#crying about it again for the first time in two days but just a little lol

[cakelitter]

Doll Repair

Sweet Kidnapper! Leon x Fem! Reader

warnings: dead dove, p in v, daddy kink, pet names, praise, glass cuts, blood (not in a sexual way lol)

summary: Kept away from prying hands and unwanted glances, all his to love. Filling that gaping hole in his chest, and emptying his cluttered brain. That may have cost you your entire personality and the rest of your life; but all is well as long as the two of you have each other.

words: 2k

a\n: i'm back!!! you have no idea how much i missed this. Leon is so sweet and protective in this one. God, i love sweet old men :(

It’s been 398 days since he made the best decision of his life, usually Leon’s decisions never have prospering outcomes; however, he definitely lucked out on this one.

You’ve fully adapted to this lifestyle that you were—with all love and care—forced into. He likes to think that it’s better for you this way; sure, you’ve been living the same day over and over again for the past weeks you’ve stayed with him.

But on the bright side, you don’t have to deal with the shit that other people your age have to deal with. While other college students worry about housing and tuition, eating the same cup ramen for dinner. His act of generosity (kidnapping you) has saved you all that trouble.

Leon takes care of everything, paying the bills, feeding you, buying you clothes, washes said clothes, and the list goes on. Keeping you safe in the bubble he created so that pretty brain of yours doesn’t work too hard.

You’re his favorite hobby.

As soon as he walks through that front door, agent Kennedy is long forgotten —crumbled up and tossed aside until he needs to save the day again.

You’re perfect.

Perfectly sculpted by his hands to fit into the mold that suits his lifestyle best. Truthfully, he’s not sure what your true personality is like. You went through phases, eyes wide open as adrenaline rushed through your veins whenever he came too close. The only time you got sleep is when you’d hyperventilate and pass out.

Then the determination arc began, begrudgingly swatting his hands away, venom dripping from each word you spoke—shattered his heart into bits.

And while this phase lasted a little longer than he would’ve liked. It was nonetheless a cloud that passed just like the one before it.

Tears beaded along your lash line, completely isolating yourself and refusing to eat. Considered starting to plan your funeral, one which he would be the only one attending.

 And while Leon doesn’t pray anymore—by an act of a miracle—it only took two weeks before crying because of him, turned into crying in his arms. Glad he didn’t have to flush you down a toilet like a fish, he wasn’t in the right headspace when he came up with that plan.

Ever since that breakthrough you’ve been nothing short than on your best behavior, reciprocating his affection and touch; the way things were supposed to be from the start. Where you always this loving? Always this clingy? Well, you now are.

His little treasure.

Kept away from prying hands and unwanted glances, all his to love. Filling that gaping hole in his chest, and emptying his cluttered brain. That may have cost you your entire personality and the rest of your life; but all is well as long as the two of you have each other.

 And while he takes his job of protecting you very seriously, practically baby-proofing his entire house, mistakes can still slip through.

As he walks through the front door of the place you both call home, your absence next to the door; tail swaying back and forth to greet him since last seeing him this morning doesn’t go unnoticed.

He calls out your name a few times, perhaps you’re asleep somewhere. That has happened a few times before, but seeing you curled up into a ball in the corner of the dark living room with tears streaming down your face is a first.

“Sweetheart?”

Your glossy eyes look up at him, lips quivering as they lock with his.

“I’m sorry.”

Reaching towards the light switch, the room lights up revealing your weeping figure. And that’s when he sees it, bloodied handprints smeared all over your thighs and arms. His heart drops, worst-case scenarios popping into his head before a single coherent thought can from.

What could you have possibly done?

The knife drawer is locked shut—triple checked that before he left— and you don’t have access to any razor-sharp object either.

“I’m so sorry.”

Stepping closer, he slowly makes his was over to your hunched form. “Hey, hey it’s okay.”

With his empty palms facing you, you allow him to kneel in front of you.

“Talk to me, baby.” he practically whispers.

“I’m sorry, daddy. I didn’t mean to break it.”

His hand reaches towards your cheek, his thumb brushing against the soft skin; noticing the way you flinch at his touch. “What did you break?”

“The glass.”

“Glass what?”

“Please don’t get mad.”

Your voice breaks before you start sobbing again. Taking in a deep breath, his hand runs through your hair while the other runs up and down your exposed calf soothingly. “I promise I won’t be mad, sweetheart. Just tell me what it is.”

“The glass- the glass cup.”

Those fucking cups, should’ve known to throw those away. In his defense, he didn’t hand them over to you on a silver platter. Took him five months before letting you switch from plastic to normal fucking forks for crying out loud.

Rubbing his temple, he nods slowly. “Did the glass hurt you?”

You nod, tears flowing slower than before yet still watching his every move attentively. “Can you show me where?”

Removing your hands off of your upper arms, you open your trembling palms to him. He places his large hands beneath yours, carefully inspecting the surface; small cuts are littered all over the area with fresh blood seeping through the injured skin.

“Gotta wash your hands. Can you do that for me, sweetheart?”

Nodding again, he helps you get up before leading you into the bathroom, turning on the faucet and placing your hands beneath the cool water. You both watch as the blood tainted liquid washed down the drain, Leon’s hand rubbing your waist gently.

Your crying calmed down, leaving behind only a few sniffles and winces from the pain. Grabbing a clean tissue, he gently pats your hands dry, making sure to not put too much pressure on the scathed area; then proceeding to wipe the blood streaks strewn over your body.

“I’m gonna go grab the first aid kit, go sit on the couch, baby.” He ushers, deep blue eyes cutting through your thread of thought.

Doing as your told, you walk out of the room leaving him to search for the first aid kit beneath the bathroom cabinet before following pursuit.

It feels like he’s been picking glass shards for eternity, each tiny piece engraved in your delicate hands. He makes sure however to reward you with praise every now and then to keep you going.

‘You’re doing so good, baby.’

‘Such a strong girl, huh.’

‘Almost done, sweetheart.’

With enough patience and a few more tears each time the alcohol met your cuts, it’s not long before he’s wrapping your hands in bandages after disinfecting the surface for the last time.

“Thank you, daddy.” You mutter, scooching closer and curling up on his side like a cat. “No problem, baby.”

Leaning in, he plops a soft kiss on the crown of your head; rough hands running up and down your back comfortingly.

Your fingers manage to tug on his shirt, demanding another kiss. He chuckles lowly, grabbing your chin and placing his lips onto yours. Your lips are slightly chapped, juxtaposing their usual soft nature. And while it feels like you’re fishing for the right opportunity, you manage to straddle his lap; keeping your lips on his.

His arms wrap around your waist, pulling your chest flush against his. “What’re you doing, hm?”

He asks, softly nibbling on your lips. “Apologizing for making daddy worry?”

You nod, grinding onto his crotch; the rough material of his jeans rubbing against your panty clad clit. Slipping his hands down and onto your hips, he guides their motion. Rocking them while thrusting upwards to apply more pressure onto your clothed cunt.

 You bite your lip as slick pools on the gusset of your panties. “Daddy.”

“Tell me, sweetheart.”

You moan in response, forgetting what you were planning on saying as all your thoughts turn into mush. “Aw, cute pussy just wants to cum? Is that it?”

 “She just wants to use daddy to get off, huh?” You shake your head; unable to grab his shirt in your hand like you normally do. You’re so cute when you try to make things up for him, he finds it endearing. Always trying to bridge a gap that doesn’t even exist.

“Don’t lie, sweetheart. You only want daddy’s cock.” You shake your head even harder, eyes however still focused on the area your hips are rutting against. “Want to make daddy happy.”

He chuckles, connecting your lips together. “I’m just messing with you, doll.”

 His lips go for your neck, hungrily sucking and biting on the tender flesh; leaving a new bruise to make up for the ones that just started fading out. You whine and whimper, muscles tense as your high approaches.

“Soak those panties, and cum for me so I can stuff this needy cunt.”

And with enough filthy words whispered in your ear, and enough kisses scattered on your neck, you squeeze down on nothing as you reach your peak.

Leon drinks up the expression on your face each time, his obsession, a face that is burnt in the back of his mind reserved only for him.  

Wasting no time, he picks you up and heads straight to your shared bedroom. Placing your gently on the bed like you’re made out of glass. He does quick work of his belt, discarding the piece of leather on the floor, the rest of his clothes following pursuit.

