long!"

"I wanted to make sure she was worth meeting," Nanami replied, lacing his fingers with yours, smiling at you when you smiled at him.

"But still, she's such an angel. Oh, I wish we could've met you sooner, sweetie. Don't you think so too, dear?" Her husband nodded, focused on cutting into his steak.

"It's wonderful to finally meet you," you said to Nanami's mother. "Ken has told me so much about you. I heard you were the inspiration for his love of cooking!"

"Aw, Kenny, you flatter me, dear," she cooed towards her son. "Oh, but I can't take all the credit. Kento has loved food ever since he was small. I remember him staring in awe at the TV whenever Gordon Ramsey was on—"

"Mother—"

"Oh, don't be shy about it, pumpkin! He was so cute when he was little, eyes glued to the TV when Kitchen Nightmares came on. Oh, don't get me started on all the different cooking shows he would watch—"

"Mom!"

You laughed at their exchange, covering your face when you snorted, making the rest of the table laugh as well. Nanami didn't think you'd have such a cute laugh—there was quite a bit about you that he found himself enjoying within the last two days.

"Oh, jeez... Excuse me, I have to go to the ladies' room," you spoke after a moment, getting up and gingerly leaving the table. Nanami watched you leave, staring at your hips sway back and forth.

"She's a real catch," his mother spoke up, eyeing him. He cleared his throat, nodding and grabbing his drink.

"Yeah. She's great."

"Are you going to propose?"

He chokes on his drink, struggling to clear his throat. "W-We've only been together for half a year."

"Your father proposed to me after half a year." Nanami rolled his eyes, glancing at the restrooms, hoping you'd return quickly.

"That was a different time, Mom. People don't get together that quickly anymore."

She clicked her tongue. "You shouldn't judge a relationship based on how long it is, Kento. Some of the best relationships are the shortest."

He pondered over her words, watching you stop at a table, vaguely hearing you compliment a woman's dress. He stared at you, feeling his mouth go dry.

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"So we're having dinner on Wednesday, golf on Thursday, and they leave on Friday?"

"Yes," Nanami replied, glancing through some reports before looking up at you. You were in his fluffy bathrobe, hair wet, rubbing lotion over your hands as you stared out at the city. You looked ethereal after a shower, your face glowing under the low light of the room.

"I'm not a fan of golfing," you speak up, making a face.

"You don't have to be," he replies, putting down his papers and standing up, walking towards you. "You can just sit in the golf cart and drink a mimosa and look pretty."

You snorted, laughing that sweet laugh he had come to adore. He stopped at your side, meeting your smile with his own. You clapped your hands, turning to him. You ran a hand over his vest, fumbling with the edge.

"You always look so official. Don't you have sweatpants?"

"I do, but I don't usually wear them when I have company."

"Mm, you should. You should be nice and comfy when you're at home. You should relax."

"I can't relax. I have some work to do."

"Boooooo." You undo his vest, tugging it off his shoulders. "Work can wait. Cmon, go get in your comfy clothes and let's watch a movie."

He snickers, letting you pull off his vest and start unbuttoning his shirt. You were lighthearted until you were halfway down: that's when you stopped. You paused, opening his shirt ever so slightly, revealing his muscular chest. You stared for a moment, feeling your body warm up before you suddenly pulled away, clearing your throat. You handed him his vest, giving a flat smile.

"I'm gonna... go pick a movie."

"...Y/N—"

You rushed past him, moving towards the living room.

"Hurry up! If you're not quick I'm gonna choose something you'll hate."

Nanami stood there for a moment, moving a hand towards his exposed chest, briefly wishing that your soft hands had lingered a bit longer.

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The rest of the week went on without a hitch. Everywhere you went, everyone adored you. Everyone was convinced that you and Nanami were an item; you had them all fooled.

But the entire time... you found yourself growing fond of the man who hired you. You found yourself falling for him the better you got to know him. You knew it was wrong, it went against your own rules, but he was too good to be true.

"Can I say something?" you asked Thursday night, the day before your last day with him.

"Go for it," he said from the other side of the couch, reaching for the popcorn between you. You paused, weighing your words.

"I wish... I wish we had met under different circumstances." He frowned, glancing at you.

"What do you mean?"

"I..." You fiddled with your hands. "I mean that... I wish you hadn't hired me. I wish we had just met in a coffee shop or something."

He scoffed. "Why's that?"

You couldn't respond. You just looked down at your hands, playing with your fingers. Nanami watched you for a minute before clearing his throat.

"Can I say something as well?"

"Shoot," you whispered, still not looking at him. He cleared his throat, inhaling deep.

"I feel the same." You glanced up quickly, watching him stare ahead. "I wish I had met you under different circumstances as well."

Your breath caught in your throat. "Do you mean... you wish I wasn't a prostitute—"

"No," he cut you off quickly, looking at you. "I wish I had met you at a dinner party so I could enjoy your company without having to pay you, so I could ask you out properly."

The two of you sat in silence for a bit, staring at each other. Nanami sighed, moving the bowl of popcorn to the coffee table, scooting closer to you.

"Can I ask you a favor?"

You swallowed. "What?" He stared at you hard, thinking.

"May I break one of the terms of our agreement?"

"Which... which one?"

Another pause.

"May I kiss you?"

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You woke up late in the morning, in his bed, wearing his t-shirt. You could smell something divine, hear sizzling from the other room. You eventually slid out of bed, padding your way into the kitchen.

"You're up early." Nanami scoffed, flipping a pancake.

"Ten a.m. is not early."

"It is for me." He laughed quietly, humming when you wrapped your arms around his waist, leaning into his back. "You didn't have to make me breakfast."

"I wanted to," he replied. "You should eat something before we meet my parents at the airport."

"Could've just had cereal."

"True, but still..." You hummed, trailing your fingers over the waistband of his sweatpants.

"You just wanted me to eat your cooking, huh?"

He sighed, grabbing your hand, bringing it to his lips for a kiss. "Maybe."

You giggled, burying yourself into his back, kissing over his shoulder blades.

"You're cute, ya know?"

"I don't think so, but thank you."

You sat down at the dining table, sharing pancakes, fruit compote, and coffee.

"So..." Nanami began, "we broke the your terms of our contract."

"Yeah..."

"...Is it bad that I don't regret it one bit?" You smiled softly.

"No. I feel the same."

"You do?" he asks hopefully, grabbing your hand tenderly.

"Yeah..." You took a deep breath. "Is it bad that I don't want this week to end?"

"No, no, I... I don't want it to end either."

You sat in silence, holding each other's hands.

"Y/N," Nanami spoke, sitting up a bit straighter. "Would you go out with me?"

You felt your heart swell, your throat closing up as you nodded quickly.

"Yes, yes!" You practically leaped into his arms, hugging him tight. You stayed like that for a moment before pulling away. "But I wanna take things slow."

"Yes."

"And I want to stay in my own apartment. I love your place, but I don't think we should move in together yet."

"Understood."

"And I don't want you to spoil me like you have all week."

He sucked in a breath, scrunching his face.

"I don't know if I can do that."

"Kento."

"It's not my fault you deserve to be spoiled."

"Okay, okay... just dial it back a bit. Don't send me on shopping sprees."

"Alright. I'll just surprise you with gifts."

"Ken!"

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The air is crisp today. The flowers may wilt in the coming weather. Adam makes himself busy picking some for you, ones he think will look pretty tangled in your hair. The knights snicker when they see the bouquet he has made, but they make no comments.

He goes to see you. He must see you.

You are not in the kitchen, which is odd. The ladies are working on food for a royal banquet that shall be held tonight. A noble family is visiting, hoping their son may be a suitor for the princess.

"Where is...?" Adam asks, his voice surprisingly soft. Mary glances at him and smiles.

"She is at the gates, I believe. She is meeting—"

She is not able to tell him. He is already gone.

He goes around the grounds to the front of the castle. There is a crowd, a carriage that noblemen are exiting. There are knights and servants busying themselves with their horses and supples. And then there is you, standing on the outskirts, your back to him. He is approaching you when you squeal with delight, picking up your skirt and running to the knights.

His heart drops when you jump into one of their arms.

He stares, feeling an ache in his chest as the man spins you in the air, the two of you laughing and smiling.

And then, an unquenchable rage builds.

"Look at you!" you say when the man sets you down. "You have grown so tall. And your beard," you marvel, touching his jaw.

"And look at you! You have grown so beautiful, Y/N!"

"Oh, hush!"

"I mean it. I am sure the men of the castle fight for the chance to speak to you. Constantine must be jealous!"

"Oh..." You pull away, smoothing your skirt. "Constantine... he is—"

A large hand finds the man's neck, holding tight.

"Adam!"

"I will kill you," he says, strangling the man, almost lifting him off the ground. "I will rip you piece by piece!"

"Adam, you unhand him this instant!" you yell, grabbing his forearm and pulling. "You let go of my brother right now!"

Adam falters, releasing the man after a moment. He gasps, stepping back, touching his throat. You rush to him.

"Bernard, are you alright?" you ask, worry in your tone as you touch his face. He nods and you sigh, turning to Adam, your face scrunched in a hideous scowl. You stomp toward him, slapping him across the face. "How dare you?! How dare you attack my brother as if he is an enemy?!"

"I... my lady, I did not know. I thought—"

"I do not care what you thought! You have no right to act like a cruel beast, you—"

"Y/N," Bernard grabs your shoulder, steadying you. "It is alright. I am fine." He looks to Adam, giving an uncertain smile. "You are quite strong, sir. I was not prepared."

"I..." He swallows, feeling foolish. "You are lady Y/N's brother?"

"Yes, sir." He holds out his hand, a peace offering. "I am Bernard, Y/N's eldest brother."

