#I look rlly good with chest forms

[neonvixie]

was talking abt Gender with a friend and realized I don't have a good grasp on what I want to be, what that looks like - I don't have References for how I want to look

so now every picture I see it's like "Is this a gender?" and so far it's 90% dresses and 10% sweaters

[sttoru]

·.⌇ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. thinking about true form!sukuna having a huge size kink (+ corruption kink).

word count. 2.6k

note. super self-indulgent. cant rlly blame me for creating this. also do you see those big ass hands in the header i used? yeah.. says enough (this sucks ass)

tags. dom heian era!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut. porn with plot. size kink / size difference (reader gets referred to as ‘short’ & ‘small’). p in v -> unprotected. degradation. corruption kink (reader gets referred to as ‘naive’, 'shy' & innocent’-looking). tummy bulging. loss of virginity mention. hymen breaking mention. cervix fucking, ouch. lots of teasing. tiny bit of choking. tiny mention of blood tasting ? idk. hint at anal / double penetration. dirty talk. sukuna has two of everything btw mehehe. reader get called ‘woman, brat, slut, little'.

sukuna is intrigued by you. he’s always been, since the moment he’s laid his eyes upon you. your loyalty and devotion to him are two aspects that the king of curses likes most about you. .

. . after your innocence.

it nearly irked him. every time he saw you hanging around the estate without a single care in the world. sukuna would attempt to intimidate you with serious threats. he’d loom over your short stature and look down at you with a malicious glint in his eyes. though, none of it seemed to work.

you'd only bow your head at him and apologise if you’ve caused him any possible inconveniences. it annoyed the sorcerer. you weren’t trembling in fear like all the others would — it was like there was nothing going on in that head of yours. especially when you smile at him. which no one actually dares to do.

sukuna could crush you. with no effort. one big hand would be enough to pick your entire body up, lift you in the air and throw you around like a ragdoll. you don’t seem to fear the possibility of that happening, even when being faced with a pissed off sukuna.

it’s truly intriguing and amusing. that’s why sukuna kept you around every day — as a form of entertainment, he called it. one thing led to the other and you eventually ended up as one of his concubines. the king of curses himself decided to grant you that promotion.

why? because not only does your fragile body, reserved and polite personality and innocence secretly fascinate him — it also makes him crave you. crave to shatter that naivety of yours. to take that small body of yours and make it feel what it means to be overpowered by a man twice your size.

sukuna does not regret his decision to make you his concubine. the first night you spent together was one of the best nights he had ever had. in all his many years of living. not a single woman had ever succeeded in blowing his mind when it came to sex.

it was usually boring and repetitive for the sorcerer. he felt nothing for those women he’s had in bed before — it was solely for the fact of satisfying himself. though, that changed on the day you had given him your virginity.

he remembers every detail; from your little noises of both pain and pleasure, your tight and untouched pussy that bled faintly when the fat tip of his lower cock pushed through, your nails that dug into his arms and back, your thighs that he held to your chest, his large hands that could easily wrap around the fat of them, your aching cunt that was left spasming around air as it tried to keep his sticky cum stored in place.

sukuna didn’t think your tears would affect him as much. when he took your virginity and you whimpered in pain — he did feel a twinge of guilt. it was strange; he hadn’t felt that emotion before. he had stopped and wiped your tears away. roughly whispered some words of encouragement too.

he had never done so before. never. he had never told anyone how ‘good’ they were for him. how he’d be ‘careful’ to not make it hurt any more. the king of curses recalls vividly how slow he started with you. slow sex. instead of rough like he’s used to.

sukuna wasn’t chasing after his own pleasure in that moment like he’d usually have. his main priority was to make sure the girl below him was comfortable enough to continue. you’re strange. the things you make him do, say and feel are strange. and yet. . .

it was an amazing night. the best. however sukuna was left behind with an insatiable hunger for you. more, more, more. he can’t grasp it yet; why he longs for you. for those feelings he’s suddenly capable of experiencing during intimate moments.

it’s why he calls for you every night. no other concubine was needed after you were made one. the king of curses couldn’t care less about those other women. they are boring to him.

unlike you. the one he’s sure that he won’t ever get bored of.

“you can take me so well now,” sukuna breathes out. one of his cocks was inches deep inside you, bulbous tip painfully hitting your cervix. over the past few weeks, your body had learnt to adjust to him, your pussy molded to fit the shape of his dick.

sukuna looks down at you and his cocks twitch with the urge to release already. his heavy balls clenching. your fucked out state is adorable. you seemed so.. vulnerable underneath the big man, “what a fragile little thing.”

it almost sounded condescending. degrading. especially with sukuna’s lips being curled up into a mean grin, his sharp canines showing. there was a puddle of your cum forming underneath your hips — staining the sheets that the poor servants have to clean by tomorrow morning.

“p-please, fngh, ‘s too big,” you sputter out. no matter how many times you took sukuna in, your smaller body couldn’t quite fully accommodate to the girth of him. every time he hits your deepest parts, you let out a painful whimper.

sukuna kisses his teeth, though slows his thrusts a bit. the wet sounds of his cum and yours getting pushed in and out of your cunt with each move was too addicting. what sukuna loves most is the view of the skin of your lower abdomen swelling and stretching each time he pushes forward.

“i thought you said you’d take both of my cocks today, yet it seems like you can’t even handle one,” the king of curses sighs whilst belittling you. one set of hands is holding you down by your hips, the other set is fondling your stiff nipples and circling your sensitive clit, “what a pity. a real pity.”

you almost choke on your spit as all your sensitive spots were being fondled. sukuna’s thick fingers leave no place untouched as he increases the tempo again—his cock plunging in and out of your stretched hole. the upper one was twitching, rubbing against your clit and lower abdomen.

sukuna harshly grabs your jaw and makes you look up at him after he hears you apologise for making empty promises. he seems satisfied with you staying so polite. even when he’s practically rearranging your guts. the way you talk through your soft sobs and cries is endearing. makes him grin wickedly.

“i don’t want to break my favourite little concubine yet, you see,” sukuna continues. he lets out a grunt of pleasure when your pussy clenches around his thick cock. no matter how many times he fucks you dumb, you still remain as tight as the first time.

he takes in a deep breath. he’s trying his best not to pound you into the mattress. he’d fold you in half and probably break you like the fragile thing you are. he could snap you like a twig if he wasn’t careful, “. . .but you’re making it very difficult for me.”

you respond by apologising again. oh, how cute it was to see you babble and make up excuses. sukuna grits his teeth, jaw clenching as he resists the urge to go harder on you. you’re already squirming and moaning loudly just because he’s fucking you hard and deep—bruising your cervix and forcing your walls to open up to him.

“‘m sorry, wanna take both.” you hiccup and sniffle. tears ran down your cheeks from overstimulation. it felt so good yet so painful to be taken by the person you admire most. you didn’t want to displease him, so you uttered those hopeless yet needy sentences again.

sukuna stops his movements when you weakly ask him to use both of his cocks on you. he scoffs, not knowing where you gained the confidence from. he pulls out of your dripping cunt, leaving a trail of cum connecting both your genitalia.

“‘wanna take both,’ she says,” sukuna mocks you under his breath. it’s getting worse; he’s nearing the point of no return. especially with your desperate whines that were like music to his ears, “you’ll break, woman.”

two of his hands move to stroke along his lengths, smearing the mixture of body fluids all over them. his eyes glare down at your small form—already fucked out, yet aching to continue. needing the full experience for once.

you always turn from a shy girl to a complete slut whenever he has you in bed. sukuna loves it.

“i want to try at the very least,” you mutter. it’s true that you’re exhausted. you’re catching your breath now that you got the chance, tired eyes glancing up at sukuna’s enormous stature between your legs, his defined muscles and the tattoos on them glistening under the faint light of the oil lamp.

it got your pussy throbbing and clamping down around air. you felt a bit light headed and your head lolls back against the pillow, eyes glazed over as you try to seem determined. but your body was tired.

“yeah? how. . . cute,” sukuna grins. he knows you can’t. not today at least. he doesn’t mind if you aren’t capable of taking him fully since you’ve already pleased him well enough for now. though, he still can’t help but tease you—make it seem like he’s going to give you what you want, “all right. don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

your eyes widen and your fingers curl around the silky bedsheets beneath you in anticipation. your heart is pounding in your chest as you watch sukuna pump his two cocks a bit faster, squeezing the base a bit, leaking some pre.

it’s all just for show.

“i’m not stopping. even if you scream.” the king of curses warns you with a dangerous glint in his eyes. you gulp at the terrifying aura sukuna was emitting. one of his tips teases your entrance whilst the other probes and circles around your anus.

he threatens you again, testing if you’ll back down, “last chance. i’m not pulling out once i’m in, do y’hear me?”

you keep being stubborn until the very last second. sukuna’s deep voice that shook you to your core was not enough to make you change your mind. you were so desperate to fulfill his every need and make sure that he was satisfied. it made you the perfect woman in his eyes.

the king of curses is completely amused. he decides to take it up a notch. he pushes his lower cock against the tight ring of muscles, pressing and nearly allowing the tip to move in. the sudden increase in pressure is torturous. you surely wouldn’t be able to withstand the entire thing.

“w-wait!” you squeal in surprise and pain. the sting you felt made you snap back into reality. it’s when you realised that maybe you needed more time and experience to take both of sukuna’s dicks. you squirm your hips away, “can’t. i can’t.. hurts too much.”

sukuna nearly rolls his eyes once you finally give in. he shakes his head with a sigh, feigning disapproval and annoyance. he pulls his entire body away from yours—a ominous shadow casted over his eyes. it makes you think that he’s pissed off at you; for being unable to please him.

you panic a little. even if you are sure sukuna wouldn’t ever hurt you. you know he favours you over the other concubines. you don’t want to lose that position.

“i’m sorry.” you apologise before the sorcerer could say anything. he lets out a sharp breath, rough hands back on your body, kneading your flesh gently yet firmly. his eyes take in the view of you trembling.

it’s unreal. you are half his size—completely vulnerable underneath him. he’d normally call people like you weak and useless. wouldn’t feel a thing for them. but your naked body below his is a sight he wishes to see every night.

it turns sukuna on so much. the fact that you are helpless and don’t complain when you’re struggling to take one of his cocks gets him going each time.

“tsk. what’d i tell you?” sukuna grumbles. he slaps his lower cock firmly against your clit. your body responds by closing your thighs together, though the king of curses pries them apart again, “stop overestimating yourself, brat.”

he isn’t actually mad. it was expected—of course you couldn’t take both at once. he didn’t even prep your other hole enough. plus you are clearly still exhausted from the previous rounds. sukuna just likes to. . . test and take advantage of your devotion to him. your obedience and desires to please him.

it’s fascinating to see you squirm and apologise in that whiny voice of yours. it makes him grin from ear to ear. and it keeps things fun.

before you could mutter excuses again, sukuna stops you by leaning in. just when you thought you’d finally get to kiss him, he goes to bite down on your bottom lip. a moan slips out of your mouth which only spurs him on to bite down harder.

you could feel the devilish smirk on sukuna against your lip. his wet tongue cleans up the tiny drop of blood that escaped the wound. he lets out a low hum in approval at the taste. delicious as always.

“now, how should i punish my little concubine for being unable to keep her word?” sukuna whispers in a serious tone. it sends shivers down your spine, his hot breath traveling from your jaw to your right ear. he slowly licks your earlobe, “what do you say? any ideas?”

the tension in the room was palpable. your heart was stammering in your throat from the proximity between the two of you. you gather the courage to answer as sukuna’s fingers curl around your neck, squeezing your throat as if forcing the answer out of you.

“i-i’ll do anything, sir.” you reply through a shaky breath. the king of curses pulls back after he’s got a response from you. your eyes meet his and that’s when you know that you’ve either greatly pleased him or have given him the chance to go all out on you.

it’s probably both.

“anything, you say?” sukuna repeats slowly. without a warning, he effortlessly flips you over on your stomach, a set of hands pulling your ass up by your hips whilst the other set holds your upper body down on the mattress.

a harsh grip on the back of your head results into you whimpering. your face was mushed into a pillow, almost leaving no place to breathe. your back is placed in the perfect arch with your plump ass facing up. it’s one of sukuna’s favourite positions to do with you — especially because it makes you seem smaller than you already are.

“heh. i’ll make you regret saying that.” sukuna chuckles. a low, evil and wicked chuckle. that’s enough to make you realise that he was not going easy on you. your submission had greatly impressed the king of curses and he's taking advantage of it. again.

what would come next could be a reward for that said submission. he’s going to fuck your brains out and make you forget about everything else except for his dick. a night you won’t ever forget as long as you live—that’s a possibility.

or perhaps you’re going to be crying and begging him to go easy on you. a punishment for not being able to keep your promise. that could also happen.

anyway, you’re about to find out which one it is.

[mayumiiyuu]

Hear me out

Jason todd seeing you wearing nothing but one of his shirts, just barely large enough to cover your ass

I can't write, but I need closure to this little idea that has been floating in my brain, also heard you wanted asks so...

oh my god oh my god oh my god………(i love the way u think)

18+ Content, Minors DNI

warnings: dom! jason, teasing jason (are we rlly surprised), sub!fem!reader, slight belly bulge if u squint, size difference mentioned. (please inform me if i need to add more, thank you!)

the morning after

sunlight filters gently through the window of your apartment’s kitchen, bathing everything it touched in a golden glow, your eyes catching in the light, the rays dripping off your form like warm honey. you hum a soft, dulcet melody as you lean your hip against the edge of the kitchen counter, the whirring sound of the coffee maker the only thing that disturbs the peaceful atmosphere.

just as you stand on your tiptoes to reach for the mugs in one of the taller cabinets, the material of your boyfriend’s shirt riding up your backside, you feel Jason’s hand on your hip, pulling you away as he takes it upon himself to grab them, his sheer size practically dwarfing you as he leans over, a smirk on his lips.

“Let me get that for you, doll.” he drawls as you turn around, his hands now placed on either side of you, resting against the counter, caging you in, and you can’t help the way your thighs clench as you look up at him, mind racing with thoughts of how he had you in a similar position just last night, relentlessly pounding into your throbbing cunt.

Jason couldn’t stop looking at you, how could he? the fluid movements you make as you walk around the kitchen, pulling out ingredients for today’s breakfast, the way your hair swayed with each movement. you were so sweet, he thinks to himself, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he continues to watch you, only for his softened gaze to intensify with a passionate fire as he catches sight of the lacy pair of red panties barely covering your ass—then he remembers how sweet you truly were, the soft whines that would slip past your lips, the low and breathy moans as your chest heaved up and down while he sucked and lapped up your sopping cunt.

could you really blame him when you had such a perfect body? mewling and writhing against him, reacting to his touches so perfectly, his good, sweet girl, taking him so well? and good god, the way that shirt draped over you, only reaching a little past your hips, rising just by a fraction to show off the round, soft flesh of your ass that once bore his marks, pink hand prints from his rough, calloused grip, and hickeys from when he ate you out from behind—just you wearing that shirt, seeing it ride up to show off the marks he’d left last night, it was your fault for teasing him, for wearing his shirt. why would you ever want to hide that body of yours from him anyway when he could worship you so well?

so really, you should’ve known better. now you were bent over the kitchen counter you once were making coffee on, back arched like a cat’s as you felt him draw a line over your weeping slit, your cunt pulsating with a heat only he could draw out from you.

“Please, Jay,” you whine, bucking your ass against him, hoping for some sort of relief as you rub your slicked pussy against his own angry tip, leaking with pre-cum. “Need you—need you so bad.”

“Yeah?” he whispers, leaning over you, his hand pressed up against your throat to press your back to his broad chest. “Y’need me that bad, princess? Need me to stretch out that tight pussy, have you make a mess all over my cock?”

there’s a teasing edge to his words as he swipes at your hole, already dripping with your slickness, pushing his tip in just to give you a little taste of the stretch—as if his words weren’t enough to make you whine and beg—but pulling out just as quickly, the cocky bastard. he loved seeing you like this, so desperate for him.

“Please, Jason—“ your voice comes out strained from desperation as you attempt to wiggle your ass closer to him, your cunt nearer to his hard, thick cock, only to let out a frustrated mewl as Jason holds your hips steady in place. “Need you—need your cock, wanna have you fuck me full, fill me up with your cum, please.”

“‘S that so?” Jason grins, wolfish and wicked as he continues to tease you, running his fat tip along the length of your cunt, purposefully bumping your clit with each stroke. “Such a filthy mouth on you, doll. Makes me wanna stuff my cock in it, see how dirty it can really get.” he chuckles, licking his canines in lustful amusement as he feels your opening clench around his tip at his words.

“Bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Y’like being all dirty f’me, don’t ya, doll?” his voice comes out in a low, gravelly rumble as her murmurs in your ear.

“Mhmm..” you nod, bottom lip tucked between your teeth, thighs already trembling in anticipation. “Jus’ wanna be good f’you, Jay.”

“That’s right,” he croons, chest welling up with pride at your submission, his gaze softening ever so slightly as he sees the look of adoration in your eyes swirled with desire for him. he lays kisses down your shoulder blades, landing a tender open-mouthed kiss against your nape—a reminder that even through the fiery hot intensity of the passion between the two of you, at the root of it all was a deep and profound love. “So good f’me, so perfect…’gonna take such good care of you, doll.” he murmurs, lining up his tip against your slit, pushing his aching cock into your drenched pussy. the tease that he is, he makes sure to draw out the moment, dragging his thick shaft against the walls of your cunt, eliciting a loud moan from your lips.

the sight of your cunt stretching out around his girth makes a low groan of pleasure slip from his lips as he sheathes himself fully into you. you drag your nails feebly against the marbled countertop, a muffled whine coming out of your mouth as you feel his fat cock fill you up—god, you could never get used to the sting, how good it felt knowing that he was the only one who could ever fill you up this good. your eyes roll to the back of your skull in pleasure as his hand comes to press against your womb, making sure you felt the small bump against the pit of your stomach all due to his massive cock.

“Feel that, doll? Pussy’s all full of me—fuck, s’fucking tight—like it was made f’me, hm?” he lets out a breath, hot and heavy against the back of your neck, a low hiss emanating from his lips; he could never stop the way his cock twitched as he felt your cunt flutter around him, the warmth of your sweet pussy against his throbbing cock made his head murky with lust.

“Pussy’s all yours, Jay—h-hah, s’all for you!” you moan, feeling each vein and the curve of his cock against your spongy walls, his tip prodding and brushing against that spot that always made you see stars.

“That’s my girl,” he purrs, his hand still around your throat, the other one holding your hip in place as he pulls his hips back before slamming his cock inside of you, beginning his quick pace. he’d been holding back before, but the way your cunt clenched around him makes any and all self-control slip from his being as he begins to fuck into you.