You lay flat on your back, bandaged palms facing the ceiling as you watch him approach you. His finger hooks on the band of your flimsy shorts, pulling them down swiftly along with your soaked panties. A few open-mouthed kisses land on your hips, his eyes focused on yours as he drops the last one on your clit before caging you between his arms.

He strokes himself a few times, angling the tip of his thick length at your entrance before thrusting in. You’d probably have died if he did that a few months back, but at this point he’s managed to stretch you out enough to fit him easily –what was once painful dulled into a sense of familiarity.

“Daddy.”

“Right here, baby. Let me make you feel good, yeah?”

He fucks you deep and slow, earning a low moan out of the both of you with each thrust of his hips. “Squeezing me so well, sweetheart. That’s a good girl.”

Your hand reaches down to the hem of your shirt, pulling the fabric and revealing your plump breasts; he can’t help but feel proud. His mouth latches onto one of your nipples, lapping at the tender peak with his tongue. You squirm beneath him, your walls squeezing around his throbbing dick causing him to grunt in return.

The slow thrusts begin to pick up speed. His tip knocking the opening of your cervix time and time again, the mixture of pleasure and pain almost euphoric. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Cream my cock, sweetheart so I can fill you up.”

Listening like you always do, Leon watches as that same expression reappears on your face, your back arching off the mattress while slipping out his name in tandem. The once translucent fluid coating his length has already turned white by the time your body slumped back. Feeling lightheaded by the fluttering of your walls, the knot in his stomach snaps shooting ropes of cum till his balls went dry.

Your eyes begin to feel heavy as he pulls out and grabs a towel to clean you up. He smiles at the sound of your even breathing as you drift to sleep, giving your inner thigh a soft kiss before tucking you in bed.

“You still mad?”

A soft voice calls out for him. Walking up next to you, he tucks a few stray strands of hair behind your ears.

“Never was.”

Heading towards the kitchen, he turns the light on to be greeted with the expected sight of the incident. Sighing, he grabs the broom and begins cleaning the glass shards scattered on the floor.

Back to plastic cups it is.

divider by: @/fairytopea

[nymphea0]

Then can I request a continuation of that oneshot with Matthias? I was wondering what their marriage life and parenthood is like. Thank you in advance!! 🥰

The Duke And His Secret

Yan! Matthias x Reader

Oneshot Story (Special Chapter).

(Warnings : Balcony mature scene at the end.)

*Minors are prohibited from reading this story🚫*

Manhwa : 울어 봐, 빌어도 좋고.Cry, Even Better if You Beg. Cry, Even if You Pray.

Author & Ilustration : Solche & Van Ji

Word Count ; 1.395k word.

Hello this is Neva🦋, hope you have a nice and happy day, it's been a long time since I updated any story whether it's manhwa or Oc. sorry about that, I'm currently very focused on making a "supernatural" expecially Vampire character series project investigating and deepening it so that the character I make doesn't seem stiff and my darlings enjoy reading it. So heres some matthias cup of tea story (^3^), hope you like it Anon🦋, Lots of love - Neva🦋🦋

Might have some bad grammars, correct me if there are any mistakes in the words in the story I wrote. Anyways i hope you all enjoys my story, much love.- Neva🦋

- Main story : The Duke and His Secret

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The residence of the Duke of Arvis, the kingdom of Berg.

The atmosphere of the residence was very cheerful, full of laughter from the 2 children of the opposite sex.

One had jet black hair like the color of a crow's feathers, with bright blue eyes like the sky. The other had snow-white hair with amethyst purple eyes.

The servants in the residence could only blush in excitement seeing the two children who were only 8 years old.

2 children, siblings, with different genders. The older brother was a man with black hair like a crow, while the younger sister, a woman with snow-colored hair.

Both of them played and ran with each other in the garden

While on the other side of the garden under the tree, there was a table with a complete set of tea and also a light side dish for the mouth that went well with tea, Pastry.

There were two women sitting there, one was no longer young, estimated to be 80 years old, while the other, still looked young but not so young, estimated to be 50 years old.

The two women were, Elysee von herhardt, and Norma Catharina Von herhardt, daughter-in-law and mother-in-law, who were both watching their grandchildren.

Felix Von Herhard and Airedith Von Herhard. Felix and Aire. Siblings who were only 1 year apart. The servants said they were Irish twins. Because they were only 1 year apart.

Norma stared at the two little children playing with each other, the woman was no longer young, she felt very sad if she couldn't play with them.

While Elysee occasionally smiled and drank tea elegantly, her eyes staring towards the balcony of their manor house. There Elysee could see her affectionate son and daughter-in-law.

In fact, as Elysee remembered when Matthias brought you to the Herhardt residence for the first time, a forced marriage that made your parents agree, you really didn't like being close to Matthias, but as the saying goes, struggle will never give disappointing results. The fact that Matthias desperately shows that he does love you, sincerely even though his way at the beginning was wrong.

Slowly you accepted Matthias, he never forced you to make love or do things he wanted but you didn't like, he listened to your wishes, all your anger, even though at the beginning you were afraid Matthias would hurt you, but he didn't do that.

Matthias even went to a psychiatrist to help overcome how to eliminate apathy and grow an attitude of sympathy and become caring and willing to accept differences of opinion, rejection and so on.

There Elysee could see how Matthias kissed your cheek affectionately, if Elysee remembered again the woman wanted to laugh at how Matthias' expression said love but with a flat expression.

Like father, like child. The fruit does not fall far from the tree, that's Matthias, just like his father.

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You are relaxing on the balcony, enjoying the hot spring, so warm but shady.

Down there, in the garden, you see your mother-in-law, Elysee and Matthias' grandmother, Norma, busy staring at Felix and Aire who are playing with each other, your and Matthias' children.

While your husband? Matthias, the man is busy cooing affectionately behind you, kissing your bare shoulder affectionately because you are wearing an Off-shoulder dress. Damn, this man knows the opportunity in adversity.

Many things have happened during the 9 years you have been with Matthias, you have faced the ups and downs together, but you know that Matthias wants to learn and tries to prove himself. As a result, the man becomes like a cat in heat, always wanting to be close and not wanting to be far away.

"Matty! Don't bite! Later mom and grandma will see, I'll be embarrassed"

You complain because this time Matthias bites and sips lovingly leaving a mark on your bare shoulder.

While Matthias, the man is only busy kissing, sucking your shoulder and neck, his hands also don't stay still on your thigh, stroking affectionately. Never mind that it was currently in public, but fortunately the balcony railing was 100% covered with carved marble, so the people below only saw that Matthias and you were just hugging.

"Don't refuse like that my love, it's your own fault for wearing such revealing clothes, this is called an invitation for me"

Matthias continued kissing and nuzzling your shoulder and neck.

"Felix and Aire are already 8 years old, isn't it time for them to have a new sibling?"

"No! Wait until they are 10 years old, then a new sibling"

Too bad, your husband didn't accept the rejection, instead Matthias stared with a mischievous grin.

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Elysee chuckled softly at what she had just seen, causing amazement at Norma and the 2 little kids who were currently sitting in front of them, resting because they were tired of running and playing.

Norma snorted and drank her tea slowly, softly asking.

"What made you chuckle so cutely Elysee?"

Elysee just smiled shaking her head, and poked Felix's cheek which was a copy of Matthias and also rubbed Aire who was busy eating pastry.

"Nothing mom, I think we need to build another house"

Blinking one eye mischievously at her mother-in-law Norma, while Norma who was given that just laughed happily.

Wiping away tears slowly because she was tired of laughing. Norma knew exactly what Elysee meant, a new presence, a new member, Felix and Aire's future sibling.

"Well, at least our Matthias is full of energy to want to have lots of children"

The two middle-aged women laughed together, making the two little children in front of them look at each other, shake their heads slowly and just continue eating the pastry served in front of them.

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On the balcony, Matthias was still busy kissing your shoulder and neck affectionately which was so tempting to his desire.

His hands were so adept at entering your lower dress, rubbing your soft thighs gently with full squeezes passion.

"Matt! Not here!"

You tried to protest Matthias, but like talking to a wall, Matthias ignored your protest.

Until his ladder slipped into your underwear, rubbing your sensitive intimate area slowly.

"Matthias!?". The more firmly you refused, the wilder Matthias became.

