#but he's been in so long he doesn't question much past this point

[thetomorrowshow]

we'll always have each other

trust auuuuu

oki so the other week, oasis and i were playing a dare-based card game with my family. she dared me to let her post something on my tumblr, and i accepted. she decided to post that "trust au jimmy is pregnant". i immediately began to get comments and asks about it. unfortunately, every time i started a post meaning to refute it, i instead doubled down.

this is the closest i can offer to pregnant jimmy. however he is pregnant in my heart <3

~

There's the Clash of the Stags.

And there's Alinar, sword in hand.

And there's the Crystal of Rivendell.

Where's Jimmy's favorite?

Oh, just over there.

Scott breathes out slowly through his nose, eyes turned up to the heavens as he picks out familiar constellations from among the clusters of stars.

Jimmy's favorite constellation is one that Scott had never heard of before, and as far as he knows, isn't considered a constellation by any modern societies. It makes a large, five-sided rectangle, far off from common elven constellations. Below it are two oddly large, bright stars, stars that Scott used to think of as the wishing stars.

Maybe that should be his next study project. Finding some record of that constellation, so maybe they can finally figure out what it represents.

It’s likely Oceanic in origin, considering Jimmy’s history, but there are very few books that expand upon Ocean history, and even fewer that are actually from past times—and most of those are unreadable by all but Lizzie and Jimmy. Still, maybe in Gem’s secret library there’s some kind of ancient constellation record. He ought to send her a message, see if she has time to research it with him—or maybe one of her students can take it on as a project.

"Hey, baby," a tired voice comes from behind him, pulling him from his thoughts. A thrill runs through Scott's veins at the sleep-rumbly sound of his husband's voice. "What're you doing up?"

Scott doesn't answer immediately. Instead, he points up to Alinar's Sword. "Do you think that Alinar's constellation is holding the Rune Sword, or his famous golden one?"

A bit of shuffling, and out of the corner of his eye, Scott sees Jimmy come up next to him, lean on the deck railing.

In the light of the giant moon (somehow always so much larger in the Codlands rather than in Rivendell) his face is illuminated, washed almost white. His bangs hang down, nearly to cover his eyes—not near as long as they've been in the past, not since Jimmy sheared off most of his hair last year—and he huffs, blowing them up and out of his face.

He's beautiful, from his casually messy golden hair to the plane of his nose, to the sparkling scars on his cheeks. He’s beautiful down to the heaviness of his eyelids, the impression of his pillow still pressed into his forehead.

Jimmy catches his eye, his lips quirking up.

"Hey," he says playfully, voice still all gravelly with sleep in that delightful way Scott loves. "What are you really thinking about?"

Scott frowns. "You didn't answer my question."

"I forgot what it was."

"Probably the golden sword," Scott muses out loud. "The Rune Sword was lost from knowledge. Unless the constellations were identified before the historic legends."

"Scott," Jimmy prods gently.

Scott sighs. He casts his eyes around, looking for something else to occupy himself.

"I don't like that you're in alliance discussions with Sausage," he says bluntly, eyes lighting on the far-off city walls, the border of Mythland just beyond. "He can't be trusted."

"I know how you feel," Jimmy says after a moment. "I think it's what's right for my empire right now. But if you really think it's a bad idea, I can reconsider and we can talk about it."

"I do," says Scott instantly. "I know Pearl says he's trustworthy now, but it doesn't change what he did. How his people treated yours. It isn't safe."

Jimmy wasn’t there. Scott’s never told him about it, either, the wounds still too raw, but that horrible meeting with Lizzie and Gem and Sausage still dwells in a dark corner of his mind. He recalls all too well Sausage’s taunts, his total disdain for the treatment of Jimmy’s body.

He cannot possibly imagine that the man actually intends to do good.

Scott glances at Jimmy, then again, to gauge his reaction. Jimmy nods slowly, scratches at his stubbly beard.

"Thanks. So what are you really thinking about?"

Jimmy's too perceptive for his own good. He’s just as good at faking sleep as Scott is, if not better—he'd probably noticed that Scott hadn't ever fallen asleep; that he'd laid there, awake, trying to bat off the thought that keeps plaguing his mind.

He'd probably noticed when Scott slipped out of bed, padding through the living room and the kitchen in the dark, to the back door, out onto the deck constructed over the wide canal.

They've been married for almost three years, and Scott has no clue how to ask this of Jimmy.

Mostly because they've been married for almost three years, and dated for a year before that, and Scott still doesn't know what his own answer is.

Jimmy already can tell that something is bothering him, though. Maybe he should just dive in headfirst.

Or dive headfirst into the canal, which almost sounds preferable to broaching the subject.

It has to be brought up sometime, and better Scott than his advisors. He wouldn’t put it past his council to corner Jimmy sooner or later.

"What are your thoughts on . . . on children?" he asks, slowly, as if the question has been pulled painfully from between his molars.

Jimmy shifts his weight on the railing, leaning a bit heavier on his elbows.

"Children," he says, a smile in his voice. "They're nice. Small. A bit loud, sometimes. What do you think?"

Scott snorts. "Yeah. They're . . . definitely small. And snotty. And adorable."

"And a huge responsibility," Jimmy adds.

"And a huge responsibility," Scott echoes.

There's a long moment of silence, then, as Scott turns his eyes back to the starry skies, to the brilliant moon.

The stars, in opposition to the moon, seem so far away here. Not like Rivendell, when they seem almost close enough to touch.

These tiny pinpricks in the sky barely appear to be real.

"Did you mean to ask me if I want to have kids?" Jimmy bursts out. "Like, I figured—"

"Yes," Scott cuts in.

"Right, right, but I didn't want to assume, so—um, yeah. . . . Do I want kids?" Jimmy taps his fingers on the railing. "Imagine our kids," he says, something fondly wonderstruck in his tone. "Offspring of a legendary elven hero and a demigod."

"Jimmy, if you hadn't noticed, we're not exactly equipped to have children together," Scott points out drily. "Unless there's something I don't know about demigods?"

"I—no, no, you're right—well, maybe there's a spell somewhere, we should—"

"Jimmy."

"I . . . I don't know."

Scott waits. His wings flutter slightly as a breeze shifts across them.

"Lizzie and Joel decided to not have kids," Jimmy says after a moment. "Like, ever."

"We aren't Lizzie and Joel."

"No. No, we aren't."

Scott sighs, just slightly. "My council has been . . . lightly nudging," he says. "I am quite young to be married, let alone have children, but I think my parents' early death and my supposed even earlier death scared them. They want the throne to be secure."

"Right, but we can't have kids. Does adoption work with elf succession? Have they ever had this problem?"

"I'm not the first gay ruler, darling. Usually it involves a third elf—a surrogate who can bear children. But—"

"Do you want kids, Scott?" Jimmy asks.

Scott falters.

Does he?

It's not that he doesn't, necessarily.

But. . . .

"Not . . . not right now, I don't think," Scott says cautiously. "Unless you want to, in which case—"

"I'm in no hurry," Jimmy interrupts. "Don't worry. If you want to wait, I'm fine with that."

Scott chews on his lip.

"When do most elves have kids?" Jimmy asks curiously.

"Around—well, most elves don't get married until they're around three hundred. It's younger with royalty, of course."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Jimmy says, turning suddenly. "You aren't a teenager, right? When do elves come of age?"

Despite himself, Scott laughs. "No, I'm an adult, you're fine. Elves come of age between the ages of seventy and one hundred, generally. I should have probably come of age when I was ninety or so, but I had the ceremony when I was eighty-two."

"Oh, thank goodness," Jimmy breathes, slumping a bit. "Why is the marriage age for royals younger, then?"

"Well, you want all the royals married off as soon as possible," Scott says reasonably. "Make sure alliances are secure, get the royal descendants occupied so that they aren't trying to betray each other, give them something to do other than laze around the palace. It's actually a popular practice to plan a royal wedding on their two hundredth birthday."

When Jimmy doesn't respond, Scott looks over at him. "It's very sensible," he defends. "If my parents had lived, Xornoth likely would have been betrothed to Katherine or Joey or someone while I would have married a random elven duke or lord. Keeps Xornoth away and out of most politics, and keeps me occupied and gets us royal heirs. It's the most sensible way to do things."

Jimmy stares at him for a moment, then shakes his head. "That's just weird," he says. "Is it not out of love?"

Scott shrugs. "Exceptions have been made. True love, prophecies, the whatnot. For me, it just meant that my dating pool was limited to the Seven Lords of Rivendell and the Thirteen Dukes, or outside royalty. So, lucky thing I met you—the lords have never really been my favorite of party guests."

"Lucky," Jimmy intones, before shaking himself. "Geez, we got off topic. Kids. We were talking about kids."

Right.

Children.

"So you don't want kids right now," Jimmy says, and Scott nods. He hadn’t properly thought about his own wants until Jimmy had asked him—he’s the king, after all. His country is meant to come first.

He doesn’t want a child, though. Not yet.

"Not right now. I'm only a hundred and twelve, for Aeor's sake."

"Wait, one second, back to the marriage thing—are there elves that get married that young? Or are you the first one?"

"No, no, there's always someone who got married exactly a year after their coming of age," Scott waves. "Younger weddings are becoming more and more common. It isn't an issue."

"Cool. Cool. Back to the other thing. Kids—in the future, then?"

Scott looks down at his hand, resting on the railing. Then past it, to his aching left arm, hanging at his side.

He doesn’t want children right now. That’s what he says, what he puts off, what he insists.

"If we want kids in the future, they won't be yours," he says, carefully keeping his voice neutral.

Jimmy moves a little, his nightshirt sliding against his skin in an intimately familiar sound. "Right. Because of the surrogacy thing."

"I don't want a child who isn't yours," Scott bursts out, and this is really the issue that had woken him up, isn't it?

He can't help but see himself in the future, stuck with a child that's half him and half some other elf, lacking Jimmy's beautiful golden hair and perfect brown eyes and little bundles of scales. All he can envision is resenting that child, not tied to any part of the beauty that he loves so much.

He doesn't want that. He wants a child with Jimmy, made up of the both of them.

Jimmy waits.

He's standing there, patiently, waiting for Scott to speak.

But Scott suddenly has a lump in his throat, built up of guilt and frustration and grief, because there will never be a little version of the two of them running around the palace and he feels terribly selfish for wanting that.

Someday, he will need to have a child. Preferably two.

And they have to be of his blood.

"You're my husband," he says, valiantly holding back the tears that blur the edges of his vision. "I want you to be the father of my child. I want—I want a child with you, Jimmy, not with anyone else."

Jimmy hums. "You know I wouldn't mind, right? Adopting isn't any different to me."

But it's not the same.

"I don't know," he whispers. "I want it to be you."

"Good thing is, we don't have to worry about it right now," Jimmy says gently.

"But my council—"

"Can wait. They've been waiting for hundreds of years anyway. What's another hundred or two?"

Scott nods. Jimmy's right. They have time. More time than most, honestly.

"And who knows?" Jimmy adds. "Maybe someone will discover a way to make it work."

Maybe.

A lot can change in a couple hundred years.

It's even possible that they can get the Crystal Cliffs Academy working on some sort of . . . baby-making charm?

Dear Aeor, the sound of that makes him want to shrivel up in embarrassment. He could never request such a thing.

But Gem would absolutely put everything she has into creating something of the sort. She's a good friend—and the idea of a baby would certainly entice her. He ought to consider it, at least.

They have time, though.

He knows that this may not get any easier with time. His advisors will continue to bother him, and there will be the constant question posed of when is the right time if not now.

He doesn’t want a child right now. All he wants is Jimmy.

Scott takes in a deep breath of the cool night air, before scooting over until he's right next to Jimmy. He lays his head on his husband's shoulder, then his right hand over his husband's left.

Jimmy leans into him, rubs his hair with his cheek for a moment. "I love you," Jimmy says softly.

Even after three years of marriage, those words make Scott's heart want to burst.

"I love you, too."

[chronicbeans]

CURLY RANT TIME!

I really wanted to talk about Curly post-crash. This has kind of expanded into both an analysis of Curly, as well as how other characters treat him, what those character interactions might mean, and the fandom treats him. I think there's a lot of themes around him that many people in this fandom don't see, so I wanted to share my thoughts.

TW: Ableism (both intentional and unintentional), Abuse (Physical, Verbal, Mental), Narcissistic Abuse, Poor Workplace Environment, Mentions of Fandom's Treatment of Characters, Unstructured and Not Proofread (This took long enough as it is, if I proofread it wouldn't have been published)

First off, can I just mention something that I haven't seen anybody mention so far on Tumblr about Mouthwashing?

Curly can communicate.

He can move his head. He can nod his head or shake his head. When you're in the cryo pod as Curly, you can look around in a much wider field of view than if he was just moving his eye, so he had to be moving his head. They could've asked him yes or no questions and had him nod or shake his head to reply.

However, as far as I'm aware, nobody actually asked him anything on screen. They might've done so off screen, but because it's off screen that's just speculation and I don't count that. They talked at him, talked about him, but never necessarily talked to him or asked him anything. It's like they assumed he cannot communicate, or if they knew he could, assumed he wasn't aware as much as he truly was during everything and that he wouldn't respond. Which happens so often with people in real life, it really hit me in the face once I realized he could communicate, but nobody actually did. Which is something I'm sure a lot of people without disabilities or experience with loved ones who are disabled didn't notice, and I don't blame them for.

Much like that line where the mention how they're running out of painkillers, and they didn't follow it up with "we'll have nothing to relieve his pain." The line was "Once these are out, we'll have nothing to keep him quiet." Which I've seen people playing through that part of the game, and just not react to it. But for me, I saw it and thought "WTF? Why are you focusing on that and not his pain?" And I realized that for a lot of people, they don't have to deal with that mindset. However, a lot of disabled people have to deal with others, even caregivers, seeing them as a complete burden or uncomfortable to be around because they are in pain or expressing discomfort. People who look at them and don't necessarily see them as somebody who is in pain, but somebody who is being too loud and making those around them feel uncomfortable because of their problems.

Which it's natural for people to feel uncomfortable hearing somebody else in pain and to feel bad that that person is suffering. However, for Jimmy at least, it's clear it's gone past the point of feeling bad for Curly and wanting to help, and just wanting Curly to be quiet so he doesn't have to hear it. This may or may not be true for the others onboard, as well. We just don't get to hear much about their inner thoughts.

Anya says she can't bear to give him the painkillers because of the sounds he makes, and I understand that it most likely stems from the traumas and memories of her abuse (I actually like to think it was a purposeful addition to the game to hint at it). That, and Jimmy is most likely trying to stop Anya from doing more for Curly. However, the idea of somebody wanting to help but being too uncomfortable or fearful to is an experience many disabled people have in real life, as well. Some people may see a disabled person in need of assistance, but feel either too uncomfortable to help, or like they'd be dehumanizing them by helping. A thought process that is most likely similar to "Disabled people can still do things on their own, so I think offering help would be taken as me infantalizing/dehumanizing them. So, I won't offer any help in order to not offend them." or "What if I do something wrong and it hurts them? I will not help, because somebody who might know more about what they're doing will step in and help." or maybe even "This treatment sounds uncomfortable for them, so we'll wait a little bit before doing it."

In this way, I think she's representative of a lot of people who are genuinely well-meaning individuals who do believe they are helping disabled people. Or, at the very least, are respecting disabled people. That's not to say she is inherently a bad person, or as terrible as Jimmy in any way. She is leagues better than him, and is well-intentioned in this moment (unlike Jimmy in any second of this game). However, there are a lot of people in real life who do act this way, even people in the healthcare field. As much as someone may train to be a nurse or doctor, they'll never know how somebody who is disabled feels in that very moment or, in Curly's case due to being mute, what they would want (especially because the crew didn't ask him) unless they become disabled later in life.

This brings me to one of my favorite parts about Curly: he was completely fine before the crash. A lot of non-disabled people seem to think that they will never become disabled. After all, they are currently not disabled, and if they aren't disabled yet, why would they become disabled later on? However, that's not the case. Disability is one of the few minorities that anybody, no matter their past or identity, can join at any time. As terrifying as it may sound, one day they might be fine, but the next second they're in an accident, diagnosed with something, or catch a terrible illness that leaves them disabled.

This is essentially what happened to Curly. One day, he was fine. He was the captain, he was free to move around as he pleased and communicate freely with his crewmates. Then, after trying to save the ship, he's been left disabled, locked in his own body, unable to properly communicate the pain he's in. He's been left in a room, getting painkillers shoved down his throat daily, and the only people who visit him don't talk to him or ask what he wants. They probably never even asked if he wanted their care or to be let go. He's the guy who probably went all his life thinking, consciously or subconsciously, that he will never be disabled. He'll never be relying on those around him for care. But now he is, and he didn't do anything to deserve it.

I see it said, not necessarily often, but a lot of the time in a of a roundabout manner, that Curly deserves what happens to him in the game and that he deserved becoming disabled. That's just not true, and if you genuinely think that, I'm sorry but you are intentionally or unintentionally throwing around ableist rhetoric. There's a lot of people who will point to a disabled person and tell them that it's their fault that they are disabled, and use it as an excuse to be ableist towards them. Curly didn't deserve what happened to him. He's not a "perfect victim", but that doesn't immediately mean he deserves the abuse he endures, he deserved becoming disabled, or any of it.

Curly is a victim, and although his abuse wasn't the same as Anya's, it doesn't change the fact they were both victimized by Jimmy. I find it off how, just because Jimmy didn't physically abuse Curly, people don't really recognize just how much Curly was messed up by him. So much so I feel "messed up" is an understatement. He was basically manipulated and verbally abused by Jimmy. Jimmy's a narcissist, and while many people think narcissists are easy to spot or easy to avoid, they can warp your entire view of them and make you blind to their flaws. And while it was definitely wrong of Curly to turn a blind eye to Anya's abuse and the safety protocols, when you keep in mind that the person who abused Anya was Jimmy, who very well could've built himself up as infallible to Curly, it brings into perspective why Curly didn't do the right thing in that moment. Jimmy had made himself seem incapable of doing something like that to anyone in Curly's eyes for who knows how long, and now that Curly has been faced with someone who has questioned that narrative, Curly didn't know what to do. So, Curly didn't take action quick enough.

It's a human thing. It happens in real life, all the time, that people who have been victimized by narcissistic people will not be able to see the flaws in their abusers. That doesn't make the victim an evil person, or deserving of harm. In Curly's case, it's not karma for him to become disabled and be a victim of Jimmy's now physical abuse. It's moreso a cosmic irony. Curly, after standing back and doing nothing about Jimmy abusing Anya, has now been placed in a horrific situation where he is forced to keep quiet and is now unable to do something even if he wanted to, without deserving it. His own inaction might've brought this situation since he didn't realize that Jimmy was horrible enough to abuse Anya, much less attempt to crash the ship, but that doesn't make him deserve it. It just adds to the cosmic irony and, in my opinion, adds to the horror of his situation.

The people around him don't talk to him, they don't ask him questions, and so the only place he'd have to go is his head. Which is probably filled with thoughts about how he could've prevented it. How he could've prevented his accident, how he could've listened to Anya and done something, anything to punish Jimmy, how he could've prevented Anya's abuse or at least made it harder for Jimmy to get to her. How he should've seen Jimmy for who he truly was, wondering why he trusted Jimmy when Jimmy was verbally abusing him, wondering how he didn't see Jimmy for who he was. However, it's too late, and he can't do any of that now, he didn't see Jimmy for who he was until now, and he can't even communicate these thoughts to people around him.

Curly is on the front of the game and is basically the "mascot" of it, in some ways. And a part of it is most likely trying to follow the mascot horror trend, but I do think it's more than that. In many pieces of horror media, it's common for the villain or monster to either look visibly disabled or just downright be a disabled person. I don't necessarily believe many of the creators of this media are trying to be ableist in any way, and are most likely trying to go for either a creepy appearance within the uncanny valley or an interesting story. However, it is a trend and one that many disabled people have noticed and are disheartened by it.

I think Curly being the face of the game is actually a great reversal of that trend. Many people who don't know anything about this game might see him and go "Oh! That's the monster that will be chasing me down, trying to hurt me in this game!" Then they'll play it and be hit with the fact that it is quite the opposite. You are hurting him. You are the monster in this game, and while everyone on the Tulpar is a victim of you, Curly is the one that is one of, if not the most focus on his abuse alongside Anya. It's to the point you dehumanize him, treat him like an object, want him to be quiet more than anything else, and are deciding for him what is right for his health. And if you didn't know anything about this game heading in besides what Curly looks like, having somehow avoided spoilers, you'd probably have been expecting the opposite.

I genuinely think that Curly's situation in this game is the most fascinating part of this game. Maybe not the worst, since I don't like to compare victims of abuse (that is a shitty thing to do), but I find it the most interesting to think about in terms of the themes of this game. A lot of it revolves around big corporations sliding things under the rug, not caring about workers, abusing their workers... but, the Pony Express has also built a system ripe for ableism. The long hours working, the posters around the Tulpar saying things like "Don't Be Daft!" or the rise and shine one specifically saying to "earn your rest, don't overdo it or fall behind". Which, these posters have more to them that provide extra context (like workplace safety for the don't be daft one or the fact they tell you not to get over 5 hours of rest), but when looked into under the lens of disability they can mean more.

As for how the fandom treats Curly, I don't know what to think. I'm sure many people don't necessarily mean harm or mean to throw around ableist rhetoric, but it does happen a bit. Many people just don't know about many of the discriminatory talking points about disability, which I tend to find isn't talked about as much as other kinds of discrimination. That's why I try to be as open as I can be to the possibility that many of the people saying "Curly deserves it" or unintentionally treating Curly after the crash as less of a full blown character and more of a set piece as simply being person being unaware of the fact that such things are common among ableist groups. That, and for treating him as less of a character post-crash, I do think the game does that, but I think that's the point. You often see him through the eyes of Jimmy, who is dehumanizing him. So, I can understand people just not knowing what to do with Curly when you don't get to see him as the human being he still is after the crash. I think that might be part of why a lot of artwork I see if Curly is him pre-crash, before he was disabled.