“Be a good girl and take my cock, yeah?” Jason whispers in your ear, his voice thick with lust as the lewd sounds of your sloppy cunt come into contact with his cock, his pelvis slamming against the meat of your ass.

it was going to be a while before the two of you have breakfast—all because of that damned shirt and Jason’s undeniable hunger for you. fuck breakfast, he had you, and that’s all he ever needed.

[sorcerersseestars]

love sweet, taste bitter

Gojo Satoru x gn!reader

To you, Gojo Satoru is your silly, loving boyfriend. But Gojo Satoru is also the strongest sorcerer in the world, and that comes with its risks—for both you and him. When his Infinity fails to activate, your mission takes a turn for the worse.

Aka one of you gets hurt, and the other has to bear it.

Warnings: injuries and violence, a gun is used, blood loss, hidden inventory arc spoilers, fight btwn Gojo and reader, reader implied to be shorter/smaller than Gojo, slightly suggestive (not rlly), lowkey a lot of kissing tho??, bad communication skills, emotional whiplash bc gojo doesn't know what to do w his feelings

Word count: 9.2k

*Gojo and reader are in their early 20s

"Cursed technique reversal: red,” Gojo calls out casually, lazily flicking his right index finger at his target.

The curse—hardly an intelligent one, far from being special-grade—stares at the brilliant light with bulging eyes. It's a deer in the headlights, transfixed by Gojo’s power and paralyzed with fear. You can only imagine how that would feel.

You tear your eyes away from the sight of the curse disintegrating into nothing. It's not as gruesome as most curse exorcisms, considering the potency of Gojo’s attacks, but the curse’s expression fading into nothingness still makes your skin crawl. You almost pity the horrible creature.

In comparison to the macabre scene you just witnessed, Gojo's enthusiastic noise of approval nearly gives you whiplash.

"Another job well done by yours truly!" Gojo grins, giving you two thumbs up. "Now let's hurry before that new boba place closes. You said you really wanted to try it, right?"

It takes you a moment to respond, your mind still processing how insanely fast your boyfriend was able to eradicate a threat that would have taken you both a good strategy and a fair bit of time to exorcise. It took practically no effort for Gojo to eliminate, and you know that he fears no curse. For you, fear grips you each time you face off with a curse, no matter how big or small. It doesn't feel fair.

Your fingers curl into a fist as you struggle with your emotions, frustrated with yourself. When you look to him, beyond his shades and into his powerful eyes, something akin to envy pulls at your gut. It makes you feel sick—you're viewing him in the way everybody else sees him. But when he walks toward you, smiling so wide that he looks goofy, your thoughts of his abilities melt away and are replaced by an affection so strong that your chest hurts.

His eyes are so beautiful, their perpetual sparkle even visible from under the dark film of his shades. His cheeks are tinged pink from your constant gaze on him, and it still amazes you that you have the ability to make him fluster at all. His lips are stretched into a toothy grin, his eyes crinkling along in genuine happiness. Your stunning boyfriend that you still can't believe ever gained an interest in plain old you.

That's right. To you, he's not the Honored One, he's not Gojo Satoru. He's just your boyfriend, just your Satoru. Just your boyfriend who is obsessed with anything sweet.

You roll your eyes lightly, a small chuckle bubbling up in your throat, “You mean, the place you've been begging to go to all week?"

He walks to your side, sighing loudly as he approaches. His deft fingers subtly adjust his sunglasses, pulling them down in an attempt to garner your sympathy. The expression on his face is priceless—the strongest sorcerer in the world is pouting because you insinuated you might not want milk tea.

"Don't be so mean, sweets!” He whines. "You said you wanted to try it out, too.”

“Hm, did I now?” You say with a mischievous glint in your eyes. “I don’t recall.”

He steps closer, towering over your smaller form. When you dwell on that thought, you suppose you should be scared. You see him brutally destroy curses, leaving no trace of their existence behind. He could do that to you, if you wanted to.

Even knowing that, you aren’t scared.

He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close to his chest. You can feel his strength through the solid grip he has on you—his arms lovingly cage you in.

Even though he’s done this many times before, your breath still catches in your throat, and your heart races at the proximity.

“C'mon, l know you've been craving brown sugar boba all week... And they even have that tiramisu flavor you go crazy for…”

He nuzzles in close to your neck, warm breath fanning down your nape. When he's this close, you can't resist anything—and he knows it, too.

You sigh as if he's ruffled your feathers, but you can't help but let the chuckle you’ve been holding in escape past your upturned lips.

“Do they have cheese foam?" You hum.

You yelp as his fingers dig into your side—and then your entire body is wracked with heaving, boisterous laughter.

"What a silly question. Of course they do! Only the amateurs lack the essential toppings,” He shakes his head playfully. “Any more funny business out of you, and you'll get punished again."

You twist around in his grasp to face him. Your hand reaches up to ease his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, putting his vibrant blue eyes and pale lashes on display.

“You're so pretty it's unfair,” You pout. "Leave some for the rest of us."

"And yet everyone's always trying to steal you away from me," He counters.

"Says the head-turner," You say with a smile full of your adoration for him. “Haven't you noticed that the rest of the population—myself included—never has all eyes on them when entering a room?"

He shrugs, “How would I know? You think my eyes are on anyone else once I see you?"

The insinuation has heat and electricity coursing through your entire body. He wears a smirk as if he can feel the flames licking your skin. You lower your gaze, suddenly shy.

A warm hand cups your check, gently nudging your face close to his. Your eyes instinctively flit up to his, drinking him in.

His eyes are bright behind his shades. You laugh softly when his shades fully slide down to the edge of his nose as he lowers his head to yours.

“Makin’ fun of me, babycakes?” He pretends to pout, but his tone is playful and warm.

“Maybe,” You tease. “I mean, you are freakishly tall and have glow in the dark eyes. And you call me all sorts of weird names.”

“You–!” He gasps. “You are such a rascal, y’know that? A fiend, even!”

“Mmm,” You hum, humoring him. “Well, would such a fiend as myself do…this?”

You lean in, savoring the warmth of his hands on you. His skin, smooth from its lack of wear due to his Infinity, skates across your skin effortlessly. Your lips are about to touch his, only inches away from bliss, when you both are caught off guard.

There’s a loud bang. So loud, in fact, that your ears ring as soon as the sound waves hit your eardrums. You stagger back from Gojo, crouching down and immediately covering your ears with your hands. You look up at your boyfriend, expecting to exchange confused glances, and are not prepared in the slightest for the scene in front of you.

His eyes are blown wide, shades now missing. Beads of sweat begin to form on his forehead and all color has drained from his face. His expression quickly crumples, lips parting and yet no sound escapes him.

A shudder runs through you—something is very wrong.

Then his shaky hands begin to move, and he quickly clutches his side. Right under his ribs, a stream of blood begins to run down his body, escaping between his fingers. You watch in horror as it pours down at an alarming rate, and you begin to put the pieces together.

Satoru has been shot.

His name leaves your mouth in a panicked howl and then you can't speak anymore, as if all the air has escaped from your lungs. Your mind is ripped back to when Toji Fushiguro sliced Gojo to shreds in front of you. His blood splattering everywhere while you watched on in horror, immobilized and completely useless, not able to do anything but watch the terrors unfold. Not again, not again, it can’t happen again, is what replays through your mind.

You have no more time to linger on that chilling memory. More pops sound through the air, deafening you and spiking fear in the blood that rushes through your veins. It can't happen again. You can't see him like that again.

You immediately throw yourself at your boyfriend, desperately trying to shield him with your body, even though it’s nearly impossible with how tall he is. You shove him down, attempting to cut down his frame to meet yours so that you can cover him, and notice something odd. You can still feel his warmth—your skin brushes against his, when it shouldn’t. Not right now, it shouldn’t.

You move to the side with quick steps and try to pull him along with you, but are unable to. Your heart sinks. He’s completely dead weight. You’re strong in your own regard, but there’s no way you can pick him up and take off with him.

"Satoru, please! C'mon, we have to go, we need to. Please," You plead with him, gripping him so tightly that your hands ache. When he doesn't respond, you start to shake him, trying to get any reaction out of him, but to no avail.

He’s in shock. It’s obvious with his lack of reaction, with how he lets himself be man handled under your body. He prides himself in his ability to protect those around him—he wouldn’t just let you put yourself in the line of fire if he was in his right mind. You know fully well that Gojo could eliminate the shooter in mere moments if he assumed his normal calm and nonchalance—but, unfortunately, his mind is in a freeze state. The bare skin under your fingertips is evidence of this, which only exacerbates your rising panic.

“Your Infinity!” You shout, your voice raw from panic. “Satoru, your Infinity! You need to turn it on! Now!”

Still grasping Satoru tightly, you endure the next round that is emptied into the space next to you—a bullet whistles by your ear, too close for comfort. Gojo’s breathing is ragged, his eyes staring into nothing and appearing so far away at the same time.

You duck down to his eye level and grab his chin, forcing him to look into your eyes. “Satoru, please! Snap out of it! Please!”

For a few seconds, his gaze locks with yours. His eyes, usually such a vivid blue, are darkened by how large his pupils are. You plead with him, unable to keep your terrified tears at bay.

Then you’re slightly bumped back, now pressing against what feels like a wall, and your body becomes weak with relief. He finally activated his Infinity.

But you're not out of danger yet. Your brain scrambles as you try to figure out how to get out of this while your boyfriend is evidently in shock.

You dare a glance back, eyes scouring the landscape, and immediately curse. As you suspected, you are most definitely being sniped. The enemy has the advantage of higher ground and generous foliage for coverage, while you and Satoru are exposed out in the open clearing below. If you had more time and brain power, you could triangulate their location, but that's just not possible right now.

Even if you were able to surmise their location, you don't even think you can fight back right now, not with how exposed your position is and with how vulnerable Gojo is in this state. And if you can't fight, then you have to flee.

Projectile weapons are ineffective against a moving target—this simple knowledge is what sways your decision. Even though it didn’t work before, you grab Satoru, still trying to keep him low, and begin to run. You breathe a little easier when he moves along with you.

More shots whizz past you, but you keep going, pumping your legs as fast as you can while making sure to be the rear guard. It’s obvious that they’re targeting Gojo—if they hit you, it would merely be collateral damage. The bullseye is on Gojo’s back, not yours.

You don’t stop running until you hit the tree line, and even then you hurriedly usher Gojo behind a stocky trunk many meters back. Before you can catch your breath, you're ripping off your jacket with haste. Quickly realizing that the material is not ideal for the job you intend it for, you quickly tear your shirt from your body. It’s sweaty from all your activity, but it’ll have to do.

You brush away Gojo’s hands, firmly pressing the cloth to his wound. You practically collapse onto your boyfriend as you apply firm pressure, your forehead dipping down to rest on his shoulder. You're wracking your brain for what to do next when Gojo gently pushes you back, places his hands on yours, and shakes his head.

You can't help but think the worst. What does that mean? Is it like that time? Am I too late again?

“I'm sorry, I know it hurts, but y-you're bleeding so much that I have to. Fuck, I’m really sorry for making you run, I’m sure that made it worse, but we just had to get away from whoever was shooting, oh god, how badly did they get you, fuck, this is my fault–”

You don’t realize you’re rambling until he cuts you off. You don't realize you're crying until he brushes the tears away.

“Hey. Stop, sweets. I’m fine, it already stopped bleeding.”

“What? But that can’t be, you were literally shot–”

He raises his shirt, revealing a pink layer of new skin.

He offers you a weak smile, but something is off about it. “Reverse cursed technique, remember? Nobody’s gonna take me down that easily.”

You release a big breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding. The weight on your shoulders finally eases as you look over his new layer of skin.

“Oh fuck, I’m so glad you’re okay,” You sniffle, leaning in quickly for a hug. “I–mmph!”

You stumble back a step, blinking in surprise. This has never happened before—you hit his invisible barrier.

His eyes widen. “Fuck, sorry, I didn’t mean to–“

“No, no, it’s okay!” You wave your hands, trying to dispel his apology. You feel flustered and stiff, awkwardness seeping into your mannerisms. “It’s good that it’s on now.”

It’s then that the disturbing thought hits you. Maybe he should always have his Infinity on. Maybe you’re endangering him.

Gojo holds out his arms for you, now inviting you in. You pause, your thoughts echoing through your head. You take a beat too long—you know he senses your momentary hesitation, and how slowly and gingerly you come into his arms doesn't feel right.

“You okay? Did you get hit?” He asks, squeezing you tightly in his arms. “Fuck, please tell me you didn’t.”

With your head pressed to his chest, you can hear how rapidly his heart beats. He’s scared. He’s scared for you, even though he was the one who got hurt.

His hands run over you, checking for any injuries. You pull yourself out of his embrace gently to still his hands.

You shake your head, “No, I’m fine. But you…you got hurt, Satoru. They shot you.”

And it’s absolutely your fault. If you hadn’t been touching him, this never would have happened. He let his guard down because of you.

“I’m alright now, sweets,” He reassures you, but his tone is again tinged with a strange emotion you can’t put your finger on. “Promise.”

“But–!” You exclaim, about to spill out all of your guilty feelings. The words don’t come, though, stopped by another fear. Will he also realize it’s your fault and get rid of you? Will he realize he doesn’t need you?

“Here,” He says, unballing your shirt and placing it in your hands. “This is proof that I’m fine. Your shirt’s..."

He inspects it funnily, scrunching up his eyebrows and staring at it intently, making a show of it to make you laugh. "...pretty clean and ready to be worn again. Well, unless you don’t want to…can’t say I wouldn’t mind you not putting it back on…there is a little speck of blood on it, after all...”

He smiles at you, a true grin that manages to lift up your weary heart. You burst out laughing, and swat his arm before you hurriedly take it from his hands.

“Satoru! We almost just died and you—” You still can’t contain your laughter, but it stops abruptly once you feel a large wet patch on your shirt. When you pull your hand back, your fingers are stained red with a surprising amount of blood.

“I swear it closed up before you…” He frowns, trailing off. His face turns serious for a moment, but then you touch his cheek with your clean hand and give him a quick peck.

You shrug, “It’s okay. No biggie.”

Face still close to yours, he chases your lips as you pull away from the peck. He kisses you deeply, catching you by surprise and forcing you to hold onto him for support.

"Satoru! I'm gonna get you all bloody with this hand..." You softly protest.

"Don't care," He murmurs quickly, leaning in again and kissing like you don't need to breathe. "It's mine anyway. Just like you."

"Mmph—Satoru—but you need to get looked at properly," You manage to say. "We have to go."

He reluctantly lets you slip out of his arms, sighing as he straightens to his full height.

He groans loudly, frowning at you, "Party pooper!"

"Yeah, yeah, get yourself ready," You fold your arms, acting like you didn't just immensely enjoy that.

He raises an eyebrow at you and smirks as his eyes scan your body.

"What?" You ask petulantly.

He sounds more excited than you’d like, “So…no more shirt?”

You sigh, exasperated, and quickly smooth the shirt back over your body. He laughs and wraps himself around your smaller form, squishing you back against his chest. You relax against him, digging your nose into him, taking in his comforting scent. You both are silent for a few moments, soaking up each other's presence.

“That was scary,” You whisper.

Gojo sighs, “It was pathetic, that’s what it was.”

You snap your head up to look at him. “Hey. What are you saying?”

He shakes his head, looking frustrated. “Doesn’t matter. Let’s just…let’s just head back.”

“Satoru…” You start with a warning tone.

“Don’t wanna talk about it right now,” He says flatly. “Besides, we should go back and see Shoko just in case. I want you to get looked over, too."

You want to question him further, but hold your tongue. You know better than to press him when he’s like this.

“Huh? Why’s that?” You simply ask instead, genuinely confused.

He frowns as he looks at your head, scrutinizing it as if something was wrong. Before you can question him, he forms a fist and–

Knock, knock.

“You think it’s in there?” He asks seriously. “Sounds pretty hollow.”

Your jaw drops in disbelief at the absolute disrespect. There’s no way he just knocked on your skull to check if your brain is still in your head.

“GOJO SATORU! Are you- are you implying I don’t have a BRAIN?!” You screech, taking hold of his sorcerer jacket to jostle him around. “Do you have a death wish?!”

He laughs, then uses the same fist to roughly rub your scalp. He even gave you a fucking noogie!!

“That’s it! Take me to Shoko.” You pout, crossing your arms and turning around so your back faces Gojo.

“Aww, sweets, you want a second opinion?” He coos, moving forward to wrap his arms around you from behind. “I’m sure she’ll be able to confirm it…”

“Ugh!”

"...with how willingly you throw yourself into danger."

You stop smiling. "What?"

He's not smiling either, and its absence looks strange on his face. His gaze is almost cold. "Don't do that again."

There are no words that come to your mind, but you wish you could protest and justify your actions and convince him that it was necessary. Instead, you stand there dumbly, transfixed by his cold aura.

Then he smiles sweetly again, as if that hadn't just happened. "Let's go, shall we?"

Shoko sighs loudly at your arrival. "What was it this time?"

"Actually, we're not sure," You admit, looking to Gojo to see if he has any possible answers. When he says nothing, you continue, "We didn't see what—or rather who–it was. 'Must have been a cursed user."

"Even Mr. Six Eyes didn't see them?" Shoko asks, raising an eyebrow. "That's hard to believe. And here I was always thinking he should leave some eyes for the rest of us."

She looks to Gojo teasingly, but he doesn't take the bait. Shoko looks to you with a questioning gaze that says something like—what's up with him?

"It's complicated..." You supply vaguely.

"Well, whoever it was must be bad news," She says. "How did they get Gojo if you couldn't see them?"

"They had guns," You explain. "It was a sniper...or a few snipers, I'm not sure if it was just one or if there was another one too. Their aim wasn't the best, but they got Satoru one time...they shot a few rounds at us, but I guess they got lucky with that shot."

You can't look at him. If you look at him, you'll see his skin pale and washed out from the blood dripping down his abdomen. You'll see his body lacerated and unrecognizable from Toji's ruthless assault. You are always useless, hopelessly useless.

You look at your feet instead and ignore the sour taste of bile in your mouth.

Gojo's cocky snicker brings you back to attention, "They were pretty terrible. They only got one hit, but they should have known better. As if that loser shit would work against me."

Shoko's eyes are on you again, and you know why. Gojo doesn't normally get injured. And by someone with nothing more than a gun? How could he even get hit with Infinity?

Even if you were speaking, you're not sure you would have the strength to tell her. It's my fault he didn't have his Infinity on, is the answer that resonates painfully in your chest. The guilt threatens to consume you whole, but you push it down.