Adam blinks, taking the hand and shaking it.

"Eldest?"

"Eldest of eight, sir."

"Eight..." Adam looks at you. "I... I did not know you had brothers."

"Five, to be exact." Bernard pats your shoulder as you cross your arms. "Y/N here is the baby."

"The baby..." Adam clears his throat, bowing slightly. "I am sorry, sir. I did not know you were related."

"Tis alright, good sir. You were merely defending Constantine's honor!" Bernard smiles at you. "Tell me, sister, have you had children yet?"

You shift, staring at the ground.

"I have not. Sir Constantine... died in battle... before we could marry."

"Oh..." Bernard pulls you to his chest, holding you as you wrap your arms around him. "Oh, my dear sister, I am so sorry..."

"I have grieved," you say, patting his back before pulling away. Bernard flattens his mouth before looking back at Adam.

"Then... who are you, good sir?"

Adam swallows.

"Sir Adam Fischer, sir. I am a royal knight at this castle."

"Ah, I see." He shifts on his legs, pointing at the bouquet in his hands. "And the flowers? Are they yours, or for your lady?"

"They..." Adam looks at you, holding the flowers tighter. "They are for..."

Bernard looks between the two of you and smiles.

"For my sister? How kind of you, sir!" He pats your shoulder as you turn away. "Y/N, look at the flowers he has picked for you."

"I will not accept them," you snarl, hands clasping at your apron.

"Sister, do not be so cold. They are a gift." Bernard beckons Adam to hand him the flowers. When he does so, Bernard holds them in front of your face, rubbing your back. "Look! Tis a lovely bouquet. Please, take them and smile."

You hesitate, eventually taking the flowers from your brother and bringing them close.

"Very good. Now, you must give me a tour of your castle. Show me all the best hiding spots." He jostles your shoulders and you huff out a laugh. He holds out his arm and you take it, beginning to walk with him. Bernard looks back to Adam and smiles. "We shall speak later, good sir!"

Adam watches the two of you walk away, his heart heavy.

At the dining hall in the evening, Bernard waves Adam to his table. He pats the seat beside him.

"I saved you a chair, good sir!"

"Thank you," Adam says, taking his seat. They gather food in silence as the room bustles around them.

"I... I am sorry for being so foolish today, sir," Adam says, hanging his head. "I... I was worried that..."

"You thought my sister was hugging a possible suitor, did you not?" he asks, looking at Adam. He glances at Bernard and nods. Bernard barks out a laugh. "So silly. But I would have done the same when I was younger with my wife. I accept your apology."

"Thank you, sir."

"You fancy her?" he asks, and Adam nods again. "I can tell. You are not subtle, good sir."

"I... I simply cannot help myself."

"What do you like of her?"

"She..." He sighs, resting his cheek in his hand. "She is beautiful. She is kind and sweet, and smart, and hard working. I admire her."

"There are many good reasons to like my sister." He shovels food into his mouth. "Are you courting her?"

"I am trying, sir." Bernard laughs.

"She is as stubborn as a mule at times. She will come to you if you practice patience."

Adam twists his mouth, thinking. Bernard watches him as he takes a bite of bread.

"She spoke of you today." Adam's eyes widen.

"She did?"

"Yes." He takes a sip of beer. "She said you were strong, which I have already experienced. She said you are brash and crude, and that you do not know manners at times."

Adam pokes his food with his fork, unable to find his appetite.

"She likes you a great deal."

Adam stops, looking at Bernard who is smiling into the distance.

"How can you tell, sir?"

"She is easy to read to me, always has. She tries to hide her feelings, but she is not always good at it." He scratches at his beard. "She was very careful with the flowers you gave. She touched them a great deal. She did not stop me when I put one of them behind her ear."

Adam hums, beginning to eat.

"I only ask that you treat her kindly. She deserves a good husband who will provide for her."

"I want to give her everything," he says, grabbing a piece of bread. He looks up at Bernard, who is smiling at him.

"You are a good man. I think you will suit her well."

Adam goes to the kitchen after dinner to apologize to you, but you are not there. He sees the bouquet he picked for you, sitting on the kitchen table, in a vase with water.

He feels his heart swell.

Mint mint mint PLEASE tell me you will one day elaborate on how reader is MARRIED when she gets with Obi. Does he know?? Are human marriages so different from dragonborn marriages that he does not truly see you as married?? Does he ever feel guilt, thinking that he took you away from man who could actually give you children?? Please quell my thoughts before i faint!!

He doesn't feel guilty at all actually!! he HATED your husband long before he had romantic feelings for you (and you weren't so keen on the man either)

I think you left him not to be with Obi, but to escape your husband and explore the world. love just happened along the way

The sun does not crest the sky once today, but the town stays fully alight. The city center is teeming with life: music and food and drinks strong enough to shock your senses and flush your cheeks after one sip. For a calm and conservative culture, the festival is rather wild.

You've perched yourself at the outskirts, on a lounging bed. The dragonborns occasionally glance your way, more curious than anything else.

A bunch of younger girls ask to touch your hair in broken Common before Obi chases them away. The man has been busy catching up with friends and over indulging with his brother, but he often loops around to check on you.

Sorghum comes by where you are sitting and pushes a plate of food into your hands wordlessly. When she returns to her husband, she shrugs away his drunken touch.

Seeing her face leaves a hollow feeling in your chest. You don't eat anything she's brought you.

It's only a bit later that your beloved staggers over to you with open arms. He's dressed in fine, sheer robes, woven in beautiful, bright patterns.

"Oh," he breathes. "I'm mesmerized."

Obsidian kneels beside the fainting couch, resting his chin on the arm. He smiles up at you with a contemplative glee, eyes wet from the liquor. The party swells and moves around you, but Obsidian stays still, regarding you carefully.

"You are utterly radiant," he sighs. He nuzzles his face into his arms like a lovelorn schoolboy. "Like a star plucked from the sky."

Despite yourself. you melt a bit. You reach up and scratch the ridges on his head, tracing over each bump with your nails. "Obi..."

"Eternally, painfully, tragically beautiful. I am so lucky you fell into my life." It's the alcohol talking, you remind yourself, but his voice is so earnest. "So beautiful that you break my heart whenever you look away."

You turn out of bashfulness and the dragonborn whines, flopping harder into the couch. When you look back, he practically purrs.

"Are you warm enough, my fawn?" The dress is intertwined with warming spells, sown in by your lover himself. It's a traditional draconic dress, clearly not built to account for your breasts. It scoops low, low enough that your body threatens to spill over when you move the wrong way. "Are you too warm?"

"It's perfect," you say. "Thank you."

He judges his nose into the air, once, twice, three times, eyes half closed.

"Kiss me?" he asks.

You look around. "People are watching, Obi."

"Let them!" He rises to nudge his snout into your lips, the chastest of human kisses, then goes to rub the side of his face into your cheek. He purrs and clicks and runs his hand down your side, slidingyour dress down ever so slightly.

"Obi!" you giggle. "Obi, my hair!"

His horns are tangled in your braids.

"I will not stop until you kiss me back," he demands. He's being borderline lewd for dragonborn standards, especially since you two are not officially mates yet.

The memory of earlier suddenly rings through your teeth. There is no 'yet'. You two are not mates and will never be. Sadly, you give in, nudging him back. Obsidian's scales are so smooth against the sensitive skin of your face.

"Will you dance with me, my love?" he asks as he pulls away. "I will teach you the steps."

It's a group dance, the kind that has partners switching every couple of moments. You've danced like this before, it's nothing you can't learn on the fly, but you still shake your head.

"Maybe later," you say. He stands and starts backwards towards the dance floor, arm extended towards you the entire time. Truthfully, you want him to stay, but you couldn't ask Obi to stay by your side all night. He deserves fun, he deserves to dance, he deserves-

"My heart will be with you," Obsidian coos.

He deserves more than you can give him.

He slides into the rhythm of the dance without trying. It's beautiful to watch how they all glimmer in the firelight, their scales and jewelry glittery and shined to perfection. Obsidian shines brighter than any of them all, of course; it may be bias, but you swear that he's the prettiest one of them all, with those emerald green eyes.

You're so sweet on him that you almost don't see someone else had joined the dance, but a flash of white snaps you back to reality.

The girl is just as pretty as you had been told, even for human standards. The way she holds her head is regal, with a lifted chin and an upturned smile. Her build is small for a dragonborn, but it seems to be perfectly sized when Obsidian's hand slides around her waist. The two of them step in, step out, then twirl, eyes never leaving each other's as they dance. There's a shared laugh before they separate, moving on to the next partner, but the moment repeats in your mind, over and over again.

His hand on her waist. Black scales against white.

You don't belong here.

.

It's less than an hour later when Obsidian comes back to your chair and finds you gone. He pokes around the festival, expecting to find you pulled away by children or women, but every corner is empty of you.

"Sorghum-" Obsidian is suddenly sober as he approaches his sister in law. "Have you seen my fawn? She's not where I left her."

Sorghum huffs, bothered by the interruption. Her group of friends chitters on without her.

"Humans have legs, Obsidian. Maybe she used them."

That sets Obsidian's teeth on edge. "Malachite is a saint for dealing with your attitude."

There's a retort as he walks away, but he can't focus on that, not when his mind is on the brink of panic. Where could you have gone in this little town?

By the time he makes it to his family home, real, deep worry has started make his hands quiver.

"Fawn," he calls down the hall. "Princess."

He checks his room first, mostly out of muscle memory. He had gotten used to waking up beside you; sleeping alone made his heart ache.

Your room is empty as well. Too empty. It takes him a moment to realize your bag is gone, along with your coats and boots.