Especially since, as far as I am aware, this is one of the first disabled characters from a horror game that has a big fan base and isn't a villain. I feel like fandom, due to it naturally being filled with a wide array of people, is naturally filled with a lot of people who would or wouldn't know how to handle a disabled character. The same goes for any other minority group! Fandom is filled with those who do and do not know how to handle them. I just think that because disability representation and ableism doesn't seem to be talked about as much by the mainstream media, there's just a bit of a higher number of well-meaning people who don't know what does and doesn't come across as harmful.

It definitely doesn't help how the Mouthwashing Fandom is filled with a bunch of unserious content that's meant to be jokes, which isn't inherently a bad thing. Plenty of horror fandoms are like that. It just gets a bit harder to find what is meant to be a joke, what is meant to be serious, and so sometimes I feel the unserious content might be getting taken more seriously than it's meant to be. Again, there's nothing wrong with a silly fan base for a dark game. I love that type of fandom, since it helps make the fan base seem more welcoming and allow people who might've been intimidated by the themes or content of the game feel more safe trying it out. It might just be starting to get to the point where some portions of the fan base might be taking fanon jokes a little too seriously, possibly making it harder to fully and freely analyze this game from all angles, including Curly's.

[green-tea-lemonade]

C r o m c h

[sukunasteeth]

Sukuna has never said no to you.

It didn’t matter what the request was, simple or complicated, easy to fix or a days-long job, Sukuna was always at your side, completing the task as fast as he needed to to keep you satisfied. He would love to deny it, you’re sure, but evidence proves time and time again that he puts your needs and wants at the top of his priority list. 

And you were curious how far you could go with it.

The two of you are sitting in your underwear at the breakfast nook, warming yourselves in the bay window while the morning sun starts on the leftover night time chill. It wasn't quite time for breakfast, still too early for the both of you. In the meantime, you sip on your morning brews, preserving the comfortable silence. Sukuna is flipping through the day's newspaper, his eyes are groggy with sleep and he hasn't said more than a handful of words to you yet. He wasn't a morning person.

You were starting to change that.

"Kuna," You call to him, nudging him with your foot from your corner of the window bench.

"Hmm?" He doesn't look up from the paper, but his hand reaches down and grabs your foot, pulling it into his lap. His thumbs start to subconsciously knead at your muscles.

"I want these." You hold up your phone, which you had previously been scrolling through in an attempt to find something ridiculous for this exact moment. You were sure you had found it, something even Sukuna would find unnecessary. 

And yet, he merely glances at your screen, takes in the sight for all of two seconds, and then returns his attention to whatever news article he was in the middle of.

"My wallet's on the counter." He clears the sleep from his throat not sparing a second look. 

You blink at him in surprise.

"D-Did you even see what it is?" You flip your phone around to make sure you were displaying the correct thing. 

Sukuna is frowning before he looks up again, curious at your persistence. He gently cups your hand, bringing it only a minuscule amount closer to examine your screen a second time. 

You were on one of the most luxurious brand’s websites, showing him an incredibly regular pair of panties, no straps, no details, all black- with one of the most outrageous price tags you had ever seen for something so ordinary. 

Sukuna cocks a brow at you over your phone, "Can't imagine you need more panties when you're constantly stealing my boxers. But whatever, hand it over. I know my card number-"

"Kuna," You interrupt him with a surprised laugh, holding fast to your phone when he tries to pluck it out of your hands, "they're a thousand dollars."

He glances back, his eyes focusing lower on the screen where you know the price tag to be. The newspaper in his hands drops down, momentarily forgotten by what he sees. For a moment, you think you've found his limit.

"Wait, are those red one's assless?" He points just below the price, where the recommended products are depicted. "Get those too."

You drop the phone down so that he meets your eyes, which are wide with shock.

Sukuna always took care of you. Always insisted on being the provider of any single thing that you may need; a warm meal, a soft bed, anything your eyes twinkled at that was available for purchase- even if you would never think of buying or owning it. Granted, you never wanted much in terms of material possessions, so you didn't realize the true extent of Sukuna's leniency until now.

It was slightly intimidating, and part of it felt wrong. Sukuna had money, plenty of it, but that didn’t mean he should feel the need to spend copious amounts of it on you just because you could ask him to. He was giving you too much power, it felt like.

You huff through your nose, frowning at him, which only has him tilting his head further to the side in question.

You ignore it, setting your phone onto the window seat and crawling your way closer to him, until you can gather up his face in your hands and lock his gaze into yours.

He glares at you past smushed cheeks, but doesn't make a move to break free of your hold, humoring you. "The hell are you doing-"

"You know you don't always have to say yes to me?"

Now that has him taken aback. His mouth automatically opens for a witty response, but your question seems to have effectively taken the words from his mouth. You can see the cogs in his head turning, and what you wouldn't give to peer inside his mind and hear his thoughts.

It takes him a moment, but eventually that familiar confident smile stretches across his sleepy face. His hands seem to instinctively slide their way up your bare legs until his fingers grip your hip bones, pressing into you. 

He hums, "When have you ever said no to me?"

You scoff, ready to give him a prime example, but end up coming up short. The two of you loved to tease each other with disobedience, but in the end you were eager to give Sukuna anything his heart desired. You loved to please him, it was one of your favorite things to do, in fact.

"You never ask anything ridiculous of me." You remind him, smiling as one of his warm hands slides back down your waist and dips into the pair of his boxers you were sporting that day. 

"You know what's ridiculous?” His voice wraps around your throat, and suddenly has you swallowing past the delicious grip. You're folding into him before you even realize it, at the mercy of his calloused hands. "The implication that I wouldn't do just about anything for you."

You can't help but sigh hopelessly, although it comes out as a desperate noise that pleads him for more. You really were all his, just like he loved to tell you.

"Now hand me your phone." It's a whisper, coaxing you. "I wanna see you in red."

You can’t say no. 

At least it was mutual.

[sunmoonjune]

raspberry leaves

pairing: poly!geto suguru x fem!reader x gojo satoru [jjk au]

warnings: jjk au! geto doesn't defect and everything is happy :)) cursing, periods, severe cramps, painkillers and mentions of taking more than you're supposed to (three instead of two), lots of talk of pain, mentions of vomiting, passing out, panic, mentions of death, mentions of burning yourself, probably ooc megumi but he's a kid here (probably gojo too but I can't not write him soft), family au!, megumi tsumiki and the twins are here!, probably taking liberties on how gojo's technique works but oops, this is for the girlies with severe period symptoms :'), major hurt/comfort

word count: 12.5k

a/n: drops this and yells "scatter!" and disappears back into seclusion. I did not proofread this :)

Gojo Satoru has never woken up so terrified in his life. 

It’s a horrifying thing; to wake up lurching from your sheets as the love of your life cries out in panic just a few hours past midnight. For a moment, Satoru thinks he’s dying – or that he should be – because as he rips his sheets away from his legs, racing to his feet with his pulse already roaring in his eardrums, he turns to find Geto Suguru crumbling to his knees. The dark-haired man is the one who shouted, his hands fumbling to grasp another figure, their body limp and hanging useless in Suguru’s arms.

It’s your frame, clutched tight in Suguru’s big hands, that steals the breath from Satoru’s lungs. Ripping any semblance of oxygen right from his chest, the Six Eyes user is left stumbling on his feet to reach his spouses as they crumble to the floor – you limp in Suguru’s grip as you fall unconscious. 

Suguru shouts, a desperate cry of your name as he finally sinks to the bathroom floor, urgently scrambling to cradle your weight against him and support your figure. When he’s settled on the ground, a hand carefully cradling your face, Suguru looks up at Satoru, panic in his features and his heart in his throat. For a tense second, neither man speaks, too terrified to properly ascertain the situation. Then, Satoru chokes out a desperate question as he stumbles into the doorframe, clutching the wood until he swears it could splinter beneath his hands. 

“What happened?” 

But let’s rewind a moment, shall we? 

It starts two hours after midnight – well, it starts long before that, but it’s that moment you finally decide to pull yourself from the sheets and stumble into the bathroom. That moment, the one of shortened breaths and a weak whimper, is the one to incite the inferno that will wake Gojo Satoru in an hour or so. 

You’ve been awake for hours. Sleep was a stubborn thing; an obstinate, pig-headed bastard that wouldn’t allow you the mercy of relief even hours after you’ve been awake clutching your stomach and trying desperately not to cry. 

It’s agony. Beginning in your left side and rippling through the entirety of your stomach and down your legs, the cramping sensation seizes you with another tight fist and squeezes. It’s agony, and it’s been keeping you awake for hours. 

Your period is merciless. 

You’ve always had terrible cramps. That was a notion you had grown used to when you were young. Painkillers could only do so much, and you hated to have to take as many as you did just to function near normally. The first day of shark week was always terrible, but this? This was pure agony, and you were nearing your breaking point. 

It festered for hours in your stomach, sending cramps through your form in catastrophic waves and pushing against your belly until you thought you were truly going to die. The urge to use the restroom is horrible, but each time you drag yourself to the ensuite bathroom, you sit there as another wave of agony nearly pulls you to your knees. You’re sweaty and tired, figure quivering as another rippling cramp seizes your legs, and you’ve never wanted anything more than the sweet relief of slumber. 

Nothing seems to help. 

A hot water bottle is pressed against your stomach, the liquid inside near boiling as you clutch it against your bare skin – a bad idea, you know, but the sensation of the burn is nowhere near as terrible as the cramps. You’ve downed three painkillers a few hours ago, probably another bad idea, but you’re desperate now. 

You don’t want to wake Suguru or Satoru. It’s a Sunday night, and you know they both have work early tomorrow morning. They have to get the kids to school too. The four of your children always pile into one of your husband’s nice cars just a few hours past dawn. The kids get dropped off at primary school on their way to work, since it’s just around the corner from Jujutsu High. 

You can’t tear their few precious hours of sleep away from them. 

Not for this. 

There’s nothing they can do – nothing you can do but sit and try to ride out the waves of crippling agony until they finally stop. 

You’ve done this before. These cramps aren’t new. You can deal with them on your own. 

Can’t you?

But as you repress a broken sob, pulling yourself away from the silk of your sheets and into the bathroom once more, you’re not quite sure. 

When you reach the ensuite bathroom, another cramp surges through you and the tears you’ve been desperately withholding finally burst forth. Pressing your weight into the wall as the door slides shut, you click the lock and finally allow yourself to crumple. Your head pushes into your knees as you sob, trying to keep your cries quiet and muffled against your hand as the other clutches the hot water bottle against the throb of your stomach. 

You’re tired. You’re tired and you’re in so much pain that your fingers tremble and your legs shake. It’s awful, and you just want to sleep. 

But your uterus must hate you, because your stomach lurches and you scramble to lean over the toilet as you dry heave. You’ve never vomited on your period, but it sure does feel like you will. 

Your skin itches. From the sweat or the general grime, you don’t know, but you hate it. Your chest shakes with another sob and your fists squeeze tight as you whine out a horrible sound of agony. It’s too much and you wish it would just stop. Leaning back against the wall, you sigh out a choked sound as you curl into yourself. 

“Stop,” you whine brokenly, too defeated to even understand who you’re pleading to. “Please stop.” 

Geto Suguru wakes up a few moments later. 

He doesn’t know what pulls him from slumber at first. His brow furrows as consciousness returns, a deep breath leaving his nose as he sighs and takes in the feeling of body weight pressed into his chest. It’s a muscular figure, long and tall, so it must be Satoru. He’s pressed into Suguru’s stomach, body curled small in a near comical way as he attempts to tuck himself beneath Suguru’s chin. The long-haired man nearly huffs a chuckle as he pries open his tired eyes to see his partner. 

Suguru runs a loving hand over the mess of pale white strands that fall into Satoru’s eyes, his lips quirking upwards softly as he smiles. Satoru nuzzles closer in his sleep, letting out a happy sigh as Suguru runs his nails through the other’s undercut. Then Suguru shifts, turning over his shoulder slowly to find you as his hand reaches out to pull you closer.

But you’re not there. 

Suguru startles. Jolting silently as his heart skips a frightened beat, the sorcerer’s eyes rip open as they dilate. His hand finds an empty bed, the sheets cold and the imprint of your figure long lost. Suguru carefully untangles himself from his lover’s long limbs, his long, dark hair falling into his eyes as he sits upright. 

“Baby?” his deep, tired voice rumbles in question. Where are you? He nearly asks, heart pounding in his chest. Are the kids okay? 

Suguru knew it was weird you had chosen to sleep on the edge of the bed tonight. You’re usually more than happy to bury yourself in between them, cuddling close and nuzzling into their chests as you try to pull yourself even tighter into their embrace. 

But last night, you gently pushed Suguru into your place, offering him a wave of your hand and a lame excuse as to why you wanted to sleep on the outside. Something about not wanting to sleep yet, he remembers. 

He waits a moment, hoping you’ve just gotten up to use the restroom and you’ll return to them soon. The sound of Satoru’s quiet breaths echo through the space, and has to fill the long seconds by tracing his fingers over his lover’s back. Tracing gentle lines over the defined muscles, Suguru sighs softly and tries to calm his racing pulse. 

A minute passes. Then another. And one more – until Suguru isn’t sure how long he’s been waiting. 

Then Suguru cannot resist the swell of panic that ripples through his stomach. 

His heart lurches in his chest as he swings his legs over the side of the bed, too panicked to offer Satoru more than a hushed sound and a stroke over his back when he tiredly mumbles in protest. 

“‘M just gettin’ up for a sec,’” he mumbles quietly, swallowing back the lump in his throat when he sees the light in the bathroom on. “I’ll be back, love.” 

Satoru grumbles something else, but is soothed when Suguru presses a gentle kiss to his brow. 

“M’kay,” Satoru sighs, easily falling back asleep as he snuggles into the warmth Suguru left behind on the bed. If he wasn’t so worried, Suguru would smile, his heart clenching tight in his chest as he watches Satoru curl into his spot with a soft sound. 

When Suguru stands, adjusting his sweats as he quietly makes his way to the bathroom, he pulls his hair from his eyes. Brushing the strands over his bare shoulder, he sighs as he fiddles for a hair tie in his pocket. He doesn't find one, so he simply pushes the dark strands back from his brow, letting them fall behind him and settle against his bare back. 

You’ve always liked it when his hair is loose anyway. 

Suguru knocks on the bathroom door first. It’s quiet, but you should be able to hear it. When you don’t respond, Suguru frowns and tries again. Knocking gently once more, he swallows as another wave of panic curls in his stomach. 

“Sweetheart?” he tries quietly, voice still rumbling deeply from the slumber he was pulled from. “You’ve been in there a while, honey. Are you alright?” 

Still, you don’t respond. 

You want to. Of course you want to. It’s Suguru, and you don’t want to worry him. 

But the waves of agonizing cramps have stolen your voice. All you can do is sit still and breathe. You feel utterly useless. There’s nothing you can do but control the slow pace of your breaths in a desperate attempt to distract yourself from the crippling sensation radiating from your stomach. 

You want to respond – tell him you’re alright, tell him something, but the agony seals your lips shut. It’s horrible and another wave of tears spill from your tired eyes. You hate it. You wish you would stop crying; it’s not helping and it only makes you feel weak. 

“Baby? I’m gettin’ worried.” 

All you can manage is a sad, weak sound in response. It leaves your lips in more a sob than a hum, and you muffle the tears that shiver through you after. 

“Honey!” Suguru murmurs worriedly, trying to twist the handle of the door, only to curse when he discovers it’s locked. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” 

He shifts on his feet, lifting a hand to pull on the strands on his hair to soothe some of his panic. The sound you manage in response is another broken hum, and it only worsens the thundering pulse of Suguru’s heart. His gut twists as he tries the knob again, as if a few seconds will have changed the status of the lock. 

You whine and Suguru swears his heart cracks. His head presses against the door as his eyes squeeze shut, fist still closed around the handle. 

“Can you open the door f’me, sweetheart?” he murmurs desperately. “‘M really worried about you.” 

Your eyes close, the watery burn rendering them useless as you sniffle. You huff around another breath of pain, pushing your head further into your knees. Trembling softly as your skin flushes, you battle against the waves of agony and the flash of heat that makes you feel sickly. Another wave of nausea ripples in your gut, and you remember how awful you must look. 

Your hair is plastered against your head and your neck and you must look a mess. Wearing a pair of oversized sweats and one of Suguru’s shirts, you feel utterly gross. More than anything you want to open the door and let Suguru take you in his arms. Cuddling into his firm chest and feeling his big arms wrap around you would probably feel nice, but you’re all too aware of how sickly you must look. 

You don’t want him to see you like this: sweaty, messy and sick as you curl in on yourself as you weep through another terrible cramp. You just want to sleep – you want it to stop, everything needs to stop. 

Suguru hums out another question, but you don’t really hear it. It’s not until you hear the lilt of panic in his voice and his voice fiddling with the handle of the door do you manage to find your voice. 

“Sugu…” 

He startles. Head darting up to the door in front of him, Suguru breathes a sigh of relief and chokes out your name. 

“Open the door, darling,” he whispers softly. “Please…” 

You shake your head even though you know he can’t see it. Frowning as you sniffle, you lick your lips to taste salt and the disgusting hint of snot. You’re a mess, and you don’t want him to see you. 

“No, Sugu,” you manage to mutter, head knocking back to rest against the wall as you continue to focus on breathing through your mouth. You visibly shiver through another cramp, this time seizing and whining as it echoes through your legs. 

Suguru bites down on his lip, feeling another sliver of his heart crack at the broken sound of your voice. It pains him, your defeated sigh. He desperately wants to comfort you, to bring you into his chest and kiss your tears away. His hands ache to touch your skin, to feel the warmth he knows by heart. Closing his eyes as he rests his forehead against the wood of the door, Suguru sighs and swallows as he speaks again. 

“Why not?” he murmurs worriedly, voice clipping words from fatigue pulling at his figure. “I need t’know you’re alright, my love.” 

“Don’t wan’ you t’see me.”

Suguru’s head tilts and the lump in his throat swells. Heart clenching sadly, one of his hands lifts to rest on the door, as if he can reach you on the other side if he tries hard enough. He knows he can get through this door if he really wanted. It would be too easy for him to splinter the frame with his strength alone, and he has more than one curse at his disposal that could pick a lock smoothly. 

It’s the sound of your voice that holds him back. 

You’re so… tired. You’re broken whisper echoes through the wooden door with a sad coo, and it makes Suguru’s chest ache. 

“My sweet girl…” Suguru whispers, fingers trailing across the wood like they’re desperate to stroke across your cheek. “Why don’t you want me to see you?” 

You frustratedly sigh, cursing the tears that continue to track down your cheeks. No matter what you do, they keep dripping over your skin in tiny rivulets, staining your face with tracks of dried salt. You wipe them away but they’re quickly replaced by another stream. 

You just want to sleep. 

“I don’t feel good, Sugu,” you sigh tiredly, voice quivering around tears. It’s pathetic – how watery you sound. You wish you were stronger. “I look bad and I don’t want wan’ t’keep you an’ Toru awake.” 

You don’t feel good? He nearly questions. Why didn’t you wake me? 

But all he does is sigh softly, fists clenching against the door. For a moment he contemplates waking Satoru, knowing you probably won’t be able to resist them both. Though, when he turns over his shoulder, Suguru sees the bags beneath his lover’s eyes and the tired slump of his form in their sheets. 

Satoru needs his sleep. It’s difficult enough for him to find slumber when the Six Eyes strains him dry. 

Suguru lets him rest. 

He murmurs your name again, his eyes closing as he continues to rest against the door. 

“I’m in love with you, you know?” Suguru sighs sweetly, his lips lifting slightly to reveal a fond smile. “You could never ‘look bad’ to me, my darling.” 

Shifting on his feet and looking up at the ceiling, his shoulders sag as he worries. What if you don’t open the door? He’s considering settling on the floor with his back against the door when he whispers again. 

“And you don’t need t’worry about keepin’ me awake, alright? I want you t’come to me when you’re not feeling good.” 

He pauses once, dropping his hand from the knob as he breathes. 

“I worry about you, honey,” he finishes. “I just need to know you’re okay.” 

You sniffle, feeling the cramp finally seep away to nothing. They’re not over, you can feel another wave rising from beneath the last, but at least they offer you a single moment to reach up and twist the lock. 

It’s too much for you to handle alone. 

You want to bury yourself in Suguru’s strong arms and weep as the pain shivers through you. If there’s nothing you can do to soothe the agony, then at least you won’t be alone. 

“Okay.”

Suguru hears the lock click. 

Gasping softly, he pulls himself upright and reaches down to grip the handle of the door with a skip of his heart. He was pondering waiting outside the door in the fading light of the moon when you whispered the tired word. His chest aches when he twists the knob, pulling the door open to reveal your figure.

You’re curled on the floor, calves crossed and legs pulled into your chest as you bury your head into your knees. Your arms wrap around yourself, one hand clutching the hot water bottle pressed tightly to your stomach. 

Suguru frowns, his heart thumping sadly as you weep out another broken sound. His entire body aches in a way he cannot describe, physically pained at the choked sounds of agony leaving your lips. He’s already on his knees at your side when you lift your head, looking up at him through your tears and your lip quivering in a way he knows you cannot control. 

He’s never seen you look so hurt. 

“Oh, sweetheart…” he coos quietly, putting the pieces together as you shiver through another wave of crippling cramps, hand squeezing tight around your leg – your period. “You’re not alright.” 

“No,” you weep, shaking your head with watery eyes leaking salty droplets down your cheeks, and you suck in a shaking breath as your fists clench. Your brow furrows as your eyelids squeeze shut, unable to mask the pain as it ripples through you. Suguru’s face softens into an expression of pain, frowning sadly. You have a high pain tolerance for your period cramps – he knows that. You’ve had painful periods your whole life, and he and Satoru have seen you conceal the agony in your features for years. 

This is a knife to his heart. 

You can’t conceal the sweat on your brow, nor the tremble of your fingers and the painful gasp of breath you suck in when the pain returns tenfold. 