"Everything is 'loser shit' to you with RCT," Shoko decides on. "But I have to say I'm just a little surprised you got hit."

"Yeah, yeah, but I'm all good now," Gojo says dismissively.

"Let me see at least," Shoko rolls her eyes. "Aren't you here to see me for my medical expertise or what?"

"What, we can't see our dear friend otherwise?" You tease with a pout. "You wound me, Shoko."

"That wouldn't be ethical of me,” Shoko plays along, then turns back to doctor mode once she starts getting her supplies ready. "Did you get hurt too?"

“No, just Satoru,” You say with a shake of your head. “You don’t have to check me over.”

She narrows her eyes at you. “I’ll come back to you.”

“Huh? But Shoko…” You trail off, seeing she has already begun inspecting Gojo.

“I’m all good,” Gojo rolls his eyes, but it doesn’t have quite the usual touch of playfulness it usually does. “C’mon, Shoko, don’t waste your time on this. We both know I can’t really get hurt.”

He winks at you, and you smile in return. That almost makes you feel better—he’s being more like himself.

“Uh-huh, but they certainly won’t let me rest until I do a proper check-up,” Shoko says. “You’ve got a persistent one, did ya know?”

He only chuckles at that, giving her some peace to look him over and prod him here or there.

“Well, you’re all good, as expected. It doesn’t seem like there’s any soreness, which is a good sign.”

“My RCT isn’t just for show!” Gojo says proudly. “Works just as good as yours, Shoko.”

She rolls her eyes, “Uh huh. Now, let’s get on to your ‘sweets’.”

You stick your tongue out at her, blushing, “Shoko, I have a name!”

“Not in these parts,” She teases easily, waggling her eyebrows at you. “Alright, just sit up straight for me now. Just gonna prod you a bit, okay?”

You nod, unworried as you let her hands inspect you. You relax and are about to crack a joke about getting a free massage from bestie Shoko, but you find yourself writhing in pain instead. You definitely didn’t expect yourself to wince—and yet you find yourself doing so, hissing out in pain as a stinging suddenly surfaces on your back.

Gojo sits up in alarm at your reaction and quickly jumps up from his cot, making his way over to you and Shoko. “What’s wrong?”

He’s practically hovering over you before Shoko shoos him away with a wave of her hand, motioning for him to let her do her job. He keeps away, but his gaze is trained on the spot her hand is touching.

She lifts your shirt fully, carefully inspecting the wound. It’s bleeding steadily, yet neither of you even noticed it before this moment.

“You got hit?” Gojo practically mewls. He’s never sounded this small and weak before. “But you were—I thought you were fine..."

Now it makes sense why your hand was tinged red when you pulled your hand back from the shirt earlier. It wasn't from Satoru's wound at all—it's your blood.

When you turn to Satoru, you look into a mirror. You know that's how you must have looked earlier when you looked at his bullet wound in horror.

“You probably didn’t feel it because of the adrenaline," You hear Shoko telling you. "It appears to be a graze, but it got you pretty good. There’s no bullet or shrapnel, which might be why you didn’t feel it in the moment.”

You feel embarrassed for some reason. “I seriously didn’t feel anything…it’s fine, then, right?”

Satoru is pale again. Emotions swirl in his agitated eyes—you can’t quite decipher them, since they cycle so fast, but he looks…haunted.

But he shouldn't, not when everything boils down to being your fault.

You immediately turn your attention to Satoru, becoming apprehensive about the look in his eyes. You smile at him softly, eyes crinkling along with your lips, trying to signal that you’re really okay, that there’s nothing to worry about.

But you don’t see the pool of blood steadily growing behind you, Satoru does.

“I’m okay, Satoru,” You smile, but it falters when Shoko presses gauze against your wound.

“Let me be the judge of that,” Shoko sighs. “Lay on your stomach and try not to move too much. I'm going to wrap you, okay? I need to grab some things, but I’ll be right back.”

"Okay..." You accept softly, still surprised by this turn of events.

You obey Shoko's orders and begin to lower yourself onto the hospital bed. You grit your teeth when the skin on your back stretches, irritating your newly discovered wound. You blink once and suddenly he's by your side, holding you steady and angling you so your back doesn't have movement while he gently lays you down.

"Thanks," You say. "I'm fine though, Satoru, really..."

“You don’t see yourself,” He speaks lowly, quietly. “Worry about yourself some.”

You’re left reeling at his words—more so by how he says them. His voice is so weak, uncharacteristically soft and completely candid.

“I’m fine,” You insist, shaking your head. “I didn’t even feel it. It can’t be so bad then, can it?”

You don’t miss the way Gojo’s jaw sets. He didn’t like that response. You see something you don't understand in his eyes, a flash of a strong emotion you didn’t anticipate. You avert your gaze, but it’s burned into the back of your eyes.

The click of Shoko’s heels alerts you of her return. Gojo watches his old friend carefully, taking in her furrowed brow and the way her eyes jump between your wound and her supplies, analyzing. She seems confused, as if she underestimated the severity of your wound. His hands curls into fists, watching your blood drip over the edge of the bed and dropping messily onto the ground below.

Shoko pulls her gloves on swiftly, grabbing a bottle of antiseptic and preparing it for application.

“Sit tight, my friend,” Shoko tells you with a deep exhale. “I gotta get started on this. First I’m going to sterilize it, then you’re going to need stitches. I’m sorry to say we won’t have the luxury of time to sedate you for that.”

You gulp. Your pain tolerance is okay, but you really hate the feeling of anticipating pain. Knowing something will hurt is infinitely more scary to you than getting injured in battle, when your adrenaline is high and it just happens without warning.

You reach your hand out hesitantly, feeling silly for needing comfort just for a few stitches, and are surprised by the immediate grasp on your hand. It’s tight but not uncomfortable; it’s warm and it grounds you.

You grit your teeth and try to limit your whimpers of pain as she treats your wound. You can’t stop yourself from squirming when the needles pulls at your skin again and again, even when she places a heavy hand on your back to hold you in place. All throughout, Gojo’s hand squeezes yours, carrying you through this uncomfortable ordeal.

When it’s finally over, you feel exhausted.

“You did great,” Shoko praises you. “Your wound should be all good for now.”

You let out a small chuckle of relief, almost giddy to be done with the dreaded stitches. You sit up and slide off the bed, wanting to get back on your feet to feel some normalcy, to convince yourself you’re fine.

You truly felt nothing before, but it must be catching up to you now. Your knees threaten to buckle under you as dizziness overtakes you—you wobble on your two feet.

Both Shoko and Gojo rush to you, each taking a side to support you.

“You lost a considerable amount of blood,” Shoko warns in her doctorly tone. “Slow down and take it easy from now on.”

You laugh sheepishly, rubbing the back of your head, “I’m good! Just stood up a bit too fast.”

Shoko releases your arm, but Gojo doesn’t let go. He holds you steady, even pulling you toward him, supporting the majority of your weight.

“I can stand, y’know…” You laugh softly, finding his overprotective actions a bit amusing. But all the humor drains from the situation when you meet his gaze.

You see it in his eyes again, a dark flicker that almost makes you nervous. Before you can muster the courage to question him about it, Shoko interrupts your silent musings.

“Listen closely. I know you like to be up and about, as you just demonstrated, but I want you to limit your movement as to not disturb your stitches. A little walking should be fine, but do not exert yourself. No exercising or training for the next few days. Come see me in three days so I can clear you—if it’s looking good—for activity.”

You resist a sigh, settling on a playful roll of your eyes. “Yes, mom.”

She smirks, “Good. Now get out of here, you two, before I get your couples cooties.”

“Har, har, har,” You pretend to laugh, before sticking your tongue out at her. “Very funny, Shoko.”

It strikes you that Gojo has been unusually quiet, not joining in on your mutual jokes. When you spare a glance, you observe that his facial expression is neutral, if a bit strained. No smile, no cocky smirk. That’s uncommon.

You look at Shoko, exchanging more unspoken words with a few blinks. That confirms it—he’s acting strange.

You want to ask him what’s wrong, but he know he won’t tell you here.

“Ready to go?” You ask instead.

“Ready as ever,” He tries a half smile. It’s not very convincing.

You nod and lean into him, angling your head to smile up at him. Your smile is innocent and sweet. His chest squeezes at the sight, full of a jumble of emotions. He doesn’t reveal any of them; he absently plays with a strand of your hair instead.

As you look up at him, closely examining his soulful eyes for any traces of the emotion from earlier, to see if it still lingered. But the intense emotion is gone, replaced by an even and controlled gaze, leaving you to only wonder at the clear flash of anger you saw earlier in his bright eyes.

When you come back home, Gojo is unusually quiet. He mumbles something about taking a shower when you get back, leaving your side as soon as he gets the chance. You really wouldn't mind, but he seems rather... avoidant, especially with his ensuing actions.

You plop yourself down on your couch, trying to get comfy while keeping your back straight, a nearly impossible feat. Feeling restless, you tap your foot while you watch condensation from a glass on the coffee table in front of you drip down the sides. With each drop that falls, your heart beats a little faster.

You prepared a cool glass of water and a bowl of Satoru’s favorite sweets for when he's done, anticipating a binge of a show you both recently discovered. But, instead of an evening full of your usual snuggles on the couch, him getting handsy while you ‘protest’ about missing the show, you are woken up to a different reality.

When you hear the click of the bathroom door, you straighten in your seat, excited to be close to him again. But before you can even call him over to the couch, Gojo heads straight to your bedroom. You wait a few minutes, assuming he's just changing, but you grow uneasy as the time ticks by.

Maybe he just wants space. Well, how long should you give him? Should you ask him if he wants space? But what if he's waiting for you? Does he just want to be in bed instead?

You wait and wait, tapping your foot anxiously on the floor and checking your phone every few minutes. When the supposed appropriate amount of time has passed, you hesitantly approach the bedroom.

You find yourself knocking on the door before you enter, even though you've never done that to your shared door before.

"Hey, Satoru?" You call out tentatively.

You stand in the doorway, scared to cross an invisible boundary. A sheepish smile is on your face, even though you try to get your lips to stretch normally.

He's on his phone, just scrolling. Oh, maybe he just got distracted by TikTok or something.

"Hm?" He barely responds, not even looking up.

“Is something bothering you?” You ask, worried. “Is it your side?”

“Why would it be my side?” Gojo asks flatly.

Your brow creases in confusion, but you try to keep a light tone. “Oh. Uh, what’s wrong, then?”

"Nothing, why would anything be wrong?" He gives you a tight-lipped smile. His tone is so strange—bordering on sarcastic—and you don’t know what to make of it. As he stands up and passes you, slipping out of the room hastily like you are what’s bothering him. The thought turns your stomach.

You pause for a beat, frozen in the doorway as you process what just happened. Then you turn around, eyes following his form as he enters the living room and unceremoniously sprawls across the couch. He crunches on some candy you brought in the bowl.

Okay. Maybe you should be more direct.

You walk over to him, cautious but trying not to appear nervous, “Satoru, can we talk?”

“We are talking,” He smiles oddly.

“You know what I mean…” You say with a note of annoyance coming through in your tone, then it turns softer. “Is something wrong? Did I do something?”

“Yes.”

You blink rapidly, surprised by his blunt answer. You take a seat next to him.

“Okay…could you tell me what I did?”

“…”

He’s not faking a smile anymore, which is a start. His lips are set in a firm, flat line, instead. His jaw is clenched and his neck muscles are emphasized due to how taut they are; you have rarely seen him tense like this. Your chest aches—what did you do?

“Please, Satoru, what’s wrong?” You ask again, each word filled with care and concern. And somehow, it seems to kill him.

“What’s wrong?” He echoes back loudly. “What’s wrong is that you stood in front of me while there was incoming fire! You can’t just do that.”

That’s not what you expected.

“What do you mean?” You frown.

“I just– fuck, why would you think to do that?” He stresses, pulling at his hair. “You took too much risk—you can’t use RCT!”

“Yeah, me and like ninety-nine percent of all sorcerers. Like it matters. You think I thought of that?” You huff.

“‘Like it matters?’ Are you hearing yourself right now?” He scoffs. “It matters a lot, and you know it does. It’s reckless.”

“When it comes to you, it doesn’t.” You say hotly, unwavering.

“It does matter. You got hurt when you shouldn’t have. When you didn’t need to!”

You’re surprised by his outburst. “I–I was only thinking about protecting you, okay? I wasn’t…I wasn’t thinking about that! Caring about getting hurt? That was the last thing on my mind.”

“Yeah, it’s obvious you weren’t thinking,” He sneers. “There’s no need to risk your life like that. Absolutely no need.”

Your jaw drops in shock, and you try not to feel hurt. “You can’t be serious right now, Gojo. You were in no state to protect yourself. I was…doing my best, I just wanted to keep you safe.”

“I still got shot,” He argues back immediately, painfully reminding you.

A small, pained gasp escapes you. You spin around as fast as you can—tears are freely falling without your permission.

You want to tell him that’s not fair, but you don’t trust your vocal cords right now. Not with how tight your throat is from trying to hold back sobs that would surely wrack your body if you let them.

The guilt that has been trailing you all day now collects at the pit of your stomach, practically eating you alive. You feel physically sick. He’s right. He did get shot. He was vulnerable, his Infinity lowered because of you. If…if the bullet had gone through his head, what could you have done then?

You stand up as steadily as you can. You don’t spare him a single glance; you can’t, not with your face crumpling as you try your hardest not to cry. You exit the living room swiftly, holding it all in, all of your emotional pain but also your physical pain. Your wound is throbbing and it even feels hard to stay standing right now.

You finally round the corner into the hallway. Now out of view, you let yourself stagger down the hallway, succumbing to your dizziness. It’s your fault, your fault, only your fault. You can’t handle this right now.

You walk aimlessly down the hall, just wanting to get away from him right now. You wind up in the bathroom and lock the door behind you. You stand in front of the mirror, looking for something redeeming within yourself, but all you can see are your pathetic tears and guilt swimming in your eyes.

You grip the edge of the counter, so tightly that it begins to hurt and your fingers tremble at the effort. You feel unsteady, like the brain Gojo teased you don’t have is lacking oxygen. Maybe you really lack one if you think you could possibly be the right match for the strongest.

You sink to the ground, finally releasing heaving sobs that have been trying to claw themselves out of you. They’re muffled by your hands, which you press firmly against your mouth in an effort to contain your noises, but some of the sound leaks between your fingers. You stuff some of your shirt into your mouth to bite down on, trying to hold it all in, trying to hold yourself together.

Your breath hitches at a throb of pain from deep within your back. It hurts so much, even with the pain reliever Shoko gave you to take. It hurts more than when she was threading the needle between your folds of skin; it’s deeper than that, sharp and intense and robbing you of a normal breathing pattern.

Despite your efforts to keep quiet, pained whimpers start to leave you. And worse—panic floods you, taking advantage of your poor state of mind. All you can focus on is the stabbing pain that refuses to dull.

You rip off the gauze with shaking hands, terrified to see its state. But confusion fills you when there's only dried smears on it—that must be from earlier. If your wound is still closed, then why does it hurt so much?

You shift on the floor, limbs giving out. You contort in pain, which only makes things worse, pulling the stitches to their limits. They stay intact, but the tension brings waves of pain to your back. A yelp is ripped from your throat at a particularly painful pulse.

The thunder of incoming footsteps gives you both fear and a sense of relief. On one hand, you didn’t want him to hear; on another hand, right now all you crave is your boyfriend’s comfort.

“Hey, what was that?” He asks from behind the door, sounding on edge.

“Satoru…” You mewl out in pain.

He calls out your name, voice now urgent. You cringe at the resistance of the lock against his attempt at opening the door.

“M’sorry, I locked it,” You sniffle. “Stupid of me.”

But he still appears in front of you, a locked door holding nothing to his defiance of space and time. He takes one glance at your crumpled form on the floor and curses. All of the tension from earlier melts away, replaced by genuine worry and need.

“What happened? You okay? Did you fall?” He asks as he hurriedly crouches next to you. His hands reach out to you, gently pulling you into his lap. You wince as your back bends, aggravating your wound.

You shake your head. “No, it’s just—agh, fuck—just my back, it suddenly hurts so bad.”

He grimaces. “Can…can I take a look?”

You give your consent and he quickly peels your shirt up. His fingers shake as he does so, even though he doesn’t mind the sight of injuries or blood. Or, at least, when it’s not yours.

He slowly pulls your shirt up just enough to reveal your wound, fearing the worst. You shiver when the fabric chafes against your graze, and he murmurs an apology upon seeing your discomfort. One of his hands rubs soothing circles on your waist.

When he inspects your injury, he’s met with red, puffy skin—the area around your stitches is clearly inflamed, but not unsually so. He breathes a low sigh of relief.

“It looks a bit swollen,” He determines before pulling your shirt back down, careful not to let it touch your wound this time. “But not too bad.”

“It feels bad,” You whine.

"I know," He says gently. “I’ll call Shoko in a second to make sure it's alright. Do you want to head to the bed first?"

“Yes, please,” You request softly.

He hooks an arm under your knees, the other cradling your back. “Alright, sweets. Up we go."

He handles your weight like it’s nothing, and easily unlocks the door you stupidly locked on the way out.

Unshed tears prick your eyes. You couldn’t carry him earlier, even after he had been shot and couldn’t move. You are incapable, unable to handle what he can on a daily basis. Can your relationship really be mutual if he always has to act as the strongest? You could barely protect him earlier.

"It hurts that badly?" He references your teary eyes without mockery, only softness.

If only your tears were from that pain.

"It could be worse, I guess," is what you settle on, neither a lie nor the full truth.

"Could I make it better, maybe?" He asks with a suspicious smile. Before you can answer, he swings you around a few times like he normally would when he carries you, which draws a genuine laugh out of you.

"You're gonna make me dizzy!" You complain, but your smile is so pure and wide, something Gojo doesn't miss.

"You're so beautiful, sweets," He says, affectionately rubbing his nose against yours. You feel warm from the closeness.

You look away shyly, "Yeah, right."

"You don't believe me?" He asks huskily, placing a kiss on your cheek.

"Ugh! Put me down and call Shoko already! It stills hurts," You pout.

"If you say so," He says, but his little smirk is still planted on his face. He lays you down carefully, gently releasing you onto the pile of blankets.

He then turns around and dials the doctor in question, "Yo, Shoko."

You close your eyes, trying to ward off the radiating pain with deep breaths. Gojo's phone call turns to background noise, the words indecipherable.

You tune back into the world at the end of his conversation.

"Okay, thank you so much Ieiri."