"What love? I know you enjoy it"

Matthias naughtily sucked your neck slowly, while his 2 fingers were busy moving back and forth in your sensitive area, so deep and expert.

You were only able to hold back your moans, afraid that a servant would pass through the balcony door or Grandma and mother would see you both suspiciously from down there, as much as possible you acted normal.

"Come on love, don't be so shy, I know you enjoy it"

Your ass was slapped lightly by Matthias deliberately full of temptation.

His hands got faster when he felt your walls squeezing his fingers.

"Want to come out love? Yes? Come to me love, came to my hands"

Until, you came hard! Both of your hands covered your mouth to muffle your moans, your eyes closed while your legs shook unable to bear the weight.

While Matthias' fingers were still busy moving slowly, down there, Matthias could feel and see the puddles of water falling. You squirted, it turned out.

Matthias chuckled softly and kissed your cheek tenderly.

Matthias passionately devours your lips, forcing his tongue into your mouth, tracing every inch of your mouth. Claiming it to be his.

You who are out of breath try to pat Matthias' chest, but Matthias this man is full of passion, so you bite his lips and scratch his neck, causing blood spots on his lips and neck.

Matthias just winces softly before pulling your hair back, not too roughly but not too slowly, enough to make you look at him.

Matthias' passionate eyes stare directly at you, whispering sensually right in front of your lips, while licking the corner of your lips affectionately.

"Feels so good love? Do you want to continue here or in the room hmm?"

Damn, your fate is so unlucky to marry this shameless nobleman but god, you cant hold your heart, you love this man, as same as matthias love you.

His secret, his little heaven secret.

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Tag list; @snowflakes666 @nerdygoateepeanut @blurryperrtymoonlight @luminethebest @scenicelixir @n4muqr @cannyyyyy @athena-roy @sirenetheblogger @rai-xxx @thehopingfairy @ryusooze @yaoduriaa @merveeeeesworld

Please dont steal my work, or use without my permissions, Always be good people Dear. Much love, Neva🦋🦋.

©️Nymphea0 2024 , OG story, Project Dark Manhwa Character Story.

[gracemisconduct]

This has been a strange Christmas. The first without my dad. I've always struggled with being explicit about emotion; this is the second major grief in my life, and the first nearly killed me. This time, I'm trying to be open, less self destructive, but man, it's hard work. My mother, still here, is...someone who loves me better from afar. She also struggles to accept that this has happened to more than her. And yet, Christmas, funerals, and the time of year forces proximity, and forces everything that comes with it.

He died in increments, then all at once. I first saw him die a little ten years ago, getting a pacemaker. Then a little more two years later, when he was so breathless he couldn't walk across the small medieval town I lived in. I saw him die a little bit when he was diagnosed with cancer, and when he broke down crying at my wedding. I saw him die most and fastest this year, when he went from visiting China to not having the strength to sit up in bed by himself. And then, all at once, he died.

I never knew there was so much admin involved in death. People would ask how I was; I had no idea. I was too busy sourcing a death certificate, arranging a funeral, writing a eulogy, telling friends and family he'd died, sorting my mum's finances. Every now and again I'd burst our crying. Then I'd stop.

Through it all, two things kept me just about sane; walking, walking everywhere, and fantasy. Good fantasy, bad fantasy. Smut and angst and fandoms and AO3 and all the wonderful ridiculousness of it that teen Grace loved and 20s Grace tried to pretend she didn't. Now I'm in my 30s, no shits are given. It was a balm, a source of humour, a relief. A place of happy endings of all kinds. A lot of BG3. It even made me think about doing a little writing of my own, though we're far from there yet. Thanks, hellsite, for the wonderful wildness of this place. Thanks, makers, for putting your work out there into the world for me to get lost in and cling to like a life raft.

____________

So, who was my dad? He was the most accomplished man I ever knew; nearly 40 years curating Japanese art and metalwork at internationally renowned museums, published books, honorary positions, a photographer, a ceramicist, a singer and more. His eulogy took days to write just to remember everything he did, and we still missed things.

His curiosity for culture, his love of learning, his collecting of obscure facts and bizarre stories, was infectious. It was the golden thread of my brother and I’s upbringing, with weekends and holidays punctuated by museums, bookshops, National Trust properties, standing stones and sci-fi movies, and everything in between. It was this same passion and curiosity that meant his list of friends and admirers was longer than your arm. He was a G.I. and so am I. Yes, I stole his badge.

When we were looking for readings for his cremation, we came across this poem. It's a later addition by Tolkien, written by Bilbo as he travels to the Grey Havens, thinking about his life and what comes next. I think that dad - LOTR narrator, deliver of funny hobbit voices, old hippy - would appreciate it. I hope you do too.

Day is ended, dim my eyes,

but journey long before me lies.

Farewell, friends! I hear the call.

The ship's beside the stony wall.

Foam is white and waves are grey;

Beyond the sunset leads my way.

Foam is salt, the wind is free;

I hear the rising of the Sea.

Farewell, friends! The sails are set,

the wind is east, the moorings fret.

Shadows long before me lie,

beneath the ever-bending sky,

but islands lie behind the Sun

that I shall raise ere all is done;

lands there are to west of West,

where night is quiet and sleep is rest.

Guided by the Lonely Star,

beyond the utmost harbour-bar

I'll find the havens fair and free,

and beaches of the Starlit Sea.

Ship, my ship! I seek the West,

and fields and mountains ever blest.

Farewell to Middle-Earth at last.

I see the Star above your mast!

- J.R.R. Tolkien

notes on grief - chimamanda ngozi adichie

[capquinn]

okay i keep seeing fics and thoughts about how attentive quinn would be towards his partner and it got me thinking…

i feel like it would get to the point where he knows your body and your queues better than you know yourself. start to realize your allergies aren’t allergies? he already bought the meds you need and is making dinner. got your period? no surprise there, he has his own app for you and stocked up on snacks last week.

which brings me to this heheh.

i feel like once you have one or two babies with quinn he knows your pregnancy symptoms like the back of his hand. so much so that he tells YOU you’re pregnant again. and it would just hit him one night laying in bed (you know that man thinks himself to sleep)

I’m gone for him, enjoy my delulu land thoughts

hello????? this is so cute and so husband!quinn coded. i love this trope sm <3

Quinn moved through your world like he’d been born knowing the map of it. His care wasn’t loud or showy — it was quiet, woven into the seams of everyday life. He had a way of catching the things no one else would: the small shift in your posture when you were tired, the pause in your laugh when something was weighing on you. His hands knew the rhythm of your days, reaching for your mug before you could, adjusting the blanket without needing to ask if you were cold. It wasn’t that he studied you; it was more like you existed in a frequency he was always tuned into, effortlessly aware of every note, every shift, every unspoken word.

So, when the subtle changes began to creep in, Quinn noticed before you did.

It started with the small things — too small to put into words, but just noticeable enough for him to store away. The way you sighed a little heavier, your shoulders barely lifting before falling, as though the weight of the day had settled in deeper than usual. Or how you hesitated in doorways, pausing like you’d forgotten what you needed or where you were going, your brows knitting together in quiet thought. And then there was the tiredness, creeping in like a quiet visitor. Some afternoons, he’d find you curled up with Bug during her nap, the two of you tangled in a mess of blankets on the couch, her tiny hand resting on your chest as you dozed. It wasn’t like you, not the you he knew who thrived on filling the hours, always moving, always doing.

At first, he dismissed it. Everyone had their moments, days when energy flagged, when the world felt a little out of sync. But then the bigger, more obvious changes began to take root.

It began with the walk. You, Quinn, and Bug strolled through the neighbourhood on a crisp winter morning, the kind where the air felt fresh but not too biting. Bug was hopping along, gripping Quinn’s hand and jumping over cracks in the pavement. You paused by a lamppost, your gaze snagged on a flyer stapled to the pole. It was for a missing dog, the corners frayed from the cold. The photo — a golden retriever with the sweetest, dopey smile — stared back at you, and your throat tightened inexplicably.

You tried to hide it, quickly swiping at the tears that pricked your eyes, but Quinn noticed instantly. “You okay?” he asked, his brows knitting in concern.

You nodded too quickly, your voice unconvincing. “I’m fine. It’s just…” You trailed off, breathing a shaky laugh as the tears spilled anyway. “The poor dog…”

Quinn stopped in his tracks, gently pulling Bug to his other side so he could wrap an arm around your shoulders.