“It hurts, Sugu…” 

“I know, I’m sorry,” he whispers sadly, desperately wishing there’s something he can do to stall the agony. “C’mere, honey.”

Suguru’s mouth twists into an expression of pain, and he carefully wraps an arm around your shoulders. Pulling you away from the wall, the dark-haired man maneuvers you into his chest as he sits onto the floor. You twist into his embrace, wrapping your arms around his frame as you weep softly into his bare chest, caring little for the tears that stain his skin. Suguru could care less. He’s far too worried about the expression plastered onto your features and the shiver that trembles through you. 

“How long have you been up?” he whispers as he cradles you in his lap, hand stroking over your hair and strong arm wrapping around you. 

You shake your head and Suguru’s frown deepens – if it’s even possible. 

“Haven’t slept yet.” 

Suguru’s hair falls into his eyes as he leans down to press a gentle kiss between your brows. He stays there, breathing through his noses as he continues to lay tiny kisses to your forehead. His eyes screw shut, hand stroking over your cheek as you bury yourself deeper into his embrace. 

Your skin is warm, flushed with heat and your hair sticks to your forehead in a way Suguru knows must make you feel sickly. He carefully strokes the strands away and kisses the skin beneath with a soft sigh. 

“Have you been awake all night?” he finally whispers, voice deep and quietly sad. “With cramps like this?”

You nod into his chest, wincing again and closing your eyes as you sob through another agonizing cramp. Your legs shake as you tuck them into yourself together, trying desperately to push the hot water bottle deeper into your skin. 

“Oh, baby…” he sighs, leaning back to rest against the wall and pull you back into him. He strokes another hand across your face, thumbing the space between your brows when he sees the way they’re scrunched. “Why didn’t you wake me?” 

You sigh and breathe a few times to steady yourself, slowly loosening your fists when Suguru pries your fingers open to intertwine his own around yours. He pulls your hands into his chest, tucking them by his heart so you can feel the pulse of his heart. He hopes you don’t notice how quick it’s beating. He’s still worried. Suguru cannot help the way his heart lurches when you wince. As if each throb of agony is his own, Suguru buries his face closer to your own, clutching onto your hand and not faltering when you tighten your grip to counter the waves of pain echoing through you. 

“You’ve got work in the morning,” you pant quietly, voice still watery and weak. “And you an’ Toru gotta’ take the kids.” 

“Honey…” he sighs sweetly. “You’re in pain… I want you t’wake me if you’re in pain, sweetheart. No amount of sleep could soothe me if you’re hurt and alone.” 

You manage a hum in response, face still screwed shut and Suguru frowns when you muffle another sob as a cramp seizes you once more. 

“Okay, baby… Okay,” he whispers, rocking you into him a little in an attempt to distract you. Now is not the time for a lecture, he supposes.“You’re alright, darling. You’re gonna be alright.” 

He hates the sound of your tears. 

When you shudder through another agonizing sound, Suguru’s face crumples. He’s never felt so useless. You’re in agony, and he can do nothing to fix it. 

“You took your painkillers?” 

You nod again, weeping into his chest and squeezing his hand tight. 

“Three,” you mumble tiredly, focusing on the feeling of Suguru’s warm, bare chest pressed against your skin. It’s grounding and you don’t want to move. “They aren’t working.”

“How long ago?” 

He doesn't want to pester you with questions, but he’s desperately pulling at strings, hoping one will grant him the solution to your pain. 

“Midnight,” you manage. You wince again, and Suguru peppers kisses along your hairline, gently hushing you. You curl tighter into yourself, desperately huffing as the pain continues to swell higher. It feels like it will break at any moment, but it just… doesn’t. The agony continues to rise, as if there is no limit to its torment. The cramping sensation just comes back again and again, until you’re sure that there’s something wrong. How can a period be so painful? 

“It hurts so bad, Sugu,” you cry, reaching the end of your tether. You’re desperate for the ache to stop, but it feels like there’s no  point of end in sight. “I just want it to stop…” 

Suguru feels his stomach twist, heart crying out in a pattern of your name. He pulls you tighter, a wave of his own tears swelling behind his eyes. Your cries chip at his heart, pieces of his soul falling apart in your agony. He wishes he could do something – use some kind of technique to null the pain, to soothe you, anything. 

“I know, honey,” he soothes, cradling you closer and rubbing his finger over your cheek as he murmurs into your hairline. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything more. I’m sorry I can’t take this from you.” 

You shake your head, clutching him tight as you attempt to focus on your breaths again. Hand wrapped tightly around his own, you try to use his touch as a grounding sensation. Eventually, the lulling motion of his finger over your cheek and his lips at your hairline soothe some of the tension beneath your skin. You relax into his touch despite the continuous waves of cramps still panging through your stomach. 

“Just stay,” you weep, lifting your other hand from your stomach to clutch behind Suguru’s head. You hold onto his neck, burying your fingers in his soft hair and desperately inhale his familiar scent. Suguru is familiar – he’s safe. “Please…”

You don’t have to worry about anything as long as Suguru and Satoru are around. 

“Always, sweetheart,” he whispers against you, dropping the hand at your cheek to press your hot water bottle into your stomach for you. “Always. You don’t have t’ask.” 

 His large hand keeps your bottle in place, spreading across your stomach and rubbing soothing circles into your waist with his thumb. His hand is big enough to settle on your stomach and the fabric of your hot water bottle. 

Suguru hates this. He hates seeing you in pain. He hates that all he can do is sit and press delicate kisses to your hairline as you writhe in agony. It physically pains him to be unable to help – to have to watch as one of the loves of his life suffers. 

Suguru buries his nose into your hair and kisses you once more, whispering sweet words of encouragement and humming in an attempt to distract you. He loves you so much, and he hopes you know that. 

“You’re doing so well, my darling.”  

Eventually, the wave passes, and you limply release your intense grip on his fingers and relax into his hold. It’s a slow process. Finally succumbing to some brief glimpse of exhaustion, you slip loosely into Suguru’s hold and trust him to catch you. There will be another cramp soon, but at least this one is over. You breathe out a sigh and look up at Suguru with tears on your lashes. 

Strands of his dark hair fall into his eyes, and Suguru has never looked more beautiful to you. Sitting on the bathroom floor with you three hours past midnight, no shirt and a loose pair of sweats on his hips (ones he’s not sure are his own), and Suguru has never looked so endearing. The way he looks down at you, bangs dangling in front of his dark eyes and full lips leaning down to kiss your face gently; he’s princely. 

Your heart finally slows to an acceptable pace as Suguru leans down, and you close your eyes as he lays a soft kiss to one of your eyelids. His full lips peck sweetly against one, then he leans away to kiss the other. Your eyes well with tears again, but this time you think they’re for a different reason. 

“Hi,” he whispers sweetly, lips lifting to show you that tiny smile of his that makes your heart do funny things. You’re too tired to offer much more than a sigh and a quirk of your lips, but Suguru is grateful for the expression all the same. 

“Hi, Sugu.” 

“Are you feeling any better?” 

You shake your head, sighing quietly as you shift.

“Not really.”

Suguru frowns again, and you’re tempted to lift your thumbs to pull his lips upwards again. Suguru looks so much prettier when he smiles. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” he whispers. “Do you wanna get off the floor, at least? The bed’s much more comfortable and Toru’s gonna start worrying soon.”

You figure now is the best time to try moving, so you nod. There’s probably only a few minutes between these waves of terrible cramps, so you’ll take the moment you have to get back into bed. 

“M’kay,” you sigh tiredly. Suguru's expression softens for a reason you don’t understand, but the sorcerer fondly smiles as he thinks of the same sound Satoru had made just minutes before. 

“Alright, love. Let’s get you up, alright?”

You nod again, allowing Suguru to unwind his limbs from yours. He softly chuckles when you whine as his fingers unlace from your own, but readjusts his grip to carefully pull you to stand. He holds his other hand out, tenderly helping you stand. 

“Careful…” he whispers. “Go slow, baby.” 

Your head spins as you stand and you lift a hand to press against your temple. The rolling tide of nausea in your stomach had quelled for the time being, but the tremble of your legs is still too apparent. You step forward shakily, reaching out to grasp Suguru’s outstretched hand with a grateful smile. He returns the look with soft eyes and nods sweetly as he allows you to step out of the bathroom first. 

When he’s certain you can stand on your own, Suguru turns over his shoulder to turn off the bathroom light and shut the door. 

But he only gets so far. 

Suddenly, you inhale sharply. Freezing in place, your body curls inwards on itself as a blinding swell of cramps overtakes your form. This one is sharp and crippling, radiating down your legs until even your calves feel weak. Your body is suddenly too hot, and the air is far too cold. Shivers trickle down your spine and you feel that all too familiar bolt of stifling panic strike through your chest. It runs through the entirety of your figure, sizzling beneath your skin and striking each nerve it passes. You feel that terrible curl of your stomach and the waves of oncoming panic filter through you.

You sway on your feet. 

Something’s wrong. And it’s making you panic. 

You open your mouth, lip quivering as you attempt to croak out a plea of Suguru’s name, but nothing comes. Some tired, broken whine leaves your lips instead – a desperate cry for help, for Suguru.

When Suguru turns around, head whipping over his shoulder sharply, he expects to see you headed towards his side of the bed. Instead, he’s met with your body swaying slightly as you pant and shiver. Suguru thinks his heart stops. 

Then your body stills, and you crumple. 

“Baby!” 

Suguru throws himself forward, just managing to grab your figure as it goes limp. He sways, shifting your weight into his arms and panicking as you continue to sink into the floor. Your body is dead weight in his hands, still shivering but cold and unmoving. 

He’s going to be sick. 

His stomach curls as bile spills onto the back of his tongue, and Suguru can hear his heart pound in his ears. The lump is back in his throat, swelling until he can barely suck in a desperate breath to calm his panicked heart. Fuck, he’s never been so scared. 

“Baby, oh fuck!” he cries, voice no longer quiet and delicate. Suguru openly shouts, desperately trying to carefully maneuver you to the floor, but his mind is screaming thousands of things at him at once. All he can hear is the roaring in his eardrums. His eyes scan over your limp figure and Suguru swears his heart cracks. He can feel it; deep within his chest, a splinter finally cleaves open. 

“Oh my god, okay,” Suguru chokes out, carefully cradling you as he sinks to his knees. “You’re alright, okay? I’ve got you, honey.”

He doesn’t know what to do. His heart is pounding and his soul is openly weeping. There are tears welling in his eyes and dragging down the pristine skin of his cheeks. 

Suguru doesn't know what to do. 

“Okay,” he whispers frightfully. “Okay…”

You’re laying on your back, facing the ceiling, and the way your blank expression stares back at him makes him nauseous. 

“Sweetheart?” he calls carefully, brushing a hand over your cheek to push hair away from your face. “Baby, c’mon…” 

You don’t respond. There’s not even a twitch in your brow or a flick of your fingers. You’re unconscious. Suguru’s heart accelerates again, pounding until he thinks it might burst from his bony rib cage. He turns over his shoulder with a broken cry, calling for the one person he so urgently needs. 

“Satoru!” 

His voice is panicked, shouted with a guttural cry and he thinks it might echo through the house, but Suguru vaguely hopes he doesn't wake the kids. 

“Satoru, wake up!”

But Satoru is already awake. 

Lurching forward in the bed, the Six Eyes user is already throwing the sheets away from his legs as he scans the room. His technique is activated, and Suguru can feel the familiar curtain of Infinity wrap around his body. 

“Suguru?” Satoru calls as he stands, his body tense and prepared to fight. “What happened? Are you alright?” 

Suguru doesn’t have the chance to respond, because Satoru steps forward and his crystalline eyes find his lover’s hunched figure crouched in the doorway of the bathroom, bent over the body of their wife. You’re limp on the floor, hair sprawled out beneath you as Suguru cradles your head and glances up at his partner with desperate, fearful eyes. 

Satoru thinks he’s dying. 

It’s the only possible explanation for the lack of oxygen in his lungs and the stuttered pulse of his heart. His legs wane at his knees, nearly propelling him into the floor, but Satoru manages to keep himself upright as he throws his hands forward to brace himself on the bathroom doorway. 

“What…?” Satoru whispers breathily, voice uncharacteristically quiet – uncharacteristically weak. “What happened?” 

His Six Eyes are activated, flickering over every crevice of your form. They’re urgent, desperate to find the source of your pain. When they find nothing, Satoru swallows back a sound of desperation. 

“She passed out,” Suguru whispers plainly, panic evident in the quiver of his voice. “She started her period early, Toru. She’s in so much pain…”

Satoru feels his knees wane again. His heart can’t take much more of this. She’s in pain? His soul cries. 

“She’s been laying on the bathroom floor crying,” his lover mumbles, stroking a hand over your cheekbone as a tear drips into his mouth. “I shouldn’t have asked her t’get up – she was weak and I didn’t think –”

“Suguru.” 

The dark-haired sorcerer stops. Lifting his head to stare up at Satoru, Suguru frowns. 

“This isn’t your fault, Suguru,” Satoru whispers, trying desperately to keep himself calm. His heart is in his throat and his pulse roars, but he cannot allow himself to weaken. Suguru needs him – you need him. 

“She’s not waking up…”

Satoru sucks in a breath, his hands curling into the doorframe and gripping the wood until he thinks it will splinter beneath his grip. And it might. Satoru has to be mindful of the strength he uses. 

‘She’s not waking up.’ The phrase echoes through his head until it’s the only thing he can process. You’re not waking up. His wife isn’t waking up. 

“Is she…” Satoru doesn't even know if he can say what he wants to know – what he needs to know. The words make him ill. “Is she breathing?” 

Suguru chokes out a desperate sound. He hadn’t even considered…

And he doesn't want to. 

His hand seizes one of yours, wrapping tightly around your fingers as he pulls it into his chest as he did before. He pleads for you to wake up and feel his heart pulse against your fingers again, just as you had minutes ago. He delicately thumbs over your pulse point, hand sliding down your neck where he cradles your cheek. 

Suguru openly weeps when the thumping beat of your heart races beneath his fingers in greeting. 

“Yeah…” he sobs out weakly, pushing his forehead into your chest. “Yeah, she’s breathing.” 

Satoru sags in relief.

“Okay,” he covers his mouth with one of his palms, trying to suppress the broken sound that nearly leaves him. “Okay, that’s good.” 

Before either man can ascertain what to do, there's rustling at the doorway. It’s a quiet sound, just a soft coo and the creak of the door as it slides open. Satoru’s head whips around, his fingers twitching to activate his technique when he falters. 

Because seven year old Fushiguro Megumi stands in the doorway: his son. 

Megumi’s clutching a plush dog, one that looks remarkably familiar to his Divine Dogs. The soft, dark fur is cradled in his hands as he hugs the stuffed animal to his chest. The plush nearly conceals him entirely, and his dark, spiky hair pokes out over the red mark on the dog’s forehead. It’s a matching toy – the dark one was a gift from Suguru while the white counterpart came from Satoru. They were presents (custom-made plushies) ordered by his fathers when Megumi successfully summoned his Divine Dogs for the first time. 

Satoru still whines when Megumi prefers the dark stuffed animal to the white one. But Satoru doesn't know that Megumi snuggles the alabaster-coated dog when he’s gone on long missions. The boy barely goes anywhere without it until his father comes home. 

“What’s goin’ on?” Megumi tiredly mumbles, one of his hands lifting to rub at his eyes as he yawns. His too big shirt, one of Satoru’s shirts from their youth, hangs over his frame and covers his knees. You were the one to tuck your son into bed last night, and Satoru doesn’t have the moment to fondly think of his boy asking to wear one of his dad’s shirts to bed. 

Satoru sucks in a quiet breath, quickly glancing over his shoulder at Suguru. His husband is still on the bathroom floor, bent over your unconscious figure, but he looks up at Satoru with a silent nod. He’s alright. You’re alright. 

Satoru sighs and turns back to Megumi, suddenly glad the ensuite bathroom is hidden from the doorway to their bedroom. He doesn't want Megumi to see his mother unconscious, or his fathers’ panic. He doesn’t want Megumi to see him scared. Satoru is his father – he needs to show his son that everything is going to be alright. 

Swallowing down his tempered fear, Satoru tries to conceal the quiver of his voice when he responds to his son. 

“It’s –” Satoru stops. He can’t say ‘it’s nothing.’ Because it’s not nothing; and he won’t lie to his son. “It’s alright, Megumi.”

That’s what he decides to say instead. Satoru breathes through his nose deeply as he tries not to turn back over his shoulder to check on you again. 

“Mama’s just having some cramps, she’ll be okay.” 

Megumi nods. He knows what Satoru means, because Geto Suguru would be damned before he raised a son that thinks menstruation was ‘gross.’ Megumi doesn’t know everything – he’s still a kid, afterall. He does know, however, that his mother is plagued with terrible pain once a month, and that it’s completely natural to talk about it. 

Megumi toddles on his feet, the fatigue of the early morning hour making him uncharacteristically soft. He’s usually quite stoic for a kid, exhibiting the same, blank sort of look impassively. But no matter how quiet, you and the boys are well-adept at deciphering your kid’s feelings by now. 

With sleep tugging at his eyes, Megumi paws at his tired lids and yawns sweetly. Shifting his balance again, the boy looks up at Satoru with a tiny, sweet frown.

“Mama’s hurting?” he pouts, bottom lip sticking out slightly. His fists tighten around his stuffed dog, eyes shifting around Satoru to try to get a glimpse of you. Fortunately, Suguru has already readjusted you in his arms and you’re both hidden in the ensuite bathroom. 

“Yeah…” Satoru coughs to conceal the tremor of his voice. “Yeah, Mama’s hurting a little. But she’s strong, remember? She’ll be alright, her cramps will go away soon.” 

He doesn’t know if his words are an attempt to convince Megumi or himself. 

 From behind Satoru, Suguru strokes another thumb over your cheekbone. He inhales a shaking breath as he feels the frightful warmth of your skin. 

“C’mon…” he whispers in the tiny space that separates you. “Wake up, sweetheart. Let me see those pretty eyes again.” 

Swallowing thickly, Suguru’s throat bobs as a tear begins to leak down his cheek. 

“Please.” 

He’s lost. Suguru doesn’t know what to do other than count the seconds since you’ve gone still in his arms. Each one feels longer than the last, but Suguru continues to count them. He doesn’t know why he does it. Perhaps some part of him thinks there is a certain point at which he’ll need to call for help. Is there a distinct period of time that has to pass before you need medical attention? 

Suguru curses himself for not paying enough attention to Shoko’s basic first-aid lessons. 

Satoru’s head flicks over his shoulder, crystalline-blue eyes finding your face as his heart clenches again. He’s conflicted. More than anything, he wants to drop to his knees at your side, just as Suguru has. He wants to clutch your remaining hand and feel the pulse of your heart as a reminder that you’re still there – still breathing. His heart hurts; torn between lingering at your side and comforting his son.

But then Satoru remembers the way you look at your kids. He recalls the fond crease of your eyes when you beam down at them, smiles shining and hands drawing them into you for an embrace. You love your kids more than anything, even though you’ve only had them for a few years now. Even though they’re not your biological kids, even though they’re not babies, and despite not even wanting children before them; they’re your pride and joy. 

Satoru finds the strength within him to smile fondly. He knows you would be pushing him in Megumi’s direction if you had any semblance of consciousness right now. 

Satoru tries not to frown at the reminder of your state. 

Turning on his feet, Satoru steps away from the door, even as his heart cries out for him to return to your side. The remainder of his heart calls for his son – his boy, who is beginning to worry about his mother. It’s evident in the way Megumi shifts on his feet, fiddling with the soft fur of his stuffed pup. 

When Satoru drops to his knees in front of Megumi, he spreads his arms wide in an invitation. He doesn’t expect Megumi to accept; he rarely does. Satoru is affectionate, it’s a sentiment clear as day, and Megumi usually prefers to avoid physical touch. He’s shy that way. 

So Satoru is fondly surprised when Megumi toddles tiredly on his feet as he leans into his father’s embrace. Wrapping his arms tight around his son, Satoru stands from the floor with his heart beginning to return to a normal pace. Having Megumi in his arms is a comfort that soothes some of his rampaging nerves. The knowledge that the rest of his family is safe is a notion that eases some of the tension in his shoulders. Satoru knows he won’t find sleep for the rest of the night if he doesn’t peek into the girl’s room later to ensure they’re sleeping peacefully. 

“It’s alright, Gumi,” Satoru whispers softly, stroking a hand through the spiky strands of the boy’s hair. Megumi rests his head on Satoru’s shoulder with a sigh. “Why did you wake up so early, bud?” 

Megumi wraps an arm around Satoru’s neck, the other still cradling his pup between them. He closes his eyes and sighs sleepily once more as he mumbles in response. 

“Heard Dad yell,” he tiredly whispers. He fiddles with a strand of Satoru’s white hair before he sheepishly continues. “I was scared…”

Satoru tries his hardest not to tease the boy. He knows it’s in his nature to make light of situations with humor, but Satoru also understands that this, perhaps, is not the time. Despite wanting to make Megumi feel better by laughing off the problem, Satoru also remembers the horrible strike of panic that had bolted through him when he heard Suguru yell. 

Waking up to Suguru crying out for you as you collapsed was horrifying, and Satoru can only imagine how frightening it was for Megumi. 

“Oh Gumi, I’m sorry,” Satoru whispers, rocking on his feet in an attempt to comfort the boy. Even though Megumi isn’t a baby, Satoru cannot help the instinctive sway of his feet as he runs a hand through his hair. “Dad didn’t mean to shout, pup. He was just worried about Mom.” 

Megumi nods softly, snuggling closer to Satoru’s chest in a way that makes the father’s heart ache. 

“Can I… Can I help?” Megumi quietly questions, words spoken only for his father to hear. “Mom always makes me feel better when I’m sick.” 

Megumi mumbles something else; something that sounds like ‘don’t wan’ mom t’feel bad,’ but it’s muffled into Satoru’s neck and he barely catches it. 