You faintly hear Shoko's disgust on the other end of the line, "What's going on with you?? Please never thank me like that again, yuck!"

You can't hold back the giggle that bubbles up at Shoko's reaction. Gojo blows a raspberry into the speaker and promptly hangs up on her.

"What's the verdict?" You ask.

"Well, sweets," Gojo sing-songs. "Did you forget to do something?"

You look up in thought, your brows furrowing, "I don't think so..."

"Really?" He says, then produces a familiar orange pill container. You're forced to stare at it as he shakes it in front of your face. "What about this, hm?"

"What? I already took one," You say, a little indignantly. "When we first got home. It was so horrible tasting and was a giant horse pill, too...Ugh, get that bottle away from me, might as well throw it out. I don't want to take anymore later."

He cracks the bottle open, pouring one into his palm. You narrow your eyes at him. Before you can ask what he intends to do with it, that same pill is shoved into your mouth followed by an amount of water so large that you almost begin to choke.

You cough on the water, and he pats your back accordingly, as if he expected this.

"What-?! Are you trying to waterboard me? I said I already took one, and-" You cough again. "God, where did you even get that water from anyway?"

"Mm. But you didn't notice the pill this time, right?" He looks satisfied with himself.

You deadpan. "No, but-"

"Besides, you were spacing out before we left the infirmary. Shoko specifically said to take two pills when you came home, or else the pain might get bad."

Your face feels hot, "Oh, did she now? Hah hah...I must have misheard her..."

He sighs, and it's only now you notice how tired he looks. There's a lull in your conversation, and you use this time to truly observe him. Dark circles are prominent under his eyes—how come you never noticed that?—and his eyes hold a look of defeat.

He breaks the silence, speaking softly, "You worry me, y'know? When I came in and you were convulsing on the floor...I don't want to see you like that again."

You stay silent, not willing to risk jeopardizing this rare moment of complete and utter vulnerability from Gojo.

"And when Shoko lifted your shirt and there was so much blood pouring out of your back..." He closes his eyes, screwing them shut. "I didn't know what would happen. That really scared me. Even when Shoko said you'd be fine, I didn't believe her until it stopped. And even then, you looked so weak...you still do, and it kills me."

He looks down at the ground, between his hands that are interlocked so tightly that it looks like it would hurt.

"It fucking kills me inside that you got hurt protecting me, and you didn't even notice. If that bullet had come any closer, you-"

He stops abruptly, voice breaking. You reach forward, taking his large hands in yours.

"But it didn't. Look at me, Satoru. I'm fine, I really am. I promise."

He shakes his head vehemently, and you're shocked to see liquid trickle down his face. You almost startle when he embraces you so tightly that you can barely breathe, as if you could disappear at any moment. His head rests on your shoulder, effectively hiding his expression from view.

He whispers by your ear, "What's the use in being the strongest when I freeze up like that? I put you in so much fucking danger."

"Satoru, look at me," You ask again, but his head stays tucked in the crevice between your shoulder and collarbone. "Please."

He slowly raises his head, revealing the expression he tried to conceal. His eyes are glassy and his cheeks are tinged pink; it makes your heart hurt.

"You're not the strongest to me," You say. "You're not even Gojo Satoru. To me, you're Satoru. Just Satoru. You're human and have emotions and memories and trauma, just like everyone else."

You steel yourself for your next words, the ones that have been haunting your thoughts since he got shot.

"I know that what happened reminded you of that...that time with Toji. I-it felt the same for me, and this time...this time I couldn't stand to watch idly. I would rather die than watch that happen to you again. Especially since, this time, it was definitely my fault."

"Your fault?" He laughs dryly.

"Yes!" You instantly cry out, causing his eyes to widen.

"Haven't you realized by now?" You practically sob. "None of this would have happened if I hadn't been touching you. Because your Infinity lowered for me—fuck, it makes me sick saying this out loud—they were able to really hurt you. I'm the one endangering you, and i-if this keeps up then..."

He says nothing. Now that you admitted it, there's no taking it back. And there's no way that he can or should accept this. There's no way he should accept you, you who are so useless and weak and stubborn. And yet...

"That's all?" He says seriously. You're struck with a flash of frustration and anger at his dismissal, but the hard look in his eyes tells you he is just as frustrated and will not budge on this point.

"We'll be more careful. It's a lesson learned for sure, but I'm not giving you up anytime soon. That's what you wanted me to say, isn't it? That I was going to let you go."

You look down shamefully, "W-well..."

He barks out a sharp laugh, "That's not happening. Do you know why?"

You avoid his gaze, and your voice comes out small. "You pity me?"

"I love you." His voice is firm and so sure; it leaves no room for doubt.

Your eyes snap back to his. There’s no bandages or glasses in the way to obscure the emotion shimmering in them—an endless sea of affection and intensity and something else that you couldn’t capture in words even if you tried. Love.

He loves you.

“I love you, so you can’t be reckless. You just can’t, okay? I’ve been going crazy knowing you got hurt, but I couldn’t handle it if…” He takes a sharp breath. “It’s selfish of me, but I don’t fucking care. Nothing can happen to you. I’ll take all of your hits and all of your missions if it means you’ll be safe. You’re the one person I can’t handle losing.”

“Then you’ll understand I feel the same way,” You say with a determined look on your face. “It’s not like I planned to do what I did. It was all instinct. I didn’t care what would happen to me.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of,” He admits, voice raw and so unlike his usual self-assured tone. “You don’t value yourself enough. You matter so much, sweets, more than I could ever say in words. I’d do anything for you, to keep you safe.”

You counter, “And I would die for you, Satoru, because I love you. And I wouldn’t ever regret it.”

Your determined admission renders him silent.

Then he chuckles, “You’re stubborn, aren’t you, sweets? Of course you sound all cute and mad the first time you tell me you love me.”

Your eye twitches, but you exhale into a smile. “Maybe. But so are you!”

“How about this?” He proposes. “How about we both stay alive, live happily ever after, and drink boba and eat kikufuku for the rest of our days?”

“I think I know where this is going,” You say, suspicion clear in your voice. But you can’t stop the way your heart jumps at his words, the insinuation of spending the rest of your days with Satoru making you weak inside.

“Well, sweets, I have an idea,” He says softly, but his words are filled with excitement.

“Hmm?” You muse, playing along. “What is it?”

“I think we need a sweet treat to make us feel better. Don’t you think so? Maybe we could…check out that boba place I talked about earlier?”

“The one ‘I’ said I wanted to go to?” You ask, using air quotes and shaking your head in amusement.

“That’s the one!” He grins, throwing himself around your form. He squeezes you tightly, nuzzling into your neck. “I love you so much that I’ll treat you, seeing as you want to go so badly. Not that I really wanted to go or anything…”

“You’re such a bad liar!” You laugh, pinching his cheek. “But, Satoru…I meant what I said.”

You look at him seriously, not willing to let this slide. You don’t expect him to match your intense energy, but he does.

“So did I. You don’t have to worry about that anymore, because I’ll never let that happen again. I’ll always be here for you, sweets. I’ll always protect you. You can try, but I’ll never make that mistake again. I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you because of me, so I won’t let it. I love you too much to let it happen.”

Your heart feels like it could burst. You sniffle, not able to hold the tears back.

“Aw, is my baby crying?” He teases, gently thumbing the tears away from your cheeks. “You okay?”

“Mhm, just happy,” You nod and let out a watery laugh. “Hey, Satoru.”

“Yeah?” He hums.

“Do you love me enough to give me the last kikufuku later?”

You expect him to joke along with you, but he’s perfectly serious in his words back. Only you seem to have that effect on him.

“Even that,” He chuckles along with you, unbridled warmth and affection swimming in his baby blues as he gazes at you, eyes never leaving your form. “Even that, sweets.”

gojo masterlist <3

A/N: I don’t feel like this is the highest quality writing, but I felt really compelled to write this for some reason, so…oh well! <3 I hope it still turned out okay.

Also Satoru definitely should have apologized but I feel like he’s stubborn and hates apologizing so I left that out <3

I think this is the first time I've managed to not use (Y/N) HAHA, sometimes I see comments on other posts about how much it disturbs their immersive experience, so I'm going to try to limit my usage of it from now on...personally, I've seen and used it for so long that it's just part of my x reader vocabulary, but I understand why people don't like it lol.

Anyway, thank you for reading and I hope you had a great day today !! <333

[hrtzstargirl]

The look of love.

Danielle Marsh.

Sypnosis: Two girls couldn't help but look at each other the way couples do, Those loving gaze everytime they catch a glimpse of the other, even the smallest one. Might be too early for them to understand that they're in love.

Pairing: Danielle Marsh x F!reader

Flufffff

Warnings: Rlly bad writing idk, it's my first time posting a fic💀

--

The practice room was filled with the sound of chatter and music playing in the background, but the worst? The smell of sweat.

Danielle stood on the side with her back against the wall, clearly exhausted from 5 hour straight practice. Groaning as she slides down onto the floor.

A chuckle was heard on her left side, minji stood by her side holding a cup of water as her eyes roamed around the room, "That tired huh?"

Danielle hugged her knees to her chest with her forehead leaning against them. "I'm exhausted. I never knew the dance could be this tiring."

Minji hummed in response, eyes stuck on the four girls goofing around on the other side of the room. "Gosh, they never get tired huh? Well except haerin probably."

The four girls mentioned was still full of energy unlike those two on the side. Especially Hyein and Y/n, it's like they never run out of energy at all, always fully charged.

It's always like this honestly, whenever they got the chance to, even if it's a serious situation, they never fail to make it funny or even joke around.

Haerin joined them too sometimes but mostly it's the five of them, but now, the other two are low battery.

Danielle looked up the moment minji mentioned them, her eyes softening at the sight of Y/n smiling, laughing and goofing.

For her, it's something you need to see after a very tiring day, or even when stressed. In Danielle's eyes, the girl is the solution for everything.

Gosh, how can she stand there, and look so good despite the sweat on her skin, the hairs sticking on her forehead, the way her eyes almost disappear whenever she smiles, and her heavenly laugh.

No person should look this good after a long day, Danielle thought. Minji receiving no reply from the girl below, looked down and saw her looking at the girl on the other side with softness and love evident from her eyes.

A smirk formed on her face, "She'll melt if you continue staring at her like that."

Danielle broke her trance, glancing up at Minji for a second before shaking her head and returning her gaze where it was before being interrupted.

"I was not staring at her. I was looking at them, by them, meant all the four."

"Hah yeah, let's pretend I didn't catched you looking at her like she puts the stars in the sky."

"I was not!"

"Yes you were."

"Seriously unnie! I was not!"

"Gee, why so defensive? It's fine to stare at her, just not too long, she'll definitely melt if you do."

A groan was all she received as a response, giggling at the girl's reaction. Minji took a sip before saying, "You know, this isn't the first time you stared at her for more than ten minutes. Don't deny it, we've noticed."

Before Danielle even got the time to cut Minji off and defend herself, she realized, maybe she did stare too much.

"Is that bad?"

"Nope, not at all. The question is, why?"

Danielle's gaze fell on the floor, thinking, why? Why did she stare too much at the girl? Why didn't she knew that? What was the reason? Is she really that drawn to her?

Her thoughts were cut off when Minji spoke again, "You know, instead of staring at her like a love fool, you should think why exactly?"

Ohhh Minji definitely knows what's up, she knows what's going on, she'd seen the two of you stealing glances at each other when the other is not looking, staring as if they are the most precious thing in this world. Looking like absolute losers that's inlove.

Danielle wondered. "I'll... Think about it, now that you've mentioned it, it's definitely going to be on my mind for so long."

Both of them giggled, before looking back at the four who's getting ready to leave after wiping off their sweats and fixing themselves.

"Come on sunshine, time to go."

---

The four girls sat in the living room, watching and laughing. Minji, Danielle, Haerin and Hyein.

While the other two are in the kitchen, cooking dinner. Hanni was cutting vegetables, while Y/n was cooking.

Y/n couldn't help but glance at the girls, mostly at the girl. Danielle Marsh. Who's talking with Hyein about something while the movie continues, before getting shushed by Haerin who's listening at whatever the person is saying on the TV while Minji too focused to notice.

Danielle giggled quietly in response but Hyein just shrugged. Gosh that smile, makes the whole room lit up even with a small smile.

How can Danielle be so effortlessly beautiful? How can she sit there and look so good?

In Y/n's eyes, Danielle is the definition of perfection. She never Fails to amaze everyone, with her beauty and talent, she's soo good at everything, it makes even the most talented people want to cry, at least, that's what Y/n think.

Hanni not receiving a reply from the other after asking a question that fell on deaf ears, looked behind her and saw her groupmate staring lovingly at someone, and Hanni definitely knows who.

"Bro! Did you even heard me?"

Y/n flinched in response, tearing her gaze away from Danielle to Hanni with a confused look, "What?"

"I said how's food, is it getting cooked perfectly or burned? And clearly it is getting burnt." Nodding toward the pot on the stove, Y/n turned and scoffed, stirring soup.

"Can soup even get burnt?"

"Honestly dude, I don't know, maybe if you stopped staring at her for too long, I wouldn't have said that and make us both look like idiots."

Hanni put the chopped vegetables on the pot, taking the ladle from the other and stir. "I wasn't staring that long!"

"Uh huh, yes you were." Hanni took a sip from the ladle after blowing it, a hummed escaped her, motioning for the other to taste too.

"Why does everyone keep saying that? Even our fans." Y/n replied before taking a sip too, she nodded approvingly of the taste.

"That's because it's true, you look at her as if she's the best thing this world has ever had. Dude, ask the others, they know. You cant escape those sharp eyes of Haerin."

Hanni shook her head and turned off the stove, "Besides, it seems like you're in love."

"What? That's crazy, I'm not!" She replied unexpectedly loudly, catching the attention of Danielle who seems to be the only one who heard her.

Turning her head to look at the girl, she looked at the girl in confusion, while the other just smiled apologetically. Danielle returned the smile, but softer and sweeter before turning back her attention to the TV.

Hanni snickered causing the other to look attention her with furrowed eye brows.

"Ha! Sure, not in love aye? I guess, people around you tend to know it first before you even realize it."

Before Y/n even get the chance to respond, "You'll realize it one day, for now... Dinner time! Come on girls, let's eat!"

[sunniepoo]

Would it be a lot to req a little stepbro!jj or stebro!rafe drabble/hcs/blurbs whatever whatever they're so <33

i dont rlly have a pref/idea of anything u wanna write BUT ive been thinking of cockwarming or public humiliation or something mmegvhhsgj

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

it started of so so innocent, just some quality time with your new older brother, scrolling through the movie catalogue and finding some shitty horror movie to watch in the spare time “m’telling you i could for suuure act better than that guy” the blonde commentates, hand stroking gently at the sides of your waist as you sit on his leg, back resting comfortably on his chest

you couldn’t help but laugh at the ongoing commentary of the shitty 80’s horror movie running on the old tv. these kind of days were your favourite, just being with him and no one else - he always knew how to make you feel okay, whether it be a few kisses to your cheek or a few kisses to your pussy

“jayj he isn’t even that bad” you argue, head turning to look at the troublesome blond beneath you “ you’re just sayin’ that cause you think he’s cute” his hands go up to wave in the air as he retaliates. oh his hands! the same hands that were waving carelessly in the air catch your eyes

“i like your bracelet” in all fairness you did like his bracelet, it was just as interesting as the beauty that was his hands- they were so rough but so gentle, caressing you oh so softly! your mind moved before your body, grabbing them and pulling them closer to you, resting them against your stomach as you traced the length of his calloused fingers

“you sure it’s the bracelet” it was hard for the troublesome boy to hold back the smirk that contorted his face as he shifts his focus, eyes focusing on your movements. the cheeky glint in your eyes couldn’t be missed as you mumble out a soft ‘yeah’ in response

“hm? i don’t know why but m’having a hard time believing that”

the hand that rested on your stomach encapsulated by your own was dragged down, left to slowly toy with waistband of your pyjama shorts “don’t know why you would think that jay” you know you shouldn’t have done it, you told yourself you would stop, you both would stop but your body acted before your mind could intervene, pushing his hand in your shorts as your rock back and forth against him

“please” the whimper didn’t help make your plea sound any less pathetic as the blonde looks at you knowingly

“jus’ cause you asked nicely” he teases before rubbing circles around your clit, causing for a soft wet patch to form on your pants. it was bad, you knew it was but you couldn’t help it - he just knew what made you all sticky and wet

the gentle hand that dragged across your face, gripped you closer to him - mouths meeting to clash sloppily against each other, eager to be close to him “jay please-” it was hard to ignore the ache that begged for him, all of his length nestled in you “m’need more”

“s’kay your big brother’s gotcha” the reassuring words only caused you to grow more needy, rocking against him even more eagerly “know just how to make you feel good… don’t i?” the question falls flat on your ears as you struggle against him, body desperate for some friction “hm? c’mon good girls answer”

“yes yes yes…just want you in me jayj” you blubber, needy to have the older boy inside your cunt. as the words fall form your mouth, the blonde rushes to pull down his pants- lifting you up with no effort as the lets his throbbing dick spring free

he’s quick to usher your shorts down, easing himself inside you - burying himself as deep as possible, you couldn’t miss the creamy ring formed sprung the base of him, as small amounts of precum coat your walls

“fuck fuck fuck” a mixture of his curses and your moans fill the room, “feels so good jay” you couldn’t help but comment as fall back against him, soaking in his warmth “i know cutie” the laugh that comes out more breathy than he intends

“c’mon we got like an hour left of this crap” he points to the movie that was long forgotten in front of the both you. you were in bliss, filled to the brim with your favourite pair of arms wrapped around you

jj on the other hand spent the better part of the hour trying not blow his load inside you as your velvety walls pulsed around him, safe to say it was a long hour

ʚ‎‏ ͜ ̩͙ ︵ ̩͙ ୨ ♡ ୧ ̩͙ ‏︵ ̩͙ ͜ ɞ

[iicheeze]

Genshin SAGAU except Reader is a lore fanatic

cw: lore dump, archon quest spoilers, side quest spoilers, etc

“ guys did u know that the Sea Ganoderma is actually souls of children who died young trapped and is forced to spend generations absorbing elements from the sand and sea as the form of punishment?? ” “ what the fuck your grace. ” Tighnari muttered.

“yelan, i know where u got ur jacket. ” “ o- oh, really, Your Grace? ” Yelan stuttered, sweat dropping. “ Yeah, i know u stole it from a Fatui Harbinger that was supposed to be a gift for the Tsaritsa and made some 'adjustments' to make it fit your style. ” you stated with a smirk, while yelan tries to hold in her cries because you rlly are a Divine Being, knowing everything about Teyvat.

