#(one day I will get energy to doodle out how it looks)

[venomgaia]

Guys that go bump in the night

(minorly inspired by @karniss-bg3 's response to this ask)

[ashenwinds]

I'm still working on getting face claims for Ruth and Duchess since I am absolutely awful with finding them, but also just reminding myself the heights of the skellies and laughing a bit. This is their heights pre-curse // fleshie:

and then post-curse // skellie:

this is why Flameheart is a Short King™️

[crystalkitty1220]

Welcome back to tumblr! Hope you enjoyed your break

It was very stressful. Ended up failing the marking period for English, but not by as much as I was failing before. Could still pull up the overall grade by the end of the semester.

[tonycries]

Go For It, Gojo! - G.S.

Synopsis. You wouldn’t fuck Gojo Satoru even if you were paid… …is what you thought exactly five minutes before you were shoved against the wall of this cramped closet, his face stuffed in your soaked panties.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, academic rivals to lovers, student president! reader, unprotected sex, banter about physics, cunnilingus, oral sex (male + female), 7 minutes in heaven, college! AU, 69, Satoru is a tease down bad for you (and has a big dick), overstimulation, pet names (sweetheart, hardass), swearing.

Word count. 10.2k

A/N. I really don’t like physics. Art by @_3aem on X.

Life truly has an awful sense of humor - almost as bad as Gojo’s, which you discovered on the first day of Advanced Quantum Physics. 

The air charged with nervous energy and the scent of freshly printed syllabi, you quickly snag a seat right at the front row of Professor Yaga’s class. 

Ah, you’ll never forget how peaceful those few seconds to yourself after introductions were - before the devil incarnate dramatically swung open those lecture hall doors and plopped himself down right next to you. Late. 

“Any closer to Yaga and you’d be fucking his wife, y’know.” a voice hums from beside you, shattering your daydreams of passing this class with flying colors and riding a wave of glory into becoming a Nobel prize-winning physicist. 

With a slight scowl, you turn your attention to the source of disturbance - only to meet eyes with (self-proclaimed) campus sweetheart, Satoru Gojo, leaning on his chair with an air of nonchalance. At your silence, he repeats, “I said any closer-”

“I heard what you said.” you snap, irritation flaring at the amused twinkle in his blue eyes and the mirthful grin that spreads across his lips at your reaction. “Doesn’t erase the fact that you’re sitting here too.” you raise a brow.

“Oh me? That’s because I’m already fucking his wife, sweetheart.” he deadpans with a blank expression. 

What? The tense silence that follows is deafening - for the first time ever in your life, you were shocked into speechlessness. 

A beat passes. One. Two. Before Gojo bursts into hysterics, clutching his stomach. “You- you shoulda seen the look on your face- HAHAHA-” he gets out between uncontrollable laughs. Face burning, you train your eyes forward and will yourself to not glance at the 6’3 mess cackling beside you.

Ugh. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Just think happy thoughts - kittens, quantum mechanics, being valedictorian. Desperately attempting to block out the giggling thorn at your side, you recoil at Professor Yaga’s extremely disapproving look in your direction. 

Panicking, and dreams of being his ace student slowly flushing down the drain, you quickly flip through your notes, attempting to catch up to where the lecture had now started. 

“Looks like we’re in trouble, partner~” Gojo’s dramatic stage-whisper catches the attention of students around you, them chuckling at your expense. 

“Hey, you’re the student president, right? Hey~ Heyyy prez~” As Professor Yaga continues his spiel about the syllabus, you continue to very obviously ignore the incessant comments that spill out of Gojo’s lips, to stifled laughs from his fast-forming entourage. 

The harder you tried to focus on Professor Yaga’s words, the louder and more absurd Gojo’s comments became - as if he’d made it his personal mission to enrage you. A sense of impending doom looming over you, you glare at him with a look that could’ve melted steel, hissing out, “Do you ever in your life shut the fuck up?”

Eyes widening in mock innocence, he grins “Oh~ I didn't know our student prez could get so feisty. Maybe I should take notes instead of doodling hearts around your name in my notebook.”

Ears ringing in embarrassment and frustration, and mind a whirlwind of how bad it would really be if you killed Gojo right here, you almost miss Professor Yaga’s question, “Now, would anyone here be able to discuss the interpretations in the debate between the Copenhagen interpretation and the Pilot-Wave theory?”

Teetering on the edge of your seat, you raise your hand, scrambling to salvage whatever is left of your academic reputation. You and- Gojo?

You start at the call of your name from Professor Yaga, “The Copenhagen Interpretation uses Heisenberg's uncertainty principle and emphasizes measurement to state that quantum-level particles can act as both waves and particles. It’s the most widely accepted and pragmatic theory.”

Gojo basically falls out of his seat in eagerness to answer after you.

“Ah, yes, Mr. Gojo.” 

You internally groan, ready for whatever bullshit was about to come out of his mouth. 

With a deep breath, “Not to be the devil’s advocate but the Pilot-Wave theory makes way more sense practically.”

Professor Yaga raises an intrigued eyebrow at Gojo’s statement, the class collectively holds a breath - as if awaiting the impending academic battlefield.

Gojo, with a cocky grin, plows on, “Think about it. The Pilot-Wave theory suggests that particles have definite positions and paths, unlike the uncertainty principle of the Copenhagen Interpretation. It's like predicting where a ball will land after you throw it, rather than saying it could be anywhere until you look."

Oh? He wasn’t a complete idiot?

Yet, you roll your eyes, “But the Pilot-Wave theory is too fanciful, it brings in too many hidden variables that have their own set of problems. It goes against the measurements and principles of locality!”

Unbothered by the challenge, Gojo leans back further in his chair, “What’s a couple complications? It’s a lot clearer on a microscopic level, none of that weird uncertainty of the Copenhagen Interpretation.”

Irritation running through your veins, you scoff at his condescending tone, “It might seem intuitive, but experiments and observations support the probabilistic nature of quantum mechanics.” You’re almost out of your chair at this point, an accusing finger pointed at Gojo. “Despite its weirdness, the Copenhagen Interpretation has proven successful in predicting outcomes.” 

“Oh yeah? And it’s also only used by hardasses that just want to shut up and calculate, sweetheart.”

“Big talk for a little bi-” 

“OKAY STUDENTS, that’s enough for now. Let’s put a pin in this discussion and move on with the topic.” Professor Yaga, who had been watching the debate with amusement, promptly ends it once you two begin to get overly heated. 

The rest of the class, on the edge of their seats and probably hoping for some fists swinging between the academic titans, now sit back in disappointment at the fight cut off early. 

You sit back in indignation, fuming at how Gojo had gotten you so worked up. And he was wrong too! 

The lecture continues as if you two were never two curse words away from each other’s throats. 

But, in the midst of it all, your glare meets blue, sparkling with amusement - a jolt of electricity runs through your body at the glint of recognition of the other’s brilliance. An unspoken yet undeniable competition.

You’ve avoided Gojo like the plague for the past few months since then - which isn’t doing much when said plague follows you around everywhere with incessant calls of “Hey, hardass prez~”. The only time you seek him out being to gloatingly show off the large, red “100” on your tests - to which, unfortunately, he does the same. 

It’s stupid. It’s childish. Honestly, sometimes you think he just tries to get under your skin for the hell of it.

But you don’t have the time to think too deeply into that.

Just like you don’t have time for this frat party. 

Music and alcohol thrumming through your veins, it’s always the same thing. You’d rather be holed up getting ahead of your physics textbook than be here. Yet, you owed a favor to your friend Haibara - and he’d been bugging you to come to this party for weeks now. 

You’ll just stay another hour then leave, you sigh.

Zoning out as Haibara plays an overly-intense game of beer pong, you’re startled by an arm around your shoulder. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t our lil’ prez looking like she’d rather peel paint than be here.” The expensive cologne hits you before the realization of who this was. “Drooling over the jocks? I recommend the STEM majors, sweetheart, jocks aren’t that great in bed.”

Quickly shrugging off his arm, you scowl, “Not like STEM majors are any better. And unlike some people, I have goals beyond being the life of the party.”

Decked out in slacks and a slightly too-unbuttoned shirt, Gojo chuckles, “Yeah, like what? Banishing fun?” Cerulean eyes gleaming with mischief, “You gotta let loose for once, sweetheart. Not everything in life is about academics and accolades.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes “Well not like I-” but whatever snarky retort gets caught in your throat as Gojo seizes your hand, effortlessly pulling you onto the dance floor. 

Caught off guard, you can do nothing more than sputter in surprise as he leans down to murmur in your ear, above the bass reverberating the walls, “C’mon hardass, sometimes in life, you just gotta- dance!” 

Gojo spins you into a dramatic dip, his silver chain brushing your face and his hand on your back burning into your skin.

Your cheeks burn in embarrassment - yeah, embarrassment - as the people around you cheer in amusement at the science department’s biggest rivals navigating the dance floor with surprising chemistry.

This was ridiculous. And yet, music ringing in your ears, you almost crack a smile. Almost. That is until your eye catches Haibara’s surprised ones from the side of the dance floor. Wait - here you were dancing with Gojo. 

Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru.

Immediately pushing him off with a hand to his chest, you don’t listen to whatever spills out of his mouth as you make your way to Haibara, disappearing with him into the crowd.  

“Hey, hey you okay? Wasn’t that the guy you were manifesting would step on Lego with his bare foot?” Haibara’s concerned voice speaks up from wherever you were dragging him through this sprawling frat house. 

“Ugh, yeah. Sorry about that, I don’t even- Anyway, how did the beer pong go?” you snap out of your reverie. What happened there? You were almost…enjoying yourself with Gojo Satoru of all people. 

Listening to Haibara brag about his dominating beer pong win thankfully took your mind off of your little endeavor with Gojo. 

“And then Yuji totally-”

“AH, THERE YOU ARE! Perfect, come join we’re two people short!” your kinda-friend Shoko’s drunken drawl breaks through the conversation. You can barely get a word out as she forcefully drags you two into a dimly lit room against your protests. 

The atmosphere heavy with beer and laughter, she plops you two down onto the floor in a neat circle of people before taking her seat beside you. “GREAT! Now we’ve got everyone, we can finally start.”

With a mischievous grin, Shoko declares, “Alrighty, folks! Time for the ol’ classic - we’re playing 7 minutes in heaven!” pulling out an old-fashioned, tattered hat from behind her back, to a collective mix of groans and cheers from the circle. 

“Where did you even find that ratty old thing, Shoko?” a sharply handsome man - Geto, you think - chuckles from his seat opposite you. And beside him- your heart stops. Gojo.

A smirk curling his lips and twinkling blue eyes locked on you. 

As if on instinct, you move to get up - only to be brought back down by a hand on your wrist. “Nuh-uh, no one’s escaping, c’mon it’ll be fun.” Shoko smirks, beginning to hand out pieces of paper to write down your names.

Apprehension pooling in your stomach, you share a glance with Haibara, who was honestly just happy to be here. Reluctantly, you scrawl down your name, tension building as it drops into the abyss of the hat.

“As our first attempted escapee, I think the prez should go first.” that agitating voice you knew too well speaks up. If looks could kill, Gojo would be six feet under and you’d be dancing all over his grave with a textbook on the Copenhagen Interaction. 

To agreeing laughter - and your impending doom - the hat is promptly placed in front of you. God, you knew you should’ve stayed home. With a shaky hand, you delve in, grasping onto a slightly crumpled piece of paper.

Not Gojo. Please not Gojo. Literally anyone but Gojo- 

Turning it over.

Satoru Gojo.

You jolt in surprise, rereading the hasty handwriting over and over - as if willing it to change. This must be some kind of sick joke. Eyes meeting Gojo’s, a flash of surprises passes his face before a self-satisfied grin takes over. He looked way too fucking pleased with himself.

“No fucking way.” Shoko mutters as it dawns on the group just who you were paired up with. Cheers and wolf-whistles erupt, filling the room as Satoru stands up extending a hand theatrically towards you. “If her highness the student prez would do me the utmost pleasure of joining me.”

You scoff, jeez it would be a surprise if you two didn’t kill each other in there. “Unless she’s…intimidated?” he bats his long lashes at you mockingly.

Intimidated? Of who? Swatting away Gojo’s hand, you stand up. “Intimidated? Don’t make me laugh.” 

He leans down, retorting, “I’ve tried but you don’t seem to know how.”. The room holds their breath, attention squarely on the two of you.

A beat of silence passes as you glare at him. You really could smack his annoyingly pretty face right now, but you shouldn’t - too many witnesses. 

“Now now, you two. Save it for the closet.” 

Ever the mediator, Geto ushers you two in the direction of the - very cramped - closet tucked into a corner of the room. 

Before you know it, the creak of the heavy wooden door rings in your ears as the door closes behind you. The loud click of a lock resonates, plunging you two into darkness. 

The muffled sounds of the party seem miles away as you try to focus on your breathing - trying not to let your mind drift to Gojo. You could feel the heat of his body, the ghost of his presence less than a foot away from you.

“So…” you flinch as Gojo’s voice cuts through the deafening silence. “You still alive and breathing after being trapped in a tiny closet with me?”

You huff, desperately wanting to break out of this closet, “Yes, but you probably won’t be if you don’t stay on your side.”

“This closet is barely a closet, there’s no ‘side’, sweetheart. And that’s my leg you’re resting on.”

You immediately scramble to move away from the warmth of Gojo’s leg that you’d been subconsciously leaning yours on. In the chaos, you probably did a bit more damage than solving. “Ah! Wait- watch the crown jewels, hardass.” 

You distance yourself as much as possible in the small space, knee burning where it had brushed up against Gojo’s that.

God, you were making a fool of yourself.

“As much as I like forceful women, you better take me out on a date first, sweetheart.” As your eyes adjusted to the dim lighting filtering in through the slight crack of the door, you could make out that signature playful grin. 

Your irritation simmers beneath the surface. Gojo always knew how to get under your skin. 

“Don’t you worry your empty lil’ head, I wouldn’t fuck you even if I was paid.” you bite back.

“Oh yeah?” Gojo leans in slightly, his voice low and teasing. “You sure about that, prez? I’ve been told that I’m irresistible.”

You raise a brow, unimpressed. “Yeah, irresistibly hard to not smack.” 

“I always did like ‘em feisty. Makes our little debates all the more interesting.”

“Our debates would be a lot more interesting if you learned to keep that big mouth shut.”

“Oh? C’mon, prez, you love this ‘big mouth’. And you love the challenge. I see the way you look for me every time you answer one of Yaga’s questions, y’know.” Gojo murmurs, gaze piercing into yours.

He leans in closer - now definitely not on his side of the closet. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d call it chemistry. Admit it and I might consider not calling you ‘hardass’ for a whole week.”

“What- That’s just because- I’d rather be called ‘hardass’ for a lifetime than admit to having any chemistry with you. I can’t even tolerate you for seven minutes here.” you sputter at both his proximity and his (absurd) accusations.

“As the student prez, isn’t your entire job to tolerate everyone? You’re a walking contradiction, sweetheart.”

“I am not. You have no effect on me.” you protest, standing firm. In the heat of your argument, you and Gojo have drawn closer to each other. His breath now fanning your face as he hums, voice a seductive tease, “I do, admit it. There’s a part of you that likes our chemistry.”

A defiant spark ignites in your eyes, “I’ll admit no such thing.”

“Then…hit me like I know you want to if you don’t want this.” he whispers, voice breathless. He closes the distance.

Gojo’s lips meet yours. 

Soft, they were so soft. 

Your heartbeat thundering in surprise, a hand raising to - to what? Smack him away? Eyes fluttering closed, your hand fists his shirt, the other subconsciously finding its way to his cloudy locks. Tugging. Kissing him back. 

Satoru kisses you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, he knows - he probably won’t.

Lips searing against yours, his eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste. Sweet - so sweet - just like candy, with a hint of Baileys and everything that he’ll never be able to have. 

A strangled groan leaves his throat when you bite down on his lips. Tugging with your teeth. Shit, fuck him and his bigass ego, he wanted to be the one showing off his irresistibility but really it’s the other way around. 

Mouth opening to let you in, he drinks in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Large hands on your face pulling you impossibly closer to him in this godforsaken closet. It was dizzying - almost as if it hurt to part, drawn by that familiar magnetism that always seems to hang around you.

Lost in the heat of the moment, Satoru’s hands wander the expanse of your body. Groping and squeezing every curve and dip - he doesn’t have enough time. He probably never will.

A hand rests firmly on your hips. Awaiting. Breaking away - just a fraction - he breathes out urgently into your lips, “I need to taste you. Let me taste you. Please.”

“Desperate, huh?”

Your gaze pierces through him, it always does. Immediately after your disoriented nod, he presses a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses along your neck. God, he could do this forever.

You shudder as he hastily bunches your tight dress at your hips, sending blood rushing straight to his cock. Shit, this was not how he expected these 7 minutes to go.

Hurriedly falling to his knees, the pain doesn’t even register when he comes face-to-face with your clothed cunt. Panties already so wet - just for him. Cock twitching carnally, he needed to taste you now. 

Tongue flattening across your swollen folds through your underwear, just a slight taste of your wet pussy and Satoru already thinks he might pass out. Ah, so good - of course you taste heavenly.

“Ah! Gojo- more.”

Pulling away, he feels drunk off the whimper of disappointment that escapes your mouth. “Call me Satoru.” he hums, fingers deftly sliding your soaked panties down your legs. His hot breath fanning your entrance has you clenching your thighs together, desperate for any friction.

Mouth watering at this, Satoru curses the darkness inside the closet - can’t even admire your pretty pussy right. You flinch as his face meets your cunt. Shit, this was better than he’d ever imagined on those lonely nights pathetically fucking his fist.

He breathes you in so sinfully, tongue sliding teasingly between your folds in a leisurely rhythm that almost has him forgetting however many minutes you two have left. Frankly, he couldn’t give less of a fuck about it either. Sinful squelches fill the confined space, along with your quiet moans of his name. 

“Hngh- S-Satoru. Feel s’good. Faster.” 

Ah, it’s really music to his ears. Your voice plays on repeat in his mind. He doesn’t even realize the call from outside until you look down at him, eyes dazed and kiss-bitten lips moving to panickedly mutter, “Satoru, we only have three more minutes.”

Ah, guess he’ll have to take his time in his dreams. 