Satoru smiles despite the panic still roaring in his chest. The way Megumi calls you ‘mom’ and Suguru ‘dad’ has always made him a little emotional. It took more than a year for Megumi to truly grow comfortable in your makeshift family, but eventually the boy’s cautious exterior melted away into what he really was: a kid looking for a home – a family. He was abandoned for God’s sake, Satoru knows the kid was guarded when he found him. And he had every right to be. 

But in just a few short years, Megumi has begun to call Tsumiki and the twins his sisters and on rare occasions, he’ll call Satoru his father. However, he knows those nights will always end in Satoru smothering him with affections and playful teases so he refrains from doing it often. Satoru does not take offense; he knows Megumi is shy. 

“Yeah, she takes good care of us, huh?” Satoru murmurs fondly as he rubs a hand over his son’s back. 

Before Satoru can reassure Megumi further, he’s interrupted when Suguru lets out a relieved sound over his shoulder. It’s a strange sort of combination of a sob and a gasp, but Satoru hears it all the same. 

“Sweetheart…?” Satoru hears Suguru call, voice brighter but still wavering through the short syllables. 

There’s a muffled sound of shuffling, then a groan and a cough before Suguru is concealing his tears in your neck. 

Satoru exhales with relief, shoulders sagging as his eyes slide shut. He rubs a hand over Megumi’s back in the hopes the boy doesn’t see the fear slowly seeping from his father. 

Inside the bathroom, Suguru clutches your hand tight to his chest, squeezing it thankfully and burying his face in your neck as he bends over you. Blinking slowly, you huff a choked breath and shakily reach upwards to lay your palm over Suguru’s head. Tangling your fingers in the mess of loose, dark hair you sigh deeply through your mouth. It’s a relief to feel Suguru bent over you; his weight presses into your chest and grounds you as you come back to consciousness. Though you’re still dizzy and a bit panicked, the feeling is beginning to leech from your limbs like poison from a wound. 

Waking up was startling, and there’s a lingering sense of fear buzzing beneath your skin. It frightens you, and you clutch tightly onto Suguru with a tremble. The pain still twists in your stomach, but it’s nothing compared to how you felt before you passed out. 

“Suguru…” 

His name comes out in a sort of pleading cry, not unlike a frightened child, but you cannot help the way you long for his comfort. Tears leak from your eyes, another wave of salt that you find you cannot control. 

Suguru responds to your call with a sweet coo, pressing a wet kiss to the skin of your throat and rumbling deep within his chest to reassure you that he’s still there. Brushing your hair from your eyes, Suguru leans away to peck your temple and stare down at you with relief painted across his features. 

“You’re alright, honey. ‘S okay,” he whispers warmly, soothing the tension in your brow and brushing your tears away. When your eyes crack open, staring up at him with waning fear and confusion, Suguru huffs a laugh and smiles widely. “Hey, pretty girl.” 

 Your lips quiver upwards into a sort of sad smile, but Suguru is happy to see it despite the exhaustion in your features. Squeezing his hand, you look up at the dark-haired sorcerer as his hair falls into his eyes. 

“Wha’ happened?” 

Suguru looks over his shoulder, mouthing something you can’t hear, but you know he must be talking to Satoru. The muffled sound of his voice barely reaches your ears as you wade through the stream of your consciousness. You fight to keep Suguru in focus, and fortunately manage to cling to the waking world as sounds finally return to your senses. Something that sounds like “she’s alright, Toru,” rings through the bathroom, and then there’s the sound of Satoru replying but you can’t hear it. Your heart calls out for your other husband, and you squeeze Suguru’s hand in question. 

“You passed out, darling,” Suguru looks back down at you with a sad smile. He hushes you when you wiggle, trying to sit upright. “Careful, love, careful. You scared the shit out of me, you know?” 

Shooting him a sorry glance, you allow Suguru to gently lift you to a seated position every so slowly. He leans you against him, his thick thighs on either side of your hips as he lets you rest against his chest. You nod slowly as he delicately pulls your hair from your face and wraps his arms around you. 

“Sorry.”

Suguru shakes his head with a hum. 

“Don’t apologize, baby,” he whispers. “I’m just glad you’re awake. Are you feeling alright? How’s the pain?”

You slouch into his chest, wrapping your arms around your waist and nodding as your eyes slide shut. 

“‘S not so bad. Where’s Toru?”

Suguru’s heart clenches sweetly, feeling warmed by your desire for Satoru. He adores the two of you with his entire being, and watching both of you always strikes a fond chord within his chest.

“He’s taking care of Gumi,” Suguru murmurs, looking down at you with a lovesick expression you cannot see. When you sit up straighter, Suguru accommodates your position with a scooch of his hips and his arm falling into your lap. 

“Gumi’s awake?”

“Yeah,” your husband responds quietly. “I think he heard me shout when you fell. He came in a few minutes ago, and Satoru’s comforting him.”

Suguru sounds a little guilty when he mentions his outburst. He’s not embarrassed by any means; it was a cry shouted in overwhelming fear, so he feels no bashfulness for the tone of his voice. He does, however, feel guilty that he managed to wake his son in the process. 

“He’s worried about you, I think.”

We all are, he almost finishes. 

You sag into Suguru’s chest, weight sinking into the warmth of his bare skin as you slide your hand over the arm that is wrapped around you. Just as you begin to speak, Satoru peeks his head through the doorway. His body is twisted, obscuring Megumi’s view inside the bathroom. When he finds your gaze, Satoru visibly softens. 

“Hey, sweet girl,” Satoru rumbles, a fond smile spreading across his features. “You feeling alright?”

You nod tiredly, resting your head against Suguru’s clavicle.

“That’s good. We were really worried, honey.” 

Your sigh through your nose, trying to give him an apologetic look, but the fatigue is beginning to pull your eyelids downwards. Satoru’s gaze softens even further, if at all possible, and he continues. 

“Can Megumi come in? He’s worried about you,” Satoru reiterates his partner’s words, clearly holding the boy against his chest as he speaks. 

You’re about to nod, more than happy to cuddle with your son, when Suguru interrupts. Stroking a hand over your hip, the long-haired sorcerer hums. 

“Let us come out, love,” he responds, already beginning to shift you in his lap. “We can talk about this in bed. I think everyone’s a little tired right now.” 

You nod in agreement, feeling the ache of your muscles cry out for rest. Your arm trembles weakly when you lift your hand, and you frown at the lack of strength in your limbs. Suguru hushes you sweetly as he shifts you to sit upright as he stands. 

“You’re exhausted, baby. It’s normal.” 

Satoru murmurs his agreement on the other side of the doorway, already beginning to step away to set Megumi in the middle of your massive bed. He ensures the boy is comfortable as he stands upright, stretching his shoulders and turning to watch as Suguru hoists you up onto his hips slowly. Satoru figured he wasn’t going to let you walk after what happened the first time you tried. 

Suguru’s hand is carefully cradling your head and the other wraps beneath your hips, keeping you stable and pressed against his big frame. The sorcerer is incredibly strong from the years of exorcizing curses and teaching students, so carrying you to the bed, despite your muffled protests, is an easy venture. 

Setting you on the bed gently, you shift quickly to face Megumi as you lay back against the sheets. You nestle quickly into Suguru’s previous place in bed, already reaching out for your son as he nuzzles forward to latch onto your front. 

“Hey, hun,” you whisper kindly, brushing dark strands from Megumi’s eyes. “What’s going on, Gumi?”

The boy looks up at you, still clutching his Divine Dog plush, and frowns. Your head tilts in confusion, and you watch as Megumi makes himself comfortable in your arms, cuddling close to your stomach and closing his eyes. You don’t protest, heart warming sweetly as the boy snuggles close. He doesn’t usually cuddle like this, so you’ll take every opportunity to hug him as you can. 

“Dad said you’re feeling bad,” he mumbles into the stuffed dog now pressed between you. “‘M gonna make you feel better. Like you do when I’m sick.” 

You smile. Heart full, your eyes slide shut as you lean forward to press a gentle kiss to the tired boy’s forehead. He mumbles something else, but he’s fading fast. Soon he’s lost to slumber, and he snoozes peacefully in your embrace. 

“Thank you, Megumi,” you whisper as you press another soft kiss to your son’s forehead. Looking up at Satoru with tears brimming in your eyes, you find the white-haired sorcerer is already looking at you. There’s fondness spilling from his smile and a sweet gentleness in his expression, and he looks utterly lovesick. 

“Hey,” Satoru murmurs. 

“Hi.” 

The Six Eyes user steps away for a moment, nodding at Suguru who whispers that he’s going to step out to get you water and your medicine. Satoru knows he’s also going to check in on the girls, so he gives Suguru a smile and a peck on the cheek as he slides around the bed to your back. 

When Satoru climbs into the silken sheets, he immediately presses his bare chest into your back and wraps his strong arms around you and his son. Pressing his soft lips to the nape of your neck, he pulls you and Megumi into his chest as he relaxes. You feel the familiar tingle of Infinity wrap around you and smile tiredly. Satoru is always protecting you and your family. The technique easily wraps around you and Megumi in addition to Satoru, and you know the sorcerer will easily adapt it to cover Suguru soon too. 

That’s just Satoru; he’s always looking out for his family. 

When you sigh deeply and snuggle back into your husband, Satoru presses another gentle kiss to your neck and you feel him shake. 

“Toru?”

The man shivers again, and when you shift, turning slightly to see his face, your face crumples as you find tears leaking from Satoru’s eyes. He looks utterly relieved, but his mouth still twitches in a sad sort of way and his sky-blue eyes shimmer with salty tears. For all his silly teasing and childlike humor, Satoru rarely looks so… scared. He’s always so strong – the strongest. But there are truly rare circumstances in which Gojo Satoru is confronted with true fear. 

Circumstances in which he remembers how vulnerable his family can be. 

“Oh, Satoru…”

Satoru buries his face in your neck again, concealing his tears as he calms down. 

“I was so worried, baby. Oh my God,” he mutters into your skin. “I woke up and you were on the floor and Sugu was crying…” 

You pull his hands tighter around you, careful not to wake Megumi. Stroking gentle circles into the muscle of his forearms, you coo a soft sound to soothe him. 

“‘M alright now. Just a little bit of pain, it’s mostly gone.”

Satoru nods, clinging to your back as he finally grounds himself through the gentle touch of your fingers on his skin. He pulls you closer, seeming as though he’s trying to fuse his body to yours with how tight he binds himself to you. It’s the soft contact of your skin against his that soothes the beat of his heart and loosens the tension of his muscles. The tingly feeling that lingers on his skin where you press into him leaves trails of prickled nerves in their wake, as if physical contact between your bare skin incites a biological reaction beneath his flesh. 

With you in his arms, tightly wrapped in his embrace where he can feel the pulse of your heart against his chest, Satoru finds serenity. 

You’re here. And you’re safe. 

Satoru chews on his lip as he sighs. 

“I’m sorry, baby,” he whispers, tucking his chin into your neck and dropping a hand to rub his palm over the side of your stomach. It’s uncanny, you think, that he already knows exactly where it hurts without you mentioning it. Satoru pays far more attention than people give him credit for. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything more to take it away.” 

You shake your head, fatigued eyes closing as you focus on the feeling of Satoru’s big hands and the gentle circles he massages into you. 

Satoru continues in a voice uncharacteristically weak for the Strongest. 

“You were… alone and in pain,” he mumbles, guilt seeping into his tone as he frowns. “And I didn’t even know – we didn’t.” 

Satoru carefully pulls your hair away from your neck to press a kiss to your bare shoulder and then one more against the skin of your throat. He inhales a wave of your familiar scent and flutters his eyes closed as he sinks into your back. 

“I don’t want you to suffer alone, my love.” 

You stroke a contemplative finger over his arm, humming quietly as you shift Megumi in your arms. 

“Okay, Toru,” you whisper as you find the mirth in your exhausted figure to tease him. “You want me to wake you up at the ass crack of dawn when I’ve got cramps?” 

Satoru muffles a small chuckle into your neck and you enjoy the feeling of his chest shaking with the feeling. 

“Yeah, baby. Even then. Especially then.” 

You huff a breath of laughter through your nose, only stopping when you swiftly inhale as another cramp seizes your abdomen. It’s strong, but nothing like the ones you were having earlier. You can manage these. Satoru leans up on his elbow when you stiffen, lifting his other hand to check the hot water bottle Suguru had returned to your stomach. 

When Satoru pulls the bottle away, his brow furrows and he hisses when he finds faint hints of inflamed skin where you’ve pressed it too tight to your belly. It’s too hot and too close, he realizes. It’s burning you. 

Satoru nearly sits upright quickly, his frame leaning over yours as he gasps faintly. 

“Honey…” He’s on the verge of scolding you, but he sees the way you wince through another cramp and decides against it. Satoru looks back down at the hot water bottle and the way you clutch it tightly to combat the waves of throbbing in your belly. 

“This is burning you,” he states it obviously. 

“Hmm,” you respond in agreement. “Feels nice.” 

Satory looks down at you with pain in his features, face twisted into a frown and his crystalline eyes a shade duller. 

“Baby, it’s hurting you – How can…?” 

Satoru trails off. He thinks about how terribly you must have been aching to continue pressing something that was burning you into your skin. How agonizing were your cramps that the pain of the burn was comforting? 

Satoru lays back down, a frown on his lips as he wraps his arm back around you and lays his palm over the hot water bottle. If you’re going to keep it pressed into your skin, then he can make sure it doesn’t get too warm by leaving his hand against it.

“My god, baby… I’m so sorry,” he whispers. He can’t even comprehend how agonizing this must be for you. Satoru kisses your nape again. He apologizes again, and you almost miss the silly Satoru who would typically be teasing you right now. “I’m sorry I can’t do anything.” 

You yawn, finally feeling exhaustion begin to drag you beneath the slow, rocking waves of slumber. Pushing yourself deeper into your husband’s embrace and squeezing your son tight once more, you sigh out a few more words before you finally sink into sleep’s warm hands. 

“You are doing something,” you murmur, pulling his hand up to your mouth to kiss it tiredly. “You’re here, Satoru. I don’t think I can do this alone anymore.” 

When Suguru climbs back into bed on Megumi’s other side, he kisses the fond smile on Satoru’s lips and teases his partner about the stars in his eyes. The crystalline-eyed sorcerer refutes Suguru’s quip by reaching out to gently slap his bicep, but it’s all in mirthful adoration. Suguru leans over to press a tender kiss to your sleeping brow and then one to his son’s, before he settles behind Megumi and sighs contentedly. 

“She’s sleeping?” Suguru whispers, voice barely carried through the quiet night. He stares down at your face, the peaceful expression on your lips far more comforting than the limp, placid look of unconsciousness he remembers. Satoru watches his husband watch you, adoration swelling in his heart like an ebbing tide. Unbound by all but the moon, Satoru swears his heart only grows fonder each time he truly takes in his partners. 

“She’s sleeping,” he confirms sleepily, still staring up at Suguru with warmth in his chest. 

“Good.” 

Suguru’s response is sighed out thankfully, his shoulders deflating with the tension easing away from his muscle. He wraps his arms around Megumi and pulls himself closer to the boy, smiling when he easily cuddles into his father. Not often does Suguru have the opportunity to snuggle his son, so he eagerly grins as Megumi’s sleeping form curls near. 

“She’s early,” Satoru mentions plainly from across Suguru. “She wasn’t supposed to start until next week.”

The dark-haired sorcerer nods, recalling the date he marked in his phone. He and Satoru both kept track; it was easier that way. At this point, though, Suguru is certain he doesn't need his calendar to know these things. Your anniversary is ingrained in his memory, as is every one of your important dates. The three of you have spent more than a decade together, this kind of instinct was certain to develop at some point or another. 

“Yeah,” Suguru sighs. He twists slowly to glance tiredly at the clock on his bedside. “She took some painkillers at midnight, can you write that down? If she wakes again she can take some more.” 

Satoru nods, a hand already reaching for his phone on the nightstand behind him. It was second-nature to jot down the time you took medication. You always tried to keep track yourself, but sometimes noting the time slipped your mind, and you were left trying to recall the last time you took them. Satoru easily adds the time to his notes, and marks the date in his calendar to adjust your future schedule later. He checks that there’s still a bottle of your preferred painkiller in his nightstand drawer and a granola bar to eat when you take them. 

When he sets the phone down, he looks back over at Suguru, who sleepily stares down at your sleeping face. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but Satoru can see where Suguru has slid his around yours, pressing two of his fingers into the pulse point of your wrist. 

He’s counting your heartbeats – making sure you’re still breathing. Because Suguru remembers the way you crumpled all too clearly. 

Sighing a shaking breath as he familiarizes himself with the gentle thump of your lifeline, Satoru slides a hand around you and his son, and he lays it across his lover with a sad smile. Suguru looks up with tired eyes, the dark bags beneath his lashes barely visible in the night hour. They match the ones beneath your eyes and probably Satoru’s too. 

“Hey,” Satoru mumbles. “She’s alright, Sugu.” 

Suguru nods, finally sinking into the mattress and pressing a final kiss to Megumi’s hair as he makes himself comfortable. Satoru does the same, delicately squeezing the hand still wrapped around yours and cradled sweetly at your chest. 

“We’re alright,” Suguru confirms, eyes finally sinking closed as he falls back asleep with part of his family in his embrace. “We’re alright.” 

In the morning, you awake to two Divine Dogs guarding the foot of your bed. The white one sits with its side pressed against the dark one, and both face the bedroom door. You awake alone in bed, but you can hear distant voices quietly chatting in the hall. The little pups’ ears are perked upwards, diligently listening to the conversation outside. 

When you sit up, the white one flips his head over his shoulder, happily sticking his tongue out in a joyful expression. He pants and his tail thumps against the floor as you beckon him closer. 

“Good morning, pup,” you laugh as it wiggles excitedly when you scratch behind his ears. The dark-coated one quickly follows soon after, eagerly joining his brother for scratches. “What are you two doin’ here?” 

The pups tilt their heads with that silly, tongue-out expression, as if communicating their eagerness. You stifle your laughter and carefully stand from the sheets, making your way into the kitchen with the dogs on your heels. 

When you enter the living space, you find Suguru on the couch with the twins on either side of his lap. They’re eagerly leaning over one of Suguru’s books, excitedly murmuring amongst themselves as their father reads aloud. It’s one of his novels, and you chuckle knowing that the girls were probably the ones to pick it out for him to read. 

Tsumiki is at the table, leaning over some kind of puzzle, and her brother is at her side. She looks up as you come in, offering you a gentle smile and a nod before she goes back to her puzzle. Megumi sits on his knees in the chair, spiky hair unkempt as always and a look of concentration on his face. 

Before you can speak, Satoru is pressed against your back, greeting you with a gentle hum.

“G’morning, sweetheart,” he coos, pecking your cheek and sliding a croissant into your hands and holding a glass of water in his other. “Eat up. You can take some medicine when you’re done.” 

He always makes sure you eat before you take your medicine. Your heart thumps happily beneath your ribs, and you smile in return, pressing a sweet kiss to his lips and thanking him. 

“Thanks, love.” 

Satoru hums and slides his free hand over your waist to squeeze your hip. He opens his mouth to say something, but the twins interrupt him. They gasp, standing from Suguru’s lap and eagerly racing over to greet you. 

Suguru chuckles, but still gently chides them as they race into the kitchen. 

“Careful!” 

Nanako and Mimiko crash into your hips with eager sounds, each grabbing you around the waist and crying out.

“Mama!” They cry worriedly, scrambling to hug you as they bury their faces in your legs. They start pushing you towards the couch with little hands, earnestly murmuring things you cannot make out. You look up at Satoru with a confused furrow of your brow, and your husband only chuckles and holds his hands up in a gesture of ‘i’ve got nothing to do with this.’ 

When you reach the couch, the girls scramble to make you sit beside Suguru, who is all too eager to wrap an arm around your shoulders to accommodate your arrival. 

“Good morning,” he hums as he pecks your temple. 

Nanako is already sliding a blanket into your lap as Mimiko climbs onto the couch, depositing herself at your side and snuggling into you. 

“Good morning,” you respond, watching with a fond smile as the girls make themselves comfortable in your lap. “What’s all this?” 

Suguru chuckles, reaching out to gently ruffle Nanako’s hair as she smiles. The girl looks up at her father with a beaming grin and snuggles closer to you when you wrap an arm around her to keep her stable. Your husband leans closer with a smile, murmuring quietly for only you to hear. 

“Megumi told them you were sick last night,” he fondly whispers. “I think it worried them.” 

Your head tilts in an expression of tenderness, and you give Suguru a knowing look before you lean down to kiss both your girls on the forehead. 

“Good morning, girls,” you rumble happily. “I’m alright, sweethearts. Megumi and your dads took very good care of me.”

Mimiko wiggles closer, snuggling into you and her sister with big, worried eyes. 

“Really?” her tiny voice murmurs. “Megumi-nii said you were hurting.” 

You can almost hear the pout in her voice without looking down at her. Giggling happily, you stroke a hand over her head and squeeze her close. 

“He even brought out his puppies!” Nanako quickly adds, squirming as he attempts to find the two Divine Dogs. “He said we couldn’t come in to see you because you needed to rest.” 

The two Shikigami have already returned to their owner, sitting on either side of Megumi’s chair with wagging tails and their tongues still sticking out. The boy is absentmindedly petting one while he focuses on the puzzle, shyly avoiding your gaze as if embarrassed. 

Your heart clenches sweetly again, and you turn to look at Satoru with a knowing smile. The sorcerer returns the look as he steps into the kitchen for your painkillers, ruffling Megumi’s hair as he goes. The boy lets out a muffled sound of discontent, but he doesn’t fix his messy strands. 

“Did he? That’s very sweet of him.” 

You and Suguru do not mention the faint pinkness of Megumi’s round cheeks. 

When you lean into Suguru’s side, the croissant in your hand warm like your lover’s body heat, you sigh happily. The cramps are a faint memory now, even though you know they’ll return soon. For now, you can savor the warmth of your family. 

“You’re taking the day off then, I suppose,” you look up at Suguru with an arched brow. Suguru smiles, leaning his head into yours to rest there. 