On the nightstand is a single earring, his own scales staring back at him like two little black voids.

did mint even write it if there isn't at least one heart wrenching line

Inevitable Things : chapter thirteen

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks, fingering

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The sheer force he kisses you with aches. Shouta's lips are slick with your cum and his tongue tastes like you, musked and slightly salty in the way that almost makes you search for it, but you don't care. No, you revel in it. In the dark, you both grope and grind, his clothed knee sliding between your legs. You wonder if he can feel how wet you are through the fabric, but then you remember he already knows. It’s all his fault.

Your hands slide under his shirt. His body is soft in ways you like, in ways you don't recognize. Touya’s body was thin to the point of almost frailty, while Aizawa's feels perfect for grasping, for pulling towards you, perfect for pressing against. Sex is fun, you decide. Despite all the awkwardness and tension and overstimulating, sex is good. You get Nemuri's obsession with it, you understand why people crave it. It's so basic, so primitive; it tickles the back of your brainstem, a fundamental part of you that needed it most of all.

And yet. 

And yet you need more.

You can feel how used your body is, how puffy and fried your clit is from the attention, but it's barely done anything to quell the want that's been building inside you. How, after all of that, can you still feel so unsatisfied? So insatiable? What the fuck has this man done to you? What door has he unlocked inside your mind?

Together, you peel his shirt from his body. Skin to skin contact, your breasts against his chest: it all feels right. The animal part of your brain sparks up once again. It’s so basic of a need that it eats at you like hunger. Lust drives you, pushes you. You never feel old, but suddenly you feel young and excited. 

When your hands wander south, Shouta breaks away. 

“What do you think you're doing?”  You swear he's glowering at you through the dark; you can feel his breath huff, but it doesn't stop your fingers from slipping open the button of his pants. He smells like aftershave, but there’s still a patch of scruff on his jawline, presumably missed in the rush to see you. Blindly, you try to kiss at it.

“Touching you.” Why are you so giggly? So sweet?

Your fingers brush against the trail of hair between his stomach and the edge of his briefs. It's short, cropping as if he used to shave, but hasn't in a time. His body shudders at the touch, his hands pulsing tighter, tighter around your tits. Oh, that makes something burn hotter inside you, knowing how you have an equally big effect on him as he had on you.

 “Careful.”

“Or what?” Your voice is still quivering from cumming so hard, but you're gaining confidence.  “You afraid I'm going to make you cum?”

You force the fly open and work his pants down. He doesn't help you, his hands frozen in place as you wiggle. The effort steals a laugh from you, then he joins in, softly. It’s a surprisingly tender moment, but it doesn’t rob you of the tension. The want is building in your throat, threatening to choke you.

“I just don't think-” he whispers. Your thumbs are tucking under his waistband. His skin is warm and soft; you want to touch more of it.

“-I'll behave-”

With a press, you can feel his briefs inch down and the weight of his cock shift. It strikes you that you haven't touched it yet. No, you've only seen it in that picture, only felt it through cloth. Something inside you flutters at the thought of how thick he looked. Could you even take all of it? Truthfully, you doubt it; you’re not a virgin, but you aren’t exactly experienced either. Is it possible to be bad at sex? 

Just as you start to spiral, Aizawa catches you by the elbow. It’s almost impossible to worry with him and the way he touches, the focus he gives you. Even the way he grips your arm feel scandalous, charged with want and desire, like he's going to hold you like this forever, like he's going to live up to his promise and use you however he wants.

“-if you pull my cock out while I'm between your legs.” Aizawa swallows deep. “So, really think about-”

Clumsily, you crane up and catch him in a kiss, your lips blindly smooshing into his cheek.  It’s just enough to catch him off guard, to steal an extra moment before you reach down the front of his pants and wrap your hands around his member. God, it's thick. Almost grossly so. Can your body even take all of that?

“I thought you were gonna do whatever you wanted with me,” you mumble into his scruff. His cock is hot and slick with his own precum. When you run your fingers down the underside, Shouta practically chokes on his spit. That’s right; you’ve cum three times today, but he’s been practically untouched. He must be aching for it. 

With a shaky hand, you drag his cock down, through the wet of your pussy. The sensation sends a shock through both of you; at the same time, you both gasp and hiss, keening deeper against each other. Earlier, everything felt hot, soft and dripping like your core was nothing but melted metal, but now it’s purely electric. Every touch of skin trills through you like a shock, lights up your brain like sparks. Fuck-- this is fun. You’re having fun. 

“You said you wanted to go slow.” Aizawa’s voice is almost a plea-- a final warning. 

You slide your legs wider and Aizawa’s body shifts down, lining up against yours. You can feel him, pressed just hard enough against your cunt to nestle between your lips, barely an inch away from where you want him. The promise of stretch nearly takes your breath away. No-- he isn't where you want him: he's where you need him.

You swallow down your last bit of worry and let your head fall back on to the pillow. 

“Then fuck me slow.” 

It’s not unusual for Aizawa to curse, but the string of swears that escape his mouth sends a chill down your spine. It’s blurted, rushed, slurred; He’s never a chatty man, but now he rambles, mouth never stopping as his hips press forward.

“Needy thing, pretty thing, sweet thing.” The tip of his cock pops inside you without much resistance. You're too soaked for friction, almost too wet. The taste of him makes your toes curl, pussy clench- it's not enough, not enough, not enough-

Your partner hunches over, forehead clunking against yours with a pained groan. 

“How are you that fucking tight?” he gripes. “How are you so fucking perfect ?” 

“Shou-” you wiggle your hips and he groans again, deep and wild. “Fuck me, fuck me.”

“I will, I am--”

“Please!”

“I'm trying not to--”  He takes a shaky breath. His hands are clenched in the sheets, so hard you can feel his bicep flex against your side.  “Embarrass myself.”

A thrill runs down your spine. Your body suits him so well that he's already on the brink, already ready to cum. It makes your ego flare. He wants you. he wants you so badly. After making you cum so many times, the only thing you should want is petty revenge, but now, in this moment, you want him to feel good with you.

“I don't care,” you urge. Your hand sneaks down between your legs, working tiny circles around your abused clit. The sensation is electric, so much so that you swear you can see lightning behind your eyes. An orgasm might not even be possible at this point, but you can't help but try. “Just fuck me.”

Finally- thankfully, beautifully, finally- Aizawa sinks his whole cock into you. It's been a while since someone's been inside you, so the pressure feels good, but strange and unfamiliar. A sound must escape you: Aizawa suddenly stops, pulling back ever so slightly. 

"Are you okay-?"

“Keep going-” You urge as you wrap your legs around his waist. “Keep going.” 

Ever so obedient, Aizawa rolls his hips, harder this time. Your body makes lewd sounds with every stroke, the wet smack of your folds being spread audible over the sound of your heavy breathing. Your muscles give to his thickness and you can feel every stroke deepen until his hips are finally pressed against yours. The button of his pants digs into your ass, but the discomfort is almost pleasurable.

“Needed this, didn’t you?” he whispers. “Needed to be taken care of?”

Your voice is staccato with his thrusts. He’s not being rough, but you’re so sensitive that it feels like he is manhandling you, abusing your overly loved body- “Y-yeah.”

“Your boyfriend didn’t take care of you?”

If he had said that at any other time, you may have gotten upset, but you feel so open, so bare-

“No…” You flop back onto the mattress. You hadn’t realized how curled you had been against him, how hard your fingers had been digging into his skin. The relaxation changes to pleasure; it’s a sweet, liquid heat, rolling through you like melted molasses. “No, he never-- he couldn’t--”

“Poor thing-”  His teeth nip at the stop under your earlobe, catching skin with his canines. “So neglected-”

Oh, that cocktail of hormones in your brain has you stupid and emotional.  “Yeah.”

“I’ll take care of you,” he bites again and you know there’s going to be another bruise to explain away tomorrow. “I’ll spoil you.”

Aizawa hooks an arm under your leg and lifts it. The angle changes and his cock hits a previously untouched spot; your body kicks and twitches. It feels impossible, but you’re going to cum again, you’re going to cum before he does, and you’re going to revel in it.

“Touch-” Your voice is high with want. “Touch my tits?”

It’s barely a question, almost a demand, and Aizawa is more than eager to obey. His free hand finds the pebbled curve or your nipple and flicks his thumb over it, searching for a positive reaction. When he doesn’t get it, he changes his touch, waiting to your approval.

“Like that-” you finally confirm. His rutting gets harder, but not faster; it's slow grinds, taking advantage of every inch and then some. The coarse of his pubic hair is delightful friction against your clit; it nearly hurts with how good it feels.  “Just like that-”

“Good// girl, yes.” His tone is so desperate. “Tell me what you need.” 

Oh, you wish you could, but your voice is failing you right now. It's like every brain cell in your head is dedicated to lighting up with ecstasy, downing in him, him, him, him--

“I'll give it to you, give you everything you ever want-” Shouta whispers into the shell of your ear. He's being so steady, so patient; it's nothing like the other times you had sex. There's no rush, no urgency.  “I want you spoiled. I want you greedy. I want to ruin you for anyone else.” 

You can't cum again. Your body is too spent, too used, too-- too-- too--

Everything inside you goes rigid and you come undone once again. It's embarrassing and loud: both your mouth and your cunt. You're saying something, but you don't know what, if it's even words at all. The heat of pleasure is boiling your mind, your senses. 

You’re not a virgin. You haven't been for years, but suddenly you feel inexperienced, naive. Sex could feel like that? It could make you feel like this?