“I only need two.” Satoru purrs, lips ghosting your wet core, voice sending goosebumps down your spine - all the way down to your dripping cunt. 

“W-well, stop hngh- running your mouth then.” you retort.

Satoru’s smirk against your plush folds is the last thing you see before he dives nose-deep in your pussy. He doesn’t waste time, tongue dipping in and out of your hole at an unforgiving pace. In and out in and out in and-

“Hah- yes! Satoru jus’ like that!” you hiss out, desperately trying to keep the moans ripping from your throat to a minimum, in fear of the others outside hearing. 

Noticing, Satoru snakes a hand up to your mouth - bullying his ringed-fingers in through your swollen lips. His index caresses your tongue, speeding up his movements on your pretty pussy as you gag around him. Moans catch in your throat as you struggle to accommodate him, the pleasure of being stretched from two ends too much. 

Satoru only has to take one look - tears clinging to your lashes and drool trickling down the corner of your mouth as you suck on his fingers - before he thinks he might just cum in his pants. Fuck, it was so lewd. 

You tighten your grasp on his hair, sure that your knees would give out if it wasn’t for the bruising grip he had on your hips, keeping you firmly on his mouth. Unable to run away. 

Shit, for someone so tight-laced, you were so messy on his mouth. He moans as your slick pools in his mouth, dripping down the corners of his lips. The  tap! tap! tap! of it hitting the hardwood floor rings deafeningly in his ears.

Ah, so this is why they call it 7 minutes in heaven. Satoru thinks he wouldn’t mind dying if it was in between your legs being suffocated by your cunt. 

Your entrance clamps down desperately on his tongue, forcing him to bully it into your snug pussy, fucking you unrelentingly. His nose rubbing against your swollen clit over and over. 

At this point, Satoru doesn’t know whether the pulse he feels is that of his heartbeat or your cunt, throbbing and achingly needy for his mouth. His nose stimulates your clit just right, sending shockwaves through your body that have you bucking into him for more.

Voice slightly muffled by his fingers, “Fuck- Satoru, keep going. Hngh- I’m gonna cum!” 

The way your walls desperately try to fuck his tongue has his cock straining so painfully against his trousers. Satoru increases his abuse on your cunt mercilessly, the harsh pace making you squeal and buck into his face. Your juices are now all over his mouth, gushing around his tongue. In and out in and out in and out-

“Satoru!”

You cum hard - all over Satoru’s pretty face.

Now, Satoru loves when you run your mouth and infuriate him, but he might just love it even more when you’re falling apart and speechless under his touch. 

Riding out your high on his features, you can feel yourself quivering around his tongue as he laps up your juices as if it were a delicacy. Deep moans leaving his mouth and vibrating across your soaked cunt, making you jolt at the overstimulation.

Pulling back, Satoru admires your unfocused eyes and bruised lips. “For someone that so fucking despises me, your slutty pussy sure is sucking me in so desperately.” he murmurs, slightly out of breath after what just transpired. 

“Sh-shut up.”

Ah, if only he got to see this view more often. 

You can’t help but feel the same way. Seeing Satoru fucked out, vibrant eyes half-lidded and blown out, your slick prettily glossing all over his mouth and nose. A small voice in the back of your mind wishes he was more like this and not whatever he is when he’s getting on your nerves.

“ONE MORE MINUTE! Finish up whatever devil’s tango or death match y’all are having in there!”

Those troublesome thoughts are pushed out of your mind as soon as you hear Shoko call from outside.

The bubble is broken. Jumping apart as far as possible in the cramped closet, you press yourself into the closet wall as you two wordlessly rush to make yourselves slightly more presentable. The air, once charged with overflowing tension and sex, now so strained.

Bending down to feel for the panties that Satoru- no, Gojo had thrown god-knows-where, your hands graze his - still slightly wet with your spit. Snatching your hands back as if it burned, you make out Gojo’s figure pocketing something.

…

Your panties??

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” you hiss, face burning at both his actions and the idea of going outside without panties.

“Just think of it as repayment for the fun.” he hums, mirth spilling into his tone. And before you could snap at his antics, Shoko is ripping the door open and looking around the closet for what you can only assume to be missing body parts and blood.

“Aw, man. And here I was thinking Satoru would be six feet under by now.” she groans, walking off disappointedly - for which you were eternally grateful otherwise she’d have seen the few suspicious stains on the floor.

“Remember, you owe me twenty, Shoko.” Geto speaks up from the circle. Were they…betting on whether you and Gojo would kill each other in there?

Finally stepping out of that godforsaken closet, you catch the smirks and raised eyebrows from some of the people from the group.

Meeting Gojo’s eye, a smirk curls around his swollen lip as he swipes a thumb across it. Agonizingly slow. Teasing. 

Your cheeks flare, something pooling in your stomach. Ugh, this is why you hate frat parties.

“You alright, man? You look…flushed?” you hear Geto question, pointedly staring at Satoru’s slightly disheveled look.

It was all getting too much - the alcohol in the air, the thumping of the overplayed pop music, and him. You felt so lightheaded. Ripping your gaze from Gojo’s you leave without so much as a goodbye to him, only stopping for a reassuring nod at Haibara. You make a beeline for the exit, dashing out of there and down the winding staircase as fast as you could. 

Focused on navigating the packed party, you almost don’t register Gojo rushing after you. Ignoring whatever words were tumbling out of Gojo’s mouth, you silently thank the sorority that had just pulled up - clinging onto him in greeting, making it impossible to follow after you. 

The cool night air washes over you as you finally step outside. You sigh in relief as you leave the chaotic sounds of the party - and him - behind. 

Impatiently waiting for your friend on the way to pick you up, only two thoughts echo in your mind.

He actually only needed two minutes.

What the fuck?

Meanwhile, back in that heady room, Shoko nudges Suguru, the latter still watching in amusement where Satoru had run after you in the door. “Hm?” he asks, absent-mindedly.

“Why do most of these papers have Satoru’s name?”

---

You pass through the next morning in a daze. The hardest part was probably trying to get dressed without making eye contact with the purple finger marks on your hips that Sato- Gojo had left to remember him by.

You still can’t believe that happened. 

It’s alright, it was just a mistake in the heat of the moment - you just have to forget it ever happened, right? But that’s easier said than done when your last class of the day is Advanced Quantum Physics.

Cursing your timetable, you step through the crowded campus. You pull your sweater tighter around yourself, the fabric doing nothing to stop your skin searing where Gojo’s lips had been just last night.

Alright, you just had to get through this one class today. There’s a lot of people in Professor Yaga’s class - it’s not like you’ll necessarily see that bane of your existence-

“Yooo prez, fate just seems to bring us together hmm?” 

Gojo almost topples out of his chair, waving in your direction. As your eyes sweep across the room, you can feel your heart sinking. Shit, you really feel like you’re being Punk’d right now. 

Cursing whoever was up there for this cruel joke, you make your way to the desk beside Satoru’s - the only empty one. 

Slumping down onto the chair with a frustrated huff, you sink into yourself - eyes trained firmly forward and ignoring the playful grin in your peripheral vision.

To your surprise, Gojo doesn’t say a word throughout the lecture. Not a single comment about fucking any professor’s wife - or your cunt. Huh, did last night cause some type of qi deviation or something?

As Professor Yaga drones on about quantum entanglement, you find the words going in one ear and out the other, too focused on wondering what Gojo’s game was.

It’s only towards the end of the lecture, at the introduction of some new assignment that you find yourself finally letting your guard down. Okay, see, it wasn’t too bad. Now time to go back to your apartment and study whatever quantum entanglement was for the next five hours.

“Ah- And remember, the midterm assignment pairings are posted on Canvas.” 

What was that?

God, you hated working with other people. It was much more efficient for you to stay in and finish this paper in one sitting.

“So, partner~ My place or yours?”

What?

The bell rings, its metallic chime resonating in your mind almost as loud as Gojo’s words. Signaling the end of class - and probably the end of your sanity. 

You wish the ground would swallow you up at this very moment. These days have really not been your days.

---

“Literally what do you bring to the table?”

“Comedic relief and my undeniably good looks.”

“...”

“...and also the case study and background information.”

The air at the stuffy café just off-campus was a mixture of freshly ground coffee and hushed conversations - of course, occasionally disrupted by the chaotic debates that erupted from your little booth.

Not too long ago, as everyone moved to file out of the classroom, you were frozen, glaring at your open laptop so intensely you half-expected it to combust - scrutinizing the neat arrangement of Gojo’s name next to your own over a million times.  

Finally sighing in defeat, you nodded in surrender at Gojo - who was whooping in victory. But, you were still adamant on meeting somewhere in public. The last time you two were left alone ended up…interesting. 

“Then you do that and I’ll take care of the rest of the theoretical analysis and evaluation. Okay, sounds good, Gojo.” you deadpan, rubbing the sides of your forehead in frustration. 

“Ouch, no Satoru?”

Ignoring his comment, you promptly slam your laptop closed, gathering your things with a determined sigh. Ready to escape the stifling atmosphere of the cafe. “So you do that and put it on the doc, and I’ll do the same with my parts. See ya.”

That’s when you feel a large hand covering yours - the same one from- “Hey there now, hardass, stay a little longer - gotta make sure you don’t slander quantum entanglement in our essay the same way you do with the Pilot-Wave theory.” Gojo interrupts your intrusive train of thought. 

“What? Unlike you, I don’t slander any scientific theories. Although, I do think the idea of entangled particles jumping around like you do is hardly the hallmark of a stable scientific theory.” you retort, face burning but setting down your bag nonetheless.

Resting his face on his hands, he grins at you. “Oh yeah? I think stability is overrated, prez. Quantum entanglement challenges you because it’s a realm where your precious stability crumbles in the face of non-local correlations.”

God, was he glad he begged on his knees to Yaga to pair you two together. He was having way too much fun with this. 

“Just because particles can communicate faster than you can comprehend doesn't mean we should abandon reason.” you raise a brow. 

“Well, I think you should just embrace the uncertainty, sweetheart. Life is a game of chance, just like quantum entanglement.”

“Oh, really?” you drone out, sarcastically. 

“Yeah, think about it. For instance, I never thought I’d still be alive and breathing after last night. But here I am.” at your stunned silence, he continues. “I for sure thought you’d have the coffin ready as soon as I kissed y-”

You panickedly place your hands over his mouth to shut him up, those blue eyes twinkle in amusement. “When I said you had a big mouth I really wasn’t lying, huh.” 

Slowly removing your hands once it seemed like Gojo wouldn’t spill your endeavors in this family-friendly cafe, you sigh, “Okay- We’ll get some shit done today, alright. But this is the last time I’m meeting with you for this.”

“Mhm~ You got it, prez.”

It was not the last time you met with Gojo for this. 

Nor was it the second-last.

Or the third-last. 

Each and every time you two worked together on the assignment, you’d spend more time bickering about anything ranging from what you’d learned in Professor Yaga’s class that day to whether the old lady who frequented the café was a part of the mafia. 

“I’m telling you, she handles those knitting needles like they’re a weapon.”

“Mhm and she sips her Earl Grey like she’s plotting espionage. Now, get to work before I use my teaspoon as a weapon.”

“I’d rather investigate her than this damn Qiskit simulation.”

“Sure, Gojo. I’ll add her to our list of groundbreaking research projects.”

“Don’t come crying to me when I rub it in your face once we see her on the news as a mafia queenpin, prez.”

You’re pretty sure the café employees have a love-hate relationship with you and Gojo - too lively to be one of their favorite regulars, but arguments too amusing to kick you two out. 

And as for your relationship with Gojo…well. It’s not as if you can’t go 7 minutes without being somewhat civil, and yet that’s exactly the issue, isn’t it?

After what had happened that night, it feels as if there’s something charging the air whenever you two are together.

You chalk it up to just lingering tension, but that still doesn’t explain the way Gojo’s eyes hold a warm twinkle whenever he looks at you - gaze a little too warm than you’d expect a rival to have. But it’s fine, you just have to ace this assignment and then this strange dynamic can go back to normal.

It’s only towards the end of your assignment that you realize how wrong you really were.

---

Out of breath and darting across campus towards where you knew Gojo was waiting, you half-wish you joined the track team instead of the student government. Damn student reps, can’t keep proper archives.

As much as you got a kick out of getting on Gojo’s nerves, you hated to keep anyone waiting.

“Ah! Prez! Was heartbroken thinking you’d stood me up, y’know?” Satoru calls once he spots you bolting towards him on that dimly-lit pathway. Wow, maybe you should’ve joined the track team.

You trip. Ah, maybe not.

Feet automatically hastening your way, he catches you. Well, more like you fall into his arms.

“Just in time, huh?” he chuckles, thankful for the sun dipping below the horizon - otherwise you’d surely have caught the rosy flush tinting his cheeks. Arms wrapped around your waist and supporting your waist, Satoru almost coos at the surprised look gracing your face. You always did something to his heart.

Hastily distancing himself from you once you stand on your own, he rambles - anything to drown out the banging of his heart against his chest. “So, I’m assuming you were out there doing all your president-ly duties?” 

“Ah! Yes, I’m so sorry, the meeting ran overtime and-” 

Listening to you rant, Satoru thinks that he wouldn’t want to be anywhere but here - bickering with you. He’s only snapped out his reverie at your disappointed groan. Oh, what was this? He didn’t even realize his feet had carried him to the little café already. 

Ripping his eyes from you, he turns to what moping at. A sign with red writing is plastered over the very locked café entrance - Sorry! Staff training today, hope to see you tomorrow!

“Seems like everyone’s got meetings today.” he hears you grumble. Satoru knows it isn’t right, but his heart leaps slightly at the chance to get to know you outside of that familiar cafe.

You, meanwhile, felt tension - and something else - pooling in your stomach. Shit, if the sanctuary of your café is no longer available…

“Well, we could just go home and finish off the paper by ourselves. It’s only the last bit anyway.” you suggest, voice slightly shaky at the idea and anticipation of actually being alone with Gojo after so long. 

“But Suguru’s such a loud snorer, I’d never get any work done.” Gojo whines. Well, there goes that plan.

“The library?”

“I hear it’s haunted this time of year.” he answers right away. 

“Ghosts are seasonal?” you ask absent-mindedly, too focused on weighing between the need to finish this assignment today and the uncertainty of what would happen between you and Gojo.

A tense silence fills the slowly darkening street as you go through all your options. Finally, watching the long shadows casted now, you sigh. “Fine. We’ll go to my place.” you mutter out. 

“Would you get angry if I celebrated right now?”

“Maybe.”

The walk to your apartment is bathed in the soft orange glow of the setting sun. It was almost peaceful - if it weren’t for Gojo’s excited chattering about god-knows-what. 

Your mind was running a million miles a minute. Was something like last time going to happen? Were you a lecher for expecting it? Why didn’t you mind the thought as much as you think you should?

You risk a glance at Satoru, who was in the middle of a passionate speech about how ketchup was a valid condiment on pasta. Soft sunlight paints his hair an amber hue, casting warm shadows that bring out his pretty features, eyes sparkling with passion and mischief. He was beautiful.

Wait. Beautiful?

“Hey isn’t this your apartment building or is walking past it a pre-entrance ritual?” 

Ah. Whoops.

You snap out of those ridiculous notions, gathering whatever dignity you have left to walk back to the apartment complex you’d left in the dust while wrapped up in your thoughts.

“Oooo, didn’t take you for much of a decorator, hardass.” Gojo comments, flitting about your cozy apartment to look at all the little knick-knacks and pictures 

“Did you really think I lived in some sterile lab?” you retort. Gojo’s almost-endearing curiosity amuses you enough to let go of the electricity thrumming through your body at having him so close. In your home. 

“Well, I expected more beakers and fewer fairy lights, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, pretending to be offended. “Believe it or not, Gojo, hardasses can have a sense of style, too.”

He continues his exploration, stopping in front of a photo on the wall. “Who’s this model?” he grins, pointing at a picture of you in stuffy formal attire at some conference.

You sigh, knowing exactly which photo he's referring to. “That, Gojo, is me at a conference presenting a groundbreaking research paper.”

“Groundbreaking, huh? Is that what they call it these days?” he hums, arching an eyebrow playfully. 

“Yes, and six feet under is what they’ll be calling you if you don’t get your ass here and finish this paper.”

“...yes, prez.”

Writing the conclusion and inserting citations is always the fun part. If you could write an essay on whatever you want, it would be only conclusions and citations, you think.

After a few hours of working on your paper, apparently Gojo does not feel the same way.

“Fuck Noodletools. All my homies hate Noodletools.”

“This is why you only have two friends, Gojo.”

“Hey! I’m a very likable person, y’know.” 

“...”

He sets his laptop down leaning closer to you over where he was seated opposite you on the coffee table, clearly bored of citations for the time being. “Also, aren’t we friends, sweetheart? Technically I have three.”

You raise a brow, this was the first time Satoru had ever addressed the strange dynamic you two had. “Are we?” you ask, genuinely. 

A deafening silence envelopes your living room. This was the first time you’d seen such a serious expression take over Gojo’s face as he answers, voice even, “I’m not sure.”

The atmosphere thickens with a charged tension, the weight of Gojo’s words lingering in the room. A spark flickers in his eyes. You feel like you could almost get whiplash from the contrast between the heated banter to where you two were now. Was it always so hot in this room?

You let out a strained laugh, attempting to diffuse the seriousness and go back to a trivial territory you were more familiar with. “I never thought the great Gojo Satoru would be uncertain about something.” Your eyes flicker unwillingly from his intense gaze to his worry-bitten lips.

The mischief returning to his gleaming eyes, he smirks “Uncertainty can be thrilling, don't you think, sweetheart?”

You don’t even know what to say to that - and you don’t have to. Because before you can respond, Gojo swiftly leans over the coffee table - catching your lips in a sudden, electrifying kiss. 

Time stands still. A shiver runs down your spine as you realize that you didn’t want to push him away. At all. In fact, you grab a fistful of his soft locks, pulling him impossibly deeper into the kiss. 

Pulling away mere millimeters, Gojo’s hot breath fanning your mouth as he whispers, “Told you the uncertainty is thrilling, sweetheart.”

“Shut up and kiss me.” you grumble, irritated because his lips ghosting yours was not enough.

Before you know it, Gojo has you pinned against the plush couch. His lips finding your, the kiss deepening as he yearns for that desperate connection - as if each breath depends on smothering you with dizzying kisses. 