“Yeah,” he sighs, cuddling close to you and the twins. “We all are.” 

You suppose you can deal with the consequences of their unscheduled departure from work and school later… You’re far too warm and content now. When Satoru returns, sliding a glass of water into your empty hand and two painkillers into your other, he patiently waits as you take the pills. Then he sets the glass on the side table beside the mug of raspberry leaf tea he brewed for your cramps,  and then he eagerly dives into the limited space left on the couch. 

Scrambling into the twins’ space, Nanako and Mimiko giggle happily as Satoru presses kisses over their faces and squirms onto the couch. He plops Mimiko into his lap so he can sit at your side, laughing when the girls squeal happily. As you settle, you see Megumi look up from the table, shyly glancing away from his sister. Tsumiki gives him a knowing look as she climbs from her chair and eagerly walks over to Suguru. 

Suguru is too happy to allow her the tiny portion of space on his other side, and Tsumiki slides onto the couch, her side pressed tight to Suguru’s. She offers you a good morning and laughs when the twins attempt to squirm away from Satoru’s tickling fingers. 

Eventually Megumi stands from his place at the table, looking over at the couch as he debates something internally. A moment later, he stands in front of Suguru, shyly shifting on his feet as he looks at the only empty space on the couch. 

Megumi doesn’t need to say anything, because Suguru is already lifting the boy into his lap with a smile. Saving his son the embarrassment of shyly asking for the affection he usually avoids, Suguru chuckles as he deposits the last member of his family into his lap. 

“We could all use a day off,” he murmurs into your temple as he kisses you sweetly. 

You sigh happily, soaking in the warmth of the morning sun and the laughter of your family. 

“Yeah, that sounds nice.” 

The moment is only interrupted when Megumi’s Divine Dogs, only pups at this age, launch themselves onto the couch, eager to join the snuggles. The seven of you dissolve into laughter as you try to maneuver the excited puppies, and you can’t ask for anything else. 

“Megumi!” You laugh, trying to brush white dog hair from your face. “Control your summons!” 

The boy only laughs happily as the dark-coated puppy wiggles into his lap. 

No, he doesn’t think he will. 

bonus:

gojo, looking down at reader and geto: you're so cute and pretty

reader, sleepily: I could beat the shit out of you

geto, nodding along: she could

gojo, lovingly: I know

a/n: no I am not back to writing just yet :')) I wrote this in a pain induced haze while having some terrible cramps so if you have terrible periods like me, this one is for you! this is purely based on my experience with cramps, and everyone is different, but I just wanted to write something for me :") I've never passed out but I've felt like it and I know it's super scary so I hope this can provide some comfort for you if you need it <3

ALSO this was written as comfort for jjk 236 :'))) bc everyone in this fic deserved better and I refuse to acknowledge canon

[churipu]

OUTFIT CHECK 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪���� featuring. gojo satoru, nanami kento, iatdori yuuji x reader

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. jjk men being in love with you.

note. i'm back! i managed to fit in writing this in the middle of my midterms, i just finished my qualitative research paper for the midterms and i have 3 more take home exams to do. i hope you like this piece <33

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔

you stood in front of the mirror, shifting your body from side to side, eying your reflection from different angles. raising a brow, you heaved out a soft sigh — before eventually twirling to face gojo who had been sitting on the edge of the bed. his icy blue eyes had been gazing at you for as long as you've been standing in front of the mirror against your reflection.

"'toru, do you think i look—"

gojo hushes you, putting a finger onto your lips, shutting you up immediately, "no, you don't look bad, and no your outfit doesn't look weird. you look beautiful," he rattles with a small smile.

"but i just feel like something's wrong with my combination," you said, stepping back to disperse from his finger, "like something's out of place. i just don't know what . . ."

gojo slipped an arm across your shoulder, turning your body to face your reflection, "i don't see anything wrong with your outfit or you, baby — you're really pretty . . . and i look pretty amazing too," he winked cheekily at the mirror, kissing the side of your face.

the male had been sitting on the edge of the bed, paying attention to you analyzing your own outfit for the past fifteen minutes. twirling here and there, stepping backwards and forwards cluelessly. the male didn't see anything wrong with your outfit or you, in fact, you looked absolutely stunning in his point of view.

his comment made you break a small smile.

"is this top too revealing?" you turn your back to the mirror, revealing a slight peek at your fragrant s/c skin.

"baby, baby," he scoffs, "i'm the strongest, i can fight, you know? and you look beautiful in that top, you should wear it often, yeah?" his slender fingers grazes over your exposed skin gently, sending shivers down your spine.

a string of laughter escaped your throat, "i love you, you know that?"

the male leaned in and pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, "i love you more. no complaints."

𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈 𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐎

"do you think the top suits the bottom?" you asked nanami after changing into your third pants of the day — brows furrowed in frustration as nothing seemed to be clicking.

nanami raised his eyes from the book he had in his grasp, "you look beautiful," he complimented yet again for the third time.

"kento, how am i supposed to pick an outfit when you keep complimenting them all? help me pick one, will you?" nanami didn't understand why you were insistent on the 'mismatched' outfit (at least you think it is).

but in his eyes, everything seemed well-matched. he'd say it's a 11/10 for your ability to match these outfits of yours, "how? you look beautiful in them all."

groaning out, you raise two bags. a black and sage green bag, "pick one."

nanami inspected the two bags and then looked back at your outfit briefly, "the sage green one would fit perfectly with your outfit now," he pointed.

"okay. how about a jacket, do you think i'll need one?" you questioned, rummaging through the closet, "you always have a hunch of what i'd feel, it's your judgement."

he pondered your words for a bit, "take a jacket. forecast said it's going to be cold tonight, i don't want you getting sick."

you chuckled and bobbed your head, "right. anything else i should bring?"

"pepper spray."

"check."

"be careful, yes? call me if anything happens," nanami whispers, standing up from the bed — initially he wanted to come along with you to meet your friends. but he thought that he'd be a bother to you so he stopped himself from asking, "i love you so much."

"i love you more," you kissed his lips, to which he returned.

"let's drop you there, hm?" nanami grabs your hips, giving your flesh a slight squeeze, leading you out of the house.

𝐈𝐓𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈 𝐘𝐔𝐔𝐉𝐈

"y/n, do you — oh, wow."

yuuji stood, a hand on the handle of the door he just opened and another on the doorway. his jaw dropped at the sight of you, his partner.

you stood in front of a mirror, blinking cluelessly at his reaction. not knowing whether it was his surprise because of how good you looked or the other way around, "yuuji? do i what?"

yuuji blinked himself back into reality, entering the room mutely, his back leaned onto the shut door, "where are you off to?"

shaking your head you gazed back at your reflection, "i'm just mix and matching for a hang out with nobara tomorrow, does this look funny?"

he shook his head harshly, "no, no, you look really nice! really pretty," yuuji honestly said before inhaling, you quite literally took his breath away.

"really? the color suits?" you asked, pinching the shirt you're wearing, "is the pants a bit too short?"

yuuji stood still, "no . . . you — wow, you just look so pretty y/n. i don't know what else to tell you . . ." he whispers, entranced by your figure as he detached his back from the door to approach you.

mustering out a smile, you gave him a hug, "thanks yuuji, you're the best."

he nuzzled his nose into your hair, "you're so beautiful," yuuji mumbled before kissing the crown of your head.

all of a sudden, yuuji pulls back, his face stern and a frown on his face, "how come you're going out with kugisaki and i'm not invited?" he asks you, narrowing his eyes.

"baby, i promise it's just me and her. i'll get you something special on the way back and then we can watch movies? your pick." you pinched his cheeks gently.

"any movies?"

you nod, "any movies."

"okay! deal." yuuji beams out, kissing your cheek.

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[lufyuu]

,,Discipline''

Older military instructor x younger brat male reader

Tw/s: brat taming, dubcon, face fucking, age gap (22&38), sadism, hair grabbing/pulling, punishing themes, light degration and praise.

The room is almost dead quiet if not for the lecture a tall man is giving. Air and people alike both tense. Nobody dares to make a wrong move nor play around. Though, that 'nobody' doesn't include a certain young man who has just barely graduated from college not long ago. Some describe him as a very shameless and lazy man, while others just say he's enjoying life. He'd always be either on his phone or napping all throughout his classes. It seems like it's all he can ever do, even at home. Instead of finding a decent job and finding love like his friends, he only stayed home being a bum living in his parents' basement. This 'routine' continued until he got the sudden news of being enlisted in the military all thanks to his mom, who by this point, had almost given up on her son if not for the neighbors giving advice. They had said their son used to be like hers until they forcefully pushed him into the military. Ever since then, he's been nothing but responsible.

The young man in question is [Name] [L.Name]. The moment you heard you'd go into the military, you got pissed at your mom and locked the door to your bedroom-like basement for a few days. Refusing to eat and talk. This didn't do much other than starve you. The military was unavoidable by this point so, you had no other choice but to depart from home in just a few weeks time.

Today's your second day in the military. Well, you're at the very back of a huge crowd of men in uniforms. They had given everyone a pair of uniform to wear today but honestly, you just threw it on randomly, not even caring if some buttons were left unbuttoned. Somehow, you'd sneaked your phone in. Providing some entertainment as an old man, whom you don't remember the name of, explains the rules and laying out the schedule for your daily life there. You couldn't give less of a fuck. None of this matters anyways, you're going to be out in like what? A few weeks after the training's over. Maybe you'd even get out faster if you show your signature pout to your mom like always.

Scrolling on Twitter, you watch some sex videos without clicking on the video itself. You're a whole creep, but why dwell on it? You've given up on yourself years ago. This doesn't matter all that much. You could even feel yourself getting hard at the sight. You wish you hear them enjoying a good fucking right now. Unfortunately for you and your almost hardened dick, that wouldn't be possible. Even though you sneaked in a phone, you hadn't managed to sneak in a pair of headsets. How unlucky. Your eyes focus on the video, never moving from it even when the man's loud voice pierce through your ears. At the very least, you do know that he's an ex soldier who has fought in one of the many wars that has happened in the past decade. Not that you'd be able to do much with that information. Apparently he came here just to be a substitute as the actual instructor had gotten a serious illness and has a high chance of staying in the hospital for at least a few months, causing him to not be able to come and teach. You'd rather he shut the fuck up though. His loud voice is ruining your mood watching porn. "Jesus can he just shut up", you mumble to yourself, maybe one or two near you heard but not like they'd snitch.

Even in a serious situation, you manage to get hard. Although you're shameless, you're not shameless enough to masturbate infront of all these people. That'd be ridiculous. So, you try to hold yourself back. '10 more minutes...you can hold it' you think to yourself.

You scroll to a particularly sexually arousing video. It shows a man being facefucked roughly. Drool rolling down his chin as he's forced to take it all in, not being able to catch his breath. You can even feel yourself getting harder and harder by the second. You imagine yourself as the one on the receiving end. God how'd amazing it would be to have another man's cock down your throat like that, fucking it and putting you in your place. Just the thought of it is enough to make you twitch.

You hover your finger over the video and just as you're about to scroll. Thump! "I'm so sorry—", the man next to you who had just bumped your dominant hand on accident is silenced by the very loud sound of moaning and slurping coming from your device. You instantly freeze. Not daring or even able to move to close the video. All eyes are now on you as you're the source of the very out of place noises. Heck, you somehow notice the instructor stopping dead in the middle of his lecture just to stare at you through the crowd. Your eyes are still wide as you try your best to salvage what's left or your ego by closing the app entirely. Almost dropping it in the process. "Fuck..", you let out after holding in your words for a few seconds. You're so done for. With that, people begin to whisper just beside you as you can do nothing about it. The room gets noisier and noisier by the second until eventually...

"Silence."a manly and fierce voice commands. It sets the whole mood of the room as everyone turns to face the man in front of them, tense. You could do nothing but follow their move. "Today's lesson is over. Everyone may leave in an orderly fashion.", his tone leaves no room for complaints as everyone leaves quietly, shoulders tense. With you being last in line, he stops you before you even get the chance to make it halfway to the exit. "Not you, young man.", even though your brain tells you to leave, every single part of your body stops, not being able to get out of the dangerous situation. You only stood still as he went over to close the door. When he turns back, you can see his badge and finally identify him as Han Minho. Almost everything comes back to you. He's the soldier who played a crucial part in stopping the war 20 years ago. Here he is now, in the flesh, looking at you with almost a glare.

"You do know why I'm holding you back, don't you?", it's a question yet his tone doesn't seem like one. It's more of getting you to admit your guilt. Though, there's no way you'd admit something like that. "No", you try to avoid his gaze by looking elsewhere and distracting yourself with the walls and floors. He can only sigh at your refusal to admit what you'd done. As he reaches over to his desk to grab something, you take the opportunity to sprint to the door—anndd you're pinned to it. So much for getting out the door, you're not trapped between the door and Minho. You shouldn't have underestimated his strength and agility even for a second as that caused this. "And where do you think you're going? I don't remember letting you off", he hovers over you, you practically have to tilt your head up a bit just to be face to face with the man.

The room remains dead silent for another 10 seconds until Minho finally breaks it. "Give me your phone", he demands, holding his hand out to take it away from you. "That's my property, why should I give it to you?", you try to push him off with your phone still in your hands. He snatches it away and even when you try to grab it back, he has enough ability to keep you away. Seeing as you have a password set, he decides to grab your dominant hand and use your finger to unlock the phone. You tried resisting but of course his strength is outmatched. He immediately goes to your twitter page, finally finding the source of the disturbance in his lecture.

"...so. This, is what you've been up to during my lecture.", he stares at the video, hardly impressed. He looks back at you, "you got turned on by this?", he clealy spots your arousal under those uniform pants. He's merely pointing it out. You shake your head no once more, can't he just let you go already..."Darling, even I have a bigger one", he seems to be pointing out the fact that his dick size is bigger compared to the guy getting sucked off in the video. You scoff, the dick in the video's at least 5-6 inches, what is he even on. "Alright old man, I'm just going to head out with my phone", you try to take the phone out of his hand as he holds it near you uet to no avail. His grip doesn't waver as you try to pry the phone out of his hand. "I don't recall asking you to head back?", his eyes are oh so intimidating as he stares into yours. In a split second, he manages to pull you infront of the desk. "Get on your knees", he lets a chilling smile spread on his face. A smile that sends shivers down your spine, your knees getting weaker by the second. You still refuse and try to put on a brave face which only frustrates Minho more. "Unless you want me to spread this? I can assure you, anything that comes out of my mouth will be spreading like wildfire.", he shakes your phone a bit. He isn't wrong nor exaggerating. Anything coming out of his mouth is bound to reach the ears of your parents and maybe even close friends. You can't let that happen!

Reluctantly, you get on your knees infront of him. You look up at his tall figure, wondering what he wants or even gain from this. His hands reach over to his zipper as he slowly and teasingly zip it down. "W-wait!", you try to stop his hands by overlapping them with yours. He waits for you to continue your sentence yet you cant find the words to express what you want. "Why are you hesitating? Isn't this what you want? You're already hard", he points out your hard-on, straining against your pants. You can't respond to it as it is true you're hard and needy. With a simple yank, your hands fall back on the ground as he finishes undoing his pants. He slips his hard and long dick out. It's very close to your face, hell, it even almost slapped you. After a few seconds, you could tell his dick is definitely bigger than the one you had just seen a couple minutes ago. "What? Cat got your tongue?", he has a smug expression on his face due to how quiet you became. "Why don't you take care of my cock if you have nothing else to do?", he raises his eyebrows as his eyes lower into an intimidating gaze. "And don't use any teeth", rather than a request, it felt more like a threat. You put your hands around his cock and start to slowly lick the head ever so slightly. Not having prior experience in sucking nor licking cock, you do such a bad job at it that it gets a yawn from the man whose hard cock you're tending to. "Is that the best you can do? At least try putting half of it in your mouth", you try your best to fit half of his cock in but of course it's a bit hard. When it is in, you begin to suck and lick his cock. Trying to ignore the fact you feel like you're about to choke if you keep it in any longer.

"That's better, good boy", he praises and calls you a pet name. He takes out your phone and begins to record you sucking his cock. For a few seconds, you don't notice ad you're too focused on sucking his dick. When you do notice, you try to back off and remove his cock from your mouth. This ends up with him grabbing your hair and pulling you back, taking his whole cock in your mouth, the tip of your nose touching his happy trail. Your face contort in a mixture of gagging and somewhat pain. You so desperately want to get his dick out of your mouth but he keeps your head firmly there. Not moving at all for maybe 5 seconds. Even when he does let you move, it's just him guiding you back and forth. Your hair is super messy now due to him gripping it so hard, thrusting his hips into you, making you take it in your throat. "You're doing such a great job...ah...", he grunts and moans. The hand holding your phone is very still, making sure to get the best view of his dick going in and out your mouth.

You can even taste some of his precum in your mouth. Both of you can tell he's close to his climax. The way he thrusts faster and faster gives it all away. All you can do is hope that he cums faster. As his grunts and moans get louder, his hand almost loses grip on the phone. "Agh..ah..'m cumming..don't swallow,,agh yet!", cum starts to pour into your mouth, a lot of it. It almost overflows and due to your mouth being wide open, some of it drips on the ground in-between the two of you. You close your eyes as you can feel the warm liquid enter. When Minho pulls away, there was a sticky string that connected his cock to your mouth. He pants while you try your best to close your mouth without swallowing any. "Look at me", you look up at him as his fingers part your lips without using any force. It reveals your mouth full of his cum. Finishing the recording, he takes a picture of your face with his cum dripping out your mouth before telling you to "swallow."

He eventually returns your phone back to you after tidying himself up. "Clean up this mess you've made. I expect you to be on your best behavior next time." He walks past you towards the door. "If not, there will be more where that came from", he doesn't even look at you as he says those words. Only letting a little chuckle and walking away, the door closing as he does, leaving you all alone with cum all over the floor and your phone.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

A couple of months later, you find yourself making more and more friends. They aren't your close friends in any way but it's nice having a handful of people to talk to as you go through the intensive training together. Ever since the incident, you find yourself avoiding the mistake you had made before. Fortunately, you manage to keep your phone on you rather than having it confiscated by Han Minho. Even though you never notice, Minho has always been paying more attention to you than others. Perhaps he's trying to catch you on your phone once more for another round. Regardless, whatever the reason is, you're oblivious to it.

Your routine stays the same. It's the same old routine for everyone there anyways. Get up at 5AM, get ready and have a bit of breakfast before the morning training. Have a few hours to yourself where everyone's free to do anything they would like. Then it's lunchtime before going back to training.

The cafeteria is busy due to everyone flocking to it in order to fill their empty stomachs. The sound of people chstting away, muttering and even whispering to one another, fills the whole room. You take a seat next to one of your buddies. "How'd you guys sleep?", you ask, trying to start a conversation before biting down on your sandwich. The whole incident behind you. "Eh, I've slept better nights", one answers that starts a chain reaction of people agreeing. You can see where they're coming from. The whole training's tiring not to mention boring. The table's silent for a moment until someone perks up. "Hey! I know what we should do!", he looks at everyone with anticipating eyes. Everyone, including you, look at him confusingly. "We should have a little fun before going to bed, that'll make us sleep better and not be bored", he recommends excitedly. You all looks at one another before nodding. "Sounds like an idea but...what should we do?", you tilt your head to which he replies with a smug expression.

The clock tick tocks as it points at 22:48. It's usually when people are already sleeping after a long day of training. But not you and your friends though. You're all wide awake sitting on the floor with a water bottle. It's just the beginning of the game your friend had suggested. It's a bit tense due to the fact everyone's sacred of being caught, especially if it's by the Han Minho. He's scarier than everyone in the training combined. Once he says something, everyone shuts up and listens or at the very least keep up the act of listening even is they aren't. "Let's whisper for now, what if he's out on patrol in the hallways..we'll be absolutely fucked", the man next to you, Tae, suggests. As he says this, he leans into the middle in order for everyone to hear and raising his right hand at the side of his mouth. Everyone nods in agreement as the game starts quietly and slowly.

"Joon, truth or dare?", Tae starts the game, pointing at the friend sitting across from the two of you. He pauses for a moment and proceeds to pick 'truth'. It's what anyone would pick, really. Tae doesn't hesitate to ask him a question. It seems as if he's been holding this in for a while. "Is it true that your dad's a close friend of Han Gyogwan-nim?", Joon shares the same energy as he immediately nods excitedly. "Yeah! And you guys wanna know something?", he gathers everyone while leaning into the circle. Everyone does the same as he gossips, "I heard he used to have a wife before she left him", some chuckle while others look in disbelief, "how come? He's honestly kinda...", another person in the group, Jaehyun, chimes in. Insinuating that their instructor's good-looking which isn't entirely false. "I'm not quite sure", Joon backs away from the gathering, "something about not being able to get it up", now everyone's snickering, someone as intimidating as him, not being able to get hard? What a joke. Well, it sounds like a joke to you anyway. If he isn't able to get it up, how the fuck was he stuffing your mouth with cock and cum just a few months back?

Moving on from the first question, everyone gets a bit more comfortable now that Joon's revealed a secret of their oh so intimidating 'boss.' Hell, they don't even try to be quiet anymore, some talking in their normal voice and some even outright laughing loudly. Thankfully for everyone in the room, Han Minho isn't around to hear their loud noises.

It's been a couple rounds since the first. Everyone knows to be as quiet as possible while still having fun. "Spin it!", you nudge a guy next to you. Tae bends to spin the bottle in the middle of the circle. It spins for a bit before stopping at you. "[Name]! Truth or dare", he turns to ask you to which you confidently reply with "dare of course", with a cheeky grin. They all begin to discuss on what to dare you to do. "Go commando until tomorrow", as Tae says that, they all begin to laugh. To you, it's nothing major. You've done that a couple times in the past anyways, it's quite comfortable.

1:20AM...

2:41AM...

3:00AM.

Remembering you all have to wake up at 5 and also the fact that everyone's tired as shit, you along with the others head to bed and close the very dim light source, leaving the room almost pitch dark. You're so comfortable that in just seconds of closing your eyes, you fall into a deep sleep.