Shouta's hips press against yours and he groans, deep and unabashed. Warm fills you, accompanied by the twitch of his cock, and you realize he's cumming too, melting into you--

At the last moment, he catches you in an open mouthed kiss. It's messy, mostly tongue and spit, the kind you can't breathe through, but you find yourself pressing back, licking and sucking and nipping and drowning in it all, giving yourself to the moment--

“That was-”

You clumsily slap a hand upwards, tapping the side of his face. Your eyes have adjusted to the dark, but you still can’t fully make out his silhouette. 

“Don't talk,” you mumble.  “I-- haa.” 

The roll of your hips just won't stop. The last flickers of your orgasm are still burning and you can't help but stroke them on. You swear there's literally sparks behind your eyes and no bones left in your body; you don't know how you're even moving. Against your will, your cunt twitches, pulling a pained groan from Shouta.

“Can I speak now?” he mumbles through your fingers. Your hand falls back to the bed. “You're going to have to give me a couple minutes before another round.”

The hard of his cock is already softening inside you.  God, the cloud of post-coitus bliss has you so soft you feel sappy; you never want him to pull out, never want to lose his body heat. If you could lift your arms again, you'd wrap them around him.

“My heart might stop if we go again,” you whine. That was the first bare cock you've ever taken. 

He chuckles and it hits you in the chest like a fucking bullet. Oh, this is bad. Pathetic. Lovely. You might cry or laugh or pass out.

 “Is that good?” he asks, tone evident that he knows it's very, very good.

“I think I came so hard I had a stroke.” That has to be the only reason you’re feeling so wobbly.

“The only stroke is you stroking my ego.” A pitiful noise escapes you as he rolls away, groaning as he gets to his feet. He sucks in air through his teeth, then releases it carefully.The room is suddenly unbearably cold; you shake and shiver, silently wishing he’d come back.  “Let's get you cleaned up. Light’s coming on.” 

 The sound of his hands fumbling on the side table is followed by the click of the lamp turning on. Warm light floods the room and you finally get a glimpse of him. His already loose curls are mussed, fallen in front of his flushed cheeks. His chest has a sprinkling of hair - trimmed, it seems - and a trail down from his belly button. He's already tucked his cock away into his briefs, but his pants are unzipped. His underwear is a light green; it makes you laugh a bit. At least both of you are fucked. 

Shouta takes his turn to observe you. You must look even worse: naked, hair a mess, legs spread and cum dripping down the track of your ass. 

“Shit-” Sleep nearly sideswipes you immediately, so hard you’re struggling to even care. “We made a mess.”

Aizawa regards you again, brow raised. “Mostly you.” 

Oh, you beg to differ. The mess he made inside you feels sloppy and slippery, leaking from much too deep inside you. It's the first bare cock you've ever taken, you realize. It felt dangerously good, with none of the friction or stink of the condom. Even the tickle of warmth inside you is surprisingly pleasant.

That's dangerous knowledge, especially with the consequences.

“You shouldn't have…”  you try to sit up a bit to be serious. “Inside me.”

Realization catches Aizawa's face. 

“I should have asked,” he says.   “I was… caught up.”

“It’s okay.” Especially because you liked it. You flop back down with a sigh. “I’ll get a Plan B in the morning.”

Aizawa  shifts his weight and hisses at the pressure. Before you can say anything he turns, headed towards the bathroom.

“I… I can’t get you pregnant.”  The faucet runs while he speaks. “I can buy it for you anyway, if you want to be extra safe.” 

“Oh,” you say, shifting uncomfortably. You believe him, of course; he's not a liar. Maybe about silly things, but not about this. “I didn’t know that.”

He turns the sink off and returns, washcloth in hand. 

“Of course you didn't.” Aizawa gestures for you to spread your legs. You hesitate, then remember exactly what you've been doing these past two days. He's eaten your cunt; you guess he can see it again. Resting against the edge of the bed, he runs the cloth against the mess inside of your thighs. It's hot, but not uncomfortably so. “Sterility doesn’t come up in conversation very often.”   

He runs the cloth into the crook between your leg and pussy. You would have thought the act demeaning, but it’s sweet.

“Vasectomy?” you ask. 

“Nature. Maybe the accident. Either way.” 

He shrugs it away, but there's an edge of something deeper in his voice. He tries to hide it, eyes focused down as he folds the towel over itself and then gingerly touches it to your outer lips.

“I shouldn’t have pried,” you mumble. 

“It’s not prying,” he says.  “I’d argue it’s very much your business right now.” 

The washcloth gets tossed into a corner. The thought of it mildewing there makes your stomach turn, but you're entirely too tired to consider picking it up yourself. Your partner knots his hair into a low hanging bun, just something to get the hair off of his nape. He hesitates at the edge of the bed, not entirely on or off, just hovering in the periphery. 

“Did you want kids?”  

Aizawa glances up, brows knotted together. This time, you really think you may have overstepped. 

“I didn’t mean with me!” you try to recover. Just… in general.”

You're ready for him to step away, but instead he sinks a bit closer to you in the bed, head lounged, lips pursed. 

“No, I don’t.” He heaves it like a confession.   “Considered it for a moment. But, I decided I’m not the paternal type.”

Shouta huffs so hard that his body puffs and deflates.

“Can barely handle those fucking interns.”

The laugh sneaks out of you. Aizawa watches you from his perch, eyes narrowed with amusement. The cool air starts biting at your skin; you scuttle under the covers, then pat the space beside you.

“You scare the shit out of them,” you say. 

“Good.” 

“You could be nicer.”

You pat the empty space again. This time, Shouta obliges. He settles under the covers, a healthy distance from you.  

“It's my job to be mean. We're making items that directly affect people's lives.” He shares your pillow, the special one you brought from home, the silk one that gives just right. “Have you ever been in a hospital bed?”

“No.”

“It's miserable. You don't get a lot of rest. Nurses come in every couple of hours to check on you-- nurses working twelve hour shifts with too many patients to handle.” His eyes are distant, even as he looks your way.  He's thinking about the accident. You want to ask questions about it, but instead you listen. “If we can design something to make that experience better, something to help patients and nurses, we should be serious about it. They should care.”

A moment passes. You try to imagine him younger, sadder. You try to imagine him in those beds-- then try to imagine him before. The silvered scar on his cheek: what would his face look without it?

“I know on the surface it sounds silly,” he continues, a bit more grave. “It's a bed. But if we can make monitoring tools for nurses easier, feed reports directly into the system. Heart rate, breaths per minute, blood pressure-- it takes a load off of their plates and lets them focus on patients who need it.”

His head rolls towards you and your noses are only inches from each other. It feels like you’ve been momentarily allowed into an inner sanctum, opened a door to a part of him you shouldn't be allowed to see. The long nights at the office make more sense now; you had always thought he was just a workaholic. 

“And these beds might be the last place someone lives before they die.”  Aizawa says. “They deserve comfort. Dignity.”

He tilts his head down to regard you, then starts a bit, bewildered. 

“Why are you giving me that look?” 

You bite down your own smile. 

“Just…” Your hand finds his chest. “Didn't realize you cared so much.”

Aizawa rolls his eyes as he places his own hand over yours. 

“Don't tell the interns,” he grumbles. “Don't want them to think I'm soft.”

The sleep that nips are your cerebellum is the cozy kind, the kind that eeks your eyes closed bit by bit. Aizawa places the towel on the ground and you watch him. His features are the same as they always are, but your brain has recontextualized it all; the silvered scar on his cheek, the flat of his nose… you smile.

“Do you have pictures?” you mumble. 

“Hm?”

“Of your cats.”

Aizawa looks back at you, surprised. Then, he melts a bit, pulling his phone from his pocket. He joins you back on the bed, over the covers, arm scooping behind your head almost protectively. The position is intimate; you make it more so by resting your head on his shoulder. It only takes a moment for him to pull up a photo of two cats, both lounging in a strand of sunshine, both tummy up and dead asleep.

“Sesame.” He points to the black cat in the picture, then the fluffy white and orange one. “Sushi.”

“They're cute.”

“They're good cats.” His voice rumbles in his chest, undertones you've never heard before. You cuddle in closer to listen better, close your eyes to really focus. “Sushi is older now, so she mostly sleeps. Sesame is two-- three, actually.”

You hum in acknowledgement. The thrum of his heart is slow and strong. 

“Been considering getting another. For when Sushi dies.” he tilts his head in thought. “I'm not ready to be a forty year old man with three cats.” 

You try to give him that look again, but your eyes just won't open. “And you said you aren’t paternal.”

There's a long stretch of quiet behind that. 

“Do you have pets?” His voice takes you out of your sleep, but not enough for you to fully rouse. 

“Are you falling asleep?” 

Again, there’s a long stretch of silence, only the rise and fall of your breaths and the hum of the air conditioner to fill the room. Right as you start to lose grip on the waking world, Shouta moves, pressing his lips right into the center of your forehead. 

 “Do you want children?” he asks into your skin, voice frailer than you ever thought possible.

Obsidian Masterlist

-The Original Piece: Part One and Two

-Jasper's First Appearance

-Draconic Conversation

-Follow Up to Jasper

-Courting

-Malachite

- Obi's Home

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black!Fem Reader

Rating/CW: Just a fluffy drabble of Nanami Kento loving you.

Summary: Early morning musings.

a/n: I've really been suffering from writer's block these past few months. The words come and go at a pace that's maddening, but thankfully, they stayed long enough for me to write this little piece.

JJK Masterlist | Divider: @saradika-graphics

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

"How did I get so lucky?"

It's the question that surfaces in Nanami's mind as he watches you sleep beside him, early morning light casting gentle shadows across your features. Your breathing is steady, peaceful, a barely there rumble with every inhale that he’s memorized over countless mornings like this one. Just as he’s done many times before, he traces the outline of your form, fingertips ghosting over your skin without disturbing you.