Archon quest spoilers down ahead

“ Guys, I have a theory that the upside down Statue of the Seven and city the Traveler and Paimon saw are actually the correct way and that proves it because when I took a walk at Spiral Abyss when I went down I expected it to be pitch black but instead I'm met with the galaxy sky and a moon and possibly, Khaenri 'ah and Enkanomiya are the ones that are actually in the surface, while Teyvat is underground and yknow what? Scaramouche is RIGHT. The stars are fake the sky is fake everything is fake as we know of HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA ” your maniacal laughter echoed through the Akademiya as many Researchers are baffled by this amount of information

“ Alhaitham, do you have a second? ” “ Of course, Your grace. What is it? ” “ Are you the Scarlet King ” “ ........ excuse me ”

“ WELL i noticed that the color of your eyes matches the Scarlet King's eyes, and your boots matches the color of the buildings of the Scarlet King's Civilization. A blue gem appeared when the Scarlet King sacrificed himself and it kinda looked like the gems at your back. And when you do your burst it looks REALLY similar to the Primal Constructs’ attacks, and the Primal Constructs are what's left of the Scarlet King's civilization. And at your chest it looks like it has the wings of an eagle, and your name literally means young eagle. What does this have to do with the Scarlet King? Well, at the Dunes I've ventured, I've seen murals and a figure with a bird head and it could possibly be the Scarlet King but it strangely reminded me of you!!! Plus, you know how to use the devices made by the Scarlet King, whereas the books and researchers at the Akademiya shows no information on how to properly use them. Pretty suspicious...... ”

and then theres alhaitham sweating his balls off on how the hell did you get that information.

“ guys, did you know that when Enkanomiya was plunged deep into the ocean, they created a fake sun called Helios to survive, right??? But actually, the nobles wanted more power. They wanted a puppet or ruler that they could easily control or manipulate. And WHO WOULD MAKE A GOOD CANDIDATE??? THAT'S RIGHT! A CHILD. AND THUS, BEGIN THE REIGN OF THE SUNCHILDREN. They were young and ignorant, obviously easy to be deceived and lied to. They were manipulated to commit heinous deeds. The first Sunchild was deceived to imprisoning his role model for life, aka isolated from everyone. The sunchildren were DESPISED by their own people, EVEN THE CARETAKERS ARENT ALLOWED TO SPEAK TO THEM. Knowing that the Sunchildren could realize that they were being manipulated, the nobles then introduced Rite of Solar Return. Now what the hell is a Rite of Solar Return??? Basically, when a Sunchild hits a certain age, they will be taken into the inner sanctum of Helios. The artificial Sun's high temperature could AND WOULD incinerate them alive!!!!! AND SOMEHOW, SOME HAVE SIMILARITIES WITH OUR CURRENT ARCHONS!!! Orupeusu had a talent for the lyre, aka the Anemo Archon. Risutaiosu made lifelike sculptures, like the Electro Archon. And Isumenasu would roam his country, AND EVEN HAD A SPEAR LIKE THE GEO ARCHON AT HIS GRAVE!!! HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHA I AM A GENIUS ”

the fact that people would still listen to your rants about Teyvat but still be concerned about your mental health is hilarious

if you werent the Divine Being of All, they would've locked you up where no one can find you, you know

Dottore would like you tho

so that's good

[de4dlyniightshade]

꩜ STARRY EYED

꩜ pairing: spencer reid x afab!reader

꩜ rating: 18+, mdni

꩜ word count: 1k

꩜ warnings/contains!: smut, sub!spencer, softdom!reader, mommy kink, dry humping/thigh riding, praise, pet names(baby boy, sweet boy, ), cumming in pants(yum), one single brief mention of spencer's fear of the dark,

꩜ lyric: "Oh, boy, you're starry eyed. Lie back, baby, lie back"

꩜ A/N: this is like super short and mid but i rlly wanted to post something.

"What's the matter, baby?" You mumbled, your voice full of sleep, as you lay in bed, so close to drifting off to sleep, but the sound of Spencer huffing for about the fourth time both prevented it and made you worry that something was bothering him.

"N-nothing, 's okay." Spencer spoke meekly, like he'd been caught doing something he shouldn't be doing, his shy demeanour only making you more curious, even though he was shy most of the time.

"Nobody huffs like that for nothing; you can tell me, Spence." You leaned up on your elbows and looked over at him, only seeing his silhouette in the darkened room, the only light being the moonlight and streetlights coming through the curtain that was cracked open just enough so Spencer wouldn't be afraid.

"I just- it's- I need you." You could hear his voice become muffled at the end of his sentence as he buried his face into his pillow, shy to admit that he was desperate for your touch and was currently sporting a semi over nothing, which wasn't uncommon; it never did take much to get Spencer hot and bothered.

"Aw, baby boy, why didn't you just say that? C'mere," you cooed, blindly reaching out to find him, your hand landing on his arm and helping guide him towards you until he was snuggled into your chest, his arms wrapped around you.

You let your fingers rake through his hair before pressing a kiss to his head, the action making Spencer pull back, blindly leaning towards you until his nose bumped yours, your hand reaching for his cheek as you pressed your lips to his, Spencer sighing into your mouth as he shifted closer to you, his thighs parting and allowing yours to situate between them, his hardening length barely brushing your thigh, but the stimulation was enough to make him whine against your lips.

You couldn't help but break the kiss to hear him better, pressing your thigh harder into his crotch, the sound of a needy whimper falling from his mouth making you pull your bottom lip between your teeth, your hand moving from his cheek down to his slim waist, caressing his skin through the thin material of his shirt.

"Mommy, please," Spencer whimpered, burying his face into your neck as his cock twitched against your thigh. You just gripped his waist, pulling him closer and pushing your thigh further into him. "Mommy's tired, baby. How about you just fuck my thigh like a good boy, hm?" Your voice was sultry and low as you spoke; your words made Spencer whine, eagerly nodding his head against you.

"That's it, good boy," you praised as Spencer slowly began to rock his hips into you, letting out quiet sighs of pleasure and gripping your shirt, nuzzling his face deeper into your neck, his hot breath fanning your skin.

"Thank you, m-mommy," Spencer breathed into you, desperately rutting his cock faster against you as you began to rock your thigh in time with his thrusts. The added friction made Spencer whimper your name, squeezing his eyes shut as he fisted your shirt in his hands.

"No need to thank me, baby boy, just wanna make you feel good," you murmured, stroking one hand through his tousled hair as you rubbed your thumb over his ribs with the other before trailing your hand down to take a handful of his plush ass, the feeling making Spencer gasp, the sound turning into a whimper, his hips stuttering and cock twitching harshly, a small wet spot forming on the front of his pyjamas as his tip leaked precum.

Spencer began panting quietly, his breathing coming out in short gasps as he desperately fucked your thigh, gripping your forearm, his slender fingers pressing into your skin. "O-oh!, mommy, please, p-please!," Spencer moaned pathetically, pleading and whimpering without even knowing what he was pleading for.

"Mommy's sweet boy, you gonna cum baby?" You spoke quietly, your hand still planted on his ass, guiding his hips back and forth over your thigh, grinding it into him as you did. "Y-yes! 'm gonna cum, mommy," Spencer mewled, his thighs tightening around yours.

"M-mommy, I can't." Spencer's voice was strained as his cock throbbed against your leg, his release so close he could taste it, his head swimming as he let tears fall from his eyes, his whole body shaking as he patiently waited for your go-ahead, needing your permission before he let himself cum.

"Go on, sweet boy, cum for mommy," you breathed, your hand on the back of his head holding him close to you as he gasped and whimpered, hips stuttering pathetically as his back arched into you, his jaw falling slack as his whole body tensed, shooting ropes of cum into his pyjama pants.

"That's it, baby, such a good boy," you whispered sweetly, stroking his hair and smoothing your hand from his ass up to his ribs, slipping your hand under his shirt to caress his smooth skin, Spencer twitching at the feeling as he gently rocked his hips, riding out his orgasm.

"Thank you, mommy," Spencer's voice spoke into your chest. His voice muffled as he tightened his arms around you, pressing himself as close as possible to you and letting out a content sigh. "I told you, no need to thank me, sweet boy," you murmured, stroking your hand up and down his spine, the skin-on-skin contact gradually lulling Spencer to sleep.

You only realised that Spencer had fallen asleep when you heard a small snore from his throat, the sound making you smile to yourself. You carefully placed your chin atop his head and let your eyes fall closed, sleep catching up on you as you started drifting off just like Spencer had, the warmth of his body on yours making it impossible to fight it any longer.

A/N: another garbage ending as per usual 🤞

[neuvistar]

DOUBLE TROUBLE!

— featuring ┊il dan heng x f!reader x blade

— warnings / content warnings ┊ all consensual btw ! this is kinda messy n not rlly proofread cuz i was lazy but whatever, threesome, finger sucking, vaginal sex, il dan heng has two cocks (woah), riding, double penetration, hair pulling, slight choking but it’s nothing too extreme, grabbing at il dan heng’s horns while u ride him mhm mhm, use of nicknames ofc, overall suggestive content | 18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

— a/n ┊based on this ask right here by my bff, special tag 4 bff ! @yanqingisim | there’s so many mistakes but i’m too lazy 2 fix it it’s ok tho live laugh love

poor you, you really didn’t expect to get caught up in this situation, never in all years of your lifespan would you expect to have two of the hottest men you’ve laid your eyes on going down on you like it’s their last.

dan heng huffed as he nuzzled against your neck, inhaling your sweet scent that drove him absolutely crazy, it was worse enough he was in his true form. his hands travelling down to your hips as he has you seated on his lap as you felt another pair of hands sliding beneath your shirt, ah yes.. blade. you almost couldn’t comprehend just how god it felt to have their hands roaming around your body, dan heng’s lips interlocked against yours as his tongue slips past through.. kissing you with absolute passion and desperation while the other nibbles on your shoulder, slowly dragging his mouth to your neck from time to time, smirking against your skin at every lewd moan that left your mouth. gosh, they weren’t even fucking you yet and you were already desperate for more. then, a voice spoke up.. completely putting a stop to the immense pleasure you were taking in. “you think she’s ready?” blade pulled away from your skin, cocking a brow at dan heng, huh. you could’ve sworn there was a hint of annoyance and impatience in his voice.

“i think so. what do you think, baby? are you ready? you’re alright with this, right?” dan heng gave your nose a quick peck, his tail brushing against your fingers. his face lit up as he saw you nod, your lips quivering. “mm.. alright. you ready to take two cocks at the same time?”

“.. two? is blade okay with th—“

“you poor poor girl.” blade chuckled, completely cutting you off. “it’s not my cock you’re taking, sweet thing..” then, his fingers tangled in your hair, gripping rather hard as he made you look up.. a low chuckle erupting from his chest “it’s his.” before you could protest or question anything, you could feel the tip of dan heng’s fingers tracing down your body, going lower and lower.. reaching the hemline of your panties as he gave you one last smirk, forcefully ripping it off. the cold air hit your pussy as you gasped, your back hitting blade’s chest as he had his hands on your hips to keep you still.. feeling the tips of dan heng’s digits running along your thighs, rubbing the slit of your drenched cunt with two fingers, feeling your wetness on her fingers. “this might hurt, so..” dan heng paused for a second before he began to undo his pants, your eyes almost popping out of your sockets at the sight of the two hardened cocks pressing against your lower abdomen. “brace yourself, sweetheart. you’re not leaving my lap until i’m satisfied, mhm?” he spoke, joy igniting from his body when he saw you nod. “good girl.”blade then pressed himself closer behind you, hands on your hips pinching your nipples from behind as his mouth worked wonders on your neck.

dan heng inhaled as he grew even more desperate and needy, your scent was too much for him, he couldn’t help it! he finally snapped. letting his desires and neediness do all the talking, taking over him as he hooked both arms under your thighs, hastily lifting you up from his lap.. aligning you with his aching cock. dan heng threw his head back, trying to take in the feeling of your walls clenching around him almost immediately, forcing a choked moan out of him. his muscles tensed at the sensation around his dick, letting out the most angelic moan known to mankind, trying to get used to how absolutely good you felt around him. he bit his lip, his other hardened cock twitching in anticipation. “shit.. angel. fuck— you feel good..” he cursed, squeezing the flesh of your ass before thrusting upwards. “come on, pretty. ride it, ride me. ride me like you mean it.”

fuck, he was girthy alright.

the other raven haired male scoffed at him, trying to fight and ignore the discomfort in his pants, his own cock twitched at the sight of both of you, his finger tangling into your hair once more as he pressed himself closer against you. you felt something hard against your back, but it’s not like you cared.. you were too lost in the moment.. letting your lust confrol your body, lifting yourself up, then down. up, down.. and it repeats. you rode dab heng’s cock with desire, your knuckles turning white at how tightly you were clutching his biceps. blade chuckled, pulling your hair hard enough to force your head to lean back, catching a glimpse of your face. “uh huh.. that’s it. that’s a face of a needy little whore. that’s what you are, sweet thing.” he whispered in your ear, his teeth digging into your skin. to your surprise, your hips were lifted once more as you felt dan heng’s long tail wrapping itself around your waist, holding you in place before you gasped at the sudden stretch of your cunt, his second cock slipping inside of your hole, the same one as well. fuck, it hurt so good.. so so good. your fingers wrapped around his horns, earning a needy whine from him as your moans gradually got louder the more he thrusts into you, stretching you out

“f-fuck.. don’t grip them so tightly.. ‘gonna make them all sore tonight, baby. you’re gonna.. mm make cum from how hard you’re holdin’ me..” he bit his lip as he grabbed your hips, angling it a completely different angle as it was before as he slammed your hips down onto himself, whimpering at two fingers flicking your clit.

blade was clearly enjoying himself as much as you both were, he was probably sure he came in his pants already because of how hot of a show you and dan heng were putting on, watching you take dan heng’s cocks like an absolute champ, whispering the dirtiest shit in your ear, biting it from time to time. “such good little fucktoy you are, precious. look at how well you’re milking his cock. come on, let him hear you.. louder.” your body shook as you released on dan heng’s cock, oh. poor you.. bold of you to assume he would stop just there. he cupped your cheek, kissing the tears that threatened to leave your tears away. he was then caught off guard at how harshly you tugged on his horns while you rode him, cunt taking him in all too well while your tits bounced. his face reddened at the sensitivity of his horns against your palms, holding both of your wrists together above your head, careful not to accidentally hit blade in the head (even though he wanted to). “i thought i told you not to grip them so tightly, angel.. mmph-“ he threw his head back as he ran his fingers through his hair, looking down at you, a teary eyed expression on your face at the stretch and how rough he was being. well, it’s not like you were complaining anyways but that’s besides the point. “d-dan heng.. please!” the way you said his name triggered something in him. oh how soft you sounded, the way his named rolled so gently off your dirty little tongue, he was absolutely losing it, he needed more of you. his tail tightened its grip around your waist holding you up as he bucked his hips, slamming into you. fucking hell, he’s stretching you out so much.. he could break you if he wanted to.

the stellaron hunter’s hand wrapped itself around your neck with sharp nails digging into your skin, his other hand pressing close against your mouth. blade shoved his fingers inside the second time, pressing his digits close against your tongue before squeezing your throat. you couldn’t take two of them at once, the other pounding into you while the other tugged and kissed at your skin, you knew immediately you were gonna be sore the next morning. swallowing a lump in your throat, your tongue swirled him, sucking his fingers in a desperate manner while the sound is skin slapping against each other filled your ears, how lewd.. you could even catch disgusting sounds of squelching here and there too. these two are gonna be the end of you.. you thought. with how tightly you were holding onto dan heng’s horns for support, you knew that you were close. dan heng brought a hand to caress the huge bulge on your belly, feeling himself go in and out.. his two cocks stretching you more than it should have. (oops)

“yeah.. you like this don’t you, [name]? you like how they stretch you out?“ you couldn’t speak, you almost forgot how to fucking speak with how rough blade and dan heng were on your body and you as a whole, blade fondled with your breasts roughly while the other was holding you in place on his lap with his tail, thrusting up into your abused hole, the sounds of skin slapping and squelching only got louder when dan heng bit his lip, you felt like you were on cloud 9. your whines and whimpers were accompanied by dan heng’s moans, savouring just how good it felt having his huge cocks slamming inside.. the tip of his dicks kissing your deepest and untouched areas. blade on the other hand, his mouth was latched onto your neck, marking you for everyone else to see. “how does it feel, angel? milking my cock like this, fuck.. you’re pretty.” dan heng brought his voice down to a whisper. “c-can’t get enough of you”

“huh. sweetheart’s making you feel so good you started stuttering, pathetic.”

“shut up, if you.. ah— if you were in my position right now fucking her pussy like this, you would be messing up on your sentences too. don’t be so full of yourself, fool.” ah yes, they were arguing even during sex. you grumbled at their bickering, your breathing temporarily paused before dan heng thrusted himself into you hard and deep one final time before releasing, his cum oozing of you as some even dripped on his thigh.

gods. you really should’ve just went out for the day, maybe then your legs would’ve been saved.

[sluttysanemi]

AHHH !!

i have this request with sanemi or even obanai, smut ofc although i love comfort & fluff !

sanemi or obanai during&after nnn (no nut november) ???

🤍 🤍

ੈ✩‧₊˚ – MORNING ARISES.

c/w: smut, thigh fucking, mirror sex? , established relationship

a/n: i promise ill write 4 obanai one day i jst rlly like writing and posting sanemi.. also what do we think of fallen angel sanemi?? idk that could be pretty hot

A new morning dawns as another month begins. You groggily vacate from your bed, as segments of light emerge through the window. It'd been an uproarious month, particularly for Sanemi- who slept, half asleep, beside you.

He restricted himself of you the entire november, for particularly petty reasons. There was no intimacy across those days, and you knew he grew desperate by the second week.

This was, however, not what rang across your mind. Rather, you proceed to your customary morning routine, shuffling your body to the common bathroom.

Gazing at the mirror across, you crank the tap, letting the water stream along your palm; before splashing it against your face. You clear the nightly buildup your body formed upon your face, whilst awaking yourself. 

While performing your morning dues, Sanemi would promptly stumble from the sheets. You could hear the heavy thud of his feet as he staggered along the floorboards to the lavatory. His rich sandalwood fragrance quickly spreads across the small space. You whispered an earnest greeting, as you continued. 

It was until he suddenly drew closer, throwing his robust arms along your waist and sinking his face in the crook of your neck. His chest was rigorous against your back,  you could feel the faint twitch of his pectorals. His hips were particularly close, as he pressed against you boldly.

It was evident he was still half slumbering as he laid his light lips against the exact region upon your shoulder.