Maybe too deep of a sleep due to the fact you don't wake up in time for training. Nobody came in to fetch any of you which is quite strange to say the least but none of you minded due to the fact you're all catching up on some good old sleep. Even when it's already 5:20, not a single soul in that room is awake. Some are snoring, some are quiet, some even have their blankets thrown onto the ground. You're alnost sprawled out on the mattress with drool escaping from your mouth.

The ever so dark room is then pierced by the door opening. A tall figure appears at the doorway. The sudden light wakes up a few, with them rubbing their eyes and yawning as if they aren't 20 minutes late. "Hm? What time is it", your friend asks, still yawning and adjusting his eyes to see who it is that has woken them up. "Get. Up.", his eyes meets the glaring ones belonging to Han Minho. Their instructor. This immediately wakes them up, checking the time and seeing it's way past when they're supposed to get up. Even when they're still sleepy, they fight the urge to go back to bed and instead pick themselves up, practically sprinting outside, past Minho. Most of them went out. All but one [Name] who is still sleeping soundly, probably dreaming of...dirty things. Turning the dim lights on, the man steps closer and closer to your still sleeping figure. Your peaceful face contrasts his dissapointed and frustrated one. He pulls off your blanket roughly. Due to the fact you're having a wet dream and how you're not wearing any underwear, your erection can be seen clearly by the older man.

Not long after, lustful noises coming from you can be heard. 'Even in your dreams, you're still a horny bastard.', is what Minho thinks of. Though, he can't deny that your beautiful noises have made him hard. He still thinks of that incident every single day. Hell, he even jerks off to the thought of it every night. Without someone to satisfy his needs, he resorts to you and the thought of you.

God all he wants to do right now is flip you over and fuck you senseless but he must keep his composure as best he can. You're asleep afterall. Using his index finger and thumb, he reaches over to pinch your cheek, hard. This wakes you up almost immediately, it really hurted! "Ow ow!", you push his hand away as you open your eyes. Sitting up, you rub your cheek as your eyes try to focus and see who it was that did this to you. "Han Gyogwan-nim!?", you yell outloud, shocked at the man's presence. He shuts his eyes in annoyance. "Be quiet, you're going to alert the others", you look at him in confusion, "do you want me to help with your little problem over there?", he vaguely points at your 'problem'. You look at the direction he's pointing at and realizes you're hard...but so is he.

He notices as you oogle at his clothed cock which is straining against his pants. "How about we help each other out?", he suggests, putting a knee on the soft mattress. Eventually, he's in between your legs, face just inches away from yours. Blush covers your whole face. You don't know what to do. What could you do..?

His body slightly brushing your already hardened cock makes you even more tense and aroused. He presses his lips onto yours.

You instinctively put your hands on his shoulders, wanting to push him away but at the same time, melting into the kiss. You stay there, conflicted as his hands trail closer and closer to your pants. The only piece of clothing protecting your bare ass from the rough man. Just as you're getting used to this..position, the door almost swings open. With all your strength, you catch Minho off guard and shove him into your blanket. Thankfully for the both of you, by the way the door is facing, the large lump in your blanket isn't too noticeable, you can brush it off as you just sitting up.

Joon stands in the doorway, making a loud noise as he calls out for you, "[Name]! Quick! Didn't Han Gyogwan-nim come here to wake you up too!? We're going to be dead by the time we get to the training grounds!", he is about to approach you when you stop him. "Please sta—! aGH."

From inside your blanket, you can feel a certain man's fingers reaching their way into your boxer-less pants. Reaching behind and fondling; gropping your ass as it searches for your hole. You gasp at the action. In just a few seconds, his finger is already plunging itself into your tight hole. "[Name]..? Are you okay? Sick?", Joon asks with a worried look but also confused. You put your hand up to your mouth, muffling out any unintentional sound that might come out of your mouth. "U-uh..ye-yes, I am..", you agree with him. He sighs, "I'll inform Han Gyogwan-nim, eat the medicine over by the cabinet, he might might not agree to let you off scot free the next time you miss training..", little does he know, that 'Gyogwan-nim' is currently 2 fingers deep in your hole, twisting and turning inside you to find your prostate. You can only sit there and take it as you should. You really wsnt to bury your face into the pillow right now in order to properly conceal your facial expressions from Joon but that's not possible at the moment. One wrong move and who knows what Minho might do.

"Do you have a fever?", he steps closer once more, this time, too close for comfort. Coincidentally, at this moment, Minho finds your prostate, making you jerk in pleasure, "aH..!", you shut your eyes, biting on the inner part of your lip while stopping Joon with your hand. Signaling a stop with it. "Are you sure you're okay...? You're really weird right now man", "p-please give me some time...", you can barely hold in the noises you so badly want and need to let out. Joon eventually walks away with a weirded out look. He'll get over it soon.

The door closes behind Joon and you can feel Minho's fingers getting faster and faster. In and out of your hole, trying to get you to cum. You throw your head back, closing your eyes and finally letting out those moans Minho's been wanting to hear for so long. Though, just as you're about to cum, Minho stops as if he knew you would. Your breath hitches and you look back to face the man who has just removed his fingers out of you. His expression displays sadism. It's clear that he loves seeing you like this more than anything. "We can't have you cumming that fast now can we? It'll be no fun", he starts to remove his belt and then pants until he reaches his boxer. You can only watch him impatiently, wanting his cock deep inside you already and so does he.

Once his dick is freed from the clothing covering it, he wastes no time and flips you over on your belly. "Ass up", he commands and by whatever readon, your body feels compelled to do what's told. With your ass facing him, he plunges his fat cock into you. If it weren't for you pushing him a bit with your hand reaching back, it would have already gone deep inside you. Fortunately, it's only halfway there. He chuckles knowing his cock is too big for you to even handle. Neither one of you knows whether it'll fit or not. "Fuck..", he curses as he feels your hole squeezing his cock. Oh how long has he been waiting for this feeling. To be inside of you. He can't wait anymore. Even with you putting your whole strength into trying to keep him in place, he can overpower you quite easily. With a simple push, his cock slides in all the way in, balls deep. You can feel your eyes roll back, trying to form a coherent word. You've never taken anything this big before, especially not in your ass. Minho looks absolutely satisfied. Words can't explain the amount of pleasure he feels and will be feeling in a few seconds. "T-too big...", finally being able to talk just a few words, you state the obvious. You can even see his cock bulging just a bit above your belly button. It's too much.

"I'm going to move now", he immediately gets to it. Thrusting in and out, moving his hips. Your poor hole is sure to be thoroughly stretched after this. Your warn insides welcoming his cock by squeezing so tight, almost not wanting to let go. You don't contain your loud moans, letting them all out. It's like music to Minho's ears, to know you're enjoying every bit of it just like he is. He groans due to how tight you are. You bury your face into the pillow, trying to muffle the sound of moans due to it being the morning, not to mention the door being unlocked. If someone were to enter the door right now, they'd be face to face with you and your hole being stuffed full of cock.

The sound of skin slapping against skin is loud. Afterall, Minho is being extra rough with you. Maybe he's punishing you, or, he could be rewarding himself with you due to how long he's held back the urge to just pound you infront of everyone during training. His thrusts get faster and faster until you think it's inhumanly possible for him to be fucking you this hard. Your moans and yells are muffled by the soft pillow. One hand has a firm grip on your waist while the other gropes your ass, loving the feeling of your squishy and soft skin. "You love this don't you, [Name]", he chuckles in between breaths, a smirk on his face as he knows you can't reply. You can feel your mind go blank as he moves his hips. Your hands can only tightly hold the sheets and blanket next to you.

"Agh..Take my seed like a good boy..!", his voice shaky, clearly about to reach his limit. As he thrusts back in, his cum fills your insides. He stays there with his dick inside you as it pumps all his cum deep inside of your hole. At the same time, you also manage to cum, splurting all over the mattress. Coating the off white sheets with your thick cum. You pant, catching your breath, not able to process anything in your cock filled head. Minho places a hand over your stomach, holding you up and to make sure his cock is still inside as he leans down on your back, also trying to catch his own breath. "Good boy, you took me so well", you turn to look at him. His satisfied expression and even more satisfied cock.

˗ˏˋ ꒰ ♡ ꒱ ˎˊ˗

"Everyone, listen up.", the manly voice commands the whole room. Everyone stands up straight, paying attention on the owner of said voice. "I will not tolerate anyone else being late. Once the clock hits 5AM, I expect all of you to already be here.", he walks around infront of the perfect lines. His gaze is sharp. He allows no room for jokes. You stand at the very front of one of the lines. Occasionally, his eyes meet yours. Everytime you do meet eyes, there's a slight smirk on his face. Unnoticeable by everyone but you. You can't just ignore it. The both of you know why he's in such a good mood.

"This is the last time I'll tolerate any of you being late. There will be severe consequences the next time someone is. Understood?", Minho glares at the crowd. "Understood!", they all say in unision. He nods in approval. "Very well then. Today, everyone will get more rest, and we will begin training tomorrow.", he dismisses the whole training, leaving everyone confused as he walks back into his office. Everyone looks around in astonishment. Tae and Joon immediately go up to you. "Are you feeling better? Thank the heavens Han Gyogwan-nim decided to be nice today. What's that about anyways???", Joon asks with a confused look, just like any other soldier in training.

"Why're you so tense?", Tae points out as you don't have time to answer Joon's questions. You avoid eye contact as it gets a bit awkward. How could you not be when you have so much cum inside of you right now? Cum which belongs to none other than Han Minho. This is your punishment, he wants to see how long you'll last before you come crawling to him again for more cock. "N-no reason!", "relax!", Tae pats you on the back. You accidentally unclench and feel his cum dripping down inside your long pants. Who knows, maybe someone will notice. Maybe that someone will be a certain instructor. You're in for a long day and night.

══════════════════════════════

I hope you all like him! I don't have a lot to say about this man since it's almost 4am for me and I need sleep...

Please dont mind typos/grammar mistakes, I didn't have enough time to check the whole thing cuz I wanted to release it before going to sleep🥲

[elkian]

So I never really questioned Kabru and Mithrun's dynamic given what's coming up, but that episode really emphasized some stuff to me. We know already that long-lived races, particularly elves, have a tendency to dismiss the other groups as being childlike. But the sheer infantilization that everyone, and specifically Kabru, have to deal with in that episode really hammers it home.

When Kabru mentions his adoption, pretty much all of the Canaries start immediately treating him like a toddler. And we know from flashbacks in the manga that he received pretty much the same treatment from his adopter - I wouldn't say he was quite treated like a favored pet, but it's much closer to that than any kind of healthy relationship dynamic.

So when Mithrun stands up, gets in his face, looks him eye-to-eye and says: "You're plotting something. I'm going to find out what.", that? That is the first time in this scene - maybe in his life - that an elf takes Kabru seriously. Mithrun has his own thing going on, but regardless of his reasoning, he addresses Kabru as a person and an adult. As someone with complex motivations who could potentially trip him up. I don't doubt Kabru has in the past used that infantilization to his advantage, but it's blatantly obvious that he doesn't enjoy it. Who would? So Mithrun starting their relationship by treating Kabru as a peer explains a lot about their dynamic down the line, in my opinion.

Kabru doesn't have to prove his humanity, his personhood, his adulthood to this man, one of a group infamous for how they treat younger species. It must feel like one hell of a paradigm shift.

EDIT: I've seen it pointed out on this post and others that Kabru also shows Mithrun understanding and decency and sees him in a way that others haven't been and I think that's a very important parallel and good point.

[enderlovez]

Advent Calendar

Spencer Reid x Kindergarten Teacher Reader WORD COUNT: 628

Summary: You've always been the kind of teacher who goes out of her way to make sure her students have a good time, so it's no surprise to Spencer when he finds you awake in the middle of the night making little advent calendars for your kindergarteners.

Content Warning: literally none, this is so cute

────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ──────

Your hands are smothered in glitter and paint and globs of colorful glue, some even beginning to dry on your clothes and into your hair as you keep absentmindedly pushing loose strands out of your face.

Spencer thinks you look absolutely adorable, as you struggle to assemble a tiny paper reindeer, tongue poking out in concentration, but he knows you wouldn't appreciate having glue stuck in your hair.

You're not yet aware of Spencer's presence in your apartment, since he came in using the spare key you gave him a few weeks ago.

The faintest creak of the floorboards across the room pulls your attention away from the paper reindeer, fingers freezing mid-glue as you look up and settle your gaze on Spencer.

"Don't mind me," he says, his voice laced with quiet amusement. "I'm just observing a master at work."

You jump to your feet, cheeks already heating. "What are you doing here?" you question frantically, wiping your glittery hands on your shirt—something to worry about later.

He holds up the spare key, his lips twitching into a small smile. "You mentioned you were doing something for your class. Thought I'd stop by to check on you."

"Check on me, or make fun of me?" you retort, brushing a stray bit of glitter off your face—though it only works to smear the sparkles further, eliciting a frustrated groan from the back of your throat.

"Both, maybe," he teases, stepping closer and tucking the key safely into his pocket. His gaze quickly sweeps over your workspace—the piles of tiny candies, neatly folded ribbons, and mismatches piles of construction paper. "You really go all out for your kids, don't you?"

It's not even really a question, because Spencer already knows you do. This isn't the first time he's visited you in the midst of creating something special for your students.

You shrug, the defensiveness melting from your voice. "They deserve it," you murmur as you drop back down onto the couch. "It's just... nice to give them something to look forward to. Some of them don't have the same privileges as others."

Spencer nods, his expression softening as he kneels to your level, inspecting the chaos. "You've got paint in your hair, by the way. And glitter," he points out, lightly tugging at a stray, glitter-dusted lock.

"Great," you mutter, grabbing for a damp cloth you set aside in advance, but Spencer stops you with a chuckle.

"Leave it. It suits you."

The warmth in his tone tends a flutter through your chest. He reaches past you to pick up one of the fifteen half-finished advent calendars, his long fingers careful not to smudge your work—and a lot of work it is. "You know, statistically, kindergarten teachers are some of the most dedicated professionals in their field."

You laugh, rolling your eyes. "And statistically, how often do FBI agents barge into their girlfriends' apartments in the middle of the night to watch them drown in glitter?"

Spencer grins, setting the drying calendar back down. "I think you're a unique case."

You narrow your eyes at him in mock offense, but the smile forcing its way onto your face gives you away.

"Well, don't just stand there and watch, Doctor Reid. Grab some scissors and glitter," you say, resuming where you left off on the little paper reindeer. "If you're going to interrupt, you might as well help."

His eyebrows lift in false surprise, but he doesn't argue. Instead, he plops down beside you on the sofa, his own hands soon joining yours in the mess of paper and glue and glitter.

He's much more efficient than you in terms of how quickly he can put together a tiny paper reindeer, is all you have to say about the experience.

[devotedlyandrogynousyouth]

Love your DC content!! Can you write something olderbf bruce becoming a parent with younger reader? Or bestfriend jason finding out reader is dating dick?

Thank you 💜

Omg absolutely!! Tysm for the request and I definitely want to write the one for Jason at some point in the future, buttt for now, because its 2 AM, you'll get some OlderBF! Bruce :)

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne Becoming a Parent

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who finds out that you're pregnant before you even know. To be fair, it didn't take the world's greatest detective to notice the menstrual products in your master bathroom that haven't been touched in the past two months or so.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who makes you feel silly for ever being nervous about telling him that you're pregnant, even though he's freaking out a little on the inside.

Your day was long. Long enough that your back had been aching and your feet and ankles were sore. Hell, you could barely keep your eyes open while standing, how the hell could you exoect yourself to stay awake while laying down on one of the lavish couches in Wayne Manor's library? But, in the blink of an eye (literally), you were awoken by Bruce carefully taking off your shoes. Had you really just passed out on the spot? Pregnancy symptoms must've been hitting you a little harder than you thought...

"Any morning sickness today?" He asks casually as he finishes taking off your other shoe before pressing a kiss to your knee.

"No... It's been alright." You answer without thinking too much about the question. But after a few moments of relishing in the heavenly feeling of Bruce rubbing your swollen feet, the question clicks. "Wait, I can explain-"

"And so can the pads and tampons in the bathroom that haven't been used in two months." He answers before you can finish, his tone as casual as if he were talking about the rainy Gotham weather. "Were you going to tell me?" Bruce asks as he continues his minstrations on your sore feet, his thumbs pressing into your aching arches.

"Of course I was." You answer without hesitation, because you knew you could never keep a secret from Bruce for too long. He was far too observant for that. Yet another difference between him and the younger guys you've dated. "I just couldn't find a good time."

"Look at me, sweetheart." His voice is soft as he tilts your chin towards him, gently stroking your jaw in such a soothing manner that you may just fall asleep again. "Any time is a good time to talk to me about something like this, alright? I don't care how many work meetings I have or how late it is; you are always my top priority."

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who doesn't expect you to keep the baby, nor does he let you go through making a decision on your own. By the time you hit your third month, the two of you had talked maybe three to four times about what would be best for you, because you are the most important person in his life.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who is immediately at your side for every will and command from that moment on. He knows that this is your first child and just how hard the pregnancy will be on your body, so he refuses to risk anything. You need water? He's already there with a glass and small snack for you. You need to use the bathroom on one of the rare nights that he's home? He's already helping you out of bed and giving you long, tired hugs as soon as you stand before leading you to the master bathroom.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who starts taking a few more nights off whenever he can from his patrols just to be there for you and the tiny life inside your womb. He trusts that Dick can handle Gotham for a few nights on his own every once in a while, for your sake.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who still hasn't told you about his double life as a vigilante, but finally starts considering it. As soon as he started looking at rings, he knew he'd have to come clean eventually. He needed you in his life far more than he thought he'd ever need anyone or anything.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who doesn't let the paparazzi near you at all throughout your pregnancy. In fact, he's tried to keep you inside as much as possible to avoid them, since the two of you never made a public announcement. It was for your safety as much as it was for his sanity.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who is right there as soon as the contractions start (after his initial shock and internal panic attack). He doesn't leave your side for a moment, not even when he's certain you've fractured something in his hand from how hard you're gripping it.

There was almost a swarm of motion around you in the private hospital room you were set up in. Your contractions were coming in strong, and so was your grip on Bruce's hand. "Bruce, I can't do this," well, its a little late for that, "it's too much." You're practically sobbing at this point as you feel the foreboding pressure of an oncoming attraction in your uterus.

"Yes, you can." Bruce is sitting in a chair right next to your bed, the guardrail down while he has one arm around your shoulders and his free hand being crushed by your grip. "I'm right here. You've already made it this far, sweetheart."

And, for a moment, you almost believe him. Until another contraction comes rattling through your body, this one far stronger than the rest you've experienced. "I cant, I can't, I can't, I can't." Is all you can cry out in utter agony, your knuckles turned white as you grip Bruce's hand.

"Do you have any idea how close you are to being done?" He asks as he gently rubs your shoulder, trying not to show just how painful your grip on his hand is. "Five more minutes, alright? Five more minutes of suffering for a lifetime of happiness. Do you think you can handle that for me, sweetheart?"

And, despite your body feeling like its burning and being torn in half, you nod. In what feels like mere moments later, the sound of shrilling cries fill the delivery room. Bruce swears it's the most beautiful sound he's ever heard.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who, for the first time in literal years, cries while holding your infant. His face is red, cheeks are tear-stained, and his beautiful blue eyes are puffy and watery: the same beautiful blue eyes that your baby has.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who is pampering you in affection and attention for the entire time you're in the hospital. Every single craving you've had but couldn't satisfy for the past nine months, he already has brought to you in bed.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who, when the baby is taken by nurses for examinations a day or two after the birth, shows you a ring. A beautiful, beautiful ring that fits your left hand perfectly and shimmers in the bright hospital lights. Your engagement ring.

OlderBF! Bruce Wayne who has a private, simple wedding with you, Alfred, his adoptive children, and your beautiful newborn. The press was too risky to deal with for a public wedding, and Bruce wanted those special moments to just be for your family, not for the media's prying eyes.

OlderHusband! Bruce Wayne who is there for as many milestones as he can be. First steps? He's got the camera. Their first words? "Dada." Their baby teeth coming in? He's already bought those little tooth-shaped containers for when they fall out in a couple of years.

OlderHusband! Bruce Wayne who always knew it was you. You were the best thing to have ever happened in his life, and he refused to mess that up. He knew that, eventually, he would have to tell you about his double life as the Caped Crusader, but he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

Masterlist

[senseandaccountability]

the narrative that could have been

Having mulled over the game for a couple of days I have realised that the main problem for me is that Veilguard is good based on the premises they ultimately choose, but not based on the set up and promise of what was there before. I know this isn’t a unique take by any means and yes it’s all about the Evanuris and the Veil and Solas. 

Replaying really emphasises how incredibly little the game convinces me of its original main quest - to prevent Solas from doing his ritual. This is a problem as a long-term player because for three games we’ve had build up for a great crescendo tackling the overarching themes of the (restrictions and oppression of) magic, of tears in the Veil, of religious tyranny and oppression based on myths about the Black City and the temptations of flawed humans, we’ve seen and deconstructed the elves quite a bit, we got started on the dwarves and in DAI your Inquisitor can openly ask Solas if it wouldn’t be better if the Veil came down because then spirits wouldn’t be separated from the living and risk becoming demons. Cole, whose function is to reflect the plot, talks endlessly about the old songs wanting to be sung again, about how it hurts to be cut off from part of yourself, how the templars feel it, how the mages feel it, how the elves and the dwarves feel it. The Veil as a prerequisite for life has been deconstructed, the Fade demystified, the gods have mostly fallen. The Veil as an actual wound inflicted on this earth has been presented as a theory and not been convincingly rejected by the narrative. 

The game actually gives no explanation whatsoever as to why the Veil coming down would be worse than what Rook causes in the beginning and what the escaped gods then do to the entire Thedas. The entire south falls to the Blight because Elgar’nan and Ghilan'nain are let loose. The Wardens are more or less wiped out. There’s enormous political turmoil. The game gives us Solas saying “thousands” would die when he brought the Veil down, but that he had a host of spirits there to help. (Yes, I know, his sole function in this game is to Trick and Deceive so who is to say if he’s lying, HUH, but even so, THE ENTIRE SOUTH FALLS TO THE BLIGHT IN ROOK’S VERSION OF THINGS.)