The room seems to shrink, right now only filled with the heated exchange of breaths and the feeling of Satoru’s lips searing into yours. 

You think he tastes like caramel and uncertainty - yet, this time, you fall into the unknown with open arms. Wrapping your legs around his toned waist, your arms around his broad shoulders - bringing him to you so close you’d think the laws of physics were taking a coffee break.

It almost hurt. 

The intensity of the moment only growing, the atmosphere in your homey apartment crackles with a tension that you knew in the back of your mind had been building for so long - ever since that party.

Your heartbeat echoes in your ears. You knew this would happen.

And a part of you needed it to.

His fingers trace a path along your jawline, leaving a trail of heat - you shudder, craving for more. 

“Gojo, I want you.” you breathe out, words muffled by Satoru sucking sinfully on your lips. 

He pulls away slightly, delicate strings of saliva still connecting him to you. Every fiber of his being resisting to part.

“Don’t call me that.” he purrs out, the intensity of his half-lidded stare sending a jolt straight down to your heated core. “It’s Satoru when we’re fucking, remember?”

Looking into his sultry eyes, for the first time ever you decide to heed what Satoru says. “S-Satoru, please.” you whimper, hips bucking up to meet his own. You can feel the large outline of his achingly hard cock straining against those stupidly overpriced trousers, pussy quivering in anticipation. 

Now, there have been three times in his life that Satoru thinks he has died and gone to heaven. The first being when he discovered that the ramen joint by his dorm also had free Wi-Fi. Second, that first day in Advanced Quantum Physics when you snapped at him told him to shut the fuck up. 

And finally, right now, as he’s got you needy and squirming underneath him - such pretty gasps of his name leaving your kiss-bitten lips. 

God, navigating quantum physics is a walk in the park in comparison to what you put his heart through. 

“Hmm, never in my life thought I’d see his view, sweetheart.” he whispers lowly into your ear, delighting in the goosebumps that erupt along your alluring body. How did he get so lucky?

Hastily pulling down your shorts, his mouth waters at your wet panties. Another prize for him, hm? Throwing them along with your panties to god-knows-where, Satoru drinks in the sight of your bare pussy - a privilege that he didn’t get in that godforsaken closet. 

Ah, so ready and dripping for him already. Your slick glistens out of your heated entrance as you clench around nothing. “Aww, they’ve faded.” he whines, heart lurching at the lack of his marks from last time.

It’s alright, he can just make more.

Not one to waste time, with a bruising grip holding your hips steady, Satoru grinds his painfully hard cock into your needy cunt, savoring the pretty mewls that leave your mouth. The way your swollen pussy quivers against him makes him throw his head back, seeing stars already. 

Nipping along your neck, leaving marks he knows you’ll have to cover up tomorrow. “Sit on m’face,” he murmurs into your skin.

“W-what?”

Pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses along the valley of your breasts, Satoru breathes you in. Fuck, he prefers the smell of your skin to any scent in the world. “Sit- on- my- face.” he repeats, words punctuated with erotic kisses to your hardened nipples, tongue flicking them through the fabric of your clothes. 

“You’re gonna be the death of me, y’know?” you gasp. Yet, still shifting on that cramped couch. Why do you two always fuck in the most inconvenient places?

Satoru’s legs hang off the end of your couch as he lays on his back, you’d almost find the position funny - if it weren’t for you straddling his head. 

His hot breath on your wet cunt sends waves of electricity though your entire body as you hover over his mouth. Your needy pussy right above where his mouth is, hesitating. Your slick oozes slowly through your swollen folds - drip! drip! drip! onto his awaiting tongue, brows furrowing and eyes rolling to the back of his head at your sweet juices.

“Mhm, and I hope that you’ll be the death of me.” he hums, tongue savoring your taste.

It’s the last thing said before Satoru surges forward, plunging mouth-first into your heated cunt. 

Despite not being on a time crunch this time, Satoru doesn’t waste a moment teasing - he already has you splayed out and aching for him, what more could he want?

He bullies his tongue into your snug cunt, pushing past the first ring of muscle. You twitch around him, sweet moans spilling incessantly from your mouth. “Ah! Hngh- Satoru! Fuck s’good.”

Your sounds of pleasure going straight to his dick, he bucks into your hands. Ah, more. He needs your touch more. 

The feeling of your plush walls clamping down on him only spurs him on further, fucking you at a ruthless pace. One hand gropes across your body, resting a thumb on your clit that rubs tight circles, making you grind down further into his mouth. 

“Your pussy is so honest, sweetheart. She wants me so badly.” he murmurs, voice sending vibrations that make you let out a loud moan which he suspects your neighbors would be complaining about. 

You were so perfect for him, Satoru thinks he might go insane.

You were definitely going insane.

Satoru shows no mercy, his abuse on your dripping cunt only speeding up at every buck of your hips into his tongue. It felt so fucking good. 

Closing your eyes, his pressure on your core has you seeing spots behind your vision. You could feel the curl of his signature smirk against your folds as your pussy tries sucking him back in at every thrust. Too good to let him go. “Knew you loved this ‘big mouth’, hardass.” he murmurs. 

Shit, you can’t be the only one acting so needy like this.

“What’re you doing, sweetheart?” Satoru drawls, voice muffled by your cunt as he feels the breeze of his lower abdomen hitting the heady air of your living room.

“Payback.” is all you mutter out as you fumble his trousers down his long legs. Curse these gyms. Curse squats. Why did he have to be so perfectly sculpted? An Adonis in his true form. 

You can feel the saliva pooling in your mouth as his boxers come into view - rock-hard cock straining painfully against it A patch of pre-cum pools at his head - he wanted you just as badly as you wanted him. Hands shaky from the way Satoru’s incessant tongue was fucking into you, you shuffle his boxers down. 

Satoru’s painfully hard erection springs out, hitting his lower abs. Fuck- how the hell were you supposed to take him? Life was really unfortunate - water was wet, and Gojo Satoru has a huge dick.

“S-sweetheart, you don’t have to-” he murmurs against your swollen pussy. 

From all your times shutting up Gojo Satoru, this one might just be your favorite. 

His words catch desperately in his throat as you spit out a pool of saliva onto Satoru’s furiously flushed head. A low hiss leaving him as you teasingly lick his sensitive slit. 

Never one to back down from a challenge, Satoru attaches his lips with yours once more. He groans lowly into you, the stimulation making you yelp in surprise. 

“So, it’s like that, huh?” 

Satoru doesn’t have the time to ponder your words before you take in as much of his length as you can in one go. “Ah! Hah- Oh fuck, prez. Always knew you were a forceful woman.”

You moan at the slightly salty taste of his precum. Gagging around him, drool drips down the corner of your mouth as you try to take him in inch by fucking inch. It was so fucking messy.

Diving nose-deep in your cunt once again, Satoru continues the merciless pace of his tongue once more. Both your muffled moans fill the heated room, lost in the pleasure and the heat of the moment.

Shit, you knew by the way your walls clenched down on his tongue that you weren’t gonna last long. And judging by the urgent twitching of Satoru’s cock - he wasn’t going to either. 

He fucks up his throbbing erection into your mouth, your eyes watering as his tip hits the back of your throat. Ropes of spit and precum decorate your lips. Even the staunch part of you that never backs down for anyone cheers at being so used. It’s so fucking debauched.

Your hand moves down to massage his heavy balls, tugging and pulling at a rhythm that matches the rapid ministrations of his thumb on your swollen clit.

Mind spinning and pleasure dizzyingly overwhelming as you both lean closer and closer to your highs. With a final mewl around his thick cock, your juices are gushing all around Satoru’s mouth. 

Your mind blanks as you cum, the only things registering being the tingles of your oversensitive pussy as Satoru rides you through your high on his tongue and the taste of Satoru as he cums in hot spurts in your mouth. Salty, with a hint of sweet - the flavor making your pussy twitch.

Fucking his seed into you, your mouth milks his cock. His cum dribbling down the corner of your mouth, all thoughts of dirtying your couch go out your brain when you hear the fucked out whines at the back of Satoru’s throat.

Fuck a refractory period, you wanted to hear that more.

You remove yourself from him with a lewd pop! Cum flowing smoothly down your throat, you lock eyes with Satoru over your shoulder. His jaw drops, pupils blown lustfully as your tongue sticks out - showing the way you’ve swallowed every single drop of his seed.

“Now, Satoru. I need you to fuck me with yours cock just as you did with your tongue.” your words still strained from your orgasm.

Wordlessly, Satoru nods, eyes shining - still reeling from the sinful sight of your bruised lips glossy with his cum - his cum that you swallowed as if it was a delicacy.

Meanwhile you were thinking that you should fuck Satoru more if it meant you got him to shut up and be pretty more often. 

Slightly more clear-headed now, just as lustful. 

Your couch creaks in protest as you shift positions to face Satoru once more. He seizes your lips in a passionate kiss, mouth attacking yours with a desperation for your essence.

Your head spins as you taste yourselves on each other, words tumbling out of your mouth in the haze, “Satoru, bed- now.”

But when has he not challenged you?

“Mhm, anything you say, prez.” he whispers raspily against your lips, still-hard cock teasingly dragging along your swollen folds. 

“Satoru.”

“Fuck yes. Say m’name, sweetheart.” he groans out, throwing his head back against the armrest. Your slick pools all over Satoru’s thick head, dripping sensually down his length to where he gripped tightly at the base. 

Swollen lips dropping into a small “oh”, he slides a ringed hand up his member, spreading your juices. Cock twitching carnally at the way your pussy was leaking all over him, he grits out, “Need to feel you around my cock now, sweetheart.”

So he does.

Thick head pressing into your tight entrance, a low growl leaves his throat at how sinfully tight you were. Fuck, he could just about pass out right now.

“S’tight, sweetheart. So good.” he fucks up into you in shallow, uncontrollable movements of his hips - impatience quickly waning. You yelp at each thrust, walls burning with the stretch of Satoru’s thick head. 

You try to steady yourself as Satoru’s thrusts get deeper and deeper, nails digging harshly into his muscled shoulders. In the midst of it all you still manage to impatiently slur out, “I-if you’re gonna fuck me then hah- fuck me like you mean it, Satoru.”

Oh, that did it.

Your words make the last bit of sanity Satoru had left snap. 

In a swift movement, he sheaths his throbbing erection in your wet cunt completely. A gasp gets caught in his throat at the way your walls were clamping down on him in surprise. 

He looks up at you, eyes half-lidded and a dangerously predatory glint in them that sends shivers down your spine. “Fuck me like I mean it, huh? You’re quite bossy, y’know that, prez?”

Before you can retort - and probably dig your grave deeper - he stands up in one fluid motion, your legs around his waist and cock still buried deep in your snug pussy. You moan at the change in angle, his tip now kissing your cervix so deliciously painfully. Shit, you feel so full. 

Hands moving down to grope your ass firmly and support your weight, he grins lowly in your ear, “You’re lucky I love that part of you.”

The wall is cold as Satoru shoves your back against it. his body making the air leave your lungs as he presses into yours, ramming into you at a merciless pace. Your tight cunt clenches so tightly around him, as if to prevent him from leaving. 

Each thrust into your warm core has his eyes rolling to the back of his head, brows furrowing in ecstasy. His lips capture yours once again in a rough dance that matches the cadence of his hips.

You mewl against his mouth at the feeling of his heavy balls stinging your skin as they smack your ass. The power behind each harsh thrust has you bouncing against the wall, legs pulling tighter around his toned waist to bully his cock impossibly deeper in you. 

“Where- fuck! Where’s the bed?” he moans breathlessly against your lips, voice sounding as if each thrust of his pulsing cock into your plush walls sends him spiraling deeper into insanity.

“Down- down the hallway. Hngh- fuck, Satoru!” you not far behind.

Your mind is foggy, barely even registering as Satoru moves blindly towards your bedroom with powerful strides - not yet pulling out of you.

He doesn’t get very far before he’s got you sprawled over your bedroom floor, your carpet digging into you as his cock slams into your abused cunt with that feral pace he loves so much. Not even making it to the bed.

“Ah! Hah- Satoru, what happened to the bed?” you sputter out in-between uncontrollable moans. 

“Too far. Hngh- need you now.” he answers around your breasts, teasing and tweaking your sensitive nipples.

“Wh-who’s irresistible now?” you manage to smirk, relishing in the huff of laughter that escapes him. Even now, you always did manage to one-up him.

“Mhm, you’ve always been irresistible, sweetheart.” he mutters, moving to press a chaste kiss against your forehead, not sure whether the words were even meant for you to hear. 

And you know it’s just pussy-drunk talk, but right now you can’t help the way your cheeks heat up, heartbeat ringing in your ears. 

Not sure how to respond to that, you pull him closer to you, allowing him to bury his burning face in the crook of your neck. Maybe right now neither of you needed to speak, your bodies doing enough talking as Satoru continues his relentless cadence.

Your hips bucking up to meet his, you whimper in pleasure and overstimulation into the heady room as Satoru moves down a hand to draw rough, little circles over and over your throbbing clit. It was all too much. “S-Satoru.”

“Me too, my sweetheart. Me too.” is all he gasps out, teeth digging into your neck at the pleasure overwhelming his sensitive cock. Satoru’s tight balls twitch as they smack your ass, cock glistening with cum and slick. He sees stars behind his eyes - or maybe those were tears at the overstimulation. He really doesn’t know anymore. 

Head spinning and thoughts racing with only Satoru Satoru Satoru, you’re very much in the same state. 

“Satoru?” you whine out, tears clinging to your lashes.

“Yes, sweetheart?”

You pull him into an intense kiss, pussy clamping down on him desperately as his lips brand yours - it sends you both over the edge. 

Satoru thinks he sees heaven as he cums, and you were probably an angel. 

Hot ropes of his thick cum paint your walls white, cunt quivering around him as you both ride out your climaxes together. A creamy ring forms around his base as he fucks his seed into you desperately, marking you so obviously as his. All thoughts of Plan B run out of your mind at the overstimulated whimpers leaving Satoru’s ruby lips.

His dick twitches inside you as his unforgiving thrusts slow down to shallow grinds of his hips, nothing more than to keep his cum inside of you as your highs bate.

Body collapsing onto yours, careful to not crush you with his weight, Satoru pulls you closer to him. And despite everything that happened this evening, he thinks that this might be what makes his ears burn red the most. Your body so vulnerably connected with his own. Just the two of you in this quiet world.

The silence feels intimate and fragile. Brain still hazy from your orgasms, you don’t think you’ve ever quite looked at your bedroom ceiling from his angle. 

Strangely enough, Satoru’s warm weight on you feels comforting. Neither of you speak now. Nor do you speak when Satoru carries you to bed, searching through your clothes for a washcloth he can wipe you clean with. 

It’s only when he lingers at the foot of your bed - uncertain - that the silence is broken. “Get in, stupid.” you scoff, opening the covers invitingly.

Of course, an elated smile overtaking his face, Satoru jumps in your bed with enough force to send you both bouncing. It was childish. It was so ridiculous. It had you barking out a surprised laugh at his antics.

In your joy, you don’t even realize that Satoru has stopped moving - frozen, smile slipping off his face and staring at you with an unknown spark in his eyes. 

“What?” you question, feeling strangely self-conscious. 

White locks tousling as he shakes his head, he breathes, “It’s the first time I’ve made you laugh.” The words hang in the delicate atmosphere, tension so thick you think it could snap any moment.

You hide your face in your hands, palms clammy. “You- you make me sound like some sort of evil witch.” you stammer out, embarrassment pooling in your gut. The tension in the air dissipates, yet the intensity in Satoru’s gaze remains.

Satoru understands, smiling blindingly. He pulls your naked body to his, wrapping his arms tenderly around your waist as you both bury into the covers. “Well, more of a hardass than an evil witch.”

“Satoru?”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“You still have to finish your citations.”

A/N. Can be read as a standalone BUT part 2 planned for next longfic Sunday!

Plagiarism not authorized.

[deadtired-highkeyenergetic]

Half A Bed

No, this is not the "only one bed" trope I'm afraid, although if anyone has any ideas for a fic w that trope, do drop you ideas in the inbox!

Summary: You and Astarion share a bed

At this point, it has become a habit for Astarion to move and leave half his bed free for you to plop yourself on whenever you enter his tent, despite all his grumbling about needing to move from his comfortable position. You then accept the invitation and happily lie down next to him, stretching your arms above your head with a relaxed sigh.

Tonight, Astarion wraps his arms around you, nuzzling into your neck and deeply inhales your scent. He loves how you smell like him, bergamot filling his nose and he lets out a contented sigh. You exude a pleasant warmth as per usual, sharply contrasting his own cold body. He shifts a little so that you can wrap an arm around him, nestling him in a cocoon of your embrace. His cold slender finger draws random shapes on your stomach while he rests his head on your shoulder, enjoying the silence that has befallen his tent.

It wasn’t long ago when such silence would have made him uncomfortable, unsure of what to do, unsure of what you wanted to do, but you had explained yourself upon noticing his discomfort, telling him that sometimes you were just too tired to do anything but still wanted his company. He had agreed to allowing you to do that, despite his reservations about what he himself could do during that time but soon realised that you really didn’t mind what he did.

If he felt just as exhausted as you, he would simply lie next to you, cuddling in the bed. If he still had some energy to spend, he would play with your hair or trace doodles on your stomach. If he felt peckish, he would drink from your neck. The only thing he couldn’t quite bring himself to do was trance whilst you were still awake. He told himself it was because he wanted to watch over you, but in reality, it was because deep down, he still feared that one day you would leave him.

The comfortable silence washes over the both of you, save for the quiet sound of your breathing and the rustle of book pages as you read the book you had brought along with you.

You glance down to check on your vampire lover, a small smile on your face when you notice how relaxed he is and start running your hand through his hair with your free hand. He croons in response and leans into the rhythmic touch, letting the calm wash over him. Your smile only grows wider, a small chuckle slipping from your lips which causes Astarion to look up at you, eyebrows furrowed.

“What, may I ask, is so funny?”

“Nothing, Star. Don’t worry.” You press a kiss to his creased forehead. “Although, if you keep frowning like that, there will be permanent wrinkles on your forehead.”