“Hey, it’s okay,” he murmured, his voice warm and steady. “We’ll keep an eye out. Maybe someone’s already found him,” he said softly, though his brows furrowed as he held you. 

You were sentimental, yes, but crying over a lost dog poster wasn’t like you. He kissed the top of your head, the thought lingering as Bug tugged at his hand to keep moving.

A few days later, it happened again. Bug had tripped over a loose stone in the driveway. It wasn’t anything dramatic — just one of those little stumbles kids have a dozen times a day. She scraped her knee, barely even a mark, and at first, she just sat there staring at it, trying to decide if it was worth crying over. Her lips wobbled, her big eyes filling with tears, and then came the wail — not loud, not panicked, just enough to let you know she’d decided it hurt.

Quinn crouched beside her in a heartbeat, his voice gentle and steady. “Hey, Bug, you’re okay,” he murmured, brushing the tiny specks of gravel off her knees. His hand lingered there for a moment, his thumb grazing the fabric as if to check for any real damage. “It’s just a little scrape. Barely even a scratch, see?”

Bug sniffled, her tiny hands clutching at the hem of his shirt as she leaned toward him, and Quinn scooped her up without hesitation. She buried her face against his chest, her little body shuddering with the last remnants of her tears.

You stood a few steps back, frozen in place. It wasn’t the scrape that did it, not really. It was the way her small shoulders shook, the way her face had crumpled like her whole world had been upended. It was her tears — so big and overwhelming for someone so small. Watching her cry felt like something cracking open inside you, and before you could stop yourself, tears pricked at the corners of your own eyes.

Quinn looked up, catching your expression in an instant. His brows furrowed slightly, his concern shifting toward you.

“She’s okay,” he said softly, his voice meant to reassure.

But the sight of him, standing there with Bug tucked safely against his chest, his voice low and calming, only made the ache in your chest sharper. Your hand flew up to your face, brushing quickly at your cheek to catch the tear that escaped, but Quinn noticed anyway. Of course, he noticed.

“Hey,” he said, his tone even gentler now, his eyes searching yours. “What’s going on?”

You tried to smile, but it came out shaky, your voice catching as you whispered, “Nothing, I’m fine. Just—” You swallowed hard, glancing at Bug’s little face as she peeked up at you, her tears already drying. “I’m being silly.”

She blinked at you, her sniffles slowing, her tiny voice soft as she said, “I’m okay, mommy.”

The sweetness of her reassurance undid you completely. Another tear slid down your cheek, and you let out a quiet, shaky laugh, brushing it away as Quinn stepped closer. He didn’t say anything, just wrapped one arm around your waist, pulling you into the circle of warmth he and Bug created.

But even as the moment passed, it stayed with him. 

And then came the smell of popcorn.

Family movie night was the kind of weekly tradition that carried a quiet comfort, the kind that made the whole house feel warmer and softer. Bug had already claimed her spot on the couch, clutching her stuffed bear, her little feet kicking in excitement as Quinn rummaged in the kitchen, the air popper humming softly. The scent of fresh popcorn started wafting through the house, buttery and rich, and he could already hear Bug giggling at the first loud pop.

But something was off. 

You were mid-step to the couch, arms full of blankets, when you froze. Your nose crinkled, the kind of subtle movement Quinn might’ve missed if he hadn’t glanced up right then. You turned your head slightly, as if testing the air, and then your hand shot up, waving in front of your face like you could swat the smell away.

“Can you—” you hesitated, your voice uncharacteristically small. “Can you open the windows? Please?”

Quinn, mid-pour as the popcorn spilled into a bowl, paused, confused. “It’s freezing outside,” he said lightly, not in a way meant to argue but more like a question.

“Quinn, please” you said, cutting him off, your voice sharp with desperation. Your face had scrunched up, your hand pressing against your nose as you braced yourself on the back of a chair. “The smell...”

That was all it took. Without another word, he crossed to the window, shoving it open. A gust of cold air rushed in, making him shiver, but he stayed there for a second, staring at you as you sank onto the couch. You were pale, almost a little green, pulling the blanket over you like it could shield you from the lingering scent in the air.

He settled the bowl down, watching you carefully.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice soft and steady, the way it always was when he was trying to gently coax the truth out of you. There wasn’t an ounce of judgment in his tone, just that familiar warmth that made it impossible to brush him off completely.

“I’m fine,” you replied quickly, though the tight smile on your face didn’t convince him. “It’s just… the smell of melted butter. It’s so strong tonight.”

His gaze lingered, his brow furrowing. The smell? The smell of buttery popcorn? You’d practically declared it your comfort food not long ago, sneaking bites every time he made a batch before the film had even started, laughing as Bug scolded you for eating hers. He could count on one hand the number of family movie nights where you hadn’t stolen the first handful, claiming quality control. But now? Now, you looked like you couldn’t stand to be in the same room with it.

“You want me to grab you something else? Crackers? Tea?” he offered, trying to fill the silence with solutions, throwing them out suggestions like lifelines.

You shook your head, brushing him off with a small wave. “No, it’s fine. I’ll be fine.”

But Quinn wasn’t convinced. He sat beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as Bug wriggled into his lap, her giggles filling the room. You leaned into him, your head resting against his chest, and for a while, it felt like everything was back to normal.

But it wasn’t.

As Bug chattered happily about the movie, Quinn’s mind lingered on you. On the way your face had twisted, the way you recoiled from something you once loved. It wasn’t like you. Not at all. And the longer he held you close, the more certain he became that this wasn’t just a bad reaction to popcorn. It was something more. He just didn’t know what — yet.

But the biggest changes came just a couple of days later, revealing themselves in moments that caught Quinn completely off guard.

It was early in the morning, the kind of stillness that only came before the rest of the house stirred awake. Bug was sound asleep in her room, her soft snores barely audible through the monitor, and the house seemed wrapped in a peaceful hush. The air between you and Quinn felt heavier, charged, but in the best way — soft whispers, shared breaths, and the warmth of his body pressed close.

His hands moved over your skin with practiced tenderness, his touch warm and familiar, every stroke an unspoken declaration of love. His lips followed, pressing soft, languid kisses along your collarbone, trailing a path that left your skin tingling. This was how he loved you — slowly, deeply, making you feel like you were the only person in the world.

But then his lips brushed against your breast, featherlight, as if he was testing how far he could push before the teasing turned into something more. And yet—

“Quinn,” you whimpered, a sharp intake of breath cutting through the stillness as you shifted away from him. “Be gentle.”

He froze instantly, his concern immediate as he lifted his head to look at you. “I am,” he murmured, his voice quiet but tinged with confusion. He searched your face, his hands stilling on your waist as if waiting for you to say more.

You shook your head, swallowing against the lump in your throat. “It just… hurts,” you admitted, the words coming out softer than you intended, almost like you were embarrassed by them.

Quinn’s expression softened, an apology already forming in the tilt of his brow. He leaned in, brushing a kiss to the inside of your breast as though it could somehow make up for the discomfort, but you pulled away again, wincing before his lips even made full contact.

“Quinn, that hurts,” you repeated, a little louder this time, your hand coming up to shield yourself instinctively, a clear sign for him to avoid the area altogether.

His hands dropped to your hips, retreating as he leaned back, his brows knitting together further. He watched you carefully, his gaze full of questions he didn’t ask, giving you space but not pulling away entirely.

Quinn frowned, his thumb brushing over your skin in a soothing motion. “I didn’t mean to,” he murmured, his voice full of quiet sincerity.

“I know,” you replied quickly, offering him a small smile to reassure him. “It’s just… everything feels so sensitive.”

He leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of your neck instead, but he could feel your hesitation, the way your body tensed slightly, as if bracing for more discomfort.

But even as he moved his touch elsewhere, skimming his hands over your back, your thighs, he couldn’t stop his mind from racing. Your reaction was unusual, out of sync with how things normally were between you. He’d always been attuned to your body, your needs, and this? This was different.

Still, when you pulled him closer, guiding him to where you wanted him, he let it go for now.

And it's later that night when everything makes perfect sense.

Quinn crawls into bed later that night, the first thing he notices isn’t the movie playing on Netflix or the cozy way you’re propped up against the pillows. No, his attention zeroes in on the plate balanced on your lap — a plate of pickles, shiny and brined, with a big dollop of peanut butter right in the middle. His movements falter, half under the covers, as his eyes flick between you and the plate, his expression caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

You don’t even notice him staring, too distracted by scrolling through movie options. “What?” you ask, glancing over briefly before returning your attention to the TV.