The game puts emphasis on Solas's questionable methods and past horrors but it doesn't ever explain why his goals are despicable here and now. It doesn't convince us that tearing down the Veil with lots of safety measures in place and after considerations is a bad result, all things considered - save for Varric’s initial yelling about demons. (We even learned in DAI that the Veil itself creates demons because it restricts the passage of spirits, come on.) Because three games have suggested it's not, not ultimately. Trespasser especially nuances this, just as it nuances Solas’s view of this current world state. Right after his long nap he would have nuked it all, I’m sure, but the whole point of character arcs is that things happen in them and what happened to him is that he was shown layers and angles he had not considered and adjusted his mindset and ultimately his plan accordingly. That is where DAV should have picked it up. That's where the build up was headed. But, now he must serve the narrative solely as the God of Treachery and Lies which means that previous build up is washed away for the most part. (In no way do I think he is OOC in DAV, I just want to point that out so nobody thinks I’m a sappy fangirl or whatever. I think he is perfectly in tune with his inner Dread Wolf, but that is also all he gets to be, because of the narrative, and I’m always much more interested in when roles and personas clash.) Again. The main problem is that the narrative cannot explain why bringing down the Veil would be the worse option than the shit we see unfold on screen. Instead it gets a bit lost in the past.  And I have Issues with that, as well.  Like, the dumbing down of the war against the Evanuris. The war that started because the leaders of the rebellion - who previously had to carry out terrible orders so the Evanuris, the upper crust of the Elvhenan, could play gods - decided that the Evanuris was a threat to them all. And the game gives us what, a depiction of how the rebellion ended up crossing lines, too? No shit.

Like, I am fully on board with the individual theme of regret on Solas’s part and he ought to be wrecked with guilt but I wish the game could be less all over the place with what sort of things he ought to be wrecked with guilt over. Saying fuck you to the Evanuris is the best and brightest of his character, I suppose I just don't want it dragged down to the same level as him breaking the Titans. I suppose I would have wished for a narrative that also worked on a systemic level when depicting things like, you know, war and revolutions and subjugation. But we don't have that, because DAV is only about personal choices. The Lighthouse crew flippantly writing the hierarchical and violent power struggle off as being about love and betrayal is on my shitlist forever. 

No, Taash et al, it was not about pussy, it was about feeling compelled by superiors to commit heinous war crimes and being lied to about the actual purposes of your damn war in the first place. The elves shouting at Elgar’nan and Mythal in this painting aren’t driven by love and sex they have been lied to by their ruling class. It was never about freedom or ending the wars, it was always about Elgar’nan jerking off to ultimate godhood. The writing even suggests betrayal here is to be understood as Netflix drama betrayal, maybe some juicy porny plot but it’s ABOUT THE BETRAYAL OF THE ELVES BY THEIR OWN KIN.  ((ETA: I would have wanted my Dalish mage to be allowed to be furious, NOT WITH SOLAS, but with the fucking Evanuris for betraying her people and being so fucking vile that the only option that remained was to create a world where she's a second-class citizen. I would have wanted the game to recognize that not all causes are equal and that Elgar'nan's cause for godhood was objectively more vile than Solas's cause for freedom because as it stands now, there are some really iffy vibes of "both sides are equally bad" and other things authorities tend to say when comparing destructive regimes with uprisings.)) I’m sorry, this shit hits me on a personal and political rage level. 

I also can’t help but mourn a game where the Trickster God fulfilled his trope’s duty and shook the stagnation apart with his actions - for good or ill, the way trickster gods are wont to do - and where Rook was tricked into helping and then, a more complex game about its consequences could have unfolded. The Evanuris could still have been the bad guys, if they wanted big villains frothing at the mouth. There could still have been numerous unplanned consequences, like all of Solas's plans have. Maybe other ancients awake as well. Maybe ancient evils who aren’t elves, who knows. Point is - the Veil should have come down, at least in some form, at least in some outcome. THAT is what they've been building up to. In this game that never was, Rook could be an actual interesting character where we could mold her as either accepting of this trickster role (which fits perfectly for a blank slate with no ties) or set to overturn it and enforce status quo, with some vanilla option in the middle. Maybe the Veil doesn’t come down until the very end of the game, ancient magic takes time after all, maybe a lot has happened by then. But ultimately, Rook’s choice in the end should not have been about siding against Solas because he’s lying to you or because he did horrible things in the past or siding with him because you want him redeemed. The narrative should have provided those options either way. The narrative should have been brave enough to suggest that hey, maybe Solas isn't wrong at all - his methods maybe, but his goal, no. If they truly wanted mirrors between Rook and Solas, Rook should have tackled the issue of actively bringing down the Veil herself, not because it's a roses and sunshine-outcome but because it might very well be the lesser of two evils. Gods, that would have been interesting. It should have been a choice about what sort of world Rook and the Veilguard wants to see in the future. It should have been about the people, the world, not how angry Rook is that an ancient elf has tricked her. 

That would have been the game I wanted to play.  This story doesn't really give anything new to the world of Thedas, which a world without the Veil would have. It accomplishes closure for our favourite trickster god and bless them for that, but as for the plot and the world-building it ends on a meh because the narrative isn't about the people unless they're brought up as being endangered. This is why I can feel satisfaction regarding the thematic conclusion to certain character arcs, the trickster becomes the healer with the bloodiest hands, the wolf submits willingly to his trap and so on and so forth, and I can have fun with the characters and their arcs but also really mourn the game that was there, in subtext and build up over three previous games and in several tie-ins.

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Taking Care Of You When You're Drunk

A/N: Not requested, just an idea I had! Still not feeling great, but I will definitely get back to requests tomorrow :) This is just a lil thank you for your patience my loves! Feedback is always appreciated! 💜

Butcher notices you've been drinking a lot more than usual. Ever since you found out he was dying, you've been trying not to think about it or worry about it, and the only way you can do that is by drinking. Getting drunk is just a fun side effect. He'll drive you from the bar, taking your shoes off before tucking you into his bed. He hates the idea that you're hurting yourself like this because of him, because he didn't listen to you and he took the V without regard to his or your safety. The least he could do was hold your hair while you threw up and bring you a glass of water and some Tylenol. You don't talk about it, though. You don't want to talk about him dying, you don't want to face that future, and you don't want to talk about your growing problem. You were drinking on the job, too, maintaining a certain numbness so that nothing else could hurt you.

Hughie hates that you're drinking more. He understands why. More and more stuff just keeps going wrong. More and more issues pop up. It's hard to be positive or optimistic. It was easier to find your way to the bottom of a bottle than to come face to face with any of this stuff. He doesn't mean to pry, but he asks you a lot of questions. The main one is why are you doing this? You just shrugged. It's so hard to explain. Everything feels like too much. You were tired, and scared, and you weren't sure you wanted to do this anymore. What was the point? He tried to cheer you up. You had the serum in the severed leg, you were so close, why give up now? You wanted to be that hopeful. You really did, but you couldn't.

Annie definitely lectures you. This is the third night in a row (this week alone) where the bartender called her, your emergency contact, taking your keys from you. You've been drinking a lot more, ever since you left The Seven and joined The Boys. You worked with Vought for so long, she knew there was a lot you weren't saying. She tried to talk to you about it, but you were so cagey, shutting her out instead. Shutting everyone out. It was awful, that much she knew. Still, everyone went through something. That didn't give you the right to get as drunk as you were as often as you were. You're barely listening, but she gives you her speech anyways. She'll keep telling it to you until something changes.

M.M. hates taking care of you when you're like this. The biggest thing he can't stand is the vomit. He stays as far away from you as possible, yelling from the across the room if you're okay. He offers hand sanitizer and napkins and mouthwash, but he refuses to get any closer than that. The noises alone make his skin crawl, let alone the smell. He's in charge now. He feels like he has to take care of everyone, regardless of the issue. You getting drunk wasn't a problem yet, but he knew he'd have to talk to you if it got worse. Drinking every night just to function during the day wasn't you. You couldn't keep going on like this. If that included tough love, so be it. You needed to hear it.

Frenchie drinks with you. He never goes as far as you, realizing that at least one of you should be slightly more sober. He doesn't really mind when you get drunk. Something happens with you. You become happier, sillier, more fun. You smile and laugh more. He likes seeing that. He likes knowing you're at least a little happier. Life had become so hard lately. Your past was catching up with you, and you didn't know how to handle it, so you got drunk. He understood the concern from everyone else, but he knew yelling and lecturing would change anything. At least he could be there for you. At least he could take care of you and laugh with you and be there. That's all you really needed.

Kimiko is quite gentle when you're drunk. She walks you home from the bar and takes off your shoes and asks you questions: Are you nauseous? Are you hungry? Thirsty? She gets it. When she saw the posters of the Shining Light Liberation Army, she drank more than a few beers. Anything she could get her hands on. Sometimes, you just need a little liquid courage to face the hard things. She makes sure you have pain relief for the headache you'll feel tomorrow and gets you something greasy to put in your stomach. She doesn't like or want to villainize your actions. You were all tired of this, fighting a battle you could not win. She stuck up for you when the others thought you were being messy or stupid. You just needed some time, that was all.

Bonus! Homelander thinks you're messy, a degenerate, and he won't tolerate it. When he knows you're drunk or hungover he makes a special point to seek you out, to punish you. You're a member of The Seven, you should act like it. The same way it infuriates him when Sage lobotomizes herself, he feels that when you start drinking. You have a public image to uphold. Even when you go out in civilian clothes, anyone could spot you. Anyone could ask for a photo or ask questions. It was stupid and selfish and reckless and as long as he's in charge, he won't tolerate it. He humiliates you, he says, because he cares. You think it's because he likes having power over you when you're at your most vulnerable.

Bonus! Soldier Boy thinks you're a lightweight and calls you out on it any chance he can get. There's no keeping up with him. Even being a Supe, you could still get incredibly drunk. Your tolerance was a lot higher than humans, but nowhere near Soldier Boys. He doesn't really take care of you when you're drunk. It's more like lying you on your side and leaving you to sleep. He's not very caring towards anyone, let alone someone he considers lesser than himself. He's fun to drink with, but the fun pretty much stops there. If he's feeling extra considerate, he might throw a blanket over you, but that's as far as he goes. He'll leave you and keep on drinking for the rest of the night. You being drunk won't put a damper on his legendary partying.

[reddesires]

Magnetic

Logan Howlett x Mutant Reader

Summary: There's only one way of satisfying your undying curiosity of finding out whether or not those fridge magnets will stick to the one and only Wolverine, who just happens to have an adamantium skeleton.

A/N: There may or may not be a continuation of this, idk yet.

It first started off as mere curiosity, the fact of knowing Logan's skeleton was enveloped by pure metal on the forefront of your brain.

Your eyes would constantly wander to the fridge that was decorated by various colorful magnets by the students, the cat and and the multicolored alphabet letters, especially catching your attention.

The growing need to know if those magnets would stick to Logan or not was just too irresistible to refuse as you snatch the grumpy cat magnet from the fridge door, examining the narrowed green eyes on the face of black feline. Yeah, it reminded you very much of the rugged mean mugging man who was all too unaware of your devious intentions.

Logan was used to your teasing antics of playing with his tufts of hair whenever you got the chance or somehow discovering all the new hiding places he hides his beer in, just to hide them elsewhere (he thinks it's your sixth sense at this point). He feels as if he's always on his toes when it comes to you, your mutation aiding you in somehow bypassing his enhanced senses, you find great joy in sneaking up on him when he least expects it.

So when you casually walk in the room that he's in with your hands behind your back with a feign, innocent look on your face, his eyes narrow suspiciously. “Oh hey Lo! Didn't expect to see you here!” The lilt in your voice and the sway of your body as you walk over only cause him to tense as he sits up straight, his eyebrow raising in question.

“You know I usually sit here,” his voice trails off as his eyes trail up and down, analyzing your body movement. “You're up to something.” You grin immediately, a laugh bubbling up as you round the table as if you're trying to corner him, and he doesn't waste time standing and quickly rounding the table from you.

“Hey, don't make me spill my beer,” He says warily, holding his beer up by the neck of the bottle. You smile deviously as you slowly trail along the side of the table, still holding the mystery item behind your back and he doesn't like how you're looking at him as he mimics your movements ready to bolt to the exit any second. “Okay, we're playing that game.”

He exhales exasperatedly as he immediately swerves and runs out the door, holding his beer securely as he hears you run after him. “Logan! Get back here!” The laugh in your voice is mischievous and he doesn't trust you as the two of you run past Jean and Ororo, they look after the both of you surprised as they never expected Logan to run away from you of all people.

“Get em, girl!” Ororo cheers as they watch you round the corner after Logan, he's trying to lose you by running in front of innocent students and taking unexpected turns and it isn't long for you to have him cornered.

“Aye, have mercy.” He says your name with defeat as he clutches his beer to his chest, he somehow managed to save it from even spilling a drop during the chase and it makes you giggle as you step forward building the anticipation before getting to him, and he only watches with a close eye as you do. Only when you're within an inch from him, your face almost intimately close to his, do you notice his adam's apple bob up and down with trepidation, his eyes fluttering slightly as he's aware of how close you are to him.

You slap the magnet onto his face.

He blinks once then twice as the magnet sticks securely on to his cheek. You gasp with unadulterated joy, a cheer pulled out of you as your curiosity has finally been fulfilled.

“It does stick! Oh, this is gonna be so fun!” His face falls as he realizes what this concurs. He's become your magnetic plaything as he remembers the millions of magnets that are currently adorned on the fridge door.

“No, don't you think about it.” He grumbles as he pulls the magnet off his cheek, the crabby cat image only intensifying his dismay for your new upcoming hobby. “Oh Wolvie, it's all I can think about.” You tease as you gently squeeze his cheek, walking away feeling rejuvenated.

[simonbrain]

part one

you awaken the next morning to the smell of something delicious, something familiar. like what your mother makes every morning.

you suddenly jolt up to find the bed empty, the thought of your family sending a wave of panic down your spine as you hastily pull the thick furs off of you and make a break for the front door, almost forgetting about the man who carried you home with him last night.

"oi, where are you off to?"

the deep voice from behind you causes you to yelp in surprise, and the arsehole has the audacity to chuckle.

you could only turn around and stare at him, unsure if you should run. he looks like he could snatch you up in a few strides, even if he gave you a head start. you glance back at the front door and remember just how long it took to come back here; there's no way you'll make it back home without getting lost.

"...my village. i— i need to go see my family, please." your voice breaks as you think about your loved ones, and tears begin to well up in your eyes. you try to blink them away, and the blank look on his face only makes you feel more helpless. he doesn't look bothered in the slightest.

"your village went up in flames—nothing but ashes now. no use going back." he says it so bluntly, moving past you to block your only exit and disregarding the dejected look on your face. you shouldn't be so ungrateful; he saved you from those beasts, didn't he? a poor thing like you would have been torn to shreds by them if they had found you crouched behind that tree. sweet little lamb wouldn't have been shown half the mercy simon showed you.

even if you did manage to escape them, what would be the point of walking around the endless forest in hopes of finding help? you wouldn't have made it. no, the pretty thing looking up at him with glossy eyes would have tripped over her own two feet.

"but— but i—"

your bottom lip quivers when he steps forward, crowding your personal space. he stares you down so intensely that you lose the ability to speak. go on, love, his eyes say. try me.

he huffs softly when you sniffle and look away. sensitive thing you are.

your stomach growls quietly, and that's simon's cue to place a rough hand on the nape of your neck so that he can guide you to the table.

he watches with quiet satisfaction as you eat breakfast, an even quieter interest bubbling in his stomach as he observes you. the sullen expression on your face almost makes him feel bad, but you'll just need to understand that this is for your own good.

as days pass, you find yourself growing more comfortable in your new home. simon (you've come to learn his name) is quite odd. he doesn't reveal much about himself, but he does listen when you ramble about your family, and he feeds you the most delicious things. it's quite a lot to eat, but you shouldn't be surprised; he's built like a damn bull, so it's no wonder he makes enough food to feed four people.

you try not to stare at his back too much when he's in the kitchen cooking, or at his arms when he's outside chopping up firewood, or at his hands when he absentmindedly places a paw on your leg.

however, simon—the mutt—is shameless. he drinks in the sight of you, with or without your knowledge, eyeing any exposed skin with a hunger he hasn't felt in years. he doesn't push you to do anything; he wasn't raised like that, but at the end of the day, simon is still a man. it's in his nature to go a little dumb in the presence of a sweet girl.

he quenches his thirst with a hand on your thigh during mealtimes. his palm against your back, slowly trailing down to rest on your ass as he teaches you self-defence outside. an arm wrapped tight around you as you both lay down for the night.

still, it's never enough.

then one day, when simon returns home after spending several days out, looking more rugged than usual with torn clothes and dried blood on him, he pulls you in for a hot kiss. he doesn't give you a chance to tear up at finally seeing him after so long or question him about what he did while he was away.

he only takes what's all his.

you let out a squeak, grasping at his hands, desperately trying to keep up with how he devours you on the spot, his greedy tongue licking into your mouth. the tension radiating from him is palpable, his itching fingers trailing down to squeeze at your hips, tugging you closer to him. simon swallows up your little noises before pulling away, humming in satisfaction at the dazed look on your face.

"even taste sweet," he muses quietly to himself, his thumb running over your bottom lip.

"you're injured." you frown, finally finding your voice. your face is still burning, but simon just chuckles softly, interlocking his hand with yours and leading you to the table. the quicker he patches himself up, the quicker he can get back to pulling more of those sweet sounds out of you.

[aroaceleovaldez]

okay last one for the night but. honestly i really hate how the franchise has been using loyalty to Rick as a shield for so long. If Rick was involved in a project or not doesn't matter, especially not anymore.

ReadRiordan and the publishing for the franchise has been using this tactic for ages - they obscure if any writing related to the series wasn't written by Rick unless it's special circumstances. It's near impossible to find out who the ghostwriters are (Stephanie True Peters and Mary-Jane Knight). TSATS was promoted as the first time we got a non-Riordan (Rick or Haley) author working on one of the companion novels despite having seven already existing ghostwritten books in the series. The only reason Mark Oshiro was emphasized so heavily for TSATS was because they also work as a sensitivity reader for topics such as queer identity, and Rick had received backlash in the past for being a Straight Cis Old White Guy repeatedly falling into bad habits (that he hasn't broken out of) with certain characterizations that he kept doubling-down on or retconning into oblivion. The show emphasizes that Rick was involved, but the LA Times article brings into question exactly how much he was involved, and it doesn't even really matter either way. The ReadRiordan site actively avoids putting any writing credits on their articles (or art credits...) or anywhere on their site.

Practically the entire fandom unanimously agrees the musical - which had zero involvement from Rick - is the best adaptation of the series so far, including the TV show. Some of the best writing to come out of the series recently was the stuff ghostwritten by Stephanie True Peters (Camp Half-Blood Confidential, Camp Jupiter Classified, Nine from the Nine Worlds, etc). And yet when promotional stuff is posted about CHB:C, there's clearly coded language used to hide the fact that Rick himself didn't write it. Yes, that's how ghostwriters work, but at this point we should really stop pretending "Rick Riordan" isn't just a pen name for a group of authors like "Erin Hunter" and that Rick is actually writing everything in the series. I can easily look up and see which Animorphs books were ghostwritten, and who those authors were. I can find every "Erin Hunter" easily listed on official sites. And yet most people don't even know the Riordanverse franchise has ghostwriters at all.

And the franchise is still trying to use the "Tio/Uncle Rick" stuff. Author loyalty and marketing parasocial relationships isn't going to save the franchise when the author himself can't hold up his own original themes or even keep basic series bible details straight, and especially not if the editors are barely if at all doing their job. And please at least get a goddamn series bible by this point.

[sparklingblu]

Eroverse

Pt.3 - Alpha & Omega

Yeji x Male Reader (ft. Kazuha)

Good news. None.   

Bad news. Where do you even start?   

The worst would be the fact that you can't feel your body. Your eyes seem to be the only functioning organ. To add insult to injury, your whole body is bare, and your clothes are nowhere to be found. You curse yourself for not grabbing your clothes before you get teleported back from that boxing ring. No use regretting it now. Even if you manage to move your limbs somehow, you are trapped in a bar restroom butt naked. Can this day get even worse?   

To be honest, you expect yourself to develop some kind of resistance to all those headaches and pain after passing out four times in a day. Seems like there's no improvement. You can just hope no one comes knocking at the door. That leads you to wonder, how long have you been gone? The first time you encounter Rei or what seems to be Rei, it takes almost an hour. But at least she obeys every command you give so it isn't much of a struggle. The second time, however, you have to wrestle with Eunbi first before you finally tame her, as the quest had said. You are certain more than an hour has flown by.    

Your phone chimes with a notification nearby. No doubt from the 'Ero' app. You desperately want to check it but there's not much you can do when your body feels like a lump of clay. So, you continue doing what you initially were, staring at the ceiling. Funny enough, seeing the ceiling has become a kind of relief after losing and gaining consciousness multiple times. At least, it reminds you that you are alive.  

Once again, you can't help but think of all the unanswered questions that have piled up even more after your encounter with Eunbi. The voice that consistently keeps praising you after you complete a quest, the idols that you have met who are not actually idols. You are pretty sure about that now. Are they replicas? clones? Then what does that make you? A test subject for some crazy experiment that involve fucking idol clones? As usual, no answer.  

If you look at it from the bright side, ignoring all the pain and confusion, you have used two idols for your release already. Getting to fuck one idol should be considered universally lucky. But two? You had to save a nation in your past life for that. Whether they are real or not, they still look exactly the same so it doesn't really make a difference. However, the downside shouldn't be ignored either. If you try to complete one more quest, fuck one more idol, you might not wake up again. With each jump, your body seems to weaken. It starts with headaches and soreness and now you are paralyzed. Not really a price worth paying. You are not perverted enough to trade your life for sex.  