In those first few mornings of your relationship, your eyes would flutter open just from the proximity of his touch, catching him in his admiration. He wouldn’t bother to hide the blush, you would throw him a sleepy smile, then succumb to sleep again. Now, many mornings later, you’ve grown accustomed to his gentle exploration, allowing him to follow the curve of your shoulder, reconnecting the constellations that pepper your brown skin without stirring from your dreams.

In this position, while you sleep on your stomach, he can admire the subtle roll of skin on your neck where it meets your shoulder—a gentle landscape formed by the angle of your head against the silk pillow. It may be his own imaginings, but he can already smell the Shea butter from your neck, warming from the rising sun and wafting to tickle his nose in a half-remembered dream that lingers many hours into his work day.

Your diamond earrings glint in the morning light—beautiful studs you refuse to remove despite his concerns. He’s learned to love this small token of rebellion, unafraid to admit that the way the jewelry complements your skin makes you look particularly ethereal in the waking hours. The sunlight hits these diamonds at the right angle, splintering light in a mix of purple and green that plays across the curve of your cheek, as if nature is adorning you herself.

Even while unconscious, you are beautiful.

He traces up, fingertips brushing your lobe before smoothing through edges that have smeared on your skin like delicate wisps of morning fog. They’re perfect, tiny coils and curls that defy rule and frizz along your hairline, peeking from the cream satin bonnet. That bonnet, somehow still attached to you despite how wildly you sleep, showcases to him all the care you take with yourself, all the traditions passed sacred to you that he’s been allowed to learn, to witness, to cherish.

And god, how he cherishes the uninhibited abandon in which you sleep—the complete trust spoken in the way you sprawl across a mattress that was once solely his. Your cheek is creased from your pillowcase and hands, the corners of your lashes crystallized with evidence of your dreams, and your lips—slightly parted, pillowed with relaxation—glisten at one corner with moisture you have long stopped being embarrassed about in his presence.

It’s you in your purest form—unguarded, unfiltered, displaying a beauty more profound than anything the waking world gets to see. It’s you without makeup, you without measured words, underneath social performances, practiced smiles, and expectations—the raw truth of you, morning breath and all.

Just his. It’s a privilege so deep that it makes his chest ache, the gratitude overwhelming.

"How did I get so lucky?"

Nanami remembers the strict parameters he once set around relationships—the necessary boundaries, the premeditated time commitments, the emotional distance he maintained without thinking. Work—for as firm as he is about clocking out on time—came first, then necessities, then, if time allowed and he had the mental stamina, connection. For him, it was efficient. But terribly lonely.

Naturally, you shifted it all without trying.

The memory of seeing you for the first time still replays in his mind—fresh as the day it happened, enhanced by his own untempered affection that grows over time. He’s carried an unspoken envy for his parents’ love-at-first-sight story his entire life, a curmudgeon of his own making that could also speak of self-sabotage in relationships that never lasted. Surely they were exaggerating? Love at first sight? As if the cosmos aligned at the right moment to bring Mr. and Mrs. Nanami together? Nanami refused to believe it.

And yet he’ll tell anyone who will listen that every grievance he held about the concept evaporated the moment he saw you. Surrounded by greenery and the stifling heat of a plant nursery, perfect textured hair framing your face that pursed with contemplation, neck curved over a large Monstera Deliciosa. A sage sundress that fluttered over your form like gossamer wings catching the sunlight, the shimmer of your sunscreen across the expanse of your shoulders like dewdrops, a cock in your hip as you studied the plant only made you stand out as sublime elegance amongst the foliage.

Admittedly, he remembers feeling only embarrassment when he reached for the plant before his mind could truly register your presence—his original quest into the nursery solely to find a gift for his secretary, who was becoming a new mother.

He remembers the embarrassment flaring liquid hot in his chest when your eyes flashed with surprise and indignation that he would take something you had mentally staked claim to. He remembers how disorienting it all was—the sudden awareness of you as if the rest of the nursery had faded to shadows. Your brow had lifted in disbelief as you rolled your eyes and brushed past him, the subtle scent of what he now knows as Shea butter lingering in the humid air. Nanami found himself frozen, the Monstera forgotten in his hands, his perfectly ordered thoughts scattering like leaves in a sudden breeze.

He remembers how that white hot embarrassment quickly morphed into something unfamiliar, fleeting in previous relationships but never as prominent as in that moment—a flutter in his stomach, a tightness in his chest, and a desperation that he’s thankful to have embraced.

“I’m buying a gift for a new mother, but maybe I can find something that would not require so much care,” he’d said, the words tumbling from his mouth like a wobbling newborn calf as he watched you stop, turn to face him, guarded eyes taking him in. “Do you have any suggestions?”

He remembers how his heart hammered against his ribcage as he waited for your response, how the simple act of breathing seemed almost impossible. How utterly mortifying it was to realize that in thirty seconds, you had changed everything for him. How unbelievably confused he felt when the cosmos he mocked aligned for him when he ran into you at a bookstore days later, giving him the courage to ask you for coffee, for your number, for a date, and the many that followed to create the perfect cacophony of love.

"How did I get so lucky?"

It’s almost ridiculous how fortunate he is. How he gets to hear you laugh—genuine and unrestrained, choked around a snort when he’s said something particularly dry. How he gets to hear your musings in the comfort of your home—the melodic cadence of your humming when you bake, the unprecedented sailor mouth that would make his mother faint, the conversations you have with your dog as he follows you to the backyard. Every day, despite being subject to it many times, it feels like the very first time.

The novelty of it will never fade, because Nanami still calculates how to make you laugh so hard your lashes bubble with tears. He still asks what song you’re humming, knowing you’ll always reply “I made it up”. He still pretends to be shocked that the way a curse word flies from your mouth doesn’t make him unnaturally turned on. He still raises both brows when he hears you conversing with the dog, even though he has embraced the same habit.

"How did I get so lucky?"

The variation of thought comes naturally as his fingers fall back to his side, careful not to disturb you. There was a time when luck meant nothing to him—when grief was the only emotion he allowed himself to fully embrace, a painful reminder of his humanity when everything else felt hollow.

There was only one person who had truly seen him—experienced and witnessed the raw parts of the awkward growth through puberty, commiserated over failed crushes, shared late nights playing video games, and made him laugh until his stomach hurt. When that person was ripped away before their life could truly begin, it left Nanami in denial for so long that isolation became his sanctuary.

Each subsequent attempt at connection through romantic means only reinforced what experience had taught him—that opening a sliver of himself inevitably led to another goodbye, another confirmation that vulnerability was simply an invitation for devastation.

So it’s odd how that worry sprouted in the youth of your relationship with him but was never strong enough to take root. He was healthier, stronger even, and intelligent enough to know that you would not settle for someone who only loved in half-truths. For the first time, the fear of losing someone by not trying, outweighed the fear of the pain that might come with trying and failing.

When Nanami had the choice between protecting himself and never knowing you completely, or risking that devastation for the chance to build something real, he found himself making a choice that his deceased friend would have encouraged with a smile that could make the sun rise.

His efforts have paid off.

As the world wakes up and the noise of cars increases from the cracked window, Nanami counts his lucky stars that he tried. As he watches you sleep, he feels something swell in his chest—a fullness that once scared him but now feels like coming home after a long day.

Soon, he’ll slip out of bed like he does every morning, each day a ritual of thankfulness for the life he almost denied himself. Soon he’ll walk into the kitchen and measure coffee grounds with the same precision he applies to everything, his eyes drifting to the mug you always use—chipped on the handle, crafted from an impromptu class you dragged him to as a second date. He’d been so focused on not embarrassing himself with clumsy hands that he’d missed the exact moment you decided he was worth keeping.

Soon he will slide a fresh cup to you across the counter, taking in your ruffled form—bonnet still secure, eyes heavy with sleep, a blanket wrapped around you because you’re always cold, even in summer. The sight will catch in his throat like it always does, you trusting and vulnerable, showing a version of yourself that transforms his once sterile apartment into a home where love blooms in every corner.

But for now, he watches as you grumble and smack your lips, rolling over until your head is resting on his chest. He blooms with heat, an iridescent sensation that radiates outward from that exact spot, like your memory lives beneath his skin and thrums to life when you’re close. You wrap an arm around him, whether it’s to test the firmness of a pillow or to make sure it’s still him, he’s not quite sure. But it means nothing when you fall back into slumber, snoring softly against him, your breath a metronome that’s synched with his over time.

The rush of it all settles into his bones like it does every morning as he relaxes, his hand tracing the column of your spine absentmindedly.

You chose him. From the moment you rolled your eyes in that nursery, some invisible thread connected you both, and despite it all, that thread held tight. Out of all possibilities, out of all potential paths, you chose this one—with him. Not out of necessity or convenience, but with deliberate, purposeful love that continues to choose him, minute after minute, hour after hour, day after day.

"How did I get so lucky?"

“Kento,” you slur against his chest, voice gravelly with sleep, “stop thinking so loud so I can sleep. It’s too early.”

It’s almost eleven in the morning. But Nanami can do nothing but chuckle softly, pressing a kiss to your forehead, marveling as your curls tickle his nose before his fingers return to their pilgrimage across your body. Each brush of him against you comes with an unspoken promise—that he will never take this for granted, that he will chose you every morning just as purposefully as you chose him.

"How did I get so lucky?"

Who knows. But Nanami will spend every day making sure he deserves it.

Thanks for reading!

hesitance short fic + side stories | ryomen sukuna x f!reader

summary: sukuna is a gym owner and is very fond of his least productive employee. this series is a collection of moments the two have shared together during her time working for him. side stories can be read on their own, but I highly suggest reading the fic first. tl;dr: sukuna violently pining after his employee. he needs a hug. literally everyone knows he likes her lol

genre: modern au, 18+, established friendship(?), fluff, eventual smut

fic warnings: ooc, profanity

Ko-fi link if you're feeling generous and wanted to show extra support ❤️

fic:

hesitance 1

hesitance 2

hesitance 3

hesitance 4

hesitance 5

side stories:

past

#1: what are you reading?