“Missed ya so much…”, he spoke dazedly. 

You swiftly realized what he meant, as he drove his hips against you. You could feel the hard contour of his famished shaft as it pushed along. He dressed only in his boxers, thus you could feel every detail of his length, as it struggled against the thin fabric of the garment.

“Please…”, Sanemi uttered. 

Your cheeks flush, and your breathing grows heavy. You grant his plea with a subtle nod,  watching as he slowly tugs at your panties, exposing your cunt to the warm air. 

He follows, pulling his firm dick from his waistband. His rigid cock lubricated with the sinful beads of his pre, as it trails downwards.

Still barely conscious, he struggles to push himself into you, instead driving between your thighs. You could feel his veins throbbing against your clit, whilst he groans in ecstasy. It hadn't mattered where he was buried, you still felt phenomenal. 

He took a firm hold of your hips, and began to move slowly, humping himself between your legs. 

You could feel him rutting against your lower lips, as your slick stained his cock. He pulsed with excitement. 

“Hnn.. so good f’me… so soft…”, Sanemi’s words spilled incoherently, his mind clouded with pleasure. 

You looked wistfully to the mirror, your cheeks a deep scarlet. His cock pushes against you endlessly, while you clutch to your bathroom's surface.

A hand would slowly surface along your body, wrapping itself around your tit. His fingers delicately pinch at the soft nub, eliciting a groan from your lips. You grind yourself against him, desperately yearning for more of him, more of his desperation. 

His head separates from your shoulder, tilting back, as his hips grow more fervent. The sound of his labored breathing and the feel of his skin on yours send thrills down your spine.

His grip tightens around you, his rough nails pressing into your skin. His breath feels hot on your neck, his presence overwhelming and stifling.

“Fuck… s–so-.. Shit–..”, he pants endlessly. He's pulsating ceaselessly, so close to achieving a rush that he's starved himself completely of. His firm tip continually humping against you, twitching in elation as he feels the clench of your thighs, strumming against his sensitive skin. 

His balls begin to tighten, as his ability of thought fades. 

With a few more ruts of his hips, he spills himself, his spurts of pleasure trickling between your thighs, and the counter- too eager to feel ashamed of having finished so swiftly.

His formerly cruel fingers begin to gently knead your hips, while he splays kisses around your neck. You tilt your head backwards, indulging into his expression of affection. 

“C’mon, sweet girl… ‘nother one. Wanna show you how bad I missed you.”, Sanemi coos softly, against your ear.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

OH GOD YOUR REQS R OPEN, i would rlly like to request something, could you write an one shot of price with a little daugther reader? just like, him coming home and spending some time with his little girl, she tells him about her school, he tells her some funny stories that happened while he was at work, he cooks her favorite meal, just a big fluff, i love this man more than anything and i just need some paternal love LMAO, feel totally free to deny! do everything in your time and remember to take good care of urself!

Memories of Youth

Pairing: Father!John Price x F!Daughter!Reader

Synopsis: It was hard being away from his little girl, but warm mornings spent in each other's company were blessings - even if they were far and few in between. It didn't matter the form.

Word Count: 4.5k (short and sweet)

Warnings: Angst (just a little cuz I can't help myself), a lotta fluff, banter, just good platonic/paternal relationship in general, etc.

A/N: Didn't specify if the reader was adopted or blood-related, so that's really up to you! Enjoy, Anon!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

He got the call at the halfway point of crossing the English Channel, Northern France behind him and Southern England just on the horizon line as the sun began to spread its orange glow over the waves. Sitting high above the water in a slick black Heli, John Price’s hand snaps to his side pocket, fingers deftly peeling back the layers as the overwhelming sound of helicopter blades shakes the hull. 

The rest of Task Force 141 watch with varying interest, only Gaz taking notice of the sudden frown that mars his Captain’s face; the furrowed brow, and the spark of concern in his eyes. A call was unusual. The Sargeant tries not to intrude, but can’t help the way his body lightly shifts so he can have a better view.

John doesn't bother to look at the contact when he takes the device out, rapidly pressing the answer button and slotting the phone at his ear, tilting his head so his opposite rests at the junction of his shoulder. It only stops a fraction of the noise, even so, it would have to do for now. But with how his ears were already straining to find a sound over the line, he may not need to force out the jarring racket after all. 

Inside his chest, John’s heart is racing – confusion laces his mind. This was abnormal. 

I told her only to call if it was an emergency. What could she have gotten herself into now? I said to stay out of trouble…

“Where are you?!” The Brit has to shout down the line, his familiar deep accent loud and guttural. 

His mind flies through every possibility. An intruder had broken into the house, you had broken your arm falling down the stairs again, or a fire had broken out in the kitchen. Fuck…he was too far away to help if anything bad had happened. John’s jaw clenches, eyes looking out over the water as the bucket hat on his head flops in the wind. It was only a product of his job that made him think like that; years of intuition and thinking on the fly leading to his mind making up the worst scenarios. 

Especially when you called on a secure line when he told you it was only appropriate for life-and-death situations. Especially when it was his little girl.

I told ‘er about the Pistol in my office, yeah? The Captain asks himself with a steel-like resolve. And gave her Laswell’s number?

John’s fingers tighten over the phone when he hears your breath over the line, a shuffling of clothes, and a deep exhale.

“Sunshine!” He tries again, sitting up straighter as his pulse gets faster. Why isn’t she answering me? “Where are you right–”

“We don’t have anything for breakfast.” Your voice is heavy with sleep; fatigue drowning the syllables and holding them under the very waves that rage under John only separated by thin sheets of metal. 

The Brit stops. His body freezes, and as the tense minutes go by his panic falls away and leaves a thick stain of annoyance resting behind his eyelids. Of course. John brings two fingers to his nose bridge, digging into the skin until tiny crescent moons are left behind; he has to take a deep breath before answering, but his tone leaves nothing to the imagination.

“...Breakfast…?”

“Yeah, Old Man, you need me to spell it for you? B-R-E-A-K-F-A–”

“Enough!” John barks stiffly and has to hold back his anger as you laugh from the other side. Ever the jokester – did you not realize how serious this was? How fast your father’s heart was racing with adrenaline? 

Fuck, he had just about been ready to radio the cockpit and force the pilots to fly faster.

Across the way, Ghost locks eyes with the man, and with a tilt of his head and a loud call he asks, “That the Mutt?”

The Captain’s eyes slip back into a firm blank slate.

“Affirm.” John tilts the phone away from his mouth, ignoring your sarcastic comments to catch his sanity for a moment and respond to his Lieutenant.

Simon blinks as Johnny perks up at his side, looking in from the view in favor of the Captain with newfound interest. A bright smile forms over his scruffy cheeks

“She all good?” The skeletal man asks, and Gaz smirks lazily tapping his fingers over his knee, immediately noticing your shenanigans and the way the Cap was so worked up. 

But anyone would be when they had a daughter thousands of miles away.

John simply nods once with an exasperated expression to Ghost. MacTavish snorts out a laugh, knowing the context of the situation without having to think hard.

“Is that Uncle Simon?” You ask, and with a scratch at his beard, your father hums in confirmation, letting the sound of your voice put him more at ease. She’s just fine. “Tell him I want him to come over and play Mario Cart with Gaz, Johnny, and me again! He wiped the floor with ‘em last time!” 

There’s a clinking of pots and pans as you move throughout the house. 

“Sweetheart,” Your father grumbles, sighing through the call. His voice takes on the authoritative tone that works for both soldiers and teenagers – but it rarely works on you, despite that fact. Took after your dad too much, is what John would say. Never listened until it was absolutely necessary. “What did I tell you about callin’ this phone when I’m away from the house?”

He hears your scoff and raises a warning eyebrow, though you can’t see it. You know your dad enough to know he’s doing it despite being separated. It was pretty common.  

“Not to, unless it’s an emergency…But I’d say food is a big enough reason, y’know? Unless you want me to eat the leftover cake for breakfast – which I haven’t thrown out as a possibility yet, honestly.”

“You’re not eatin’ bloody cake for breakfast. You’ll get sick.” Gaz snickers, turning his face away to hide the amusement at the comment. 

It hadn’t been a surprise that the Captain’s daughter was such a familiar creature – they saw traits reflected every time the two were together. Everyone had expected her to take after her old man in nearly everything, and when she had they had bumped fists and prayed for the brown-bearded man. But it was funny nonetheless, considering they got along better than most fathers and daughters; practically reading each other's minds when everyone was playing poker. Johnny was still pretty ticked off about that – he’s a good deal deep into the sweets debt he owes you because Price helps you win. But where they really shined was with the shared deadpan attitudes, bottom-of-the-barrel sarcasm, and knowing how to command a room without even trying. Safe to assume that the rest of the team would do anything for you.

“Will not.” You grumble in retaliation, and John’s lips threaten to tilt into a grumpy smile when he hears you put the cake plate back into the counter. 

Letting the tension fall from his shoulders, the brown-haired man takes a glance outside, watching the waves go bright orange as they lap and writhe like great sea serpents. 

“How long have you been up, eh? The sun’s barely risen. Thought Sunday was when you always slept in?” 

There’s a pause in what John believed were fingers digging through a cupboard, and he narrows his eyes in confusion as the silence grows long. He frowns when you speak again, words so quiet he has to place a hand over his other ear to hear properly. Having half a mind to go and tell the pilots to hurry up and go faster so he can just talk to his little girl in person, he refrains, knowing that’s not how this works. But something was wrong – it had been laced in your previous words, as tiny and unnoticeable as it may have been. Only a father would notice it.

“You said you were gonna be home last night. I stayed up.” It takes a moment of halted breathing before John’s eyes widen, blues full of realization.

Oh. 

…Damn it. He lets out the tense breath of air from his lips, shifting in his seat as the gear around his body weighs him down. His gun digs into his chest. 

He hadn't seen you for over a week – leaving you in the care of a close and trusted neighbor, Mrs. Lilly, just as he always had when he needed to leave for work on short notice. But seeing as you were older now, it became apparent that, with your learned independence, staying at the house by yourself was alright as long as you checked in with the neighbor every morning and night. You had been waiting for him to come home. All alone. In the dark. 

Fucken’ hell, John thinks in a deep layer of guilt as wrinkles overtake his forehead, I did tell her I’d be back yesterday. I forgot to call and tell ‘er. Shit! He didn’t want to imagine the stress that had been put on your shoulders. God, what’ve I done?

Not checking in was something he had never missed before – he always told you when he was about to come back. What had gone wrong this time? How had something that important just slipped his mind? Sure the Op had been tedious, but he was trained to handle it. It was no excuse. 

“Sweetheart,” John starts and then pauses the soft and gentle endearment, knowing that an apology didn’t fit into what you were looking for. You didn’t want an ‘I’m sorry’ right now, you wanted your father. Flattening his lips into a line, he continues, wishing he was with you more than ever so he can press a kiss to your forehead. “...I should be back before 1200. How about when I get back I’ll cook you up somethin’ myself, yeah? Or we can go to that Cafe you like down on Newman Street and I’ll get you whatever you want.”

“...When do you have to go back?” You don’t answer his question, and yours makes his heart hurt. 

John clears his throat.

“None of that, now. We’ll talk more when I get back, Darling, alright?” You don’t respond, but he hears you sigh and quietly scoff under your breath. “Alright?” He tries again, head tilting forward and eyebrows rising as if you could see him. Maybe you could.

“Fine. But you better make me pancakes. I don’t care if it’ll be noon.” 

“Pancakes it is.” The Captain looks up in time to see Johnny mouthing words to him, and with a blank face and stiff lip, your father mutters with a grunt, “Johnny says ‘hello.’” 

Your shocked snort makes him feel better, but a layer of guilt still stays. You were awake all night waiting for him, and he never showed up. Did you sleep on the couch? Damnit, he hoped you didn’t…but in his rattling chest knew you had. He found you like that every time he came back from a long stay away. Huddled under blankets, no pillow under your head. Sometimes you steal one of his shirts and hold it like a stuffed bear to your chest, shoving your face into it. 

How could I forget to fucken’ call her?

Your voice takes him out of his growing self-resentment. 

“Tell him to watch his back – I’m getting better at Rainbow Road. Soon enough I’ll be able to beat him in a 1V1!” John can’t help the slow chuckle that bounces in his throat, mind, for the moment, at ease as long as you continue to speak to him.

“I’ll be sure to pass it along. But, eh,” The Brit makes sure he speaks slowly, letting you hear every syllable of his next words. “Promise me you’ll stay at the house until I get there. No goin’ out with friends, yeah? You know how I worry.” John ignores the teasing look from Gaz and peeks out again to see how close they were to the mainland with narrowed lids. “‘Specially when I’m not there.”

Getting back to the Base wasn’t the problem, it was the damn reports coming in that would wring his neck before he could get out the door. But he’d push it off for however long he could; call in favors from Laswell to get him more time with his little girl so he can fix his mistake. As a dad, the only thing that counted was seeing his daughter after a seemingly unending Op that he didn’t want to relive. The hardest part wasn’t the blood or the guts – it was being away from you. Nothing would ever change that, even if he was the one on the ground gritting his teeth at the bite of a bullet.

“Scout’s honor, Old Man.” The happiness in your voice makes him smile to himself. 

“Stop calling me that, Muppet.” John grumbles affectionately, rolling his eyes, “I’ll give you a call when back I’m in town, Sunshine. Make sure the door’s locked–”

“--Locked, the windows too, plus, if someone knocks on the door I need to look through the peephole and if I don’t recognize them don’t open it…Am I missing anything?”

“Mind yourself, now you’re just being cheeky, you are.” John teases, scoffing, but proud that you remembered his rules. It made all of this just a bit more manageable.

“Who do you think I got it from?” You laugh, but it tapers off sullenly, “Just…get home safe, okay, Dad?”

John’s beard pulls back into a soft close-lipped grin, eyes crinkling as his heart warms. He so desperately wanted to ruffle your hair. 

“Of course, Hun. But, eh, take a nap. It’s still early, and I know you’ve got schoolwork to do later. You sound like you’re about to keel over where you stand.” You scoff before agreeing with a muttered grumble, most likely already stumbling to the living room couch, and then the line goes silent and is replaced once more by the whirring of the helicopter blades. 

The man peels back the phone and pockets it, hand unconsciously brushing his breast pouch where a picture of the two of you always sits. It was a baby picture, with your little form held in his grip delicately; looking down at you with soft eyes and an easy smile on his lips that always formed when he was with you. From under a soft blanket, your tiny hand reaches out to try and brush his stubbily cheek. 

It never failed to bring him ease when he realized the photo was there. A reminder that if everything else in his life went horribly wrong, you would still be looking up at him with those eyes of yours. At the very least, he had managed to do one thing right.

“She’ll be fine. She’s a good kid.” Gaz calls at him, and John spares him a glance out of the side of his eye with a raised brow.

“I know she is. I’m the one who raised her.”

—

You remember eating a piece of toast before you made your way over to the couch, throwing your phone to the coffee table haphazardly before tossing yourself onto the cushions. Still in your pajamas, you can’t find it in you to go and grab the homework in your backpack this early. The sun had only just risen, and the bags under your eyes reminded you how late you stayed up last night. 

But your father had never shown up.

Frantic was too light a word to describe the feeling you had when your eyelids had peeled back to the empty living room and the TV still playing. It had been second nature to snatch your phone and call the secure line – half of you had said it was better to call Laswell, just in case, but your adolescent brain had wanted nothing more than to hear your father’s voice.

He would make it better. But you needed to hear his voice. 

Dad, you remembered pleading to yourself as the sound of the dial tone echoed in your ear, please answer the phone. Please. Answer the fucking phone. 

Your heart was pounding; hands shaking. He never just didn’t show up when he said he was going to. Never. Your dad was punctual – always on time no matter what – and he had ingrained the same sentiment in you as well. 

When his deep voice finally bounced in your eardrums you nearly started to cry, missing the first hurried and concern-filled inquiry of where you were. Hearing his voice put you at ease, and after a week of missing your father’s strong presence and his warm hugs, it was hard not to take a shaky inhale when he seemed so close.

You just wanted him home; you wanted him to make you pancakes and help you with your schoolwork. You wanted him to read a book to you on this couch like you were a toddler again while his old record player was on in the background. 

It was childish, getting so worked up about it, but your dad meant the world to you. Not having him here felt wrong. 

Sighing, you rub at your eyes and revel in the darkness before letting out a strained yawn, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and pulling it over your body. It didn’t take long before your eyes were flickering shut, a calm quiet settling over the house as cars passed by outside in the street. You pull the blanket closer and breathe, inhaling pine needles and ash. 

You don’t know how long you were there, twitching in your sleep before the scent woke you up – it makes your nose scrunch, eyelids blinking away fuzz. There was a pillow under your head, the blanket wrapped tight around your neck to keep out the London chill, and a clanking of pans in the kitchen. Scraping spatula over cast iron, you knew, the sizzling of batter. 

The haze of that in-between state, sleep and consciousness fighting in the back of your skull and under your hairline, stays even as you try to force it away. It was like a wave – it constantly pulled you under when you thought you were getting to the surface. Your eyes would blink open and closed; comforted back into sleep by the deep humming, the waver of an old record player. Feet over hardwood and the smell of fresh pancakes. 

Dad’s home. 

A delirious smile slides over your sleep-hot face. That was why you were so content. This was what home sounded and smelled like. 

Dad’s home. You repeat it once more, nuzzling farther into your father's travel pillow he brings to and from Base. Pine needles. Ash. Cigar smoke.

Dad’s home! Your eyes snap open wildly, your body shooting up from the cushions as the blanket falls to the floor. Angling your head to the separated kitchen, you swipe the drool from your mouth with a heavy hand and listen. 

Your dreams had tricked you before, but no. Not this time. 

He was humming along to some old tune under his breath that mirrored the record player behind the couch; the antique turned low so it wouldn’t wake you. Blinking in shock, your mouth morphs into a rich smile instantaneously. 

Throwing yourself off the couch, your feet slam to the floor, rushing and almost tripping over the blanket on the floor as your body slants forward. Giggling, you push on, righting yourself with no second thought other than welcoming your dad home the same as you always did. Zipping around the corner, a shadow is already turning your way, a plate of pancakes ready to be put on the table and devoured. 

“Dad!” You yell loudly and launch yourself at him, hearing his chest let out a grunt and his hands splay around you so he won’t drop breakfast food all over the floor. 

A velvety chuckle is wrung from his body, and his free digits go to rest heavily on your head as you shove yourself into his hold. Gripping his shirt tight between your fingers, you try not to cry when that scent that had been fading from the house comes back tenfold. Your eyes burn, but you only let one tear out when your dad’s finger begins stroking your hair just like he did when you were little.