“Excuse me? I am a vampire! Eternally young and beautiful, all thanks to my already handsome features from before I was turned.” He huffs, burrowing his face deeper into your shoulder.

“Mmhm, if you say so,” you hum, setting aside your book to fully focus on him. As you play with strands of his curly silver hair, he gives yet another exaggerated huff, wrapping his arms around you and lightly nips at your exposed shoulder. He gives you a pout as he has done many times before and at this point, you would think you’d be immune to it but something about the way he pouts makes your heart melt each and every time.

“Come here,” you groan, rolling over to wrap your arms around him. He grins, happily nuzzling into your shoulder and welcomes the familiar embrace, filled with warmth and love. He feels safest like this, knowing that whatever happens, he will always have you to return to, that you will always have his back just like he has yours. You’re also permanently warm, and while that was something you found annoying, Astarion thanked whoever it was that made you such. He never needed to worry about the cold, not when all he needed to do was snuggle against you whenever he started to get cold, or simply felt like it. Not once did you ever turn him down, and he doubted you would ever do so.

You bury your face into his soft curls, suppressing yet another chuckle when you hear him mutter something along the lines of being one of the most beautiful vampires in all of Faerun.

“My apologies, one of the most beautiful vampires in all of Faerun.” You snort.

“Apology accepted,” he crows, ego stroked.

You can’t help but laugh, holding him close and pressing more kisses to the top of his head.

“Simply calling you beautiful doesn’t do you justice, you know.” You ruffle his hair.

“Oh? Do go on, darling.” His eyes twinkle with amusement and happiness.

“You see,” you indulge him, “it’s really easy to call you beautiful because everyone does that, and the phrase ends up losing all meaning. Calling you…say…‘my entire world’ however, still holds a lot of meaning because nobody else calls you that.” You’re not sure why you’re being sappy tonight but you do know that you’re more than happy to give Astarion all the compliments in the world and more. He deserves at least that much.

Tears prick the edges of his eyes at your words and he quickly buries his tearing face in your shoulder, not wanting you to see how your words have affected him.

“It means everything, coming from you,” he whispers, the words struggling to leave his clogged up throat. He squeezes your hand tightly, hoping that the small gesture can convey everything he cannot say and from the look you give him, you’ve received the message.

He shifts to rest his head on your chest, listening to the steady rhythm of your heartbeat and closes his eyes, letting the feeling he can’t qute describe wash over him. He sinks into the endless abyss of warmth that is you, barely aware of your arm moving to wrap around him to pull him closer but he likes the support that it brings. Even if he were to sink, he knows — no trusts — that you will be there to catch him. Maybe he could let his guard down for just a little while, a short respite from the exhausting day and trust that when he opens his eyes again, you’ll still be there, watching over him with that soft look in your eyes. You wouldn’t leave him when he’s at his most vulnerable, would you?

Ignoring the nagging feeling in his heart, he lets himself slip into a trance, lulled by the soothing sound of your heartbeat and the warmth of your body heat. It’s times like these where he misses being alive, he wishes he could feel his own heartbeat, feel the warmth of his body but when you still curl up against him even on the chilliest of nights, he thinks to himself that perhaps he is alright the way he is, with his cold undead body and sanguine hunger. You may have already told him such when he was confronted with the choice of ascending but while you may have accepted him as who he is, he still struggles with it from time to time. Doubts continue to claw at his thoughts, no matter how many times you drive them away, but if you will continue fighting against them for him, he will not give up.

Your heart flutters when you realise he’s drifting off into a trance. He subconsciously curls tighter into your side, fingers tightly grasping whatever they can reach.

“Rest well, my star.” You murmur, lips ghosting his forehead. It doesn’t take long for you to drift off as well, holding your world in your arms.

[hotchfiles]

lover to lover.

⋅☆⋅ mrsaluado's first xmas event ⋅☆⋅

pairing: james x fem!reader.

summary: it's your first gift exchange as a couple and you are both dangerously lovesick.

content warnings: JUST FLUFF. I SWEAR.

word count: 1,4k

      You felt silly, you felt like your gift was silly and felt even sillier for worrying so much about it your palms were sweaty even though it was very late at night and the house was surrounded by the whiteness of snow. This was your first Christmas as James' girlfriend and even though you had been to his home before, that was the first time you would be staying the night as well.

      To top that kind of pressure, it was the first year your gift to James would actually matter, you couldn't just give him a sweater, or a book or a coupon for free of charge homework help, it had to be good, it had to be meaningful.

      And it was hard to do that for someone who had everything. He was the golden boy, not only were his parents generational wealth loaded, they were caring, loving and were always making sure he and his friends had everything they could ever need. How could anything you try to give him compare to that?

      Nonetheless, you tried your best, and now the party was over, the other three marauders black out drunk in Sirius' room from spiked eggnogg Mr. Fleamont pretended not to see them drink and you on James' bed waiting for him to come back after helping them out.

      His smile brightened up the whole room, even though the lights were on and the warmth in his eyes made you forget about any worries that surrounded your mind while he was gone. You stretched your arms to pull him in a hug after he closed the door, though he ignored completely, simply laying on top of you with all of his weight, forcing you to lay down as well. "Honeyyyy, I'm so tired," he whined, his cheek touching yours as he spoke.

      One of your hands went to his arm, while the other played with his hair, he was such a baby when he wanted to, but you were lovesick, dangerously lovesick, so it was endearing to you. "No gifts today, then?" That made him get up in a jump, excitement filling him with the energy he had lost to sleepiness.

      "Nooooo, not what I meant." He pouted, batting his beautiful eyelashes at you, you laughed, knowing that would be the reaction, he had been extremely curious by your present from the time you showed up engulfed in green flames inside his family's fireplace, a big heavy something, perfectly wrapped, to Jamie written in your handwriting in a heart shaped note that he knew he would keep safe inside his wallet to the rest of his days.

      You got the gift from his nightstand and handed it to him, the anxiety coming back again as you started overexplaining yourself to him, "Wanted to make something special, but you have so much stuff I... Didn't know what... So I asked your mum to help me with this. I know it's like, nothing super unique but... I don't know." You fumbled completely over your words and he looked so deep into your eyes you knew he was able to read your whole entire soul without even trying at all.

      "Even a rock you find on a road and decides it reminds you of me would be special." Everything you do, everything you touch is special, it's what he actually wants to say, but he refrains from it, carefully taking out the tape holding the wrapping paper together, refusing to rip it apart. His eyes sparkled when he saw the leather cover, his name golden along with his Gryffindor quidditch number.

      He opens it, not sure what would be inside, the first page had your handwriting again, written in red and filled with doodle hearts: My quidditch lover boy, know that wherever you play, I will always be your biggest cheerleader.

      The rest was pictures, from the first one his mum took of him with a broom when he was still barely a person, his little arms holding tight to his dad. The first time he flew alone to show them. The letter he sent when he made the Gryffindor team, his first captain's armband, tickets from matches he went with his father. The last picture was from his last victory, you both kissing with the biggest smiles while Sirius covered you both with red paint.

      It was a good thing he never pretended to be one of those emotionless guys, because his nose was red, his eyes watering as you heard him sniffing. "This... Honey, this is the most beautiful thing." His fingers passed over the picture, with such care it seemed he was afraid to ruin it, he pulled you into a hug and then lifted your chin to face him, his lips touching yours like you were a treasure he needed to protect. You felt the saltiness of his tears and you couldn't help but laugh, it was just too adorable.

      James let go of you, but not before kissing your whole face. He found a spot on his desk for your present, where it would be the first thing anyone spotted when looking around his room, and then took a small box and a piece of parchment from the first drawer of his nightstand.

      "M'feeling a tad inadequate now, mine isn't as thoughtful but... Ms. Euphemia did help me with it too." You laughed at the way he talked of his mum, "I wanted to give you some sort of jewelry, but everything I chose was simply grim, James darling." he gestured air quotes while trying to get his mother's tone across.

      He handed you the velvet box, parchment still in hand as he waited for you to open, you were still stunned by the information he wanted to give you jewelry, you felt like your heart and your stomach were dancing and twirling around inside of you as how official that sounded. Opening the box you find a beautiful, seemingly antique, silver ring, it had a red gem on top in the form of a triangle. You were completely speechless as you touched it lightly.

      "M'dad proposed with that ring." Your eyes widened at that, positive you were gonna pass out at any moment. "It's very old, and it's been in our family for generations, if you look closely you can see a symbol, the triangle one is for my invisibility cloak."

      "James, this is beautiful, but... I can't accept this, it's a family heirloom I... It belongs to your family." You couldn't even look at him, you were out of breath, out of words, out of ways to react.

      "Yeah, that's sorta it. You're part of my family now." He takes the ring out of the box and slides it on your right index finger, so not to pressure you, so you knew it was a present, a promise of commitment, but not an obligation or a way to imprison you to him. "And my mum kept this for years, I had no idea, she says it's adorable, so..." James hands you the parchment finally, and you open it to see the date on top, stating it was a letter from two years before.

      A letter he sent to his mum, from Hogwarts, talking about you.

      He went on and on talking about sometimes he felt like his heart was gonna jump out of his chest when you were around and that wasn't normal, that didn't happen before. And how he could smell your perfume before even seeing you had got into the room.

      He was fifteen and down bad for his best friend and was so confused he asked his mum for advice. It was indeed the most adorable thing.

      Euphemia was so sure something would come out of it she kept the letter. You had to put it down on his bed so you wouldn't wet it with your tears. "You're such a sap oh my god," you said in a mocking tone even though you were the one crying like an absolute baby.

      "Enjoy it now, next year you're getting a simply grim necklace and a honeydukes discount coupon." James replied matter-of-factly, but his grin and his eyes showed how glad he was that you had enjoyed the gifts that much, "I love you too much, you're gonna wake up one day and m'gonna have inflated and exploded by how much."

      You couldn't even reply to that with anything other than a loud laugh, your hands quickly going over your mouth when you remembered how late it was.

      You felt his weight over you again, but this time before he could be completely lay over you using you as a mattress, he slides beside you, pulling you closer to him, and closing his eyes. "Happy Christmas, lover boy." Is the last thing you say before falling asleep in his embrace.

[milkypompon]

Chapter 1 | Midnight Musings

pairing: Marc Spector x Reader (implied Steven Grant x Reader, implied Jake Lockley x Reader)

summary: Even after a year living with Steven and Jake in the headspace, Marc struggles to quiet the buzzing chatter. He finds himself frequenting Coffee for Two, a place where brewing roasts fill the air and the cookies are as sweet as the barista.

content: coffeeshops, fluff, innuendo (thanks to Jake), poor shy and tired Marc who just needs his drink

wc: 1.2k

a/n: HELLO Moon Knight luvers!! I'm sweeping out this fic since I've had it around for some bit!

Moon Knight Masterlist || Main Masterlist

Coffee Doodles Masterlist

< Previous || Next >

—

Working the closing shift has its disadvantages… and occasional perks. 

People weave in and out of the café from the crack of dawn, then scurry away when the moon is at its highest. Rarely did they stay to settle down on the rickety chairs late into the night, ever so eager to drag themselves home after a long day.

You hardly remember the customers’ faces, usually down-turned with a sour look of annoyance on their phones who impatiently tap their shoe on the wooden floors. 

The man in front of you with waves of hair swept back to reveal his gruff demeanor, albeit a ruggedly handsome one, wasn’t any different from the others. Yet, you try to catch his eye as he sends a text. 

“You work the late hours like me?” You ask and crack a smile, immediately regretting it after realizing how wry it must’ve appeared from your exhaustion. 

He merely grunts in confirmation.

You clear your throat and idly tap your fingers on the granite countertop. “What can I get for you then?”

“Just a cup of coffee. Make it black.” He retrieves a leather wallet from his jacket pocket and pulls out a few quid in exchange for the kick of energy he desperately needs. 

“Your name?”

“Marc.” 

You whisper his name to yourself before reaching beside you to grab a paper cup and scrawling it on there.

Marc watches you catch your bottom lip between your teeth in fierce concentration as you doodle a smiley face next to his name. He wonders if you did this for every customer or if it was a way to keep yourself awake.

Before you made your last mark, you saw him through your peripheral vision staring at you intently. Usually, customers appreciate the little pick-me-up from the drawings you made. You inwardly wince for holding him up. “Sorry, you must be in a hurry”. You quickly cap the pink Sharpie and toss it into a small ceramic pot filled with other writing utensils. 

Marc notes how some were more appropriate or journaling, like the bright glitter pens, than for work. But it was well-loved all the same since it was nearly flatlining from use. 

“I’ll have it out for you in a minute.”

He shook his head, the black locks of curls bouncing slightly. “No rush, really.”

You situate yourself behind the coffee machine, tinkering with the buttons and opening the wrinkled bag of coffee beans. The warm scent permeates the air, even more so when the brown liquid dribbles into the cup. You quietly sigh in relief at the simplicity of the process. You’ve had a fair share of blended and iced drinks often brought back to the counter by unamused customers, claiming that it didn’t taste the same as last week even though there was a clear-cut recipe list plastered in front of your face when you made their orders. 

You carefully fiddle the cap over the cup and hand it to Marc with a tired smile. 

Marc felt your fingers brush along his. It was warm, but he wasn’t sure if it was just from the coffee. Regardless, he nodded in thanks and was soon swallowed by the darkness as he left to sip his coffee at nearly 1 a.m.

The London weather constantly nipped at his fingertips. 

He curses under his breath and shoved his free hand into his jacket pocket. He longed to settle back into his flat and curl up into layers of blankets, which was truthfully a sorry excuse for warmth because of the godawful heater he just couldn’t find the time to fix. His mind drifted to your touch, it was light, brief if anything. But it sparked a warmth that a blanket or a cup of coffee couldn’t quite satiate. 

A snarky voice filled his headspace, Fuckin’ touch starved.

Marc rolled his eyes. Shut your damn mouth, Lockley. 

He crosses the road, not bothering to look left or right, there’s only him, the moon, and some bloke smoking a dying cig by a closed convenience store. When he squints he saw Steven picking at the loose threads of his shirt in the window. 

Quite a looker with a pretty voice. 

Marc sighs in response, Not you too. 

He takes one last gulp at the bitter drink before raising it over the tin can filled with other rubbish. The streetlamp’s yellowish light caught your handiwork on the cup, his name with half a smiley face messily written with your pink Sharpie. He chuckled at the unfinished doodle, remembering how your eyes widened when you realized he was watching you closely. 

Like a deer caught in the headlights, Steven remarked.

Marc chuckles at his words.

–

It was another closing shift. 

You begrudgingly accepted it from your coworker who reminded you with a smirk that the pastries behind the glass was up for grabs the moment you flipped the “closed” sign by the window. Anyone with half a mind would have sticky hands for the chocolate croissant dusted with powdered sugar. Just the thought of warming it up in the oven toaster as you wipe the counters and stocked the shelves with mugs made you a little hungry. 

Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to be eating sweet treats considering the time, but said sweet treats were going straight into the rubbish-bin if you didn’t house them in your stomach. 

You happily hum a familiar tune you heard on the tube while sliding the glass door separating you and your beloved reward for the hard work.

A pleasant jingle of a bell rang over the front door abruptly ending your monotonous tasks.

You toss your head over your shoulder. “Sorry, we’re closed—” 

The same man (Marc, was it?) nods down in apology for entering after hours. He truly was a man of few words.

“Oh! It’s you. I was afraid you were a customer with a complicated drink coming in at the last second.” You dusted your fingers down the seams of your apron and beckoned him inside. “But, it’s the same as last night?”

Marc runs his fingers through the tufts of his curls, the strands wrapping around each finger. You wondered what it felt like. The thought in passing rises to the forefront of your mind. It left as quickly as it came when you hear him call your name after reading it across the embroidered stitching of your apron.

The corners of his mouth turn up in amusement, hardly an exchange for pleasantries, but it was more than what he’d given before. He slides a few quid on the counter. “Yeah, coffee. Black.” 

You pluck your pink Sharpie and begin to write his name on it. After a few quiet moments of gurgling from the machine, you hand the cup to him. 

He furrows his eyebrows.

You quip with a grin. “Did I manage to mess up the easiest order known to man?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

“You didn’t draw on it this time.”

You almost laugh but the serious crease on his face was a testament to his genuine disappointment. “Well it wouldn’t be very good service if I didn’t complete my job, eh?”

His eyes shift to the glass covering the pastries as if seeing something you couldn't. “You wanna talk about good service?” A playful lilt tugs at his voice, almost unfamiliar. 

Before you can respond, he mumbles a thank you and scurries out of the cafe. 

Did he just flirt? And… get embarrassed?

I'd love to hear your thoughts and my inbox is always open for requests or if you want to chat!

[nephalem-da]

Elara’s Playdate

(Bill Cipher x OC)

Synopsis: Bill Cipher drops off his mischievous baby daughter, Elara, with the unsuspecting Pines family while he celebrates his anniversary. Chaos quickly unfolds as the Pines struggle to control the demonic toddler, leading to the complete wreckage of the Mystery Shack.

The Mystery Shack was unusually quiet as the Pines family enjoyed a rare moment of peace. Mabel was doodling in her scrapbook, Dipper was buried in a journal, Stan was counting money behind the counter, and Ford was studying an ancient artifact. It was a day like any other—or so they thought.

A sudden surge of energy rippled through the shack, making the lights flicker. Before anyone could react, a portal opened in the middle of the room, swirling with bright colors. The Pines family jumped to their feet, immediately on guard. Stan reached for his brass knuckles, Mabel grabbed her grappling hook, and Ford quickly pulled out his ray gun.

Out of the portal stepped none other than Bill Cipher, but this time, he wasn’t alone. In his arms was a small, light purple triangle with a single eye and a giggle that could only be described as mischievously adorable.

“Hey, nerds!” Bill greeted with a wide grin, ignoring the fact that the Pines were ready to attack. “No need to get your knickers in a twist. I’m not here to cause trouble—well, not for the next few hours, at least.”

“Bill!” Dipper exclaimed, stepping forward, his journal clutched tightly in his hands. “What are you doing here? And… what is that?”

“This, Pine Tree, is my darling daughter, Elara.” Bill’s voice was almost proud as he looked down at the giggling little triangle in his arms. “Isn’t she just the cutest little reality-warper you’ve ever seen?”

The Pines family was stunned into silence. Ford, who had been studying Bill intently, looked the most shocked. “A child? But… how is that possible?”