“Who’s that for?” he asks, his voice slow, deliberate, like he’s waiting for the punchline.

“Me,” you reply without missing a beat, your tone distracted. “Why, you want some?”

He’s fully under the covers now, leaning back against the headboard, one brow raised as he studies you. “You hate pickles,” he says, the corner of his mouth twitching like he’s holding back a smile.

You pause mid-bite, glancing over at him with a small frown. “I don’t hate them,” you argue, tone light but defensive, gesturing to the plate like it proves your point. “They’re just not my go-to snack. But they’re fine.”

His brow furrows deeper, his gaze flicking between you and the plate. “Since when?”

“Since now, I guess,” you shrug, as if it’s not worth discussing. Without missing a beat, you swipe another pickle through the peanut butter and take a bite, chewing like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Quinn doesn’t say anything for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watches you. The corner of his mouth twitches again, but this time it’s not amusement—it’s something closer to realization. Something is clicking into place, and as he leans his head back against the pillows, his gaze softens, filled with something you can’t quite place.

“What?” you ask, narrowing your eyes at him as you catch the look on his face. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

He leans back against the pillows, shifting as if to settle in, and shrugs, his tone casual—too casual. “No reason,” he says, his voice smooth, but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrays him.

You squint at him, suspicious. “Quinn…”

He shakes his head, lifting the blanket higher around his chest like it’s a shield, his eyes now glued to the TV. “Seriously,” he murmurs, his voice low, distracted. “It’s nothing.”

But you can see the faintest glimmer of amusement in his eyes, the way his lips press together like he’s holding back a grin. You open your mouth to press him further, but he shifts again, leaning into your side under the blanket as if that’s the end of the conversation.

Later, when the movie ends with a soft hum and the credits roll, the light from the screen flickers faint shadows across the room before everything dims into darkness. The lamp on the nightstand clicks off with a quiet snap, leaving the room bathed in a cosy stillness. The only sound now is Bug’s tiny snores filtering through the baby monitor, soft and steady, her little sighs rising and falling in a rhythm so gentle it could lull anyone to sleep.

You’re curled against Quinn’s side, warm and relaxed, your head resting on his chest, his arm draped around you as his fingers trace absentminded patterns over your back. The weight of the day lingers faintly in the air, softened by the quiet and the comfort of each other’s presence, and it should feel serene, the kind of moment Quinn would normally soak in without question, but not tonight.

His eyes are open, fixed on the ceiling though he isn’t really seeing it. His body is still, though his mind is anything but. It’s racing, piecing together a puzzle he didn’t even realize he was solving until tonight. The pickles and peanut butter. The popcorn. The tears over Bug’s scraped knee. The extra naps curled up on the couch. Each moment replays in his head, flashing brighter with every pass until there’s no way he can chalk it up to coincidence.

Bug’s little snore drifts through the monitor again, and he glances down at you, still nestled against him, your face soft and relaxed. He’s usually content to let moments like this pass unspoken, holding them close without the need to fill the silence. But tonight, the weight of what he’s realised feels too big to ignore.

It’s not nothing. Not even close.

“Baby?” he murmurs, his voice soft, careful not to break the quiet too harshly, trying not to startle you.

You hum softly against him, your head shifting slightly to nuzzle closer against him, your body too close to sleep to fully respond.

His hand stills on your back, and he swallows, the weight of what he’s about to say heavy in the stillness. “I think…” He draws in a breath, steeling himself for how to say it. “I think you’re pregnant.”

Slowly, you lift your head, your eyes meeting his in the dim light filtering through the blinds, your expression a mix of confusion and disbelief.

“What?” you whisper, your voice rough with sleep, your tone teetering between shock and amusement. “You can’t possibly know that.”

Quinn tilts his head down to meet your eyes, his own full of something soft and sure. There’s the faintest twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth, as though he’s both amused and completely serious all at once. Like he knows how absurd this might sound but believes it wholeheartedly.

“The pickles and peanut butter,” he says simply, his voice calm. “That’s not normal.”

You sit up a little, propping yourself on one elbow, your brow furrowing. “It’s not that weird,” you try to argue, though your voice wavers, betraying your uncertainty. “People eat stuff like that all the time.”

“Not you,” he counters immediately, insistent. His hand moves to rest on your waist, grounding. “You hate pickles. Always have. The only time you’ve ever eaten them was when you were pregnant.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. His statement hangs in the air between you, heavy with meaning, his certainty pressing against your rising disbelief.

“I mean… that’s not…” you start, your voice trailing off as the pieces begin to fall into place in your mind. “That doesn’t mean I’m pregnant,” you insist, but even as you say it, doubt creeps in. Your free hand drifts unconsciously to your stomach, resting there like it might offer some kind of confirmation.

Quinn’s thumb brushes against your side, the touch grounding but gentle, as if he doesn’t want to push you too far, too fast. “Maybe,” he says, his voice soft, like he’s offering you the space to deny it if you want. “But you’ve been tired, more emotional… and now this?” His lips twitch again, the faintest smile playing there, but his eyes stay steady on yours, filled with a quiet conviction.

You blink at him, a laugh bubbling up from somewhere deep in your chest — not from amusement, but disbelief. “Quinn, people eat weird food combos all the time. This doesn’t mean—”

“You really think it’s just a coincidence?” he interrupts gently, his tone more curious than challenging. “Pickles and peanut butter, of all things? That was your thing, baby. With Bug.”

The reminder makes you pause, your brow furrowing deeper as you glance down at where his hand rests on your waist. “That was… different,” you mutter, though the protest sounds weak even to your own ears.

Quinn leans in slightly, his forehead almost brushing yours, the closeness pulling your gaze back to his. His eyes are soft but insistent, and for a moment, all you can do is stare at him. His face is so steady, so full of quiet certainty, and it makes something flicker in your chest — a suspicion, a possibility, something you hadn’t let yourself consider until now.

“You’re serious,” you whisper, your voice barely above a breath, the words more of an observation than a question, as if it’s just dawning on you that he isn’t joking. He genuinely believes it.

His hand comes up, cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “I know you,” he murmurs, his tone as gentle s his touch. “And I’m telling you… you’re pregnant.”

You blink at him, your lips parting slightly, but no real words come out at first. Then, with a quiet laugh that’s half disbelief, half affection, you shake your head and murmur, “how do you always figure me out before I do?”

Quinn’s lips curve into a soft, lopsided smile, the kind that makes your chest ache with how much love it holds. “I pay attention,” he says simply, his hand still cradling your cheek, thumb brushing just under your eye.

You lean into his touch, your own hand coming up to rest lightly over his wrist. "And what if you're wrong?"

His chuckle rumbles low and easy in his chest as he presses a kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering there like he’s trying to pass some of his certainty onto you. "I don’t think I am," he says, his voice gentle, but the confidence behind it makes your pulse hum.

You don’t argue. Instead, you let the quiet between you stretch, the weight of his words settling softly over you. It’s fragile and insistent, nudging at the edges of your disbelief, coaxing you to consider it.

The idea blooms slowly, like a dawning realisation, soft and tentative, but impossible to ignore. It unfolds in layers — the thought of two children filling your home with laughter and chaos, the sight of Bug as a big sister, her tiny hands guiding even tinier ones, her voice full of pride and importance. You can almost hear the way she’d say it, proclaiming herself the helper, the protector, the best big sister in the world. The idea of another little person, someone with Quinn’s soft eyes and quiet strength, someone who might scrunch their nose when they smile, just like he does. Another piece of him, and of you, wrapped up into someone entirely their own. The thought is overwhelming in its sweetness, in the weight of its possibility.

You press closer against Quinn’s chest, your head resting over his heart as his fingers trace those lazy, familiar patterns on your back. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat thrums beneath your ear, grounding you in the moment, as if reminding you that you don’t have to figure it all out right now. And as the quiet fills the room, pierced only by Bug’s little sighs through the monitor, you let yourself imagine it more fully, the beginnings of a smile tugging at your lips.

Maybe — just maybe — he’s right.