#2: under the influence

#3: uncle sukuna

#4: are you crying?

#5: homewrecker

#6: the interview

present

(tbd)

extras:

boss!sukuna headcanons

gymowner!sukuna aesthetics

notes: the taglist for this series is open 🫶🏻

i'm also open to suggestions for future side stories. hit the inbox if you have any!

All rights reserved © 2024 hauntedcrownpost. Do not copy, repost, translate, or modify my works in any platform.

content warnings: implied blowjob and mentions of pregnancy and children

gojo!actor au and he’s just a bit of a loser.

and i mean that in a literal sense. he’s good enough to be nominated for the emmy’s, the oscars — all these prestigious awards. but he never wins.

each year, he dresses up all posh. puts you in a pretty gown and shows up — just to lose. and it’s an annual routine now, you look forward to it. he’s never taken these awards so seriously anyway. it's all a big joke, and you get free food!

but one year — one year, he wins. it’s shocking — to you, to him, to everyone. cheers and yips are so loud as he stands up. the next day people will publish articles about how this was deserved, how he should’ve been awarded a long time ago.

he walks up there — a soft red hue of a kiss on his cheek as he manages to stare and directly talk to his wife, despite the massive crowd, despite the mic, despite the bedazzlement. his eyes peer into yours as he speaks of gratitude.

and he finishes up with an endless list of thank yous — to directors, coworkers, production team, fans, his mom, his wife, maybe god if he exists? his wife again. his wife.

it’s the after party — you two never go but gojo’s manager warned him and you did your part in urging him, because he did win after all. people would be expecting him. he argues, he speaks of his comfy bed, and you proposition him — you tell him going would mean he gets head in the bathroom and of course, he’s a simple man so he agrees almost immediately.

after you deliver what was promised, under the fancy red glow of the bathroom you’re both in, you rub a hand to wipe your mouth as you stand up, fixing your dress as he fixes his trousers.

he speaks up, his tone rather serious and it scares you just a little. “baby, you promised me," he began. "you said if i won — you’d give me a baby.”

“that was 5 years ago, satoru.” you chuckled, as you fixed his mussed hair.

“and we’re here now — i won. it’s your turn now," his words teasing, but his eyes seeking affirmation in your gaze.

"you want a baby?" you asked as you looked up at his hopeful eyes.

“i want a baby,” he affirms.

“okay,” you smile. your hand trails down to his chest, only to suddenly push him back with force as he flops onto the toilet seat. “let’s give you a baby.”

bonus

"does this mean," he asked, "you'll give me a baby every time I win?"

“let’s start with one, satoru."

“but—“

“one.”

shoko x f!reader, sfw

cw: mentioned gojo x geto, smoking

notes: first time writing for a female character! though it's an ambiguous relationship... (the crowd boos) in my defense, i love tragic yuri. potentially a projection of my own struggles + confusion with my queer identity. i guess we'll never know! :D anyway, gege akutami, i can confidently say, you FUMBLED THE FUCKING BAG with ieiri shoko. give my hot doctor queen some screentime - you have 5 chapters to do something. Do something about it.

SHOKO WATCHES as ash falls from the butt of her cigarette, which she taps with quick raps of her pointer finger. she’s surprised she’s remembered to put it out at all. you made a big fuss about it when you came home later than she had one evening and caught her smoking indoors. she rolls her eyes and takes one last puff, thinking back to when the two of you had just become roommates.

you used to be the primary doctor over at kyoto jujutsu high but had quit after a short two-year run because you were overworked and exhausted. the two of you met up for drinks right after you quit (you literally called her and utahime up twelve hours after submitting your letter of resignation), and she mentioned briefly that her home was always a mess. you suggested the idea of living together, and she didn’t have a reason to reject your offer. 

anyway, you’ve become a bigger pain in the ass than she had anticipated. yes, you’re a big help when it comes to chores, but you’re also so insistent when it comes to her lifestyle. not that she bothers to listen to you, but you frequently nag about her smoking, drinking, lack of eating, so on and so forth. 

in fact, you’ve taken it upon yourself to take care of her, as if she’s a dying house plant that you’re nurturing back to life. you pack her two bentos every work day, one for lunch and the other for dinner, the meals never identical. you replenished her bare wardrobe with new turtlenecks and work pants because she’s “not steve jobs,” and it’s not like she has an excuse to wear the same thing every day now that you’re doing the laundry and ironing. this is all to say that you’re too involved, too knowledgeable about her mode of operations, for her liking. 

throwing the cigarette onto the floor, she extinguishes it with her foot and heads into your shared apartment. 

not even two steps into the foyer, she hears you call from the couch, “the bath’s ready!”

shoko shrugs her shoulder bag onto the floor next to her heels and pads over to you. “why are you still up?” she asks.

you peel your eyes away from your phone to smile at her. “i was waiting for you,” you reply, a smirk tugging at your lips. 

she heads to the bathroom and says, “go to bed.” you just giggle in response.

in the bathroom, shoko shimmies out of her clothes, brushes her teeth while avoiding her reflection in the mirror, and grabs a towel. when she sinks into the bath, she realizes you’ve added a few drops of jasmine and ylang ylang to the water to help her decompress. somehow, you’ve even managed to figure out her favorite aromatics.

your relationship is peculiar, to say the least. roommates but more. not lovers, of course.

shoko’s long distanced herself from such relationships. she barely has an interest in making friends, let alone find a lifelong partner. yet, upon some introspection, she finds her own behavior and attitude towards you… odd. you bother her, but she hasn’t put a stop to it like she normally does with others. she’s not tired or bored of long conversations with you. even though she’d like it if you gave her some more space and privacy, she doesn’t prevent you from learning more about her.

it’s not that she’s unguarded; she has deliberately lowered her guard around you.

she sinks deeper into the bath, blowing bubbles in the water as she thinks.

she doesn’t love you. (what does being in love even feel like?)

she does like having you around.

ten more minutes of half-conscious musing later, she gets out of the bath and prepares for bed. when she exits from the bathroom, she finds you still sitting on the couch, doom scrolling and humming an inane tune. but this time, she also smells the familiar scent of smoke and bitterness.

she glances at the living room table and spots a small dish. you’re smoking, she realizes.

“i thought you didn’t approve of smoking indoors,” she says.

you look over your shoulder and chuckle. “i’m trying to see what all the hype is. smoking really isn’t all that, you know, shoko?”

your roommate walks over to sit beside you. “you’ve never smoked before?” she asks.

you shrug. “no, i have, when we were much younger. but i remember choking on my first time, so i never bothered to try again.”

“so what made you try this time?”

“you.” you say it so effortlessly. then, you beam at her before scrolling to another video on your phone.

shoko is unsure how to react, so she just leans her head on your shoulder. does she have that much of an influence on you? probably not. it’s common for people to pick up on mannerisms and habits of those around them.

she recalls her high school days with gojo and geto. those two were undeniably close, and they frequently behaved like one another. when she caught wind of the nature of their relationship, it all seemed to make sense – they looked and acted exactly like a couple should.

she wonders if the two of you are anything like her classmates. do you share the same sense of humor? do you have your own language – your own catchphrases and inside jokes and syntax? do you enjoy being around her? does she know you the way you know her?

does she want to know you?

she’s feeling a slight pinch in her temple. she’s not in a rush to figure things out.

shoko reaches across you to take the cigarette from your grasp, acutely aware that she’s taking a breath from where your lips were just moments ago.

“i want something savory tomorrow,” she says.

you nod your head. “i know.”

of course you already know she hates sweet things. she puts out the cigarette.

nanami x afab!f!reader, nsfw, 18+, not beta read cw: unprotected sex (and he cums inside you), fingering, nipple play if you squint, squirting

notes: a half-baked attempt at a nanami char study. also, not canon, this is post-jujutsu kaisen storyline, and nanami is alive and well – physically, at least. also x2, gege akutami, idgaf about you and your updated cute cyclops cat avatar, when i get you, it's fucking over for you.

NANAMI HAS a habit of falling into silence after arguments with you.

your first fight, you interpreted his silence as stonewalling, a way to prevent the conversation from continuing so that he wouldn’t have to take any more accountability or responsibility. so, you interrogated – demanded that he say something, anything.

but, in a fragile, almost meek voice, he hoarsely responded, “i’m sorry, my love. i just… i just need time to think.”

almost instinctively, you lurched forward to embrace him. you couldn’t bear to see him in such a state any longer – eyes downcast and watery, fists balled tightly, perspiration collecting on his temples.

“take all the time you need, kento,” you reassured.

the following morning, the two of you discussed and made amends over breakfast (which he got up early to make). and nanami revealed parts of himself you had never known before.

you see, nanami takes his roles as your partner for life and, more generally, as an adult very seriously. he’s given several subject matters and issues deep thought – the jujutsu world, global affairs, mentorship, parenting, and more –, yet he still finds himself in situations he hasn’t encountered before and is stumped. he doesn’t know how to proceed, how to navigate, unable to adapt because a critical, sneering voice in his head exacerbates his immobility. 

it screams: “why don’t you know what to do!”

he’s suffering from performance anxiety, disabled from acting like the adult he should be, reminded of the fact that he was forced to grow up when he was still only a teenager, still too underprepared and incapable to handle anything independently. he can’t even prevent his own relationship from falling apart, and that’s something within his control.

and you know these thoughts still poison your husband’s mind today. even though he’s no longer a sorcerer, and the both of you have moved to kauntan, malaysia, they will probably plague him for the rest of his life, fueled by his regrets and grief.

it’s obviously frustrating for you. but you’re also an adult, and you’re no stranger to regrets or grief yourself. unlike nanami, however, you’re more optimistic, even arguably whimsical and idealistic. just as there is so much pain and suffering in the world, there is also love and comfort. and you’d like to be a source of that support for nanami, standing right beside him as you both move forward, learning to seek and appreciate joy while living with sadness and mourning.

so after every heated conversation (because the two of you have resolved to never fight again), you stay true to your words and remind your husband just how far-reaching and unconditional your love is.

you’re seated on his lap and cupping his face in your palms.