You had been so worried. 

“There’s my girl,” His voice whispers out, “I’m here, Sunshine. Easy now.” 

“I thought you died,” You can’t help the helpless gasp that rips from you. Your father’s hand freezes; body going rigid around your smaller, desperately grasping frame. The atmosphere of the room flips. Digging into the fabric of his shirt the full flood of tears finally comes forward. “W-when I woke up and you weren’t here I… I thought you were never coming back home, and that I would have to go and live with the neighbors and I’d have to bury you in the cemetery. I don’t-don’t wanna have to put you in the ground.” You’re rambling, but you can’t stop the words. “I don’t want you to leave me alone, Dad. Please don’t leave me alone.” 

At some point, the plate of pancakes had been tossed to the counter without care for if the porcelain cracked from the force, and both of your father's arms hand scooped you into his hold effortlessly. Your breath was hiccuping violently, tears making his shirt wet and sticking to his skin. 

But John didn’t care. 

He wrapped his arms around you and curled his body in, taking you into a hold so warm and tight you couldn’t leave it even if you tried.

What’ve I done? The man feels his lips tense, blinking down at your shaking body with guilt as you sob. Oh, my Little Girl, I’m so sorry. What’ve I done to you? 

Had he never noticed the toll that this job was taking on you? John asked himself this in disgust as he pressed his lips to the crown of your head, whispering words into your hair under his shaky breath. He hated when you cried because of him.

“I’m not going anywhere, Love, alright? Look at me.” You don’t move your bruising grip, face still held away from sight as you gasp down frantic breaths. John’s voice gets firmer, “Sweetheart, I need you to look at me, yeah?”

Your tight fingers stutter, and your head barely shifts to the side, one red eye peeking up as he looks down at you with all the love he can muster without looking incredibly broken. He never wanted to see you cry again but knew that would be an impossible feat to accomplish – but he’d do his damndest to try.

“There she is.” John’s hand goes to your cheek, brushing away the saltwater with a calloused thumb as you sniffle. “Just keep those eyes on me, Little One.”

“...M’ not little anymore.” You grumble out, your cheeks heating even as your pulse slows as you focus on your dad's eyes. So soft the edges were nearly liquid; water that held your attention as they lapped across your form. 

“To me, you’ll always be little. Can’t change that I’m afraid.” The man grunts out, tilting his head down at you and letting his eyes travel from concern to comfort. But that doesn’t change the present. 

“I’m so sorry, Love,” Your father mutters, eyes flickering away from yours in guilt so rarely shown to others. He always prided himself on being strong, you knew, bearing the brunt of the weight. Apologies weren’t often verbally said until it truly mattered. “I should have called you. That’s all on me, that is. Bloody stupid to forget about, knowin’ how you wait up for me.” 

Your lips thin to mimic your dad's, brows pulling close. But in your chest, your heart couldn’t be larger. You didn’t hold it against him, but you wished he could be here more often; not put himself in dangerous situations. Knowing as little as you did about your dad's actual job, you still knew it wasn’t entirely safe. 

Maybe the two of you protected each other from the things unseen. 

Your chest aches.

“...You’re funny lookin’ when you have to apologize. Like a kicked bear.” Pulling back your lips, a tiny smile lighting your face, and you look up at your dad with a sniffle in your nose. 

His visage snaps to yours, eyebrows going high on his head in surprise, and hooded blue eyes widening. It takes a moment, but a smirk pushes back his beard when he sees the tears have stopped falling. 

“Yeah?” John asks you, a grumble reverberating in his chest, “Now, y’know, that is just bloody rude, Sunshine. Thought I raised you better…And after I made you pancakes.” 

Laughing, you pull back, stomach rumbling and nose twitching at the prospect of the nearly forgotten food. Slithering past your father, you snatch the plate and fork before rushing into the living room. Jumping on the couch you begin to cut into the carbs, piling pieces into your mouth and smiling at the taste. No one else could make them as your dad could. 

The Brit comes not seconds later, a cup of tea held in his hand before he sits down next to you with a groan, stretching out and laying his socked feet on the coffee table next to your tossed phone from hours earlier. You giggle, suddenly leaning to his large frame and hearing him grunt in retaliation. 

“Tell me a funny story,” You demand, listening to him sip his drink in the mid-morning glow that spreads outside the house and leaks in through the opened curtains. Birds sing outside, heard from the street. 

Your dad hums, his beard tickling your scalp as he leans into you in turn, making you chuckle before he nuzzles against you kissing your head; leading to a larger exclamation of glee before you elbow his gut. 

He laughs and answers with a smile in his voice.

“Hm, did I tell you ‘bout the time Gaz fell out of the Heli?” 

You laugh, eating the rest of the pancake remnants; feeling incredibly happy and warm. There were many memories you loved of your dad and his recounting of stories fit many of them. He always kept out the gory bits – promising himself that he would never lead you down that path no matter what – and always opted for the many downright hilarious situations the rest of the 141 always seemed to get into.

“Yes, but tell me again. It’s funny, especially when you describe his face afterward! Like he–”

“Like he had shit his pants and didn’t want to tell me,” John chuckles, eyes squinted, looking down at you as you snuggle into his side. He wraps an arm over your shoulders, taking your empty plate with one hand and putting it on the side table before pulling you close and making sure his tea won’t spill. He feels your tiny, bird-like, heartbeat on his ribcage and knows that nothing could ever take you away from him. You would always be his little girl.  “Yeah, Love, I remember that one. Now, let me start from the beginning…”

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TAGS:

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @antigonusyuki, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @lora21, @330bpm-whiplash, @michirulol, @john-pricee, @cl0wncxre, @jade-jax, @anna-banana27, @lothiriel9, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @bespectacledhuman, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @wolfyland07, @shoe1412, @jaimiespn

[fadedtoneverland]

“don’t worry, darling”

❤︎ synopsis — after a scary close call at the ateez send off, your boyfriend takes you back to his hotel to take care of your needs

pairing: idol!yeosang x fem!reader

theme: fluff ✿, smut ❣︎

a/n: yayyy first request!! i’m rlly happy it’s with yeosang too because this boy deserves more love! ateez is also my current ult group, so i hope you enjoy! this was requested via dms by @yeosangcutie0615

cw: brief mentions of panic attacks. soft top! yeosang. bottom!reader. pet names (darling, babe, pretty girl, princess, good girl). praise kink (?). vaginal fingering. squirting.

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“it’s okay, darling. i’m here now.”

the world was hazy all around you. there were the faint sounds of frantic movements into a room, with the noise of your own heavy breathing assaulting the rest of your senses.

tight. the air was thin around you. it was almost as if your own body was trying to suffocate you, your lungs feeling like they were working overtime with how heavily you were breathing. it was painful, and utterly terrifying.

but the sound of that sweet, princely voice kept you grounded, the anchor that you needed to bring you back to reality.

“look at me, princess.” tender fingers gently caressed your face and shifted your gaze to those soft, puppy-like eyes that you remembered falling in love with all over again. yeosang was patient with you, guiding your body through these agonizing ministrations that coiled tightly around your throat.

“there you go..” yeosang hummed softly, gently wrapping his arms around your trembling form, and soothing you to a slower, more steady breathing pattern.

the concert tonight was rough for you. as the partner of kang yeosang, you got the luxury of seeing your boyfriend up close with free access to the pit, straight to barricade with the glory of your beautiful man performing like it was his last night. while it was fun, and quite the sight, the fans around you unfortunately didn’t understand proper concert etiquette. they’d shove, and push, completely disregarding your own protests and cries for help in favor of drooling over your man.

not only was it insulting, you couldn’t even say anything. what could you say over the loud music of guerilla?

you could feel the pressure only build up during the rest of the night. the straw really broke on the camel’s back at send off, when a fan oh-so rudely shoved your body hard against the barricade to try and get a peep at choi san, which made your already quivering body snap, and send you to a full blown panic attack.

luckily, there were medical professionals on standby, and yeosang got to leave early to take you back to his hotel room once you got the help you needed, leading to now… with you still feeling the effects of your panic attack buzzing.

“mmh.. that’s it.. it’s okay..” yeosang’s voice was instantly grounding you. that rich, deep sound slowly bringing you back to reality. coupled with his soft hands caressing your back, your body was soon lulled back into a more proper condition, and your heart rate finally evened out, chest still sore from the tightness it felt earlier.

“feeling better, princess?” he hummed lovingly, and your hazy, bloodshot eyes met his. despite just having recovered so quickly, you quickly answered.

“mhm.” you nodded. a soft sound of contentness escaped your lips as yeosang’s fingers carded through your hair, gently tucking a strand behind your ear. and those damned puppy eyes just never left your own.

he looked so in love with you at the moment.

“i’m so sorry about those people, pretty,” yeosang apologized while pulling you into an embrace. he didn’t even have anything to apologize for, but he did anyways. “if it was up to me, i’d have them banned all from coming to any of our concerts.”

you chuckled. “that’s very sweet, yeo. but i’m fine now, thanks to you and the medics. don’t worry.”

yeosang shook his head.

“i know.. i just can’t help but feel bad.” he whined, you could proactively hear the pout in his tone of voice. you loved it when yeosang got all soft and vulnerable around you.

“i can’t stand the thought of my pretty girl suffering like that.”

pretty girl.

his pretty girl.

that did something to you.

yeosang’s head dipped from your face to between your jawline and shoulder, nuzzling into your neck and gently kissing the skin there. the action was so innocent, but it made your own breath hitch. curse yeosang and his incredibly natural ability to make you feel so hot and bothered.

sensing your tenseness, he kissed your neck again, this time more insistent. “at least let me make it up to you somehow, princess. whatever you want..”

that proposition was tempting. knowing yeosang, he probably would keep insisting until you gave in, and judging by how he was kissing your neck, you had a pretty good idea on where this was heading.

but damn it all, it was so hot.

gently massaging your fingers into his caramel brown locks, before gripping a fistful and gently tugging his head up to meet your gaze, yeosang gasped softly at the feeling, and you smirked at the expression he made.

“what did you have in mind, babe?”

—

if you having panic attacks led to the outcome of your ridiculously pretty boyfriend fingering you like crazy, then maybe you wouldn’t mind them so much.

“a-ah god—“ you gasped softly, biting your lip while yeosang breathed heavily into your ear, feeling turned on just from your moans alone.

“that’s it, pretty girl..” yeosang groaned deeply, his voice taking on a lower pitch. “you’re doing so good for me.”

yeosang had you propped up against the headboard of his hotel bed, one hand softly parting your bare thighs, while the other was focused on working his fingers expertly into your pretty cunt. yeosang aimed to please, he was a giver at heart. your pleasure was his pleasure, and his fingers scissored skillfully inside of your velvety walls.

you couldn’t help the high-pitched moans and gasps that escaped your rosy lips, especially when your man just knew how to make you feel this good. it was like heaven, and you couldn’t get enough of it. weakly clutching his white tank top, you moaned softly while your thighs trembled, and instinctively closed around his legs.

“y-yeosang—!” you cried out softly, your moans silenced when yeosang’s lips crashed against yours, swallowing any sort of pleasures noise you made. the whining only got louder when yeosang’s fingers curled inside your wet pussy to rub against your g-spot, and then he started to relentlessly abuse that spot with his fingers.

yeosang chuckled into your lips as he rubbed against that spot. his jeans felt impossibly tighter, and his raging boner was almost painful, but the sounds of your moans washed away any thought of his own pleasure, solely focused on you and your needs.

“such a good girl for me,” yeosang whispered breathlessly into your ear, sounding heavenly. “my good girl.”

he sped up his finger movements, and soon all logic was lost. you couldn’t resist the scream that tore from your throat, and your hands flew to tug at yeosang’s soft hair, all while he relentlessly fingered you, the lewd squelching sounds serving to heighten your arousal.

“b-babe— i’m- i’m close,” you whimpered, eyes rolling back slightly into your skull. “i’m gonna come-!”

yeosang chuckled at this, and fully thrust his fingers inside of your glistening pussy.

“then cum for me, darling.”

that’s all it took for the knot in your stomach to snap, but you felt something else in you break as you orgasmed. your body convulsed hard, and a clear, glistening liquid shot out of your wet hole like a jet, wetting the bedsheets a lot more than usual. your eyes widened at the sight, and so did yeosang’s, but your body couldn’t stop, and yeosang’s fingers just kept guiding you through your climax until you were a trembling, panting mess on your idol boyfriend’s bed.

after a few moments, yeosang took in a deep breath, and pulled out his fingers from your cunt, flexing them to see the sticky ateinfs of your essence left behind. chuckling and wiping it on the sheets, yeosang’s lips then hovered over your ear.

“didn’t know you could squirt like that, babe.” he teased, and you felt yourself turn even more red at this. you rolled your eyes and shoved his shoulder playfully.

“shut up.” you retorted. yeosang laughed.

“hey, i’m just saying! it was pretty hot too.”

you hummed at this, and let out a soft sigh of contentness when yeosang’s arms wrapped around you and pulled you into a spooning position, resting his chin on the top of your head.

he then shifted his face to plant a kiss on the top of your head, burying his nose in your hair and breathing in your scent.

“feeling better now?” yeosang asked while pulling you against his chest.

you hummed and nuzzled into his body, resting your hand against his chest.

“mhm.”

and yeosang smiled at this, knowing his pretty girl was happy now because of him.

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[satrs]

anything to do with professor rin or oliver omg im having brainrot rn🤲 (btw i luv ur works :3)

ᥲ/ᥒ ꜝꜝ ✎Hihi nonnie >-<! I'm rlly flattered you like my stuff and OH MY GYATTTTT THIS IS SUCH A GOOD IDEA BRRRRRRR I never thought I needed professor oliver so bad until now ERORR§$)))§ Maybe I'll do Rin sometime tooo >-<

𝕋𝕦𝕥𝕠𝕣 𝕝𝕖𝕤𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕤!

ꜱʏɴᴏᴘꜱɪꜱ; your professor Aiku was meaning to help you with your stuggling lessons. And he already had an idea how to.

ꜰᴇᴀᴛᴜʀɪɴɢ; professor!oliver aiku x college student!fem!reader

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ; 1.7k

TAGS; NSFW CONTENT. MDNI! nicknames(good girl ,dirty girl once, bonny girl). doggy. pussyjob(?). dirtytalk. creampie(?).

𝔸𝕃𝕃 ℂℍ𝔸ℝ𝔸ℂ𝕋𝔼ℝ𝕊 𝔸ℝ𝔼 𝟙𝟠+!

"So, Mrs. Y/N."

The mention of your name caused you to tense up, stiffening in your seat as you felt heterochromic orbs stare right at you.

You didn't dare to utter a word, only briefly looking up at the man seated infront of you before your gaze returned back to your thighs, fingers fidgeting with the hem of your flimsy skirt.

"You're failing your classes. If you won't get them back up or get a tutor of some sorts," you would drop out. it was already clear what he would say, your heart almost stopping in your chest.

You felt your eyes sting as you thought about the horrible outcome you so desperately tried to prevent, big orbs staring up at your professor whose lips formed into a thin line in empathy.

Finally, you managed to part your lips, quiet words ringing in Oliver's ears. "I- I don't think I could afford a tutor. But I really can not drop out. I need this, Mr. Aiku."

He leaned back in his seat, staring at your through his lashes as his gaze continued to linger on your face, briefly landing on your almost transparent blouse, getting a glimpse of your bra. He huffed out a breath in thought, eyes wandering around the office.

Your eyes nervously stayed glued on your skirt, heart beating in your chest at the uncomfortable silence.

"I can help you." This caused you to quickly stare up at the man, look of disbelief on your face. "I'm serious. You know, you're a-" he slyly took a peek at your bra again before lightly clearing his throat and returning his gaze back to your face. "a really dear student of mine."

Your brows slightly furrowed at his behavior, taking a glance at your blouse yourself as you noticed how visible your bra was, growing embarrassed as you tried to hide it with your crossed arms, heat shooting up your face.

His gaze was glued to your mesmerizing face, smirk adoring his features at your pathetic attempt. "Oh Y/N." The sound of his voice made you form your lips into a thin line, biting your cheek from the inside in a nervous manner. "There's no need to be shy. It's just you and me."

This was exactly the problem. Alone in the office with your professor- the professor who was quite popular with his students- especially his female ones. There was never even one day where he wasn't the topic of the day among the girls, dreaming and gawking at his handsome self, some even obviously flirting with him.

He loved the attention, he loved it all. But it just wasn't enough for him. He knew that every single girl he taught was head over heels for him or at least found him handsome, including you. But you were the only one among them who didn't try anything with him or flirt with him. This pissed him off, but also made him take a liking to you.

"So, what do you say?"

His piercing gaze made you shift in your seat. You had no other choice, did you? “Alright. When should I meet you-“

“What about now?” Your brows furrowed at his words, looking at him in confusion. He returned you a chuckle, leaning forward and placing a hand on the desk. “What about now? I’m free, you’re free, so let’s start with the lesson now.”

He let a smirk play on his face as he noticed your crossed arms falling to your sides, shamelessly gawking at your exposed bra. “Maybe we could start with the last test you failed, hm?”

You noticed his shameless stare, heat shooting up your face. Deciding to play right into his little game, you pushed out your chest a bit, breasts now mere inches away from your professor's grasp. “What do you have in mind, professor?”

He hummed in contentment at your action, orbs staring up at your face as he poked the inside of his cheek. He remained silent, hand reaching for his papers until he found your test, the grade ‘F’ in bright red written on it.

His finger pointed to the mark, eyes looking at you through his raven bangs. “We could arrange that to a better grade. If you put in effort in my tutoring, that is.”

You bit your lip, eyes shifting to the door to recognize any possible voices or footsteps, doubt filling you at the last second. “Is it even legal to-“

“Bend over.”

Your perplexed expression caused the man to playfully click his tongue, getting up from his chair. “Oh dear, dear Y/N.” His fingers glide along the wooden table, making his way around to where you sat.

His hand let go right as he reached your nervous form, placing it behind you an the edge of your chair. “Don't you think it's time to drop that innocent act by now? Hm?" This made your lips form into a thin line, eyes flickering frantically around, hot breath of the man right at the back of your neck, goosebumps adoring your skin as he whispered against your neck. "Be a good girl and do what I told you, yeah?"

With his next shallow breath, his hand found comfort on your back, soothingly stroking it, smirking in victory as he noticed your form slowly standing up, hands placed on the wooden table as you stared back at him in your embarrassing position.

"That's not bending over, is it?" You wanted to slap him across the face for his teasing tone, huffing out a breath as you leaned in more, slightly arching your back, flashing your panties in the process.