[davidlikebowie-noturaccountant]

okay this is fully rushed and just the first part because i’m sleepy tired but

i wasn’t TOTALLY sure if the au was meant to be like neil still tries and fails or what but that was how i read it and so the following also tw for references to suicide (canon compliant)

anyway there will probs be a part two… tomorrow? idk but i hope u like it op (i may have accidentally made it less of a silly goofy au and more of too much internal serious reflection whoopsies)

When Neil comes to, it’s in a sterile room. Bleak, white light filters in from the open door, and he is…… completely alone. It’s silent, save for the intermittent beeping of the machines, and everything hurts. For a moment, a blessed, easy moment, he can’t remember where he is, or why he’s there. And then it all comes crashing back, a 12-foot wave of pain, guilt, and regret. Then the heavy sadness. It didn’t work. He’s trapped. God fucking damn it, can he do anything right?

In the drawing-room, Tom and Eleanor are sitting by the phone, quiet. Grief had washed away the anger that stood staunch in that room only days before, and uncertainty continued to pool in them. And then they got the phone call. It felt like a miracle. Eleanor had fallen into Tom, crying, once again, but for the first time in ages, the tears were those of relief. Their family was going to be okay. They could heal from this.

The months that followed were hard. The hardest they’d ever had to reckon with. Neil, somehow, blessedly, escaped without lasting damage to his brain. When he was left alone for any longer than a moment, it weighed on him. When he had gone into the study that night, he had felt… steady. Sure. More sure than he’d been in a while. Resolute. And– in the wake of that– to find out he’d been foiled by a shaky hand, it felt like a cruel slap to the face. As time wore on, he tried hard to find the lust for life he’d briefly gotten his hands on, but his parents had deliberated, they’d decided to send him away, and they only told the school he’d- nothing after. And send him away they did, somewhere where he couldn’t make long-distance calls, and any calls he would have tried to make were long-distance. He was completely cut off from the person he used to be, and the people who had made him that person. Total isolation. He barely heard from his parents, save the occasional letter reminding him of the expectations they had. Forget lust for life, he hardly had it in him to resist. He was back to square one.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At 32, Neil felt as if he stopped needing to adjust to things, or maybe he only just realised it. Suburban New Jersey was both exactly like Vermont and a far, far cry from it. He rarely let himself think about Vermont, though. The person he was before he went to military school in Scotland. Before what he only lets himself refer to as “The Incident.”

He’s a far cry from that person now. Dwelling on it only serves to make him sad. So, he settles into his new routine, and for a while, he forces himself, pointedly, not to think about how close he is to Vermont. Then, as time continues to pass, that becomes routine too. Suppressed without him having to think about it. He finds, in time, that he likes the bustle of the hospital. There’s no time for him to think past his cases. Saves him from himself some days.

The pager on his belt beeps, and he sees the code on the little screen. The one which means he has a new patient. And he steps back into the routine, going to the emergency room to do his job. One foot in front of the other. He has to remind himself sometimes not to mourn. He did his time, he felt his grief. Even 16 years later, it tries to get on top of him. But, his job keeps it at bay. Occupies his mind. Most days, he can hardly remember he used to be a different person. Some days he feels it brewing, just under the surface of his attention. It doesn’t get on top of him though. Never.

So, when he pulls the curtain back, clipboard in hand, his mind is blessedly empty, his gait is sure, and he doesn’t think twice about only skimming the chart he was handed for symptoms. Usually, he just takes the patient history himself. So, he walks in, as secure as he can be, doing the job he knows he’s good at.

He knows the EMTs had to resuscitate. From the beeping, he can tell that the pulse is still thready. But there. He knows the basics from his perfunctory skim of the chart. Overdose, patient’s pulse was lost for 3 seconds while unresponsive. This seems fairly easy, comparatively. He knows what to do. He’s well trained. He’s secure in his knowledge. Resolute.

And then he looks up from his clipboard.

It’s amazing how much 16 years can change a person. Features age, the angles of youth soften. But there are some things about a person that don’t change. A laugh, a smile.

Big blue eyes.

There are some things about a person you can never forget. He glances down at his chart. And there it is, the thing he didn’t read, in the same swoopy handwriting he remembered from- then.

Todd Anderson.

Fuck.

after seeing clips from tape and house I can only think of an anderperry au where Neil doesn’t die, but gets sent away and becomes a doctor. The next time he and Todd meet? Todd overdosed. You just have to hear me out for this one:

“Neil! We all thought you died!”

“Well I didn’t. You though? You did. Legally. For three whole seconds. Todd what the fuck?”

[manicpixiedreamedwins]

GINGERWREN'S PAYNELAND RECS 2024!

I can't believe we have had Charles and Edwin for less than a year. Even still, we've had a lot of fun! I wanted to share some fics, art, and gifs that made this year worth it for me personally. I was talking to a friend recently, and we noticed recent rec lists seem to be short, tag based lists with no real input from the list writer. Many of them also seem to rec the same few fics. Sometimes I feel left out as a smaller writer, and I know my favorite fics also don't always make it onto these lists either.

So, gentle reader, I will not be making a list of tags and summaries. You can read the tags on the fics and the art work, should you choose to view. I will be telling you why I love the works themselves. This is the best way I can think to recommend work to you.

Without further ado: the list is below.

WRITING

sweeter than honey from the rock - @dearheartdont

This lives rent free in my head. Literally in my mind this is like a lost episode or something. I do not want to spoil it or anything, but some of my favorite things in it are the world building (there are delightfully sympathetic clients, and witty antagonists), Charles does... exactly what one would expect Charles to do in order to help the client and protect everyone, and he makes things temporarily worse for himself. Rest assured though, there is a very, very satisfying resolution. Really, this is such a wonderful fic.

Winter Bloom - @skinnybritishdudes

PINK!!! EDWIN!!!! NOW!!!! This was my request for our server's Christmas exchange and it blew me out of the water. Genuinely, the magical mischief PLUS the subtle horror PLUS the absolute tenderness at the end?? Was everything I wanted, and more than I expected. Friendship ended with my own pink Edwin origin story. THIS is Pink Edwin now. Run don't walk for this one (as you can see, I still have not calmed down I am so excited about this one).

Nothing Left to Hide - @roseganymede95

I know I need to say more than "spider jar" but there's a point where I just start crying softly and going "spider jar" while I am reading. Honestly I'm sure if I said that to you, you would probably know which fic I'm referring to. It's this one. It's brilliant. It rewired my brain early on and I haven't been the same since. I found a spider jar pin because it may as well be canon in my mind. They call each other mine in the fic what more do I need to tell you to get you to read this? Join the spider jar cult with me.

right. never finished it.- taableclofh

A classic. Charles tries to save Edwin from Hell. He figures some things out in the process. (This is canon divergent in the best possible way and was a real balm on the soul, somehow).

molliculi (soft little things)- @williamvapespeare

This was made in a lab to make me cry specifically. The first time I finished reading it, it was two in the morning. I stared at my bedroom wall for like twenty minutes, bleary eyed, and then finally managed to type something to @williamvapespeare (who was really gracious about whatever mess I sent, lol). God fuck. It's a character study on Edwin. It's a history of living and dying in 1916. It's wondering what it means to continue on existing, but never have lived on with your peers. It's an outsider's perspective on Charles' trying to figure things out. Go. Go now. Suffer with me.

All Rights Reserved- @phoenix-soar

Do you like possessive Charles? (There's one right answer and it's yes). This fic is the fic. This also lives rent free in my brain. I wish I could say something more coherent but honestly I do not know how much I can say- well there is this lovely description where Charles compares Edwin's eyes to the sea on a stormy day (ao3 is sadly down, I cannot pull the full quote, but it was gorgeous). The rest... 🌶️🌶️🌶️

The Case of the Omegaverse Portal - miraworos

Omegaverse, as specified in the title. Also a very well written casefic, and some really satisfying feelings revelations. Once again: 🌶️🌶️🌶️

ART

Kiss (Blue) - @ent-is-indecisive

Genuinely A I am just amazed by how lovely all the kisses you draw are. Like they come out stunningly, over and over. I have no idea how you pull off this wizardry but it is amazing. Anyway I picked the first picture we ever talked about but I am also genuinely blown away whenever you drop something in LOMA

Collab Gifset For Payneland Week- @mellxncollie

I know you have all seen Olly's gifs. If you haven't, what are you even doing? (Maybe you're new here. That's okay). It's something special when Olly makes a gifset for your fic. Genuinely, sometimes I just go back and stare at this one because WOW THOSE ARE MY WORDS. BUT ON A GIF. Genuinely thanks for making my first year in the fandom special Olly.