“kento, look at me,” you whisper as you search for his eyes. nanami always gets so shy when you do this. you coax again, “kento, just let me say what i have to say, alright?”

“you don’t have to do this every time,” he mutters, though you know he doesn’t mean it.

“i’ll keep this up until you stop avoiding me.”

with that, he acquiesces. he peers at you, a little nervous and hesitant.

“kento, remember,” you begin, “when we argue, it doesn’t mean i want to break up with you.” kiss. “it doesn’t mean i hate you.” kiss. “it doesn’t mean you’re a horrible person.” you pepper a few more pecks, scattering them across his cheekbones, chin, and the spot right between his eyebrows. “it’s natural” – and you stress this – “for us to disagree and be annoyed at each other because we are not the same person. we both know what to do better on, and that’s that, yeah?”

nanami grunts in agreement, and you happily reward him with a longer smooch on his lips before you finish, “you’re the love of my life, kento, and nothing will change that. i hope you come to believe that.”

he blushes at your confession and mumbles a soft “i love you” in response.

content with your work, you start to sit up, preparing to slide off of nanami’s lap. however, nanami’s hands fly up to square your hips, preventing you from leaving.

“kento?” you ask. he doesn’t say anything, simply takes one of your hands and presses it against his growing bulge. you let out a soft sound of surprise.

“this is incredibly indecent of me,” he mumbles. “i just… need to show you how grateful i am for you.”

it’s your turn to melt at his words. heat floods your face, and you nod enthusiastically, earning a light giggle from your husband.

nanami leans forward to kiss you, gentle presses of his lips to yours. his left hand has bunched your nightgown to give his right access to the tops of your thighs and your core. his right hand caresses, almost tickles, the sensitive skin of your legs, palming and squeezing them as he feels you. he continues to travel upward, reaching to play with the fringes of your underwear. your whimper is swallowed by him as well, as he sneaks his tongue into your mouth, transitioning the kiss into a full-blown makeout.

he traces your folds and lines through your panties, his fingertips poking at the wet spot that is starting to dampen the lace and cotton. just his sheer touch is enough to make you keen, transform into a whimpering mess that only wants more, more, all of him. as a result, you pull away, translucent spit connecting and stretching out before it’s broken apart as you take off your nightgown and throw it behind you. nanami also strips himself of his shirt, before the two of you crash back together and resume kissing and mouthing and moaning.

nanami’s hands continue to work magic on your body – circling around and then tugging and twisting at your puffy nipples, shifting your panties to the side and inserting a thick finger into your squelching hole. throwing caution and embarrassment to the wind, he even becomes a little forceful and only gives you a brief moment to adjust before he shoves two more fingers in, forcing your pussy to take in three at once.

you can only throw your head back, whining his name, pressure and pleasure making you drool.

“sorry, dearest, i’m usually more careful than this,” he grunts through gritted teeth. his cock is still stuck in the confines of his pajama pants, and he knows he should give you more time. but, after a few more seconds, he has to pull his cock out, slip his fingers out of you, and align his tip with your entrance.

“i need it,” you sob, your hands gripping tightly onto his shoulders.

“are you sure?” you firmly nod your head, leaving him no choice but to stuff you full.

the stretch is delicious. honeyed. syrupy. your walls welcome him, and you feel your heart fill with so much warmth. the two of you are so clearly in love, heart eyes locked onto each other’s, even as nanami ruts into you and your nipples sing as they graze against his chest. you’re panting each other’s names, finding some way – any way – to get even closer, prove that physicality could never impede the joining of your souls. your thighs trap the sides of nanami’s legs, and your husband has lowered his hands to cup your ass to better bounce you up and down on his cock. every rock stretches you out even more, allowing him to sink even deeper into you.

you yelp, “kento! i – hah – love! you!” even though you’re short of breath, you try your best to say it over and over again, desperately hoping that nanami can get a glimpse of just how much you cherish him.

he gasps, “you just – never stop giving.” nanami knows he will never be able to string words together the way you do, intonate them with such profound adoration and admiration like you do. so the least he can do is show you.

he embraces you fully, arms moving up to wrap around your chest and torso, and hugs you closely as he thrusts up, punching air out of you so that you’re totally out of breath. he’s giving you everything he has because never has he felt so moved in his life. he just wants to give you everything, and if he can give you even a taste of ecstasy, he’ll be able to sleep soundly by your side tonight.

you’re fucked out, mouth lolling open, and because you’ve lost even the strength to hold your head up, you rest yourself in the crook of nanami’s neck.

“i’m close,” you whisper. dutifully, nanami nods, gives you a swift kiss on the cheek, and hammers even harder into you. each sheathe of his cock is a force to be reckoned, and in no time, you feel yourself squirting all over, losing yourself to the sensation of being enclosed by nanami’s body, heat, and devotion. nanami follows shortly thereafter, sucking heavily on your collarbone as he fills you up, up, up with his cum, a promise to remind you for day’s to come that he will always give you himself over to you, over and over again, everyday if you so pleased.

as the two of you rest, he looks down at you and waits for you to come back to him. and when you do, he musters his courage because, while words may always fail him, he will always try his best for you. “i love you more than you know,” he promises, voice laced with blissful exhaustion, and kisses you once again.

this was fantastic. i love what people can do with two unrelated works. i knew what was going to happen but damn. now i need to rr tsoa.

𝐖𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐇 | masterlist

"There is no law that the gods must be fair, Achilles. Perhaps it is the greater grief, after all, to be left on earth when another is gone?" —Chiron, TSOA by Madeline Miller

pairing: Satoru Gojo x fem!reader x Suguru Geto

After your city falls, you become a war price to the swift-footed Satoru Gojo, the strongest of the Greeks. You now have to adjust to your new position in a foreign camp, no longer as a princess of Lyrnessus, but as a symbol of Satoru Gojo's honour.

warnings: angst, smut, mentions of war, blood, killing and fighting, major character death, mentions of pregnancy contents: Satoru as Achilles, Suguru as Patroclus, reader as Briseis, plot with porn, threesome, greek gods and myths, f!reader, use of she/her pronouns, no use of y/n wordcount: 19k

status: completed

alba's note: this is a very loose retelling of the iliad! i took a bunch of liberties, hee hee, but i've always thought that satoru and suguru fit very well into the achilles/patroclus narrative, so i wanted to bring that to life!

this fic is inspired by madeline miller’s the song of achilles and pat barker’s the silence of the girls. both novels are amazing, and i highly recommend them! <3

read on ao3 here.

MINORS, AGELESS AND BLANK BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT

ACT ONE — A NEW EXISTENCE

ACT TWO — PUNISHMENT OF THE GODS

ACT THREE — SATORU'S WRATH

ACT FOUR — EPILOGUE

completed on 9 august 2024 | divider by cafekitsune

i've only watched like 5 episodes of mha but this is too god

Inevitable Things (We Try To Avoid)

an aizawa x reader fic

dividers by @/benkeibear

Synopsis:

Life has been throwing you a lot of curve balls lately: your boss is terminally ill, you just turned thirty, your boyfriend left without a word, and you've made a huge mistake at work. The only thing that could make it worse is if you end up sending that sext to the wrong person- Oh. Shit.

Link to Ao3

Content warning: cisfem reader, no quirks, office au, miscommunications, slow burn, eventual smut.

Masterlist

-Chapter One: Everybody Likes You

-Chapter Two: Angry People

-Chapter Three: Touch Tone Telephone

-Chapter Four: Two Trucks

-Chapter Five: Idiot Control Now

-Chapter Six: Kitten is Angry

-Chapter Seven: The Ultimate Showdown

-Chapter Eight: Sky is Not Blue

-Chapter Nine: Subtle Oddities

anyone have any bsd fic recommendations that are more plot based than ship based? aus preferred but anything is fine I just wanna read a cool story

AAA THANK YOU :0 will be immediately bookmarking that entire list, thank you @dancing-dawn for your kind contribution to this sskk fic amalgamation

I absolutely looooove your sskk posts, thank you for writing about them and analysing them so well. You’ve helped me understand them so much more❤️

For the ask, what are your favourite fics for them👀

I see so many people analyze Bsd characters and relationships (they're all amazing), glad I can contribute with some sskk analysations :> (I do do other analysations ofc, but they're mostly in rants to my friends about Bsd characters 😔)

I read a lot of fanfiction (it is the backbone of my sanity<3) so I skedaddled over to Ao3 to get a list of my favorite fics/oneshots for this ask :D

I won't go into detail about every oneshot/fic on this (bc then we'd be here all day lmao) so please read the tags of the fics once you look them up<33

~~

The Air we Breathe - by GiftedEcho

I love you more when you never hide your heart - by wowie_me

Weak Inhibitions - by StickyRice_94

i can taste it in your tears - by Sorry_I_Panicked

trapped in grief - by illiterate_hermit_crab

surprise birthday, birthday surprise - by space_ace00

all is finally quiet - by auroraheart

i want to be somebody to someone (somebody to you) - GhouliGhost (this fic is locked so only people with Ao3 accs can read it)

vienna waits for you - by nemui (ribbonelle) (this fic is locked so only people with Ao3 accs can read it)