Oliver's tongue swiped across his lips as he caught a glimpse of your flimsy panties, leaning forward until his lips were mere inches away from your ear, a quick peak to your temple causing you to yelp in surprise. "There you go."

Your eyes screwed shut as you felt his rough fingers glide down your spine until they halted right above your waistline, tenderly unzipping your skirt, it soon falling to the ground and leaving you exposed to the cold air.

Your shiver made the man lightly chuckle, hand comfortably placed on your ass, fully neglecting his previous movements as his attention was back on the paper in front of you. " Let's go over the test properly."

You remained silent, back slightly arching more in need, shaking your head in protest. He put away a strand of hair from your face, tapping your cheek in a cooing manner. "Cat caught your tongue?"

Your frustrated groan was followed by a wiggle of your hips, leaving your professor rock-hard in his pants. "Aren't you a handful." You shot him a glare, desperately wanting him to continue his previous actions. But before you could protest, your words were cut off by a pleased sigh when his index and middle finger pushed your panties to the side, gliding in the wetness of your folds.

His thumb soon landed on your clit, drawing firm circles on the bundle of nerves as sighs and low moans escaped your lips. "Focus or I'm going to stop." You bit your lip in excitement as you heard him fiddling with his pants, hand now resting on your rear.

Your face contorted in an attempt to concentrate, failing to do so when you suddenly felt his angry tip on your folds, gathering your wetness on it.

"Mr Aiku, please." Your hand tightly gripped the edge of the table as he repeatedly teased you with his tip, slightly entering you before going back to swipe along your folds.

His breathing turned ragged at the feeling of your wet folds, succumbing to his desires as he bottomed out into you in one swift motion, whine escaping your lips as your eyes screwed shut again.

His firm hand was back on the back of your neck again, lifting you by it and pressing your back against his chest as he began to move his hips. Your back arched more into his touch at every move of his hips, his tip hitting that spongey spot inside of you over and over again. "Yesyesyes!"

He tried to hush you, hand covering your mouth as muffled moans managed to escape his palm, other hand fondling your tits through the fabric. He groaned at the feeling of your walls tightening around his cock, hot breath tickling your ear. "What was your mistake at Task A?" His voice was low and stuttery, low moans flying past his lips at the amazing feeling of your needy cunt milking his length.

You whined in return, lips stuttering as his hand left your mouth. "I d-didn't calculate the cause of- fuck!" Your loud sounds made you bite your lip in an attempt to drown them, hand flying between your legs to rub your clit as you felt yourself nearing your orgasm.

"God. Screw this shit." He quickly pressed you down onto the table, movement increasing as he felt himself nearing his limit too, leaving your mouth hanging open as drool escaped the corner of your mouth.

"Cunt s' made for me. So fuckin' tight." His other hand came in harsh contact with your ass, painting the flesh in a bright red. "You like this, don't you? Getting fucked by your professor. What a dirty girl you are."

You could only whine in return, pressing your forehead against the dark wood as your orgasm washed over your body, eyes rolling to the back of your head and thighs shaking at the intensity.

The tight grip your walls had around his cock was all it took for him to follow you, burying himself deep inside of you as he painted your walls with his hot cum.

You felt numb as you came down from your high, whining in protest as Oliver pulled out of you, legs growing weak. "Such a pretty girl. Felt good, yes?" You mindlessly nodded your head, observing the man behind you as he plunged some of the leaking sperm back into your abused cunt, pulling the thin fabric of your panties back over your folds.

"You did so well, pretty. I don't think you'll drop out anytime soon."

[cloudyyoimiya]

omg please May i requet chuuya, fyodor and tecchou when they beg for s/o atention

yes ofc! good lord i rlly like this idea. just the idea of these tough, masculine men resorting to begging for a sliver of attention is rather funny in my eyes, but yet it would prove how far they’d go for their s/o. anyways, thank you for requesting!! <3

Begging for Their S/o’s Attention; Chuuya Nakahara, Fyodor Dostoyevsky, and Suehiro Tecchou

Format: Scenarios

Possible warnings: Fyodor most likely being out of character

Chuuya Nakahara

Currently you were typing away on your computer for work. By midnight you had to fill out several reports, thus you had no time to spare for breaks or even making dinner for yourself. You weren’t a slow worker, no, but you weren’t a quick one either. You didn’t even procrastinate this time! Why did your boss have to dump all of his work onto you for the night?!

Chuuya sat by idly, doing some random surfing of the internet on his phone. Every now and then you’d ask him to get you a food or a drink, and he’d oblige. He knew how much your work meant to you, so he didn’t wish to interfere by asking you to spend some quality time with him.

But Chuuya could only take so much of no attention from you. Thus, after a while, he finally decided to try to get your attention.

He got up from his seat on the sofa and walked to your desk. Chuuya then bent over a little bit so he could become eye level with your sitting form.

“My dear?” He asked with a forced smile. “When will you be done?”

“Oh I dunno… Maybe in a few hours. I still have a few reports to fill out,” you responded, still furiously typing on your keyboard. “Sorry!”

Chuuya internally rolled his eyes then folded his arms across his chest. “D’ya think you can take a break?”

“I don’t think so. I don’t wanna risk not reaching my deadline,” you murmured.

Your boyfriend let out a rather loud sigh. It almost seemed like he wanted you to hear his disappointment.

“Can you please take a break?” He asked, his voice becoming sickeningly sweet. It sounded extremely forced.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.”

“Please?”

“I told you I can’t, Chuuya.”

He let out yet another loud sigh, but this time it was a borderline groan. “I’ll do anything ya want for a week if you take a break.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” you said as you started a new paragraph of your report. “But my answer is still no. I have to get these done, Chuuya. There’s no room for breaks.”

Chuuya stayed silent as he continued to stare at you. Apparently it was time for drastic measures on his end.

“When is the last time you saved that document?” He asked, trying to keep a friendly smile on his face.

“Just a few seconds ago. Why do you ask?”

When you finished talking, Chuuya immediately placed a hand on the back of your laptop and forced it to close. He then looked back up and you, a small smirk forming onto his features. He seemed rather proud of himself for this small stunt he pulled.

“That’s why.”

“Are you serious?”

“Very,” Chuuya huffed. “Is it so wrong that I wanna spend my free time with my partner?”

“Not at all, but you could have at least waited until I was done!”

“You wouldn’t be done for the next couple of hours,” your boyfriend deadpanned. “Now c’mon. I wanna spend time with you.”

You sigh as you sat up from your seat at the desk. You then stretched your limbs, your bones making a subtle popping noise. “Alright, alright. Fine.”

Chuuya smirked. “Good! Now lemme just…”

Your boyfriend threw you over his shoulder and started to bring you to the living room.

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

“You’re lucky I love you, Chuuya.”

Chuuya let out a soft chuckle. “I love you too.”

Fyodor Dostoyevsky

You were currently in your shared home with your boyfriend, relaxing in the living room while reading a book. You read about a chapter or so before the front door to your home opened. You shifted your glance to the noise, curious as to what it may be, and you were greeted with the sight of your tired boyfriend.

His posture was only the slightest bit worse, and he has eye bags slowly starting to form on his pale face. He looked like he had gone through a lot today; maybe that Ukrainian clown was bothering him again? Who knows…

You shrugged your shoulders and continued to read your book in silence. When Fyodor seemed like he was exhausted from work, he’d rather be alone than be with you. He has told you that it had nothing to do with you, it was just that he needed a little alone time to destress from the day. Who were you to argue with that? You were the same way if you had a particularly terrible day.

Fyodor sat down next to you as you continued to read your book. He seemed a little bit more fidgety than usual, but you brushed it off as he was still overwhelmed from whatever happened today.

“Love?” He eventually spoke up. His voice was as flat as ever.

“Hm?” You hummed as you turned the page of your book.

Fyodor stayed silent for a little while, most likely trying to gather his thoughts. He then spoke up in a whisper. “Can you do something for me?”

“Of course,” you said as you nodded. You then closed your book, making sure to place a bookmark where you finished your reading. “Do you need me to leave and give you space? I can do that for you y’know.”

“No, no. It’s alright,” Fyodor spoke, his tone getting gentler. He then went to say something, but stopped himself.

“Then what do you want me to do? Make you some dinner? How does chicken alfredo sound tonight?”

“No that’s not it either.”

You sat there, mildly confused. You put your book onto your lap and then crossed your arms. “Then what do you need?”

Fyodor seemed rather embarrassed as he spoke. “Can we please cuddle?”

“Pardon?” You asked, your eyes widening only the slightest bit.

Fyodor has always been really blunt as to what he wants and needs. He has never once hesitated to tell you what he desires, but this time he seemed embarrassed. Fyodor has never really outright asked you to cuddle with him, so this was a slight shock to you.

“Don’t make me repeat myself,” Fyodor muttered just loud enough for you to hear it.

“I won’t but… Are you sure? Don’t you want some alone time after a stressful day?”

Fyodor scoffed then glared at you. “I don’t need that right now. If I did then I’d already be in our room sleeping.”

“I see… Alright then. I’ll oblige,” you said with a small chuckle escaping your lips.

Fyodor scooted closer to you, then leaned his head onto your shoulder. You then let out a small sigh of content as you wrapped an arm around his waist. Fyodor was really never one to beg to be held like this, so you made sure to make him feel comfortable.

“Feel good?”

“Yes, thank you, myshka.”

“Of course, my dear. Anything for you,” you said with a small smile.

Fyodor let out a small sigh. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Suehiro Tecchou

With a whisk in hand, you were busy in the kitchen baking something for your boyfriend. Recently he had told you that he had a craving for chocolate cake with some cloves and cayenne pepper, so being the good partner you were, you decided to surprise him and help him satisfy his cravings.

Tecchou was currently sitting in the living room, scrolling through his phone. He was never really one to go into social media, but he felt like he needed to distract himself from you. The Hunting Dog wanted to get your attention, but he knew that he would never be able to get it while you were baking. After all, you had a very specific way you liked to bake, and he didn’t wish to intrude. He learned that the hard way.

Though, he could only take so much. That’s why Tecchou decided to get up from the couch and enter the kitchen.

You were whisking together your batter when you suddenly felt muscular arms wrap around you from behind. You let out a soft gasp then immediately whipped your head behind you, looking at your boyfriend straight in the eyes.

“Do you need something?” You asked as you continued to whisk the batter. You then directed your gaze to the mixing bowl once more.

“I’m bored,” your boyfriend simply stated, resting his head in the crook of your shoulder. He seemed content with holding you like this.

“Can’t you entertain yourself with your phone or with a book?” You asked, your voice remaining neutral.

“No. My phone isn’t you.”

You let out a soft hum. “Then I suppose you can stay in here while I bake. Just promise not to touch anything, alright?”

You could feel Tecchou nodding into your shoulder. “Of course, angel.”

“Good. Now give me some space,” you said as you carefully swatted away his arms.

Your boyfriend let out a small groan, clearly disliking that he won’t be able to hold you while you bake. He did respect your wishes though and let go of you for a little while. He then sat at a nearby barstool.

“When will you be done?” He asked.

“Soon-ish.”

“Soon-ish?”

“Mhm. Just be patient,” you said with a kind smile. “I’ll be done in no time.”

Tecchou let out a small sigh as he rested his elbows on the kitchen counter. He then continued to watch you, making sure you don’t somehow hurt yourself while baking. He knew that you were a careful person, but sometimes you had your days when you were clumsy.

After around fifteen minutes of you not being done, Tecchou got up from the bar stool and wrapped his arms around your waist from behind once more. And just like before, he also nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

“It’s been fifteen minutes,” he mumbled into your neck.

“Has it? I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay,” he continued to mumble. “Are you done yet?”

“Just about. This can go in the oven to bake,” you said with a smile.

You walked over to the oven and carefully placed the cake tin full of batter inside all the while Tecchou was still latching onto your backside. Once it was in you set a timer and wiped some sweat from your forehead with your wrist.

“That just about does it!”

You could feel Tecchou nod into your neck before be picked you up and held you in his arms bridal style. You let out a small yelp as you felt in carrying you into the living room.

“I just wanna be with you for a little while, alright?”

[trueangel420]

Tate Langdon angsty, you died in the murder house after finding out what Tate did (rlly rllyyy short) ౨ৎ

“did you get enough love my little dove why do you cry”

“tell me I’m good. Tell me we’re good,” Tate murmured, his eyes shut, a slight hint of hesitation in his voice. He was on top of you, laying on your chest, his body shaking slightly. "Tell me you won’t think of me differently. Tell me it’s okay.” He confessed that he did in fact kill those kids, he shot up the school , he died in your room, he wasn't alive, he was a monster—a monster. He felt as though all the feelings of that day were drowning him once again.

“I’m good, right? I’m not a bad person, right?” he continued, his voice muffled as he spoke into your chest. You had known Tate for so long, so very long, and he had never been this torn. A part of you knew morally it was wrong, but another part of you knew he he was a troubled boy, he felt things deeper than most. “You’re good, Tate. You’re good,” you whispered into his brown hair, your hands rubbing circles on his back. “You’re a good boy, Tate.” His body tensed, and he looked up at you, his eyes watery and tired. “No, no, I’m not. I’m evil, and... don’t talk to me like that, like ….” he said, his voice strained. He looked at you, shifting up, his arms on your sides. “I’m a monster, a monster.”

“No—” He covered your mouth with his large palm, tears still brimming in his eyes as he spoke. “No, you don’t know. You think just because I’m crying on you, I’m not a monster?” His strength overpowered you, and he managed to pin you down just enough so you couldn’t move, keeping his hand firmly over your mouth. “My brother, my stepdad, people at the school—“ he continued, listing the people he’d hurt, people he couldn’t save. "Y-you," he stuttered. Your eyes widened in shock when you heard him. He looked paler, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as he stared down at you. “I tried to save you, I tried to...” His voice was weak, but he kept your mouth covered. You didn’t try to speak; you just looked at him as you always did, so full of love—for a ‘monster’.

“I didn’t get there in time. You—“

You were lying in the tub by the time he found you, and he felt ashamed. He was always in that house, trapped by malevolent forces, and yet he couldn’t save you from the same fate. You were the only good thing in his life, the light, and now it was tainted. He still loved you so deeply. He panicked having to clean up your body and put it somewhere safely, he loved you so much that he cleaned the bloodied bathtub. When your ghost-like figure stayed there, he carried you up to your room, brushing the hair off your forehead.

He knew about your depression and self-harm; he was the same way, if not worse. So why couldn’t he save you? “Tate, it’s not your fault,” you said, muffled into his palm. He was crying frantically now, his grip on you loosening. You moved his hand off your mouth and repeated it again, which only made him shudder more.

“It’s my fault,” he muttered.

“You saved me,” you uttered those simple words. He saved you. He saved you from yourself, from being alone, from your shitty life and shitty parents in this shitty new place you never wanted to be in. You knew eventually you’d die—as morbid as it was, you knew it—and it was never Tate's fault, could never be his fault. He was your light, your darkness too, and that made you love him all the more.

“I should’ve watched you more closely,” you hushed him, running your fingers gently through his messy hair. “I love you.” The words poured out with unwavering confidence, a part of you certain that you would spend an eternity with him. “W-what?” A single tear rolled down his cheek, and his face flushed as he stared at you in disbelief. “Forever, Tate. Forever.” He laid his head back on your chest, still trembling with quiet sobs. “I love you too,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Forever”

[n0vaisnthere]

Hello! Rlly loved your Furina fic!

Could you do an apocalypse, fanfic childe? With Childe's little brother just trying to survive in the apocalypse!

Eto po lubvi

Modern! Childe x GN! reader

Oneshots

Worries about Teucer all the time.

He worries that the entire apocalypse has ruined his chances at just being a kid.

He tries his best to protect him from the harsh realities of the word now.

He has no way to get in contact with his family, so as far as he knows, Teucer is the only real family he has right now.

So he doesn't want to lose him.

"I'm worried about him.." Childe sighed, watching as the fired crackled in the fireplace..

You've been stuck inside a small home in the middle of a big city for almost three months now. It was horde after horde, anytime you wanted to move to a diffrent city, another horde came. At this point, you guys were running low on supplies.

"Why? He looks fine to me.." You said, looking down at the sleeping Teucer who had fallen asleep a couple hours ago. It was always nice to see he had gotten sleep whenever you two couldn't.

"I mean.. I dont know— just the fact he can't really be a kid anymore.." Childe sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. He did his best not to wake up Teucer, who had fallen asleep on his other shoulder.

You gave him a small smile, your hand resting over his own, trying to give him some form of comfort.

"Im sure things will go back to how they used to be soon.." You knew it was just empty promises. He knew that, too. But wishful thinking was better than giving up.

There was a comfortable silence between you two, basking in eachothers presence for a bit.

—★°•

Protective of you as well

Especially when you both go out scavenging in old abandoned stores

Tries to keep you close at all times

Not only were there the dangers of zombies, but there were also the dangers of other survivors

Hes seen first hand the lengths they'd go to surivive out here.

You were walking through the deep freezer. It was slightly ajar, but you hoped there was something still edible in here. It smelt rancid inside the small room. And from the looks of it, everything was rotted already. You sighed, about to leave the room when your heart dropped to your toes. There was a zombie right at the door— skin a freekish green, jaw streatched out abnormally wide. Your hand fumbled, trying to grab your pocket knife when a shot rang out. Your ears were ringing for a moment before you regained your senses. A familiar ginger standing infront of you.

"Are you alright?" He said, his anxious eyes flicking over your body, looking for any injury.

"Ajax.. relax, im okay." You sent him a small smile, resting your hands on his shoulders, trying to sooth his anxiety.

He quickly pulled you into his chest, his hand cradling the back of your head protectivly.

"You have to stop running off like that.." he murmured.. you could hear his heartbeat, how his heat was racing.

—★°•

Tries his best to cook

Of course, supplies is limited

So it isn't the best food..

Look, he tries, that's all that matters.

"Tah-dah! My famous beef jerky and eggs!" Childe grinned, smiling at you and Teucer. Placing two plates infront of you both.

It looked.. diffrent. Small peices of dried beef jerky sprinkled on top of eggs that looked rubbery. Dont judge a book by its cover, I guess..

"It smells delicious, Childe!" You sent him a small smile. Resisting the urge to gag at the smell. Teucer looked at his plate with a slight confusion, poking at the eggs with his fork.

"Is this.. good?" Teucer asked, looking up a Childe with confusion. His fork was barely stabbing through the eggs because of how thick they were.

"Be greatful, you know a lot of people dont have— Hey! Dont dump it behind the couch!" Childe groaned, watching as Teucer tried to sneakily get rid of the food from his plate.

"Whoops!"

—★ MASTERLIST— here