Bill chuckled, seemingly enjoying their confusion. “Oh, it’s possible, Sixer. Just because you haven’t figured it out yet doesn’t mean it can’t happen. Anyway, it’s me and Mae’s anniversary today, and we’ve got some cosmic chaos planned. But we can’t exactly take our bundle of joy with us, now can we?”

Before anyone could protest, Bill floated over to Mabel and gently placed Elara in her arms. The little triangle cooed, looking up at Mabel with wide, innocent eyes. Mabel’s heart melted instantly, despite the fact that this was Bill Cipher’s offspring.

“Mabel, sweet shooting star, you’re in charge of her while we’re out,” Bill said, his tone suddenly serious. “If anything happens to my precious Elara, well… let’s just say you’ll find out there are fates worse than being turned into a sock puppet.”

Mabel gulped but nodded, unable to resist the adorable cooing of Elara. “Don’t worry, Bill! I’ll take good care of her.”

“Good!” Bill grinned, satisfied. “Mae sends her regards, by the way. And with that, I’m off!”

With a snap of his fingers, Bill disappeared back into the portal, which closed behind him with a flash of light, leaving the Pines family in stunned silence once again. Elara wriggled in Mabel’s arms, making a soft, happy noise that was almost too cute for words.

“Did that just happen?” Dipper finally asked, still trying to process what had just occurred.

“Yes,” Ford replied, his voice filled with disbelief. “Yes, it did.”

“Well, we can’t just leave it—her—alone,” Mabel said, looking down at Elara, who was now sucking on one of her tiny points as if it were a thumb. “She’s too adorable!”

Stan grumbled, crossing his arms. “Adorable or not, that thing is still Bill Cipher’s kid. I say we toss it back into whatever dimension it came from.”

“No way, Grunkle Stan!” Mabel protested, holding Elara protectively. “She’s just a baby. And besides, if Bill finds out we didn’t take care of her, who knows what he’ll do!”

Dipper sighed, knowing Mabel was right. “Okay, so what do we do? How do we take care of a… a baby triangle?”

Ford adjusted his glasses, deep in thought. “We’ll have to treat her like any other child—keep her entertained, fed, and most importantly, keep her from using any of her powers.”

“Easier said than done,” Dipper muttered.

The day that followed was nothing short of chaotic. Elara, despite her innocent appearance, quickly proved to be a handful. She had a knack for getting into trouble, whether it was floating up to the ceiling to play with the light fixtures, or phasing through walls to explore hidden rooms in the shack.

At one point, Stan tried to distract her with some toys, only for Elara to accidentally turn them into living creatures that began to wreak havoc in the living room. It took all of Dipper’s quick thinking and Mabel’s grappling hook to catch the rogue toys and return them to their inanimate state.

“Who knew babysitting a demonic triangle would be this hard?” Mabel panted, wiping sweat from her brow as she and Dipper corralled the last of the animated toys.

Elara giggled, clearly enjoying the chaos she had caused, while Stan looked like he was about ready to pull his hair out.

By the time the day was over, the Mystery Shack was in complete disarray. Furniture was overturned, pipes were leaking, and Stan’s prized taxidermy collection had been knocked over. The Pines family was utterly exhausted, sprawled out on the floor around Elara, who was now contently gnawing on a rubber duck Mabel had given her.

As the sun set, another portal opened in the middle of the room. Bill floated through, looking as pleased as ever, with Mae following close behind. The Pines family groaned, too tired to even get up.

“Well, well, well!” Bill exclaimed, surveying the wreckage with a laugh. “Looks like little Elara had a great time! Didn’t you, sweetie?”

Elara cooed happily, floating up into her father’s arms. Mae, who had been silently observing, shook her head with a small, amused smile. “Honestly, Bill, you could’ve warned them about how energetic she is.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” Bill winked at her before turning back to the Pines. “You all did a decent job keeping her in one piece, so I guess I’ll keep my promise.”

“Promise?” Stan grumbled, struggling to sit up. “What promise?”

“I promised I might stop messing with you for a week if you kept her safe,” Bill said with a smirk. “Consider it your lucky break.”

Mabel, despite being utterly exhausted, couldn’t help but smile at Elara. “She really is cute, though.”

Mae floated over to Mabel, a soft expression on her face. “Thank you for looking after her, Mabel." She patted her head, "I knew I could count on you."

Mabel giggled as she handed Elara to Mae's outstretched hands, "Your welcome!"

Bill looked down at the Pines family one last time. “Well, it’s been fun, but we’ve got to get going. Mae, Elara, let’s roll!”

As the portal reopened, Bill and Mae floated through with Elara in tow. Just before the portal closed, Bill turned back with a mischievous grin. “See you around, nerds! And remember, don’t miss me too much!”

With that, the portal closed, leaving the Pines family in the wrecked remains of the Mystery Shack, utterly exhausted but strangely content.

Ford looked around at the chaos and let out a weary sigh. “I suppose we should be grateful that’s all they did."

Dipper nodded in agreement, leaning back against the wall. “Yeah, but I have a feeling this won’t be the last time we see them.”

Mabel, still holding the gem Mae had given her, smiled to herself. “I kind of hope not. Elara was pretty fun, in a weird, terrifying way.”

Stan groaned, dragging himself to his feet. “You kids are nuts. I need a nap.”

As the Pines family slowly began to clean up the mess, they couldn’t shake the feeling that their lives had just gotten a whole lot more complicated. But then again, when it came to Gravity Falls, nothing was ever simple.

[alllgator-blood]

I gotta post this quick and hop off for the day, but I LITERALLY STAYED UP ALL NIGHT *AGAIN* TO MAKE SURE SHAMURA GOT FINISHED. They're pretty crinkly in some areas because I have to like manually fix their crown + spider butt thing + spider legs after moving them, and I just didn't care enough to retake the photos. I like the wonkiness of them because I just wanted them to have the energy of like, a very old and well-loved scrungly creature

I wanna slam some energy drinks and do like an ask doodle marathon soon because there's some great ones in there I haven't gotten around to, I think I'm done sewing for the time being so heket + leshy + narinder will have to wait to be brought into existence

I did NOT end up doing their extra spider legs on their torso because they kept getting in the way. Honestly one of the biggest concerns for me was figuring out how their body would work because I've never like...though all that hard about what shamura looks like under their cloak? I was debating making their body like mystic seller's where it's just void and space, then I remembered a really old hc I have where the bandages you see under their cloak in their eldritch form are like a binder, so I was torn between both and somehow chose neither. I'm gonna be retouching all the plushies I make eventually so maybe I'll end up doing one. I have an olldddd comic where they're pressured into taking their cloak off and it's just like eldritch horror that melts your face like that indiana jones scene. I would post it but it's VERY graphic lmao

Also shoutout to my cousin for beading me the asexual + nonbinary earrings in the third-to-last pic, every fuckin person in my family can do epic beadwork except me apparently >:( I am a FAKE FAN of my OWN CULTURE. I'VE BEEN TYPING TOO LONG I GOTTA STOP EVERYONE IS WONDERING WHERE I'M AT BUT I NEEDED TO POST THIS!!!!!!

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Hi there! First of all I just discovered your blog and it helped me understand a lot about autism. I was recently diagnosed and I had maaany questions, and going through your blog gave me some answers. So thank you so much for your dedication! ✨

I was wondering if you could share some stuff about burnouts? I saw the post of the signs of burnouts, but I was wondering if you had information about what are the common causes or how to deal with them?

Have a great day/night!

Hi there,

I found some information in burnout recovery and causes:

Text

Signs

* Lack of motivation (hard to care about goals when everyday life is overwhelming)

* Loss of executive functioning abilities (decision-making, organization, etc.)

* Difficulty with self-care

* Easier to reach overload or meltdown

* Loss of speech, selective mutism

* Lethargy, exhaustion

* Illness, digestive issues

* Memory loss

* Inability to maintain masks or use social skills

* Overall seeming "more autistic" or stereotypical

* May have period of high energy before collapse

causes

* Passing as neurotypical / suppressing autistic traits

* Doing 'too much', too much stress

* Aging: needing more downtime, having less energy

* Changes, good or bad (relationships, jobs, living arrangements, belongings, environment, routines...)

* Sleep deprivation, poor nutrition, dehydration

* Illness

* Sensory or emotional overload

strategies

* Time

* Scheduling breaks, managing spoons

* Leave of absence

* Stimming, sensory diet

* Exercise

* Reassured and supports

* Routines

* Better environment/job/etc.

* Boundaries, saying 'no'

* Dropping the mask/façade

* Solitude

* Absolute quiet

* Creative projects, passions, special interests

* Paying attention to reactions and your body

Here’s another Infograph I found:

Text

Sleep and rest as much as you can. We often need more sleep than allistics and it is especially crucial to meet our need for extra sleep while in burnout.

Reduce your energy expenditure. Within reason, reduce social time and the amount of information you are taking in on a daily basis. This often means saying no, even to things you think you

"want" to do. (ex. re-watch TV rather than start new shows)

Engage in special interests at a comfortable and sustainable level. Rather than doing in-depth research, try decorating your space with posters or objects related to your special interests or watching a TV show related to one of them.

Focus on your hypersensitivities. Use earplugs/ headphones/sunglasses, use dishwashing gloves and a mask while cleaning, wear comfortable clothes, eat safe foods, leave spaces that are too bright, loud, or fragrant.

Stim!! MOVEMENT: dance, rock, tap, flap, stretch, walk, stim toys.

TOUCH: soft fabric, self-massage, play with hair. VISUAL: watch

TV/ movie, kaleidoscope, coloring book, satisfying videos

AUDIO/VOICE music, singing, echolalia. REPETATION/SORTING: solitaire, puzzles, sorting objects, repetitive doodles, counting.

VERY slowly create systers/routines that automate your care needs and implement them very slowly. This can look like visual aids, timers, lists, bullet journols, weekly routines, Expect if to take time and trial and error to get into these habits. Pick I-2 habits or systems to implement at a time, starting with the ones you're most excifed about.

Autistic burnout and Complex PTSD have a lot in common and executive dysfunction often increases during burnout, so resources made for these can be very helpful.

Burnout Recovery

I hope this helps. Thank you for the inbox. I hope you have a wonderful day/night. ♥️

[otomiyaa]

Kuroo x Ticklish Reader

Romantic + 13. “That’s… quite an attitude for someone in your position.” Requested by @italeean for my 1K Followers Event🌻

Your keys were rattling as you opened the door to your shared apartment with Kuroo. Inside, you already saw four pairs of unfamiliar sportsy looking shoes, and you smiled. You were not surprised.

You knew your boyfriend was having some old friends from his high school days over, and that they were staying for some fun and drinks. No problem to offer the study room and couch for that.

"I'm home~ Guys?" you called out.

Why was it so quiet though? Had they gone out to play volleyball perhaps? No... At this hour? Besides, their shoes were right here.

You thought about it calmly as you took off your own shoes and shuffled around the corner.

"Guys, hello? .... Oh."

Inside, you found a mess. You immediately spotted your boyfriend Kuroo on the couch, sitting upright but looking like he was asleep.

Daichi was fast asleep on the floor. Why on the floor? His face had doodles on it too.

"How much did you guys drink?" you sighed, finding Oikawa in the kitchen. Looked like he had wanted to get something from the fridge but passed out in the middle of getting it. The fridge was still open. He was also missing his pants.

"Tetsu, watch our energy bill!" you called out to your sleeping boyfriend on the couch as you closed the fridge, and you found Oikawa's pants a little further. You threw it on top of him to cover his geeky underwear.

In the bathroom, you found Bokuto and Ushijima, piled up together. Also snoring, reeking of alcohol. Looked like the guys had made themselves comfortable anywhere but the futons you prepared for them in the study room.

"You guys are unbelievable," you said fondly, shaking your head like a mother.

You headed towards Kuroo who had the most comfortable spot of all, except his position looked anything but comfy. He was sitting very upright, which looked uncomfortable for his back, and his.. uh. Huh? His wrists were tied together in front of him, with... handcuffs? But why?

"Dear, what's going on here?" you chuckled, kissing his cheek and then picking up his tied hands to take a closer look. The handcuffs looked legit. Not some cheap toy.

Well, you knew Daichi was working to be a policeman after all... You shook Kuroo's bound hands around playfully and watched how he opened his eyes tiredly.

"Hello baby," he said, and he let out a cute burp. You waved the smell of beer away and patted his head, combing your fingers through his messy hair.

"What have you been up to? It's not even midnight yet."

"Hm.. Drinking game," he answered, leaning in to nuzzle your chest like a cat. Hehe, Kuroo was always a charmer, but somehow he managed to make you even more flustered whenever he was drunk.

"I see, I see. Well, let's untie your hands first and get everyone to bed. Where's the key of the handcuffs?" you asked.

"Hm... Let's make love," Kuroo said instead answering. "Right here."

"No no, baby. We can't. And we can't let your friends sleep like this. Let's go to bed."

"Hmm, to bed we go.... I'll make you feel so, sooo goooood," Kuroo said seductively.

You couldn't help but snicker in response. “That’s… quite an attitude for someone in your position," you said. You picked up his hands again to demonstrate, not prepared for him to suddenly reach for your tummy and - wah! Tickle?

"Tehehetsu! Hehehey now!" you laughed, tumbling forward against him. His hands may be tied together, but he could still reach out and move his fingers, and damn did he know where to get you to make you collapse in an instant.

"Make love to meee," your drunk boyfriend said with a goofy grin.

"Nohoho! Whahahat! Tetsuraahaha! D-dohohon't!" You tried to move away, but somehow even with handcuffs, Kuroo was a beast.

He managed to capture you with his legs, keeping you in position firmly. He then tickled your sides and tummy until you were squealing so loudly it was a surprise not one of the others woke up. Alcohol comas were sooo bad!

"Prohohomise mehehe y-y'all nehehever drink so muhuhuch agahahain!" you laughed, squirming at your boyfriend's mercy.

"I promise~" Kuroo said sweetly. You were a little embarrassed how easy it was for you, with both hands free, to get overpowered like this while Kuroo was limited in his movements. You were simply stuck between Kuroo's legs and giggling like an idiot.

"Nohohow prohohomise to lehehet me gohoho!" you tried since he did seem a little reasonable.

"Can't promise that~"

Pffft!

"Ahahahalright! Lehehet me gohoho - wehehe'll cuddlehehe!" It was funny, Kuroo was immediately sold. His weakness for cuddling, even more than sex, was just adorable.

"Okay!" Kuroo chirped, and you were surprised it worked. He stopped tickling you, but instead he wrapped his arms around you. His tied hands now rested against your back, and you jumped when he scratched you there fondly. Not again!

"Y-you're stihihill tickling mehehe!" you whined. And now you were even more stuck.

"Tetsu! Lehehet gohoho!"

Okay so it didn't work. Well, sometimes people would make bad choices like you did. It couldn't be helped. In your new position, you were even more trapped than before, and even when Kuroo fell asleep in the middle of tickling your back, you could hardly get out of his grip.

After all, you didn't want to wake him again. "You're so silly," you said with a smile, and you had to make some effort to kiss him in this cramped position. You then rested comfortably against him, and you started to feel sleepy.

It was anything but comfortable, but then again, definitely more comfortable than those other guys. You could at least try to sleep a few hours, and then hopefully wake up with a sobered up boyfriend!

[taelophone]

Kitchen Fire

Joost Klein x Reader! TWs: RPF, tooth rotting fluff like omgggg W/C: 2207 A/N: I loved writing this sm thank you to the requester ily <33

Every full 365 days, the spotlight shines on one individual for their special day. Granted, many individuals around the world at once, but still. And today was all about you!

Joost was all about making sure you felt special and loved every single day, but he pushed sooooo much harder on your birthday. And today he decided he wanted to do something special for you!

“Good morning pineapple….” He started, giggling like a child as he shook you gently up out your sleep.

“…Looking very good very niiiice…” you chuckled back, barely even halfway awake. “Good morning, my dear..!” You smiled, rubbing the leftover sleep from your eyes as you went to sit up.

“How did you get in?” You smiled, knowing damn well you locked your door.

“Don’t worry about that, schatje, it’s your birthday!” He beamed, giving you no time to process before he sweeped you up, carrying and spinning you bridal style around your room.

“HAPPY BIRTHHHDAY TO YOU!” He sang, eagerly tossing you around as you giggled at his surprising amount of energy at 7 in the morning.

“Thank you, thank you!” You giggled, letting him pepper your face with tiny kisses.

“Go get ready, I booked a little spa day for you in like…an hour.” He smiled, placing you gently on your feet.

“Oh, okay then! Let me go get dressed.” You nodded, darting off to the bathroom to get ready for the day.

You knew that Joost probably went through a lot of labor to book your schedule up, considering he hates phone calls. But he still did it for you!

But what you didn’t know, was that the moment you were out the door, Joost was gonna completely takeover and decorate your house. He had big plans.

He laid down on the couch, his stomach pressed flat against the cushions as his long legs kicked up in the air while he waited for you to leave.

“You sure you don’t wanna go? I can pay-“

“Stop right there,” he murmured, raising a palm. “You’re not paying for anything. Much less a spa day for me.” He smiled.

“I have a lot of things to do at my computer, so I’ll be here when you get back and we can order some food.” He lied, watching you closely as you hobbled over to him and pecked his cheek.

“Okay…” you sighed, smiling at him lovingly. “I love you!! Bye!” You squeaked, closing the door behind you with an eager squeal.

He snickered at your joy, equally just as happy that you were happy. He waited about 10 minutes to make sure you were really gone before he got to work. 

He didn’t go too heavy on the decorations, as he didn’t want the cleanup to be horror for you two later. He hung up cute pink and white heart streamers, pink ribbons, and a massive paper sign that read ‘Happy Birthday’ with a collage of Joost’s many doodles.

He smiled, proud of his work before scurrying off to the kitchen, phone in hand. He scrolled through Pinterest, leaning back against the counter as he bit his bottom lip.

Joost had never been a cook, much less a baker, but he really really wanted to try for you.

Cakes with bows, Victoria cakes, sponge cakes, upside down cakes, fuck it, cake cake. He grew a little pale, the vast amount of cakes suddenly clueing him in on how little of a cakewalk making a cake would be.

He swallowed his anxiety before settling on a nice, simple raspberry jam Victoria cake. It looked easy, so he went straight for it.