Pink Slip- @arisprite

Ari was super great during the flash sketch commissions and we had a blast. Now this reminds me of ongoing convos that @majorlb @deadboyslullaby and I have (and perhaps one day we will do something more with those) but the point here is Ari is great. You all should go and appreciate the wide range of payneland she has made. Her fem!payneland is dazzling, and so is her sad boy Charles (which I think is the first piece I ever fell in love with).

RITUALS - @deadboyslullaby

THE RITUALS ARE INTRICATE. This was a collaboration with @likemmmcookies . @deadboyslullaby worked really hard on the inscription around the edges for this one and I am forever in awe of all the little details here. I want more of them doing strange, arcane stuff together always.

ORBWIN IN CHARLES’ RIBS- @jube-art

This is absolutely what I think is going on when one of them is orbing and the other isn't. No I am not taking feedback. Once more, this was a piece of art that re-wired my brain early on. Ribs are for lovers.

BONUS:

Feathers and Fur - merle_p

Super secret rare pair that rewired how my brain works forever. I love you catcrow. I love you Monty that's a little bit depressed a little bit of a masochist. I love you Thomas who can't help but take in strays but still has teeth and hasn't been declawed in this fic. This fic is just... so... gorgeous*chef's kiss*. I won't spoil it for you, but I implore you to read it so I have more people to talk about this pairing with.

These were all my recs for now. Thank you Dead Boy Detective fandom 2024! We may have had some bumps in the road, but here's to a strong and healthy 2025!

[themindofachronicdaydreamer]

Suites & Sweets

freshman year at Jujutsu University Tokyo seems like it will be uneventful. and, well, that's true... until you meet the boys in the suite across the hall, and one in particular piques your interest.

satoru gojo x reader | jjk college au | no curse au | fem! reader | fluff, angst, & slow burn | SMAU & writing <3

introduction | previous | next PSA: *look HERE to see their private instagrams!*

₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.

ˋ°•*⁀➷˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 21. 𝓢𝓝𝓐𝓒𝓚, 𝓓𝓘𝓢𝓣𝓡𝓐𝓒𝓣, 𝓐𝓣𝓣𝓐𝓒𝓚 ⍣ ೋ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ ... wc: 3.8k

Standing alone in the dimly lit hallway, plaid pajama bottoms and an oversized hoodie working together to swallow your figure, you raise your hand and hesitate for a moment. Cool air brushes against you, the weight of the past few days sitting on your soul for a moment. It's enough to make you contemplate if you should just give Satoru a break from yourself and the pity parties you've been throwing nightly or not.

The past few days have been rough for you. With everything that happened over the weekend and the addition of Ino's texts to both you and Satoru, it had been a struggle to even get out of bed and go to lectures. You felt entrapped by the extent of everything, even missing classes due to the anxiety that courses through your body at full speed, not taking a break to let you breathe once.

Satoru had been by your side the entire time.

Although at some points you needed to be alone, he was always at your side the moment you texted him or asked for him; he was a message away, a room away. He comforted you, letting you cry into his chest to the point of falling asleep on him a few nights. He truly has become your rock, and you're grateful forevermore to him. You know he is trying to genuinely help you, and while it adds to the confusion of your feelings toward him, you can hardly even think about that with everything else going on.

Slowly but surely, you are regaining the spark Naoya always seems to steal away.

This time, he won't be able to take it ever again. You won't let him.

You're done running.

Since you've made this revelation in your mind, you're really trying to work on yourself. You want to get better, to be better, stronger. And to you, the first step to doing that is leaving your room you hid from the world in. So you went to class today, and although you opted out of plans with friends because you were trying not to push yourself too hard, you decided to venture out to Satoru's and escape your self-induced dungeon.

With a quiet breath, you move your fist to knock on the door, clenched fingers hovering over the wood. Before you can make contact, the door swings open with a soft creak and opens to your white-haired friend, presence feeling warm amidst the cold following you everywhere.

"Hey, sweets," he smiles widely, beaming down at your melancholy figure. His voice is laced with easy affection, the nickname natural for him to say at this point. "Come on in."

"Hi, Toru," you strain a smile, stepping into his suite. He grabs two glasses of water from the kitchen counter and you suppose they were the reason he was at the door so quickly. Satoru leads you into his room with an easy confidence, the smell of his expensive cologne faint in the air, mingling with something warm and sweet like freshly made mochi.

You realize once you enter you haven't been in his room before. Looking around after he shuts the door behind you, you notice that it's surprisingly neat considering the chaotic energy he is known to exude. A plush, navy comforter is neatly made on his twin bed, scattered comics and a few random trinkets sit on his bedside table. A small stack of instant ramen cups on his nightstand adds an oddly endearing touch of reality to the otherwise tidy space. A few knick knacks line his desk, and a large TV sits on top of it. You smile to yourself, the little imperfections making it feel less like a pristine suite and more like a glimpse into his personal world. You wonder if this is how he feels looking around your own room.

You notice Satoru has some pictures pinned to the cork board at his desk with care: a selfie with Suguru and Shoko from the group coffee run a couple weeks ago, a picture with his suite mates from graduation, and another with the members of both 12A and 12B, taken during movie night, your and Satoru's matching pajama bottoms on display. Lastly, a picture just of you. One he took on your first boba run of you smiling happily drinking your beverage. It makes you give it a double-take.

Satoru turns to look at you, his piercing eyes softening as they scan your curious face. "How are you? How were classes?" he asks, clumsily plopping onto his bed and gesturing for you to take a seat next to him. His tone is gentle, concerned yet not overly prodding.

You hesitate for a moment before settling onto the edge of the bed, your hands clutching the long sleeves of your hoodie that hide your fidgety hands. "They were okay. I didn't miss much. And I'm okay, I guess. I dunno."

Satoru shifts, propping himself up on one elbow to better see your face. His expression quickly turns attentive, or protective, even. "C'mon. What’s wrong, sweets?" Satoru’s brows knit together as he watches you, his usual playful demeanor replaced by something softer. "Tired like you need a nap, or tired like... everything feels heavy?"

You exhale slowly, your shoulders sagging. "The second one." Your lips press into a thin line, and you look down at your lap. "It’s not just one thing. It’s everything. School’s overwhelming me which is my own fault because I skipped, my brain won’t stop thinking and thinking, and yeah..." your eyes well up as you speak. "I mean, obviously Naoya’s definitely the antagonist of all of it. He was- he’s just-" You sigh, words failing to capture the frustration and anxiety bubbling inside you. You feel yourself wanting to scream, steam bubbling up inside of you and daring to come out, like a kettle on a stove about ready to boil over.

He’s quiet for a moment, his cerulean eyes studying you like he’s trying to piece together a puzzle. "I get it," he acknowledges empathetically. "You're valid for feeling that way after... well, everything."

You hum in agreement, your fingers tightening around your sleeves as you fidget with them. "I don’t know why he can’t just leave me alone. Every time I think he's out of my life, he finds some way to drag me back into his stupid games. And now Ino’s texting you about him?" You glance at him, brows furrowing. "I just want a break for once. When will he get tired of me?"

"I get it," he says, putting a hand on your shoulder and squeezing it affectionately. Then, with a dramatic sigh, he flops onto his back with his arms behind his head, staring at the ceiling. "Oookay, here’s the deal," he begins, his voice light but laced with sincerity. "You’re not leaving this room until you feel at least 10% better. Maybe even 15%. Deal?"

You glance over at him, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the remnants of a dull ache in your chest. "How do you plan on accomplishing that, loser?"

He grins, rolling onto his side to face you again. "Simple: with my three step plan!" He pauses for effect, enjoying your intrigue. "Step one: snack. I have a secret stash of mochi in my desk drawer." In one swift, fluid motion, he stands up and confidently strides to the mini fridge tucked in the corner of his room. With a dramatic flourish, he swings it open it to display the myriad of sweets for his late night cravings.