The Last Time - by Nqnameiiis7

Love me all night long - by Funky_Unravel

In this darkness, light me - by Funky_Unravel

A Christmas Night of Firsts - by GojosFunkyBitchGlasses

(Zoo)Keeper of My Heart - by GojosFunkyBitchGlasses

Hushed secrets (keep the heart at bay) - by Funky_Unravel

Smile for the Camera! - by SadDetectives

If Our Love's Insanity (Why Are You My Clarity) - by BuryYourDoves

the memory of your name - by Sorry_I_Panicked

Broken Record - by illiterate_hermit_crab

I Say, Take Me Out! - by Thunderbirds_and_Lightning

i was lost within the darkness (but then i found you) - by EmeraldEclipse

~~

Sorry the list is kinda short 😭 I've read a lot more good fics and oneshots but these were some of the ones I found in my bookmarks (also I read on Ao3 for quite a long time before I got an account because I didn't really have any reason to get an account until I wanted to start posting [yes I'm an Ao3 author], so there's a lot of lost fics that I read but can't find again 😭🙏 it haunts me to this day)

Also if anyone seeing this post has any sskk fic and/or oneshot recs (even if it's your oneshot fic or oneshot lol), please comment bc I need more sskk content in my life :]

And I'm sorry there's not much angst on this fic and oneshot list, I can never find enough sskk angst 😔

Oh and here's some of my sskk works! (yes I will be shameless and put them here muahahaha);

My Heart Didn't Start Until I Met You - by MikayuuMouse

The Ring Reminds Me of You - by MikayuuMouse

Wrapped Up Like a Present - by MikayuuMouse

Shin Soukoku Oneshots— Open For Requests! - by MikayuuMouse

(I promise I'm gonna update the Requests sskk book soon 🙏🙏)

And thank you, anon, for asking this so I could share of Ao3's lovely sskk works with the Internet :> please support the authors and their wonderful fanfiction! (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

ITS ANOTHER LIST OF HAZBIN HOTEL FIC RECOMMENDATIONS! Specifically Alastor fics. I don't really read anything else. Also yet again, Platonic/ Non Ship fics. (All on AO3)

For the Hotels Sake by ThatMissedBullet

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50784673?view_adult=true

Alastor is actually being a good friend to Angel after a bad night.

Soft and Platonic Angel and Al. Very fluffy with angst.

When the Morningstar Take Action by Charlie_W_Hawthorn

One of my favorite Alastor Angst writers! I love all their fics.

So, this one is kinda an AU of if Lucifer was a bad person and had a really big grudge against Alastor. He's a real jerk throughout the whole thing.

Everyone gets protective of Al and I love it even if he doesn't. I 100% recommend. There's a sequel that's still updating too.

Of romance and whatnot by DasIchigo

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53899156

This is one about Al's Aroace-ness. Angel and Charlie ask if he and Rosie are dating. Spoiler Alert the answer is no.

Love, I'm Just A Sinner, I Can't Be A Savior by HellTeaAndBiscuits

This one is ANGSTY and has a lot of nonconsensual touching. Some of the gang learn about the deal Al made and how he's treated. BAD Lilith in this one.

Here's my first list:

my all time favs - soukoku fics

soukoku is my comfort ship, i ALWAYS come back to it. these are some of my ABSOLUTE favs, like they have a special room in my heart fr fr. my shaylassssss, i miss them.

Silver Soul by mokkei

After a suicide attempt, Dazai is cast away to work at the lighthouse his great uncle had owned in the north of the mythical Shimane prefecture. He's not even in the town, he's three nautical miles away from the nearest port, always overlooking a populace that he supposes he can never be a part of.

Dazai finds that this esoteric ward he does not acknowledge offers more surprises than creeping loneliness. When the body of a man washes up on his beach, it seems that fortune has offered him a hand in repairing a piece of himself he has come to tolerate through the eyes of someone who has no idea what it means to be a human.

where your loyalties lie by writingfromtheshadows

Loyalty is the foundation of the yakuza code, something that was drilled into Chuuya at an early age. However, his lessons did not cover how to manage a political marriage with his organization's oldest rival.

Always Yours by orphan_account, Wellthathappened (Cataclysmic_Calamity)

AU where Dazai has been betrothed to Chuuya since they were both children—an arrangement that never particularly interested him—until their wedding night, when he sees the omega’s face for the first time.

Yokohama Blue by the_most_happy

“There’s a shade of blue one can only find in Yokohama.”

Dazai Osamu is thirty-three, a best-selling writer, the youngest winner in the history of a prestigious literary prize and an Alpha. He's a father, a genius and — some say — a disappointment.

Nakahara Chuuya is twenty-five. He's the only Omega in his publishing course, and his second gender made a fighter out of him. He's an overachiever, a brother, a friend. He just wanted his favorite writer to notice him.

[Or: That literary soulmate AU where everybody suffers]

A Lesson in Thorns by arkastadt

After Hirotsu gives them their offerings, they exchange rings, and Dazai never, not once, breaks eye contact even as they're instructed to kiss. Chuuya expects a wet tongue in his mouth as some sort of demonstration of dominance, so he's surprised when Dazai's hand lifts to cover them both, and the only thing that's pressed to his lips — the corner of them, to be precise — is a dry, fleeting kiss.

And then it's done.

Chuuya is officially, irrevocably married to the one and only head of the mafia.

Or, an AU in which king of the sheep Chuuya has to marry port mafia boss Dazai to get one of his people out of jail.

Vicious Instincts by borntoshine

After all, rumors say Port Mafia is just a metropolitan legend, right? ---

Chuuya is proud of being an omega, but genuinely naive when it comes to the real world out there. When he's called for an internship at the PM group, Chuuya believes that he's finally getting the job of his dreams. Little does he know that accepting the offer will eventually change his life forever, but not exactly how he imagined it would: no matter how hard he tries, instincts cannot be tamed.

--- I want you to be mine. Selfishly, thoughtlessly, mine.

(this one's ongoing)

If Anything Happens, I Love You by the_most_happy

Soukoku’s partnership was crafted with care. One day, the Gravity Manipulator and the Demon Prodigy would marry and breed extraordinary children. In more ways than one, Soukoku was the perfect arranged marriage.

Until Dazai left. 

Being abandoned by his mate left in Nakahara Chuuya more than one wound — physical and psychological. Four years of silence and loneliness messed him up; he knows it and, most importantly, Dazai knows it. Until Chuuya finds himself pregnant during the truce between Armed Detective Agency and Port Mafia.

Torn between instinct and his role as an executive, forced to let an old partner back in his life, the omega is left with just one torturing doubt: how long will Arahabaki allow this child to live before Corruption takes over.

I Was Screaming Your Name Through The Radio by ElectricSplatter

“Four months from now will be the seven year anniversary of when you and Osamu Dazai released your hugely successful first and only album Double Black and its diamond single Corruption. After performing with Dazai earlier this year, are you planning anything special to celebrate?”

“Corruption is insanely overrated, and I would prefer to never hear Dazai’s voice for the rest of my fucking life.”

Wrapped up in You by quinnlocke

Chuuya just wants to get through his day as a reptile expert, but there's a bandaged lunatic in his reptile house trying to get murdered by his snakes.

Saving the man's life is a courtesy, taking him home is just asking for trouble.

in these hallowed halls by saffroncassis, StormDew2

“Shit,” Chuuya says. “You’re… actually real?” “As real as I can be, like this.” “You’re not a hallucination.” Chuuya’s heart is caught in his throat. “You’re an entire, real, ghost.” Dazai frowns at him. “We just went over this. Can’t you freak out later?”

Once diagnosed with the same terminal illness that killed his mother, Chuuya visits the manor of Dr. Mori Ougai in hopes of a miracle. He ends up involved with a deadly mystery and a gorgeous ghost instead.

Baby Executive by BlowingYourMind

Dazai's normally boring morning was shattered when a small pair of arms wrapped themselves around his knees and big azure eyes blinked up at him partnered with a stupidly happy grin.

Or

Chuuya is hit with an ability that reverses his age.

He's got a dream by BlowingYourMind

Dazai blinked once, twice, three times, to clear the dots from his vision, and once they subsided he was met with fiery red hair and a beautiful goddess glaring down at him.

Then with those beautiful goddess hands of hers, she lifted her pan and hit him in the face.

And over the span of the next few days, Dazai would find out that this beautiful goddess was not in fact a girl, but the crowned prince Chuuya Nakahara, and that he didn't need to be a beautiful goddess for Dazai to fall in love with him.

OR

A Soukoku Tangled AU.

i have saurrrrr many of these, so i'll continue in the next part.

stay tuned

xoxo

hi fellow fanfic reader :D

welcome! i'm pining this post because this is my most treasured work at the moment and thus, i'd like for you to see it.

my name's diana, i love fandom and fanfics, and i'm a little bit obsessed with ao3 rn. i've always loved sharing stories i love and that's exactly why i keep a compilation of my favorite ones. at the moment, i've only made a sharable list of skk fanfics, but i'll continue editing this post. all google docs are susceptible to editing (and adding). as of now, all the recommendations offered are completed. if you have any reactions or recs, i really do like interacting with ppl on this place, so i'd love to hear if any of you enjoyed one of these. hope you have fun!

the links take you to a google docs. so anyway.

lengthy fanfics means greater than 30k

brief fanfic means less than 30k

reviews means i give a greater reaction to a certain fanfic

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ soukoku lengthy fics can be found here

soukoku brief fics can be found here

soukoku fic reviews can be found here ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ originally posted on 06/27/24

last edited on 06/27/24