He tossed the ingredients for cake in one big bowl, mixing them all together at once. The counter was riddled with flour, eggshells, and powdered sugar. It seemed as though no matter how much Joost mixed the batter, it never seemed to come to.

It was clumpy, but somehow still thick and…almost gelatinous. When he brushed against the counter, he could see the strange mixture jiggle and jitter. He cringed, staring down into the bowl as he fought back giggles.

He sighed, pulling out the circular baking pan and lined it with waxy parchment paper. He stared at the oven with genuine confusion, examining the little settings and knobs carefully before turning it up to the max, and tossing it on the top rack.

He wasn’t sure how long to keep the cake in, so he set a timer for an hour just to be safe. 

While he waited for the cake to finish, he cleaned the kitchen and did the dishes before plucking the raspberry preserves from your pantry.

He sat down next to the oven, welcoming its warmth as he occupied himself with his phone while he waited for you to come home.

Somewhere along the wait, the gentle warmth from the oven lulled his senses to comfort, threatening his eyes with a long nap.

And before he knew it, he was asleep.

You on the other hand, had been enjoying your entire day to the fullest. After your much needed spa day, you did some shopping at a cozy and pink stationary store you had been eyeing for a while. You even got a free pack of pens and a small plush keychain in honor of your special day!

You went store to store, milking absolutely every birthday deal to its death until around 6:30.

You made your way back home with over 200 notifications and achey arms from all your bags as you eagerly pranced through the front door.

“Jooost! I’m- oooh!” You rang, immediately admiring the decorations that hung from the walls. The afternoon sun beamed rose gold rays of sunshine through the windows, casting a gorgeous light over the shiny ribbons and bows as you walked through the house.

You tried to take in the scenery around you, but you could hear shuffling in the kitchen and smell smoke.

“Joost? You okay?” You cooed, setting your bags down on the floor and making your to the kitchen.

He stood by the counter, his hat bunched up in his hand as he stared at the brick literal molten charcoal on the counter. 

He turned around, holding the pan with two layers of oven mitts. “I tried to make you a cake, but…I can’t cook.” He smiled sheepishly, a light pink dusting the apples of his cheeks.

You giggled, watching as what was revealed to be a cake struggle to not explode in his hands. “It’s alright, love, thank you. We can make a cake together.”  You giggled, taking off your bracelets and the pretty little silver ring Joost had gotten for you awhile ago.

“Alright, what did you wanna make baby?” You asked, setting out the ingredients again, along with two bowls.

He rested his chin on your shoulder, watching as you set up the materials. “Victoria cake…” he hummed, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Ohhh, ok, ok.” You nodded, adding the softened butter and sugar to one bowl. “Ok, so you cream the butter and sugar first. You can’t just mix everything together at once. It’d work if it was a box cake though!” You explained, adding a pinch of salt to the now off-white and fluffy butter.

“Then you mix in the eggs after you beat them.” You nodded, cracking 3 eggs in the other bowl and mixing them together until they were well incorporated. You poured the eggs in with the butter little by little, mixing it together with a spatula.

“Do you want me to get you a whisk?” Joost asked, staring at the bowl in wonder. The dough wasn’t even finished, and it looked so much better than his did.

You shook your head, humming a small “nah.” You finished adding the rest of the eggs, fully stirring them into the fluffed butter. “When you use a whisk, it makes the butter and eggs separate. And that’s not what we want.”

Joost nodded, staring over your shoulder with childlike wonder and curiosity. “I didn’t know you could bake..?” He murmured, watching as you sifted the flour and baking powder into the bowl.

“Eh, I used to watch my mom in the kitchen.” You shrugged, giggling at the fond memory. “I would stare at her for a little while…I probably looked a lil crazy.”

“But it taught me a lot, so.” You shrugged, folding in the dry ingredients and smiling. “All done! Can you put this into two of the little circle baking sheets for me, please?” You beamed, handing him the bowl of light and fluffy dough.

“Yes, thank you.” He smiled, eagerly plopping half the dough into a baking pan before retrieving its twin from the cupboard and repeating the same process.

“It’s so fluffy…” he murmured, spreading out the dough evenly with the spatula. “Can I eat this?” He asked, waving the spatula around.

You stared at him with a raised brow, fighting the smirk that threatened to mark your face. “Sure, Joost. Why not.” You giggled.

While he ate the remnants of the cake batter, you sat the cakes in the hot oven and set a timer for 30 minutes. “I feel a little lazy, so I’m gonna do a really quick whipped cream for the cake.” You shrugged, unearthing the heavy cream from the back of the fridge.

“Babe can you hand me the hand mixer?” You asked, not knowing Joost had been standing half a centimeter behind you the whole time.

“Of course.” He murmured as the spatula hanging halfway out his mouth. He whisked around the kitchen momentarily before returning to your side, the little black mixer in his hand.

“Thank you!” You cooed, propping the mixer up securely on top of a random can of coconut cream. You gently placed the bowl under the whisk, poured the heavy cream and sugar into the bowl before turning the mixer on.

“Did you just DIY a stand mixer…?” Joost asked, genuine curiosity laced in his tone as he watched the heavy cream whip itself.

“I told you, I’m lazy.” You giggled. “It’s my birthday, I’m allowed to do this.” You nodded, walking out the kitchen and plopping down on the couch.

He hummed, staring at the makeshift stand mixer for a moment before joining you in the living room.

A few beats of silence passed by as you sat together, scrolling on your phones and enjoying each other’s presence before you spoke up.

“Wanna get changed with m-“

“Yes.”

You giggled, making your way back into your room to change into some comfy clothes as Joost followed behind you just as eagerly.

You emerged a while later, fresh faced and giddy after having done your night-time routine. You adjusted the pink strap on your hello kitty pajama pants, glancing at Joost’s matching pair as he felt the fluffy fabric underneath the palms of his hands.

“The cakes should be ready now!” You smiled, slinking into the kitchen and bending at the waist to stare into the glass door of the oven.

“…Yep. Think so!” You cheered quietly, slowly opening the oven and basking in its gusty breath of heat.

The smell of warm vanilla and confectionery goodness wafted through the air, filling your house with cozy comfort.

Joost stood closely behind you, watching as you took the cakes out of the oven and sat them onto some parchment paper.

“Alright, just put the raspberry jam on this first layer and like…spread it around.” You nodded, stopping the mixer to see perfectly stiff and fluffy whipped cream.

Joost nodded, slapping the sweet, sugary goodness down onto the first cake and doing his absolute best to spread it around evenly.

Once he was finished, he giggled eagerly before shaking your shoulder and pointing to the cake.

“It was harder than I thought, it was very sticky.” He murmured, watching you as closely as humanly possible while you gently added the whipped cream on top of the raspberry preserves.

“Baking is so deceiving!” You giggled, placing the top layer on the cake once the bottom layer was all done.

“Alright, I’ll let you place the berries and stuff on top for me.” You nodded, handing him the little carton of raspberries and blueberries.

And he took that job so seriously.

You watched him delicately place each and every berry in one specific place, rotating each fruit until it looked amazing. He was so engrossed in decorating the top that you weren’t even sure you could hear him breathe through the deafening silence. 

When he was done, he pushed the cake over to you and smiled.

“Ta-daaa!” He whispered, chuckling under his breath as he leaned his hip against the counter. “I made it for you!”

“Sure you did, Joost. All you.” You chuckled, rolling your eyes.

“Now you have to make a wish.” He murmured, taking out an I heart Joost Klein lighter from his back pocket, lighting in a safe distance away from your face.

“So conceited. Who has a light of themselves?” You chastised, but giggled nonetheless.

“Because everybody loves Joost.” He nodded, watching as you closed your eyes and blew out the flame of his little lighter.

“Happy birthday. I love you.”

“I love you too!”

[mrs-kodzuken]

hard to desire ⨟ kenma k.

chapter three

wutiwant saraunh0ly

❝More awake inside of my dreams, was that really you next to me?

Gimme what I want, who am I supposed to please?

Who am I supposed to please?❞

previous chapter next chapter

You couldn't help but to get absolutely fucking frustrated with Kenma. After so long, the little petty act from him had gotten so deep under your skin. You weren't one to tolerate something so stupid and childish, especially when you were nothing but courteous.

Kenma had somehow caused you to stop refraining from your usual nice manner and instead seemed to have brought a hateful part of you out.

It had all started when you had changed your seat in a class, seemingly nothing right? Wrong.

Apparently, the universe hates you because as you roamed the seating options, choosing once further in the back before class started, you had dangerously realized that Kenma had this class too.

The burning hatred on his face was more than known when you also apparently took his exact same seat. He stood there with his books in hand, now a bored expression on his face as if he was waiting for you to automatically get up.

"There's no assigned seats, find another one." You side eyed him, a cold tone encasing your words. A scrunch of his face was duly noted when he walked across the room, avoiding a seat near you as much as possible.

Somehow, that filled you with excitement, giving the exact same energy back to him as he had been doing to you.

That's what his mean ass gets, you smirked to yourself. However, you couldn't help the hot and cold shiver of excitement that coursed through you. Suddenly, it was extremely hot in the light brown sweater you had picked out today.

Kenma on the other hand, knew that you had this class with him on the first day. From that day forward, he watched you like a hawk. Every movement, every sip from your pink water bottle, every single interaction you'd have with a classmate.

He'd be in the back watching you, unable to take his eyes off the way you were just... you.

He couldn't help but to act like this towards you. You messed his life up from the beginning, knowing who you were even before you guys had properly met. The crosswalk incident never seemed to have crossed your mind when you saw him. It had been in his mind ever since he saw how absolutely beautiful you looked, listening to a song he knew which made you even more attractive in his eyes.

Anyways, deep down you knew that this eventually would not solve anything between you two. You actually had to talk with Kuroo about this now, before it really got too far. That's not something you really wanted to do though.

Class had blown by in a breeze, you couldn't stop staring at the back of Kenma's head as he wrote down notes, doodled a bit in his notebook, and even stretched to avoid cramping.

You were so enthralled with him; you could sense it. You shoved that down to only wanting to be friends and not wanting to fight with your roommate.

"Kuroo, I just feel like Kenma doesn't really like me." You confessed, sitting on the couch at home, wrapped in a blanket.

"Nonsense, Kenma can be ... something, but I'm sure he just hasn't warmed up to you yet." He spoke so surely that maybe you just have imagined the past few interactions with Kenma.

Except... you haven't. Kenma truly was being a dickhead to you, you knew that much.

Kenma on the other hand, knew he was too. He couldn't stand that you actually live with them. Your presence –your scent– was everywhere even if you weren't there at all.

He couldn't bare it anymore. The lustrous thoughts of you filled his mind and he loathed it. He loathed you. But he couldn't help himself when you and Kuroo were out of the apartment, and he took a peek into your room.

He found it girlish and utterly weird to say the least, however, that didn't stop from taking an article of clothing from your dirty hamper. Kenma felt so dirty, so invasive, but he was getting unbelievably hard at the fact you might have worn these the night before.

Your pink and white dotted panties with a pretty bow on them taken by Kenma as a trophy. The dirty act of doing it sent an electrical shock down his spine, he hated you so much, to the point where he craved you so badly.

His hard cock had strained against his underwear and sweatpants he had so often worn. Seeing a dried wet stain on them was the straw that broke the camel's back for him. Kenma's eyes were lidded with lust, knowing that he didn't have nearly enough time to fully please himself with this article of clothing till you or Kuroo came back to the apartment.

You didn't have a clue of any of this, of course, only focused on telling Kuroo to talk to Kenma for you – not wanting him to hate you anymore.

And you definitely left out the bits where you've cussed back at Kenma or sarcastically responded back just because he decided to be an extra asshole like. A recurring memory strikes especially during the Saturday nights where you had made dinner for everyone on the weekends, but he insisted that he was sure it would kill him if he ate it.

"If you say so," You responded, picking at your nails, not having anything else to say or better to do.

"How about you come with me? I was going to go meet up with some friends from high school and I'm pretty sure you'd like to meet them." Kuroo says with a smile, if you hadn't known any better you would think that he was trying to cheer you up from the nonsense that Kenma was on.

"I guess." you sighed, deciding that you'd use this opportunity to make some friends outside of class and get your mind off of Kenma's antics towards you.

It was a brisk walk that you and Kuroo took, catching up on his classes and how he was doing lately since it felt like you both haven't really talked a lot lately.

He was going on about how he has been staying after lectures to help some of his classmates with work they were troubled on. In Kuroo's head, it just seemed like the perfect excuse to help you, and Kenma got along better when he wasn't around. Clearly, so far it has been backfiring.

No matter how many times Kuroo tried to talk some sense into Kenma, obviously knowing how you feel when he acts like such a dickhead to you, he just wouldn't budge. He'd claim that you're the one who is always provoking him.

"Oh, so that's why you've been wearing those so much? I thought you finally realized how well they suit your face but no, you got a compliment from a girl." You rolled your eyes, giggling at how silly Kuroo was sometimes.

"She was cute, okay?" He tried defending himself, knocking on the white apartment door you guys arrived at, blushing ever so slightly at this girl he had class with and occasionally helped her with her work.

Luckily his escape from this conversation was when a man opened the door. He was tall, broad shoulders, and had a funny spiky updo of white-gray hair that had black streaks in it – it didn't look half bad.

However, the most peculiar feature about him wasn't his build, or his hair, not even his clothes, it was eyes. Those eyes... were strange to say the least. Round, stark golden-colored eyes watched you like a hawk – no, like an owl. It was almost eerie how similar you could compare the two together.

He looked attractive and magnetic to be around, you understood why Kuroo was friends with him after all.

"Hey, hey, hey! Kubro!" The man interrupted your thoughts, embracing Kuroo into a man hug.

"Sup bro! How have you and Akaashi been?" Kuroo asked as they broke from the 'bro hug' and the man opened the door wider so you both could enter.

"We're great! Who's this little thing here?" He peered down at you, a wide smile on his face which suited him a lot.

"Hi, I'm Kuroo's roommate. Y/n." You returned a smile back at him, his joyous grin becoming infectious.

"Ah, I remember now. I'm Bokuto, this is my apartment that I share with my boyfriend!" He announced to you, which you nodded to, not really sure what to respond with.

"Kaashi! Come meet Y/n," The man loudly called for, who you were guessing, his lover.

A man emerged from around the corner of the living room, you assumed that's what it was. He was wearing a sweater that suited him nicely matched with a pair of black slacks. He had glasses on, which flattered his angled face very well. If Bokuto was handsome and magnetic then Akaashi was pretty and elegant.

"Kou, you don't have to shout. I can hear. Hello, I'm Keiji Akaashi," He extended his hand to shake yours – something Bokuto hadn't done.

"Hi, nice to meet you." You shook it, being polite and offering a smile.

"Would you like some tea?" You answered yes to the offering, turning away from what Tetsu and Bokuto were talking about and followed Akaashi into the kitchen. It was very homey here, and even smelled great. He put a kettle on and let you choose which kind of tea bag you'd prefer.

You let out a gasp, seeing your favorite tea in the mix, which was cinnamon apple spice. "This one please, I love it so much!" You couldn't help but to gush.

That caught Akaashi's attention, and he immediately turned toward you, a newfound friend he could speak to about tea.

"Tell me about it, I love the after spice it gives." He smiled; it was alluring. It made your mind wander to Kenma and how he'd look when he smiled, not his usual grimace that covered his face when you were around.

After a few mindless minutes of comparing favorite teas and even going so far to discuss different brands the topic switched to something else – or someone else. And that twisted your stomach in knots, however, you weren't too sure if it was a good or bad thing.

"So, you're rooming with Kuroo and Kenma? How has that been?" He sat across from you at the glass table, both holding and sipping the teas.

"Well..." You trailed a bit, slightly chewing the membrane off the inside of your cheek. You didn't really know how to phrase how it was going.

Eventually, you went with your gut and began, "Honestly, living with Kuroo has been a breeze. I've known him since I was in primary school so there are no bumps in the road with him." Not even bringing up Kenma until he just had to ask.

"And Kenma?" He questioned, finding it weird that you had only mentioned Kuroo and not the other roommate you were also living with.

“Uh, it’s been fine, I guess.” You were going to leave it there but you just couldn’t help yourself.

“Honestly, he’s been really fucking mean. Ever since the day I moved in, it feels like he’s hated my presence and I don’t even know what I did to him.”

“He’s just so infuriating sometimes and can't even bear a simple ‘thank you’ when I try to include him in things or get him his favorite coffee.” You grumbled, letting out more and more of a rant to Akaashi who was just sitting there, looking at you so intently while you spoke. It was as if he was silently urging you to continue.

“Don’t even get me started on the sassy ass remarks he loves to give me on the off chance he’s not trying so hard to avoid me. I’ve tried everything to be his friend and he’s just not budging and I don’t know what to do.” You sighed, finally out with all of the mess that’s been troubling you for the past weeks.

You knew it had to be quite some time that you’ve held all that in since it was the end of September.

“Hm, would you like advice?” He peered down at his now half empty cup, the tea delicious.

You peered up to him, surprised.

“You’d give me advice on how to deal with him?” You asked, curiously.

“Well, yeah. I’ve known Kenma since high school so I ought to at least give you some advice on his antics.” Akaashi explained as if it was desperately obvious.

To you, though, it wasn’t. However, you still nodded him along to tell you what you should do.

“It’s simple, just keep being nice when you can. Kenma can get under peoples skin sometimes but I guess we all have known him so long that it doesn’t really affect us anymore.” He spoke with intent, getting up to put his cup in the sink.

Keep being nice? It sounded like a load of garbage to be completely honest, but Akaashi had known Kenma for a while, along with Bokuto and Kuroo. So, you guess you had no other choice but to follow it. 

Soon, the hang out was over and you exchanged numbers with Bokuto and Akaashi. You enjoyed that you had a nice advocate for you if you needed it – meaning Akaashi, or Keiji as he asked for you to call him.

You felt better about your hardy relationship with Kenma and planned to fix it too. Plus, it was nice to rant about your troubles to someone who listens very well.

They make a great couple; you thought as you and Kuroo walked on the way back to the apartment. The evening chill, flickering lights of streetlamps, and tugging your sweater close to your skin was so dulcetly ephemeral to you.