Actually, you might have passed that point already. If you inevitably have to die, you want to go out with honor. Not as a naked corpse in a restroom. "Oh, how did he die?" "I don't know, probably from jerking off naked in the toilet" Yep. Not a good idea.   

A few minutes pass and you start considering screaming for help. You have to sacrifice every bit of dignity you have but at least you won't die. Thankfully, it doesn't happen. Blood starts to flow again in your fingers and soon, you are well aware of the cold floor on your skin.   

You sit up groggily, propping yourself against the toilet for support. Taking a few deep breaths, you picked up the phone. The screen is full of cracks, it covers almost every part of the notification on your lock screen but without a doubt, it's from the 'Ero' app.   

"Congrats on completing your second quest. Please wait patiently for the next one"  

Typical. Just congratulations. Not to mention you nearly got killed. Thank you very much.   

Then your eyes move to the upper corner of the screen displaying the time, 8:48. You can't be sure, but you are certain no more than a few minutes have passed since you passed out. How is it possible? Even without the time you spent laying paralyzed, it takes at least an hour to do everything you have done with Eunbi. No wonder no one comes looking for you.   

Maybe time flows differently in whatever places you get teleported to. Another mystery. Your head starts throbbing, a sign of an oncoming headache. God, can that app let you off for once? There's a silver lining though. Your clothes lie in a pile in a corner. You have to shut your mouth before you start screaming with joy.   

After changing hastily and washing your face, you exit the room. Russell and the rest of the crew are still at their table, their voices getting louder by the second. The effects of all the drinks they had had are evident on their red puffy faces. They don't even seem to notice your absence except Russell, who raises his hand at the sight of you.  

"Man, you have been gone pretty long, you ok?" he asks.  

"Yeah, I'm fine.."  

"You sure? You look like you just woke up"  

He's not wrong but no use making him worried.  

"Trust me. I'm ok. Just a bit tired, i guess"  

"Have you been working late again?"  

Gosh, this guy cares about you more than your mom. You take this as your chance to get out of here.  

"Yeah, got some articles to finish. I have been procrastinating on this one I have to send tomorrow. Mind if I leave early? I need to sleep early"  

"Of course. Don't work too hard, huh? You still have to write a best-seller remember?"  

You simply smile and leave, grabbing your coat. The cold breeze offers you some comfort to the headache that's becoming unbearable. You just want to lay down on the spot and fall asleep. You walk back to your room, trying not to pass out on the way. The night is still young, and the sound of traffic and the chatter of people follows you everywhere. Ordinary people enjoying their lives unlike you, who have become a different person in just a day. You were a writer, not a good one but still an average Joe. Now, you fuck idols with the help of an app. Anyone who hear it will suggest you talk to a therapist, and you won't blame them.   

And what is it that makes the app choose you? You have no special abilities other than the fact that you can mimic animal sounds and that's not even a real talent. Perhaps luck has finally found its way to your ever unfortunate life. But can it be called luck with how you become a step closer to death with each quest you take on. 

You are so busy debating with yourself you are completely oblivious to your surroundings. If only you have turned your head to an alley across the street, you would have seen a dark figure with sparkling eyes that follow every one of your movements. A predator lurking in the shadows. 

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎  

A week has passed. The 'Ero' app is silent as ever. 

You find yourself expecting a message for another quest despite promising yourself you won't let your perversion lead you to your demise. You should really start thinking with your brain rather than your dick. 

Three days after your last quest, you even try to enter the 'Ero' app out of curiosity. The app closes automatically. After a few more tries, you give up out of disappointment and shame. Shame for trying to enter the app even after knowing the risks. Shame for being a hopeless pervert. 

You should just stick to jerking off to fancams and pictures, at least that way you won't be playing with your life or getting beat up by an idol. That's what you have been doing since you got smitten by those kpop girls but after the quests you have done, it becomes tedious. You will still pump a load or two after seeing Karina's tits or Sohee's ass but it's nothing compared to Rei's blowjob or Eunbi's titjob. You have become addicted.  

Ironically, you even find yourself dreaming of the darkness, the mahogany room and the boxing ring. This is what Eve might have felt when she's told not to eat the forbidden fruit, you think. Because forbidden things are the most tempting.  

You still write but no longer out of pleasure, just to survive. And that reminds you, you should stop eating take outs and cook something yourself for once. Your room was a mess but now it's a whole trash pile. Plastic boxes and cups from all the take outs you order lie in a mountain at the sink. The trash car comes, you are just too lazy to throw it out. And if you don't do something about that stack of papers on the table, it's gonna touch the ceiling soon.  

In short, you have become a mess. Every time your phone chimes, you would check it in a heartbeat, expecting a text from the 'Ero' app. But of course, it isn't. The app has gone ghost quiet. You are desperately seeking to complete just one more quest. One more idol to fuck. 

You rarely go outside and ignore all the messages your friends and colleagues sent you. There's only one message you want to receive which never comes. 

After a week of living like a vampire, a realization hits you. One so obvious you feel like an idiot not thinking about it sooner. All the problems you are facing are rooted from one single thing, the 'Ero' app. If you delete it, your suffering might end. You can even pretend everything that happened was a dream. 

So, you get out of the bed which you have been laying on for hours and grab your phone on the table. The sudden burst of light in the dark room as the screen opens leaves you seeing black spots. It is nighttime but you haven't opened your curtains in a while, so it doesn't really make a difference.  

You swipe till you land on the 'Ero' app. That little black heart icon. You press on it and the uninstall option pops off. 'Finally' you think. 'It's gonna be over. No more crazy stuffs' though a small voice somewhere in your mind keep insisting. 'But what of the pleasure that rivals no other? What of the idols you will meet?' 'Fuck this' you answer. It's true you are a pervert, but you are not hopeless. You won't die so that you can fuck some clone of an idol.  

Determined, you raise your thumb and nearly press on the uninstall button until-  

Your phone chimes. A notification on the top of the screen.  

"New quest ready, ready for your next adventure chosen one?" 

God damn it. Just when you are determined, this app has to come and ruin it. All the walls you have put up about not being a hopeless pervert crumbles in milliseconds. You want this after all. You don't want the app gone. You are just mas that it won't give you a quest. Now what you have been begging for a week is right in front of your eyes. You have to make a choice. Yes or No? 

This quest can be your last. A punishment for letting your dick makes your decisions. You can ignore it. Delete the app and go on with your life as normal. But will your life ever be normal after deleting the app? Who can say you won't be wondering what the third quest would be and which idol you would meet? And worst of all, you will become ordinary again without the app. No more magic portals to creepy rooms.  

You don't want to be ordinary. You have tried your best to become something others aren't all your life. Now, the chance has been presented to you. Your own personal paradise. All yours. No one else's.  

So, you tap on the message, opening the app to the loading screen with the black heart. Even the sight of it gets excitement creeping up your legs already. Then you close your eyes immediately before they get torched by that blinding flash. After waiting for a minute just to be safe, you open your eyes again. A text box sits in the center of the screen, instructions to your next quest. Except that you can't read them. 

The words are fuzzy and blurred. Some even completely redacted by black lines. It is as though someone has made them unreadable on purpose. What the hell is going on? 

This can be another challenge, a harder quest. Even more difficult than trying to defeat an idol who nearly crashes you to pulp. A higher risk of death. A tinge of regret starts to overwhelm you but it's too late. 

The all-familiar darkness envelopes you once again. Then comes the icy cold spike that tears through your organs. Your vision fades and you crumple like paper. 

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎  

Your old friend accompanies your wake. Of course, it's the headache. Fortunately, it isn't as strong as before or maybe you have just been out of touch you forget the pain. Nevertheless, you are alive.  

You don't get to celebrate much though because the sight that greets you when you open your eyes sucks the joy right out of your heart. It isn't the ceiling this time. At least seeing the ceiling would have been a comfort. What you see is anything but comforting. 

To start, you are not in a room like you were the last two quests. You are surrounded by marble columns that support the circular dome on top. A temple like those in Greek times. A huge part of the building has crumbled, giving you a clear view of what lies ahead.  

Your heart leaps. Before your eyes lies what you can only describe as an apocalyptic city. Actually, an apocalyptic Greek city. Smoke billows from several temples writhed in flames. Most of the bronze and marble statues lining the sandy paths are missing a body part, some have been completely destroyed. A colosseum crumbles to dust right in front of your eyes though you have no idea what a Roman structure is doing in a Greek city. It would have been a beautiful place if it's not for the fact that it looks like a war zone.  

The temple you are in is not holding out really well either. From time to time, debris would fall from the ceiling, and you can only hope the roof won't collapse on top of you. You try to move and that's when you realize you have been tied up. Looking down, you find yourself bound to a chair with metal chains, your hands at the back. Your legs are no exception either. They have been tied up as well. 

This quest is starting to look hopeless already. It would be so easy for someone to gut you right now and you can do nothing but watch. You could call out for help except that there isn't a living being in sight. Even if someone does come, you can't be certain if they are friends or foes. 

You remember the surge of strength that has come to you when you were at the brink of death. It would be really really helpful if you could get that kind of help right now. Though you doubt that kind of chance will be given twice. 

"Oh, he can't help you this time" As if reading your thoughts, a voice rings out behind a column.  

The owner of the voice emerges. A figure with fiery red hair wearing a top of matching color. The black jeans accentuate her slender legs. Her ruby red eyes fixed on you with a steely gaze. Yeji, the leader of Itzy. 

"Ehm....Yeji?" Obviously, the idol before you is not the real Yeji. But you ask anyway. 

"In a sense" She replies. "But that won't matter anymore after I kill you" 

Just wonderful. Another idol who wants you dead.  

"I gotta praise you though. You are pretty strong compared to those before you" 

"Others? What are you talking about?" 

"Oh, do you think you are the only one chosen by the app, chosen one?" She strains the last part just to sound sarcastic.  

"Look, I don't even understand what's happening much less answer your questions. I don't even know why you want to kill me" 

"Oh, you very much do" She snaps back. "Rei? Eunbi? The things you did to them. You are lucky I let you live this long" 

"I was just doing what the app told me to" 

"Oh, yes. That stupid 'Ero' app. You love it so much you walked right into my trap" 

The realization hits you like a bucket of cold water. The quest that arrives right when the app is nearly deleted. The distorted letters.  

"It's you" You say. "You are the one who set up this quest" 

"Correct" Her voice is dripping with glee. "Aren't I clever?" 

"Ok, Yeji....or whatever. If you let me go, I promise I won't-" 

"Oh, shut up. You will follow where your dick leads you" 

She's not wrong. Still, it sort of hurts. 

"There's nothing you will get out of killing me" You try the other route. 

"Oh, there's a lot I can get out of killing you" Yeji muses, walking closer. "And I will start by destroying the thing that have been distracting my kind" 

You don't know what she means but you don't need to wonder for long because with the flick of her wrist, your shorts come off. Look, you know some guys are really into the bondage stuff when the girl ties you up and all, but it isn't much fun when your partner is trying to kill you. But there's a bigger threat than getting killed right now. 

"Wait, you don't mean my-"  

"Dick? Yes. If it's gone, you can no longer bother us, right?" 

"You can't do that! It's illegal" 

"Look around you. You are no longer on earth" 

You are making empty threats, and you know it too well. But you don't want your bloodline to end with you. 

"Look, maybe we can make a deal or something" 

"Too late" Yeji unfolds her palm and a gladius, a roman sword, manifests out of thin air. She's definitely not human. 

You tilt your head in panic as the point hovers over your throat.  

"I should have just killed you but where's the fun in that?" 

Your breath hitches. You don't trust yourself to talk without blabbering out more pleas that will make Yeji even madder. And even worse, your dick is rock hard because of the adrenaline.  

"Bye bye" She raises the sword and brings it down on your springing mamba. You close your eyes. bracing yourself for the pain. But it never comes because a voice cuts through the tense atmosphere.  

"Wait!" Another female voice and running footsteps. You open your eyes. 

Behind Yeji is Kazuha, the japanese member of Le Sserafim. Her pink satin dresses look out of place among the ruins of the city, like a runaway bride.  

"Kazuha?" Yeji lowers the gladius. "Oh, let me guess. He sent you" 

"You need to stop this. Killing him won't stop our problems" 

"You don't know that for sure. One less candidate means less chance for the mark to emerge" 

"What mark?" instantly, you regret not keeping your mouth shut. They want to cut your dick off for christ's sake. 

"The mark of-" Kazuha starts to answer but Yeji cuts her off.  

"Shut up" Yeji snaps. "He's going to die anyway" 

"Stop this, Yeji. He's going to be so mad if he finds out" 

"So what? He has been a dick all those times. You still take orders from him?" 

"He can be crazy sometimes but it's our job to serve him" 

"Bullshit. You are just too scared to disobey" 

"Yeji, please" 

Kazuha's words have no effect. Yeji closes in on you again and raises her gladius. This time there's no escape for you.  

Then the strangest thing happens. A burst of energy erupts from your core, spreading to every cell in your body. All the fatigue and panic are gone. It's like being dipped in water when you are high. You feel pumped, ready to do anything. More specifically, ready to fuck anyone because the lust inside you has never been so strong. 

"It can't be..." Yeji backs away, dropping her gladius. Her face that of pure horror. 

You look down and nearly scream yourself. On your pelvis is an upside-down pentagram, like those used in cult rituals and its glowing red hot though you don't feel any pain. Further down is an even stranger sight. Your dick is literally glowing. Upon taking a closer look, you realize it’s surrounded by a golden aura like it's something powerful. All the chains binding you shatter to pieces, and you rise.  

"The mark" Kazuha mutters dreamily. "It's real" 

"No!" Yeji screams, falling down. "It's a myth. How could it be-" She picks up her gladius and instantly charges. You back away but there isn't a need. Because Yeji got thrown away as though hit by an invisible force. 

She crouches on the floor, panting. "This is madness" 

Kazuha just stands there frozen. Hey eyes fixed on your glowing cock. 

But you only have a single objective in your mind. Ruin Yeji. Use her. Punish her. She is nothing but an easy prey.  

"Stay away" Yeji shouts. In the end, the hunter has become the hunted. 

You close in, grabbing her wrists and pulling her up. Then you slam her onto a column. You don't intend to hurt her though. She's in for something much worse.  

"I will kill you" She mutters but the panic is clear as day in the way her words stutter. Grabbing her waist, you trace your lips across the pulsing veins of her neck all the way to her jaw. Then a bite on her earlobe. Yeji squirms. 

"Still want to kill me?" The question is left unanswered as Yeji's lips part to give way to your tongue, which invades into her oral opening. Yeji's pupils widen when her own tongue got tickled by the foreign one. Her screams come out muffled. Yeji tries to pull away but the grip of your lips on hers is stronger than ever.  

All the while, your hands make their way down to her waist belt, enjoying the feeling of her firm skin. Sliding down further, you slip into her jeans, squeezing that tone ass of hers.  

The writhing of her body is cut short when you slid a finger into her tight asshole, which makes her limp like a rug doll. At first, it's hard to move much with how hard her hole grips you but after a few pumps, it starts to oblige, allowing swifter movements.  

As you finger her asshole, you don't stop the mouth action either. You can no longer tell whose mouth is moister as your saliva got mixed from how long you have been tasting her. All that matters is you keep her mouth shut. The strands of red hair fall over, obscuring your vision partly but you press on, taking in her taste each and every second. Your dick is pressed flat against her tummy in this position and it's getting you even more riled up. You can take care of it later. 

With your unoccupied hand, you squeeze her soft cheeks, which fold like rubber under your touch. The pace of your finger that keeps fucking her asshole remains unwavering. In fact, its pounding her now the same way your cock would. At the same time, you are tongue fucking her. Both of her holes are stuffed and there's nothing she can do about it except produces more degraded sounds. 

Yeji's legs start to shake, inevitably nearing her peak whether she likes it or not. Saliva drips from the corner of her lips and a strand of the remnants connect your lips as your tongue exits her mouth. You are not letting her off. You just want to hear her moan. 

"I...will kill you..." Her voice comes out husky, so it sounds more like an empty promise than a threat. 

"Just shut up and cum bitch" Your thrusts become forceful. Perhaps you are hurting her but Yeji's moaning too much to care. Unable to resist the sight of her skin, you bite down on her neck, pitching up her voice.  

Finally, Yeji breaks. In a frenzy of pain and bliss, she lets out a carnal groan which rings out through the temple. Juice gush out from her pussy when your finger thrust in one last time. Each time her body convulses, she lets out a moan, each one louder than the last. She is still trembling nonstop even after you pull out, her jeans stained with her own bodily fluid. 

"Did you just come from getting your asshole fingered?" You ask. Yeji can only pant as she props against a column not to tremble from her legs that are on the verge of giving out. 

From the corner of your eyes, you can see Kazuha, her arms folded, watching the whole thing without a single word. She seems to be on your side for now. 

"Tired already?" You ask Yeji. "It's just starting" 

The mark on your pelvis glows brighter, the red rays casting a translucent glow on Yeji. With an iron grip on her shoulders, you turn her around, allowing you the view of her round ass in tight jeans. The stain on her crotch area makes the scene even more lewd. 

"Admit it, Yeji. All this time you have been a slut. My cock is all it takes to wipe that bitchy look off your face" Your cock presses against her clothed ass. 

"I swear I will kill-" 

You pull down her jeans just enough to expose her round butt, stealing the air right out of her lungs. Your palm connects with her supple flesh in a harsh spank, leaving a handprint in red. You deliver a strike for each word that leaves her mouth. It goes like this. 

"I-" 

Spank 

"will-" 

Spank 

"kill-" 

Spank 

"you-" 

The white canvas of her skin is now streaked with scarlet stripes. And you intend to keep it that way because the way her ass jiggle with each spank is too hypnotic to get tired of. The cherry on the top is how she keeps protesting even through the stinging pain. But you are gonna change it real soon. 

With one last strike, you pull back, admiring your handiwork on her ass, which is now the same fiery shade as her hair and tops. Yeji mutters another curse through shallow breath. This bitch is still as cocky as ever. 

Pulling her hair to tilt her head, you whisper into her ear. "Still resisitng, hmm? Should we move on to your next punishment?" Yeji's eyes blaze with fury. "Bastard"  

"So, we are doing it the rough way" You hold her throat in a tight grip with your other hand, restricting any more words from coming out of her vocal cords.  

You rest your rock hard cock between her cheeks, the glow it radiates merging with her reddened buttocks. "I'm gonna fuck your brains out now. And then I wanna know if you still want me dead"  

Yeji can do nothing as you enter her moist slit with one forceful thrust that ripples her cheeks. You don't know if she's a virgin or not but the way her walls hug you tight is giving you ideas. Nevertheless, you push on, breaking through the barriers of her fold with each thrust. It doesn't take much time for you to pound her freely with how wet she already is from earlier. 

Soon, you are hammering her cunt without a care in the world, solely focused on using her as your vessel for pleasure. You will take anything her body can offer and that will be her punishment, to become nothing but your cumdump. Resentment and triumph take over your movements and each thrust leaves her even more breathless despite being choked. 

You loosen your grip on her neck just enough for her to make audible sounds. "Still hate me?" You ask as you pull back all the way and thrust into her slit with all your force. She tenses, her back arched. She answers your question with animalistic sounds only a whore would make. 

"Hmm, you still got a lot to learn" You slip your hands under her top, reaching for her mounds. Yeji's tits aren't qualified to be called huge, but they are still big enough to fill your palm as you knead them. When you twirl her rosy nipples between your index and thumb, she mewls like an animal in heat which is only natural with the way she's getting bred. 

You slow down your thrusts, moving in and out slowly to enjoy the full feeling of her slick velvety walls that trace every inch you fill her up with. Somewhere far away, another building collapsed with a sickening crunching sound. A wave of hot air grazes your skin. But they can do nothing to disturb you from claiming Yeji's cunt thoroughly.  

Her walls start to contrast around you, the sign of an oncoming climax. You thrust with inhuman speed, empowered by the mark, as Yeji had called it. Jolts of energy course through your veins at every moment and you are surprised to find that you are not even sweating, much less tired. You can breed Yeji all day if she isn't already worn out and used up. 

Yeji's eyes roll up, her tongue hanging out in the perfect replication of the ahaego faces you see so often in certain animes. Another flood of her nectar pours out, coating your shaft. You keep fucking through her orgasm, chasing your own high. Yeji's body twists and bends but you keep her in position by wrapping your arms around her waist.  

The friction over her slick walls becomes unbearable and soon you are pumping jets after jets of your fertile seeds into her womb, all the way to the hilt. If Yeji sounds animalistic before, now she's no different from an animal. Guttural sounds betray her lips as she gets filled up to the depths she never knows existed before. When your orgasm subsides, she becomes motionless, her hoarse breaths the only sign of life. 

You pull out and cum drips out of her hole which is clenching onto air as if it needs something stuffed inside. Her punishment is a success. Yeji's got destroyed by the very thing that she wanted to destroy. As you stand there, grinning with victory, the adrenaline starts to drain out of your body. Your legs become sore, and the fucking headache is starting again. The mark on your pelvis dims and fades along with the glow of your spent rod.  

"We need to leave" You are so caught up in the joy of dominating Yeji, you forget Kazuha exists. She's still at her old spot, watching you with interest and a slither of worry. You quickly pull up your shorts though there's no point being shy now. She has seen everything. 

"Leave where?" You ask. "My quest is completed right? I will just pass out and go back" 

"It's not happening this time. He wants to meet you" 

"He?" 

"Look, we don't have much time. He will explain everything to you. I promise" 

"But-" 

The temple rumbles. More debris and dust fall from above.  

"Alright. Good idea" You and Kazuha make it outside just in time before the whole temple collapses. The sound of explosions and crumbling buildings ring out all around you. The air burns your lungs with each breath. 

"Ok, hold my hand" Kazuha says and you oblige. There's no point arguing when you are in the middle of an apocalypse. As Kazuha closes her eyes, a gleaming orb surrounds both of you and you spiral down into a tunnel of light. 

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

(Have been procrastinating on this. Anyway, enjoy~)