Your eyes started to lid, yearning for your bed as you couldn't keep up with the conversation of Kuroo telling you about how he and Bokuto met.

"You know, I'm really grateful for you," You suddenly felt sentimental when that left your mouth. Memories of Kuroo and you since you were young fleeted through the front of your mind.

Kuroo turned towards you with a curious look, "I'm exceptionally grateful for you, Y/n."

There wasn't any more talking till you both arrived at the apartment. You wondered in another universe if you and Kuroo had ever been actual siblings instead of found family siblings.

synopsis: it's the summer before you go to university, and you decide to become roommates with your pen pal that you've known since you were in primary. big problem arises, he's got a roommate, and it just so happens that his roommate either has a sexual want for you or hates your guts – or probably both?

tag list: [let me know if you’d like to be in the tag list!]

@geektastic84 @lavanderdreamve @hhoneyhan @kirikeijii @marsoverthestars @nymphsdomain @justagirlnamedkai @kodzukein @74zix47 @kakuzone @jaeminaur @3lectraheart

a/n: i hope you enjoyed, and the idea for this entire smau came from @deftrow !! i made the banner

[doppel-doodles]

It's doodling time fellas

I wanted to give myself a bit of a challenge so I decided to draw the ocs of a few people here on tumblr, with the added challenge of doing it fast-

Minimal erasing and redoing, basically whatever is slapped on the page first sticks whether I like it or not. And there is a little time limit on how much I can spent on each character so that I don't get distracted as easily.

Just a little exercise so that hopefully it'll get easier for me to throw down a sketch using few lines and not taking literal hours-w-" I know everyone has their own pace but I would like to be a faster artist.

Anyway my yapping aside and without further delay: The girlies💚💗💜❤

Now to who these lovely gals belong to:

Haiyang: @riptide-pools

Nawa: @auburnitzy

Suki: @peachy-puddin-cup

An he: @lumidotexe

For anyone interested I'll include some thoughts on each of these below the cut:>

Haiyang

The first one I did and I think it shows>~> I was basically more focused on just figuring out how I wanted to do this so I spent less time and energy on how I wanted the character to look in my style. In the end I settled on doing the basic shapes in pencil and then switching to colored fine liners for details.

With the colors also matches the way I draw digitally just a tiny bit more! Buuuut if I end up doing this again I definitely wanna redraw her, I wanna do this gorgeous character justice after all!/'w'/

Suki

Suuuuukiiii! I did draw her before so I decided to do this version, which I believe to be just her shadow form! While drawing I didn't actually give myself time to look it up cause ya know, no distractions which is why there is a question mark-

But my stupidity aside- here is where I started drawing a lot faster, I was in the zone if you will, so I spent what time I had left adding some variation to the line art. I do like this one and honestly she would probably be so much fun to render digitally so I'll see if I can if there is time:>

Nawa

NOW THIS IS WHERE THE FUN REALLY BEGAN-

Nawa just was such a blast honestly, probably because I was getting really comfortable at this point and let myself play around more with how I stylise the characters! I love me some funky eyes, its probably the most recognisable part of my style.

Also granted I don't know much on Nawa yet(fake fan I'm sorry-/j) I only recently followed the creator so I need to find time to just really browse through their blog and consume all the knowledge there is, but once I do I'll be unstoppable!>:D

An He

Last but certainly not least we finish with An He, who was a just a chill and nice lil drawing perfect to round out this doodle session-w- now I have actually read ERHS(shameless plug, read it it's so good- just need to find my attention span as I haven't caught up with it SOBS) so I have more knowledge on her.

For that reason I attempted to do a slimmer face shape, i wanted her built overall to read as visibly more thin and petite. Along side that I went for rings in her eyes as an allusion to sound waves as I didnt just wanna drop in a music note and call it a day.

however maybe I'll experiment more another time because I just dont think it reads that well:'<

That concludes my silly ramblings! Thanks for sticking around and if any of the creators of these lovely ladies see this- YOU HAVE AMAZING CHARACTERS AND I HOPE I DID THEM JUSTICE!- ahem.

If I do this again I'll definitely go for some male ocs as well for the sake of variety, it was a happy accident that I only drew girls here.

[dairy-farmer]

imagine this, right? i js got the idea. might not be the best one in the world, but here.

dick and tim have been married for anywhere around three years. tim’s twenty four at this time, dick’s thirty-one. their love life is incredible, sex life just as good. tim kisses him in the mornings. they go out every sunday. the batfamily’s come to accept it because they’re so in love. their honeymoon phase is literally their whole marriage.

‘disgustingly in love,’ — jason.

‘dick has stooped so low,’ — damian.

‘please don’t make out on the couch,’ — duke.

they’re the kind of couple people hate, the bond that people want to have, and—

then dick cheats.

it wasn’t a good decision, but happened with this villain—‘and you know how the men in this family are with villains, tim, how the villains are with us. she was hot. and it had been going on for weeks. i refused until he didn’t. i tried, tim.’ dick doesn’t have a good excuse. tim’s out of his life within a week, divorce proceedings already starting.

it’s dick’s all time low. tim doesn’t even look at him. dick begs him to stay as he packs his bags. he says he’ll never do it again, it was a one-off occasion, but tim’s trust is like stained glass, so pretty when he has it, so devastating when it shatters.

tim’s friends despise dick. kon-el always challenges his authority on joint missions now. steph outright says the divorce was his fault and disinvited him from outings because it was still so fresh and tim would be there. wally and cassie give him looks and fall into whispers whenever he passes. jason jokes about it and has it in every low blow he can muster.

he still sees tim every other day, because of their careers, but tim avoids his patrol areas and bruce purposely sets them apart.

once or twice, bruce mentions how they should forget grudges on the job, but he can’t help it.

almost a year passes, and tim’s birthday happens. dick watches it happen from his phone, scrolling his socials, and breaks down. it’s a cycle of him wanting tim to feel as useless as dick without him, to him wishing the best, until he admits he wants nothing more than tim again and hates himself for losing that.

he buys him a gift that night. leaves it on tim’s usual work space in the batcave. that evening, he finds a sticky note on his door with the word “thanks.”

he places one on tim’s desk, so sure it’s him, giddy with the idea of them talking again, he writes back, “ur welcome.”

it should be the end. instead, dick finds a “how did u know i’d want this?” on his nightwing suit. he replies with, “because ur tim” and places it on the zesti can in the bundle, because tim takes one around this time, and always follows their placement.

“what does that mean” on dick’s shoes in the morning.

“u like collections” on a figurine tim left in the parlour.

“i know and i couldn’t even get my hands on this one” the inside of dick’s smoothie mix bottle.

“what? u can’t get ur hands on a simple superman figurine?” the side of the leg extension/curl machine in the home gym, timed before tim’s work out.

“there was only five of this one ever made.” the mirror in dick’s en-suite.

“and now u have one of them :)” tim’s degenerate energy dark chocolate bar container.

they go on like this for a couple weeks. start hanging around the manor that much more often to encounter their next note.

“did u see what she wore to the gala? (he forgot her name, so there’s a doodle of a woman with pronounced ears and a bad tiger print scarf crammed on the note)” “didn’t you wear five toed shoes to a gala?” “it wasn’t tiger print.”

“i love alfred’s cookies.” “ur sticky note has crumbs.” “don’t talk to me about sanitary stick notes, piss stain” “u could smell the apple juice stop with the piss allegations :(”

and so forth. eventually, dick musters the courage to talk to tim again. he says hi one night they cross paths on patrol. it’s the most awkward reaction he gets, silence, then a returned, ‘hi.’

the sticky notes stop.

dick hates himself for a total of three days before tim asks if he wants to work a case together. he hops on it fast.

they spend all night looking through it, figuring it out. it’s difficult. they spend the night after that to finish it. tim’s speaking to him again, a bit more like a friend, more sarcastically, and dick knew he couldn’t stay away forever.

a month later, and he might mention something of their past, hinting on it. dick hasn’t gotten over tim. ever. tim replies, in the kindest way possible something that translates to ‘we’re never getting back together.’

dick is heartbroken.

their interactions change as soon as tim is aware dick’s still into him. not in the way he distances, but in the way he talks to dick, leaning over his shoulders to show him new installations and software, holding his forearm time to time, casually, like his hand just slid there without thinking, and hanging an arm over his shoulder enough for dick to ask himself why.

dick once asks, while tim is dealing with a bad gash and he’s in daring spirits, ‘do you ever miss us?’

‘maybe,’ tim says, ‘i miss the other stuff.’

‘the other stuff?’

‘like, the sex.’

he realizes quite soon that tim’s ‘we’re never getting back together’ euphemism wasn’t a full sentence, or concept. he did say something else after, to further soften it, but dick stopped listening then. he mentioned he didn’t mind them being friends, something other with benefits, and it clicks then.

we’re never getting back together, but we can hook up if you want.

tim didn’t say that word for word, but it’s clear he meant that now.

dick wants the same relationship with tim he had then, beyond sex. they were better than sex. sure, the sex was incredible, tim felt so good for him, and remembering it now starts a craving in him that furthers when tim’s fingers brush along his skin.

‘i meant more than that.’

tim shrugs. dick should probe, keep trying to pry something out of him. but dick is a weak man when tim offers him something.

‘but that’s fine. i miss it, too.’

dick wishes he could take the betrayal back. he hasn’t touched anyone else since the divorce. it felt like cheating, seeing someone else, made him sick and he wasn’t in the hottest mood without tim around. but now tim is, for him, and he’ll take whatever he can get.

that’s how dick ends up with his ex-husband on top, insisting he does all the work because he just sterilized and bandaged his side, and it’s best he stays down. tim slips down him, and it’s been a while, such a long time dick is throbbing before tim even starts. he grabs his hips so hard, and can’t even thrust up before tim scolds him and breathily threatens to stop if he keeps writhing so much, that he needs to keep still if he wants this.

dick strains not to lift into tim, trembling beneath him, running hands along his smooth torso. so, so pretty.

tim’s thighs work, slapping onto his flesh, his cock dripping on dick’s abs. dick wants to sear his finger prints into his hips. to account for how he can’t thrust his hips without tim aggressively palming at his stomach, shoving him down or making him jerk down with pain, he manhandles tim by his hips, plunging him down on his cock. tim sings so lovely, hunching over. he tries to kiss tim when he hovers close enough for it to work, but tim rights his posture the last second, bouncing on dick’s cock and he loses his mind. he squeezes his hips one handedly, the one thing anchoring him, focusing his other on rounding tim’s cock and rubbing.

hair haloes his bowed head, his blue eyes dazed then shutting tight, pretty lips falling ajar in a gasp. dick swallows down the i love you clawing in the back of his throat, and comes after tim, spurred on by how he tightens, his trembling, and that look on his face. tim slips off of him, first checking the bandages for any bleeding, and relaxing when there’s none.

finally, they clean up, but it happens again. and again.

it’s good for the reason hook ups often are. better because tim knows him, knows what turns dick on, and where on his body causes tremors to race about his nerves. it hurts for the reason that’s all it is. hook ups. tim never kisses him during them or stays too long for after care before he finds something to do.

dick is still so in love. he can’t complain. but he wants something more. he can be casual with anyone else, but not his timmy.

however this ends im not sure but it was an idea i had ig.

!!!!!! dick being so desperate to take back what he did and to be able to have tim again but not being able to. the most he can get is the occasional hookup but even then tim still keeps his distance and does not treat dick affectionatly and doesn't act like them meeting is anything other than a hookup. i love the idea that when tim starts treating dick more civilly, maybe even nicely he gets so happy and exxcited that it might mean more only to deflate when tim tells him no again.

dick starts getting affectionate, starts reaching for tim because he thinks maybe because tim is nice to him now, that because tim talks to him, doesn't look at him with dead fish eyes that it means...more.

and then any hope dick feels collapses when tim holds his hands and starts softly talking like dick is a child. "just because i can work with you and just because i laugh with you and am nice to you, it doesn't mean i forgive you dick. it doesn't even mean i miss you,"

just dick always getting his hopes high and then having them knocked out from under him.

dick was always stuck in this cycle of relationships. cycling through the same partners again and again and after cheating on tim it ends. he never enters that cycle again. instead he enters a new one. one where he reads into tim's behavior and words thinking he has a chance again, building his hope up again. only for it to be dashed.

[swee7dream]

how would the dreamies react to their s/o regressing for the first time in front of them after being super stressed and not being able to be a little ? ^^

it’s been a long time caregiver!nct dream x gender-neutral!regressor!reader

genres sfw age regression content, established relationship, hurt / comfort, angst in some, bits of fluff in all warnings involuntary / vent regression, regression block, negative self-talk, haechan's is long sry dni if you sexualize age regression. not only blocking but also reporting.

author’s note i'm SO sorry this took so long for me to get out. i promise i didn't forget about you, nonnie! i might've geared a little bit ( a lot ) off the prompt at times but i still hope you like it ! thx 4 requesting !

mark lee (ᓀ‸ᓂ) wc 642

With all your responsibilities lately, Mark finds it logical that you don’t regress as often as you used to. The last time he remembers was over three months ago. He misses taking care of you, hearing your sweet voice call out for your 'Mack!'. But he doesn’t want to burden you even more with any expectations to do anything you weren’t feeling up to do. He wasn’t planning to bring it up. Honest.

That was until you started coming home to avoid his kisses and go straight to bed. That moment left a pang in his heart.

In the silence and tension of your apartment, Mark finds himself in your little corner of tiny things, picking up your toys and dusting off your coloring books with longing. He misses his baby, so he’s going to get his baby back, he decides, no matter what it takes.

“Oh look, that new Disney movie came out you said you wanted to go see it, right?”

“I’m tired, Mark.”

“…okay.” He bites the inside of his cheek.

Just keep trying, Mark. You got this.

“Babe, I’m doing laundry. You want me to wash Cheese Doodle?” He knocks at your office door.

“Huh?” You raise your head as if you were a fish out of water. “Uh, yeah. That’s fine. Thank you.”

Hmph.

“What is that?” You give the box in Mark’s hand a look.

“It’s a game. Picked it up at the store. It’s like… Twister? But there’s something different about it. I dunno, I didn’t pay attention to the label and just bought it. Chenle asked that we bring some kind of board game for his party on Saturday.”

“Oh. Well, I have a thing on Saturday so tell him I can’t go but I hope everyone has fun.”

As the saying goes, the fourth time’s a charm.

“You’re not going to bed?” You rub your eyes, already in your night clothes and under the sheets.

“Not really tired,” he replies with a shrug as he makes his way out into the kitchen. “I think I’m gonna make myself some angel milk to get the sleeping juices going. That always worked for you. You want some?”

You’re already pretty tired, the events of the day had sucked every last drop of potential energy from you. Still, some angel milk in all its sweet, vanilla-tasting glory makes you lick your lips.

“…yeah. Please,” you answer.

When he comes back from the kitchen, he has your warm drink in one hand and Cheese Doodle—your orange puppy stuffie—in the other.

“Sit up for me, baby,” he says softly as he sits down on the edge of the bed, not wanting to spill anything from your favorite mug.

“Unicorn…!” You notice, taking the pink and rainbow cup in your two sleeve-clad hands. “Thank you.”

“Mhm.” Mark smiles. “and I just took cheese doodle out of the laundry too. Used the fabric softener that you like. Wanna feel?”

“Oh.” In a second, you’re like a cat rubbing your cheek against Cheese Doodle’s fur. “Smells good, Markie. Thank you.”

”Of course, baby. Feeling tiny?” He asks only now that he’s 95% sure you are.

”Little bit,” you admit into your mug, slurping quietly to not burn yourself.

”Aw.” He pouts. “That’s good. You know, Markie missed you, baby. I haven’t held my baby in such a long time.”

”Missed Markie too.” You blink at him with sleepy eyes and a milk mustache. “Lot.”

”Wanna cuddle for a little then?”

”Just for a lil' bit.” You nod, placing your angel milk on the bedside table.

Mark knows the mug will be forgotten by the morning but he'd rather make and waste a million angel milks than for you to forget him and Cheese Doodle again.

huang renjun ૮ ˙Ⱉ˙ ა wc 594

“Oh that’s a nice painting, Jun,” you praise, resting your chin on his shoulder as he sits on a stool. “Very pretty.”

“I feel like it’s missing something, though,” he says with a frown. “Here. You paint something.”

“On your canvas?” You look at him. “No way, love. I’ll ruin it.”

“You won’t. Now take the brush.”

“I won’t.” You step back and cross your arms. “I’m not gonna mess up this painting you’ve been working so hard on with my clumsiness.”

“What are you talking about? You always add something to my paintings.” Renjun gives you a look. The look that makes you want to roll your eyes.

“And they’re always so much better before me.”

“You don’t think that.”

“I do.”

“Why are you talking about yourself in this way all of a sudden?”

“Because it’s true!” You explode. There’s a burning in the backs of your eyes as you keep talking. “All I’ve been doing lately is messing up stuff for other people. I’m no good, Renjun.”

“…”

“My boss thinks it, my team members think it. I know you think it too!” You sob.

“Darling-”

“Stop it, Jun.”

“Darling,” he repeats, taking your hand in his. “come here.”

He pulls you in with one hand and wipes your tears with another, so careful he almost makes you think you are glass.

“What’s in that green binder in the bookshelf over there?” he asks.

“What?” You furrow your brows. “I don’t know.”

“Go check.”

You give him a look but make your way to the oak bookshelf; filled with sketchbooks, novels, and a singular green binder. You look at Renjun when your fingers touch the spine and take it out only after he nods. Your knees wobble as you flip through the pages so you let your bottom hit the floor.

In the binder are the handwritten notes from back before the two of you even started dating; flirtatious exchanges recorded on coffee shop napkins, gum wrappers, and ripped-up bits of college notes. The next stage of your relationship is at the flip of a page; rushed post-it notes of domestic living with 'I love you!'s and 'Don't forget to eat!'s kept safe in the plastic sheets.

You look up at him with surprise but he only nods his head for you to keep flipping pages. You flip through empty slips until you almost reach the back cover and find all the drawings you’ve made for Renjun over the years while in regression. Each and every one. Even the ones where you're mad at him and have him eaten by monsters.

“You kept them…” You pass a finger over a drawing you made of the two of you, your stickmen-selves holding hands and smiling in a rocket ship.

“Of course I did, baby. How could I throw away something so perfect?” You hear his voice next to you, having gotten up from his seat to crouch next to you on the floor. He gently pulls your head into his chest and his lips drop to kiss the top of your head. “I don’t think you mess up things, my love. Ever. You simply change their direction. My Lovebug is the most creative, innovative person in the whole wide world, didn’t you know?”

“Junnie…” You sob, the dam of pent-up emotions finally seeking release.

“Hi there, babybug.” He whispers. “I’m right here, lovey. Right here. Let it all out.”

lee jeno ૮ .◜◡◝ა wc 655

“Babe, the ice is melting and your coke is turning into gross, brown, sweet-tasting water,” Jeno warns.

“One second, baby. I just need to finish this assignment real quick,” you mutter with your bottom lip bit in place.

It seems you’re still in the same clothes from three days ago, the same amount of time Jeno’s seen you stay in bed studying. He’s beginning to think your butt might be attached permanently to the mattress at this point. When it comes to your bedside table, your 5-hour energy from lunchtime being the latest addition to the food trash and empty water bottle pile doesn’t fill him with any more positive thoughts.

“When’s it for?” He sighs. “Your assignment.”

“…what?” You turn your head to him but your eyes stay on the screen. “Oh, um, Friday.”

“It’s Monday. Come on.” Jeno pulls at your arm like a spoiled child. “I’m not even making you shower or anything. I just wanna hang out with my hermit, stinky, computer nerd. Will you grant me my wish please?”

You look up with a half-offended, half-amused expression and your jaw dropped.

“I’m not stinky!” You fail to shake off your arm from his hold. “I told you I’m coming! I just really need to finish this.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Ye- ah!” You squeal as Jeno pulls at your arm, throwing you over his shoulder. “Jeno! I’m serious!”

“I’m serious too. Monday to Friday is five days-”

“Four days!”

“-and that’s more than enough time to finish your assignment.” He refuses to acknowledge your interruption. “You are going to eat a proper dinner with me on the couch as we watch TV and you’re gonna like it, you got that?”

“Augh…!” You groan, going limp on him.

“Oh, I know.” Jeno pouts as he sets you on the couch, covering you in your train-print fleece blanket. “I’m so mean, aren’t I? Asking you to take a break when all you wanna do is work, work, work.”

You just stare at him, squinting your eyes as you fail to hide a smile.

“Well unfortunately for you, gumdrop, babies don’t work! So I’m afraid I can’t let you do that. The police will come after me if I do. Child labor laws or something like that.”

He leaves a quick kiss on your forehead right before speeding to the kitchen. Jeno’s eyebrows wiggle in a wave when he returns with your food; apple slices, chicken nuggets, and fries all in their respective spots in your divided plate.

The original pasta and movie date night plan being scrapped for a Nono-Gumdrop night doesn’t phase Jeno. In fact, it excites him. Your projects and exams and assignments and professors... he tries so hard not to hold resentment against them all as they pull his baby away from him. But tonight? Tonight is different, and for once in his life, caregiver Jeno is triumphant.

“Thank you…” Your fingers wrap around the blue silicone and Jeno engulfs you in a bear hug when he sits down. Tight but not so tight it obstructs your arms when eating. “What are we watching, Nono?”

“Max and Ruby.” He smiles when you gasp.

“Love Max and Ruby!” You gush with a mouthful of apples.

“Do you?” Jeno drops his head to the side. “You do? You do? Nuh-uh. I do. It’s my favorite show in the whole wide world.”

“Well, ’s my favorite show in the whole galaxy!”

“Yeah? Well-”

You squeal, feeling ticklish when he nuzzles his stubble on your face.

“Nono, stop!” You giggle.

“Eat up, gumdrop.” He sighs, the feeling of his baby in his arms and eating a proper meal for the first time in days is an incomparable joy. “Two episodes and then it’s bathtime.”

“Ah, boo, Nono!” you whine but it turns back to giggles when he compresses you in his arms.

lee donghyuck ʕ˙Ⱉ˙‧:ʔ wc 994

“You there, Angel?”

You shake your head.

It feels strange, like your body isn’t yours, as you hold on tight to your dolls in your hands and see none of the lively sparkle in their eyes you usually do when you’re small.

“I’m broken, Hyuck,” you say with such a lack of emotions that you can’t tell if it’s actually you who is speaking. “I did everything right. I got dressed, I put on the music box, I’m trying to play for God’s sake. And nothing is working still. I feel ridiculous. A grown adult trying to act like a child.” You scoff.

“Hey, stop.” Donghyuck’s firm tone sends a shiver down your spine and you pull away. His shoulders drop when he notices; you’re scared and he’s only making it worse.

“That’s my baby you’re talking about, you know?” He tries again, with a softer tone this time. “Don’t talk about yourself like that. You are not broken.” He holds your cheek.

“I’m just so tired, Hyuck.” Tears come up and blur your vision. “Everything has been going on for so long at the exact same time and I just- I can’t anymore. I need to just step away from reality for a little bit but I can’t even do that. My brain is just locking me in here in this state of suffering for who knows how long and I have no way of getting out. Not even for an hour.” You sob.

“I know, lovely.” He wraps his arms around you, letting you in turn wrap your arms around his legs from your seat on the floor. “It’s been so much for so long. You deserve a little break. Take a deep breath. Let’s try to let go of all these grownup worries, okay? We can pick them back up later. Come on, Angel, breathe.”

Angel.

Channie called you Angel and you still don’t feel small. The realization makes for more tears to come up but you refuse to let another defeated cry leave you. The denim of his jeans is rough on your face but not rough enough to make you stop using it as a tissue for your tears.

“…okay,” you creak out. “Breathe in. Breathing in…”

“There we go.” Haechan passes a hand over your head, the sensation soothing you somewhat. “And out. one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Good job, Angel. Nice long deep breaths.”

You repeat the action several times, following his counts and pushing yourself to feel his jeans under your fingertips and smell the woodsy notes of his cologne to ground yourself.

“Everything sucks,” you say after some moments of silence. “Everything sucks. I didn’t even ask for any of this. I just want to be small,” your voice breaks.

“And you will be.” Donghyuck’s touch is gentle, encouraging you without words to look up at him. The pad of his thumb is warm when it wipes the tears from your face, brushing against your damp lashes. “You will be. I promise.”

“I don’t know what to do, Hyuck. I’m all out of ideas at this point,” you admit.

“How about just trying to feel not sucky?” He scrunches his nose, the most tender of smiles painted on his face. “How about… just drawing a picture? Just one. Doesn’t have to be with crayon or marker like when you’re feeling tiny. It can be whatever you want it to be. Don’t think about being small, just about drawing.”

“…draw what?”

“Hm… what about your dolls?”

When you unwrap yourself from his legs to look at said dolls, it gives Donghyuck the chance to go grab your art supplies. Your dolls don’t have that lively aura you see them with when you’re small but you can almost feel a sort of pity and empathy from them. It reminds you of the type of support your friends give you in their messages despite the country lines separating you.

“And I’ll draw… a car. Jeno’s been getting me into Formula One.” Donghyuck pulls you out of your thoughts when his voice is so close it makes you turn to see he’s taken a seat next to you on the floor. He opens a pencil case right in front of you two and takes a black pencil for himself to begin sketching on some paper.

“Really?” You opt a red pencil.

“Yeah. It’s pretty interesting.” He shrugs.

“But ’s so boring.” You sniffle up some snot from your lightning-fast crying session. You didn’t even cry for that long, how come you can feel your eyes swelling? So annoying. “They just go around in circles.”

“It’s not just that though. There’s—pass me the red? Oh, you have it. No, it’s okay. I can wait—there’s like a ton of beef between them. I like watching the interviews and stuff. It’s like watching basketball or football.” Haechan lets out a groan as he lays on his stomach, resting a cheek on his fist. “That’s really pretty, baby.”

“Y’like it?” You move to mirror him, turning your drawing for him to see better. “Think I’m gonna add some other stuff too.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know yet,” you admit. “Probably you. I always like drawing you. And then… your red car. You can take me and the dollies on a road trip. I like it when we have fun together.”

Affection floods out of Donghyuck, letting out an adoring ‘aw’ as he hugs you, leaving kisses on all the spots he knows won’t lead to a tickle fight.

“So cute! I always have fun with you. My Angel...” he hums into your temple.

“My Channie…” you mutter under your breath, sketching his head four times bigger than the rest.

na jaemin ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭ wc 664

“I’m okay.” You rub your nose. “Just a couple sneezes, Jaem. It’s not a big deal. I can keep studying for a little while longer.”

“You sneezed four times in a row.” Jaemin stands next to your desk chair with his arms crossed. “Do you know what that means?”

“What?” You sigh, knowing he won’t leave until you entertain him.

“You have the plague.”

“The what?”

“The plague.”

“Baby, I don’t have the-” Achoo! “the-” Achoo! “the plague…”

You move your mouse around your screen and click away at it but it doesn’t hide the reflection of Jaemin’s intense stare into your skull. He’s not amused. You spin your chair around.

“I don’t have the plague,” you repeat with a clogged nose, not even convincing yourself this time. “…I just have a little cold.”

“I wonder where you could have gotten that from, hm?” He turns you toward him by the chair’s arms and traps you by holding onto both of them and leaning in until your foreheads almost touch. “Maybe from studying a little too much? From stretching yourself too thin? Pushing yourself past your limits? Hm? Hm? hm?” He turns his head at an angle with each question, being obnoxious about his accurate statements.

“Five minutes.”

“No.”

“I just need to email this professor.”

“No.”

“I have a group project.”

“Good thing you have groupmates, huh? Come on, get off your pretty little butt.” He grabs you from under the armpits, placing your feet on the ground as if you were merely a bag of rice. “We’re playing hospital.”

“No…” you whine with dragging feet the whole time Jaemin guides you to the kitchen, his gentlemanly hand giving you no chance to run as it rests on the small of your back.

“Yes…” He pouts at you as he fills up the syringe with orange medicinal syrup. “Babies need be good and take their medicine when they are sick, okay?”

“Jaemin-” You pull your head the other way, holding his wrist away from you.

“Baby…” he sings, dodging your attempts. “Say ‘ah’, pumpkin.”

Pressing your lips tight doesn’t do anything, the plastic tip of the syringe still slipping in and filling your mouth with bitter medicine that makes a lame attempt at orange flavoring. You shake your head, still rejecting the cold syrup as it goes down, but it does regardless, chilling your throat when it does.

“Bleh!”

“Drink some water, baby.” Jaemin holds up a cup (when did he fill that up?) and you take it as if it were the key to eternal life.

“Taste so icky,” you say with your face scrunched up like a raisin. “Hate it!”

You’re sick and suffering from forced consumption of medicine. Jaemin knows this. Jaemin shouldn’t smile. But he just can’t help it! His baby is finally back after such a long, long time. he thought he was gonna die from BWS (Baby Withdrawal Symptoms).

“Aw…” His hands reach out to hold your face and squish your cheeks together. “Baby doesn’t like medicine? Babies don’t like yucky bitter things. Babies like… sweet yummy things! How about some hot chocolate, lovey-dovey?”

“Chocwate?” you ask with raised eyebrows.

“Hot chocwate.” His nose scrunches as he pinches your cheeks. “Does that sound good?”

“Yeah!” You hop free of his crab claws. “Hot chocolate! Wanna, wanna, wanna!”

“Be careful, sugarplum!” Jaemin laughs, twirling you with such ease it feels as if you were in a dance. “Why don’t you go put something on the TV while I make us the chocolate? Whatever you want, baby,” he says, but you’re already out of the kitchen and looking under blankets and cushions for the remote.

“Spongebob!” You hold it up to the ceiling like it were the sword in the stone.

“Except Spongebob. You know that shrinks your brain.”

“Aw!” You slump but quickly straighten up like a ruler. “Ah- Ah- Achoo!”

zhong chenle (ᯟ︿ᯏ) wc 622

“I’m so proud of you.” Chenle pecks your head as you hold his waist from behind. The smells coming from the stove you two stand in front of are nothing if not heavenly. “Pretty, funny, kind, graduated. How’d I bag you?”

“Mmm, I dunno.” You shrug smugly, as you look out the window. A content sigh leaves you as your eyes follow the raindrops that slide down your window. “Must’ve done something good in your past life.”

“Must have,” he hums. “Set the table for me? I’m basically almost done.”

“You got it.” You peck his cheek. “Smells delicious. Jaemin give you cooking lessons while I was gone?”

“I’ll have you know I’m a great cook. I don’t need any cooking lessons. Never have.”

“Ah…” You roll out the placemats with a sarcastic nod.

“But if I did, I would go to Donghyuck.”

“If you did, I would approve. His soups are good.”

“Mine are better.”

“…”

“Right?”

“Sure.”

The music playing from the speakers and lights in the apartment all shut off at once, not even the hum of the refrigerator sounding in the silence, the darkness. The thunder is so close it feels like footsteps. Heavy, angry footsteps coming close. Closer and closer to you.

The power comes back as soon as it left but you can’t seem to recover as fast. You don’t even remember dropping down to hold your knees, and in the dark you didn’t see how many tears came up to overflow from your eyes. Chenle calls out your name but it sounds so distant it doesn’t even register. It feels like you’re running out of oxygen like a deep sea diver falling hopelessly down to the ocean floor.

“Hey,” you take a sharp inhale at Chenle’s warm hands holding your cheeks ground you back to reality. “Hey, the power went out. Everything’s fine. You’re okay. You’re home, you’re with me. Nothing is gonna hurt you here, you hear me? You are safe.”

You almost knock Chenle over from his crouching position when you throw yourself on him, but he reads your body language just in time to catch you. His lips press into your hair, your temples, your shoulders, the softest of touches as you wail into his shirt. His heart breaks at how fragile you seem in the moment, like a porcelain doll with a chip. You sob and babble to the point that Chenle can’t understand what you’re saying. All he can catch is one word.

“Daddy…”

There’s nothing for you to do but cry, Chenle’s learned with time, so he lets you do just that. He lets you cry in his arms there on the floor and when you’re finally willing he attaches you to his hip as he walks around. He wipes your tears with a paper towel and makes sure you get a bottle of water to drink from to rehydrate.

His eyebrows furrow when you turn your head to dodge his spoon, rejecting the meal you were so looking forward to less than twenty minutes ago. This meal which was meant to be a celebration of not just the end of your education but of all your life up to this point. Of your growth, your endurance; of all the stress you put yourself through to come out victorious in the end.

You’re still victorious, he thinks. Even now as you fill up the apartment with tears, he’s so proud of you. His partner, his baby, the strongest person he’s ever met.

“Come on, dollface. Just one spoonful, yeah? Need you to eat,” he tries again.

park jisung (∩˃o˂∩) wc 668

“What’s that giant box?”

“What giant box?” He looks at you on the couch. “...I thought you were napping.”

“I woke up. What’s with that giant box you’re pushing into our house?”

“Oh, this?” Jisung looks down. “It's… a box.”

You blink, irritation in your tight-lipped smile at your boyfriend’s lack of cooperation.

“I know it’s a box, Ji. I'm asking what’s inside the box?”

“Box… stuff…”

“Jisung!”

“That’s not my name!” He whines as he shuts the front door. “My name to you is Ji! Or Baby! Not Jisung! It’s so scary when you call me that...” He sighs. “It was supposed to come before you started your vacation time, while you were at work.”

“Why?” Your eyebrows come together into a questioning frown.

“Because- just- you’ll see soon. Pass me the scissors? Thanks.” He pecks your lips, taking the scissors from your hands and pushing your back away with little force. “Now go. Get! Your surprise will be ready in a minute. Go… brush your dolls’ hair or something. It’ll be super quick.”

“Doll hairs? is it a Little gift?”

“Shoot.” Jisung bites his fist. “...can you just go in the bedroom already? It’s not a Little gift. It’s not.”

The instructions that came in the box of the not-Little gift said construction would only take thirty minutes. Not to fear, with super handyman Park Jisung to the rescue it only took three hours and two people.

“We’re done!” You clap, looking in awe at your brand new play kitchen, pink and wooden and creaky and yours. “Jiji, finish!”

“Yeah.” He sits back on the floor, wiping the sweat from his brow. “We’re finished. D’you like it?”

“It’s so pretty, jiji!” You beam, hugging his head and squeezing the brains out of him.

“I’m glad you like it, bub.” He nods at his work in approval. “You deserve it. Worked so hard recently.”

“Thankie!” You get up quickly, running barefoot into the bedroom to come back with a box of play food in all colors and sizes.

“Make you a lenonade, bubby!” You begin adding ice to a cup and add a lemon to it. “Ice cold lenonade.”

“Oh, I love your lenonade. Thanks, baby.” He takes the cup, making gulping noises and finishing it off with a loud and satisfied ‘ah!’. “Actually, are we playing restaurant right now?”

“Um… yeah!” you decide. “Welcome to my rest’rant! What would you like to order?”

“I would kill for a good burger.” Jisung pats his stomach like a starved man. “I hear you guys have some good ones, is that true?”

“The truest!” You smile. “One burger, comin’ up!”

You turn back to your kitchen and hum to yourself as you place a burger patty on the stove.

“No pans for that?”

“No pans!” You shake your head. “Special burger.”

“Ah, must be.” He mutters behind you.

When it comes to building time, Jisung acts like a to-be-blacklisted customer.

“Could I have no onions in my burger? I’m allergic.”

“No, you’re not.”

“It’s just play pretend, honey.”

“Oh. Then, yes you can, sir! No onions.”

“And no tomatoes please. I don’t like how the seeds get stuck between my teeth.”

“No tomatoes!”

“And could you cut the cheese? It kind of sends me to the bathroom.”

“Ew… okay, no cheese, either!” You toss the slice of play cheese to the side.

“…could you also remove the meat? I’m vegetarian.”

That’s the final straw. No meat? You look down at his ‘burger’: bread, lettuce, bread.

“This is what you want?” You turn to show him his order.

“Oh yes.” He smiles, clasping his hands together in anticipation. “That’s my burger! So tasty. Thank you, shop owner.”

“You’re welcome…” You give him a look. “Ketchup?”

“No thanks.”

“Mayo?”

“Bleh! Pass.”

“…barbeque sauce?”

“Oh, that’s my favorite! Lettuce and barbeque sauce burger, my favorite.” He licks his lips.

“Jiji, ew!” you whine.

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