"Step two: distract," he continues, his voice full of playful energy as he pulls a few boxes of mochi out of the fridge. "I’ll tell you about the time Suguru accidentally dyed his hair purple, or we can scroll through memes. I have an entire folder of cat videos, if that's more your vibe," Satoru points to his phone on the bed as he rambles, walking back toward his spot next to you. "Personally, when I'm sad, Barbie movies never fail to cheer me up, and I have a collection. I mean, have you ever seen Barbie in The 12 Dancing Princesses? Absolutely magical. Those are an option for you, too. Or anything that seems fun that you're willing to do!" He stops his rant to look at you, having stopped walking to stand in front of you while raising a brow, teasing grin on his face. "Even if you want to just sit here and do nothing. Your pick."

You can’t help but chuckle, shaking your head at his enthusiasm. "Your plan sounds like a recipe for disaster," you tease, but there's a spark of amusement in your voice that surprises you.

"Step three: attack," Satoru announces, sitting beside you once again mochi in hand. , then grins, as if finished with his explanation.

"Attack?" you motion for him to continue.

"Yeppers! Those are my steps. Snack, distract, attack," his grin widens, clearly satisfied with his carefully laid-out scheme "And here's a special offer just for you, angel: if all else fails, I’ll let you win at Mario Kart," Satoru smiles. Then, he holds his pointer finger up, eyes squinting. "But only once."

"Um, attack?" you motion for him to continue. "What, you gonna kill me?"

"No, don't worry. You'll find out later," he winks. His wink is so smooth and effortless that for a moment, you forget the words you were about to say. Instead, a soft giggle escapes you as your cheeks warm, making Satoru’s grin widen like he’s just won a grand prize. "See? That’s progress already," he adds smugly, sitting up so he can ruffle your hair with his hand. "You laughed! I’m basically a miracle worker. You want strawberry or matcha first?"

"Strawberry," you say without hesitation, holding out your hand expectantly.

Satoru tosses the strawberry mochi to you, watching with satisfaction as you catch it easily. "Excellent choice," he declares. "Matcha's good, but strawberry is scrumptious." He sits back on the bed, opening the box for himself and taking a bite out of one. "Not everyone is as fortunate as you to be eating my mochi for free, by the way."

"I feel honored," you reply dryly. "What did I ever do to deserve this?"

"Dunno!" he hums, leaning toward you and smiling at you brightly. "I just like you, I guess"

Your hand lightly pushes at his chest as you say, "Mhm, in your dreams."

"Yeah, you are," he says, his voice distant as though lost in the memory.

You cough on your mochi. "What?"

"What's wrong?" Satoru asks, a slight frown crossing over his features.

You take a sip from a water and glance at Satoru, "Um, did you just say I'm in your dreams?"

"Yes," he grins. "I did."

"Oh, okay," you nod, looking at him like he grew another head. He chuckles, rustling the hair on your head.

"Alright, sweets! Seems like we're already onto step two: distract," he says, typing on his phone, then holding up the screen to show you an embarrassingly bad picture of Suguru with a streak of purple dye across his forehead. It's a horrible angle, making him look warped. "This is from the infamous purple hair debacle of junior year. Did I help him? Hell no. Did I laugh until I cried? Hell yes."

You laugh softly, imagining the scene. "Why was he dyeing his hair purple in the first place?"

"Because," Satoru starts, grinning mischievously, clearly enjoying retelling the story, "some rando told him it’d make him look more mysterious. Spoiler alert: it did not." He swipes to another photo, this one mid-laughter, Suguru’s hands covered in dye, and a frustrated Kento in the background holding a violet-stained towel. Yu is covering his face with his hand like he's trying to hold back a laugh. "Kento was so mad when he got dye on the couch. Honestly, it was hilarious."

"Poor Kenny. Always cleaning up after you two," you chuckle.

"At least we keep life interesting," he defends, feigning indignation. "Besides, I’m the responsible one. I even have snacks for emergencies like this." He gestures to the mochi, his grin widening.

"Sure, Toru. Responsible," you poke, rolling your eyes.

His expression turns mock serious. "Wow. I’m deeply offended. But since I’m the bigger person, I’ll let it slide." He shuffles closer, grabbing the TV remote and holding it up, surveying you with a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Now, what to watch?"

"Hm... maybe a Barbie movie?" you suggest, remembering his comment earlier about them.

Satoru gasps, clutching his chest dramatically. "Sweets, I always knew you had excellent taste. Could literally kiss you right now," and before you can react, he jumps up, then scrambles to the bedside table and opens the bottom of the three drawers, which is filled to the brim with movie DVDs. Most of them are Barbie movies, making your heart warm.

It's cute how proud he is of his collection, asking if you've watched each movie he picks up. When you ask if he has Barbie: A Fairy Secret, Satoru practically leaps to grab his computer, saying he had it downloaded (illegally) before sprinting back. The two of you laugh together as he pulls up the film and presses play, the lightness in your chest growing. For the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t feel weighed down by the day. Here, in this moment, it’s just the two of you, laughing at silly characters, talking about the ridiculous plotlines, and diving into the magical world of Barbie movies.

At some point during the movie, you shift to get more comfortable, and Satoru mirrors your movements, leaning against the headboard with his long legs stretched out beside yours. Without thinking, you pull your knees up and lean against his shoulder, the fabric of his hoodie soft against your cheek.

"Gettin' cozy?" he teases, but his voice is gentle, almost fond.

"Shut up," you mumble, nudging him lightly with your elbow. "Your shoulder’s just surprisingly comfy."

He chuckles, and you can feel the vibration through his body. "I’ll take that as a compliment. But just so you know, I charge for premium cuddle privileges. You owe me one mochi per hour."

You glance up at him, raising a brow. "Oh, do I? Seems like a rip-off considering you invited me to stay."

Satoru smirks, his hand coming up to ruffle your hair once more. "Alright, sweets. Free trial for today only. Consider it my good deed of the week."

You roll your eyes but don’t move away, letting yourself settle against him as the movie continues. The vibrant colors of the animation cast a soft glow over the room, and the cheerful music fills the comfortable silence between you.

Somewhere near the climax of the movie - when Barbie and Raquelle are trapped in cages - you notice that Satoru’s arm is casually draped over your shoulders. His rests lays on your upper arm, thumb making slow, soothing motions against the material of your hoodie. You missed his arm moved around you as you were too engrossed in the story unfolding on the screen, but you find yourself not minding it. It’s a subtle gesture, and one that feels more natural than you’d expect. You don’t even think to pull away, finding the warmth reassuring.

As Barbie and Raquelle devise Ken's escape, you feel it - a faint shift in the atmosphere. Before you can process it, Satoru’s fingers dart to your sides, tickling mercilessly. It’s a playful, unrelenting tickle, and before you can think, you’re wriggling under his touch, laughter bubbling uncontrollably from deep within you.

Step 3: Attack. Unfortunately for you, the attack was one in the form of tickling.

"Satoru!" you manage to gasp between giggles, desperate to push him away but failing to do so. "What are you doing?!"

"Step three: attack!" he declares with a triumphant grin, his hands relentless in their assault. "It’s the final stage of my foolproof cheer-up plan!"

"I hate this plan!" you cry, though your laughter betrays you as it spills out of you in waves. "Stop, you idiot!"

Satoru is undeterred. Actually, your protests only seemed to fuel his determination. "Oh no, sweets, you’re not getting off that easy. I won’t stop until you admit I’m the best."

"I’ll never-" A particularly well-aimed tickle makes you dissolve into another bout of laughter. "Okay, okay! You’re the best! You win!"

Finally, the boy relents, sitting back with a smug expression as you catch your breath, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. The warmth of his touch all over you lingers. "See? Works every time," he said, crossing his arms as though he has found the secret to life.

"You’re insufferable," you mutter, swatting at his arm half-heartedly. You tilt your head to look at him, his striking blue eyes focused on the screen, a faint smile playing on his lips. "But I’ll admit... I do feel a little better."

He softens at that, his soft smile transforming into a warm grin. "Good. That’s all I wanted, sweets." He leans down to kiss the end of your eyebrow, causing a smile to spread across your face.

After a small pause, the movie playing in the background, Satoru speaks again. "You know," he muses, his voice low but teasing, "I think this means you owe me two mochi now."

"Don’t push your luck, Toru," you warned, though your lips curved into a small, genuine smile. . Your faces are so close, you can feel warmth from his breaths. "Even though you’re not terrible at this whole cheering-up thing," you confess with a voice soft like the brush of silk on bare skin.

"Not terrible?" he echoes, feigning offense. "Angel, I am a master of cheering up. This is just the beginning of my expertise."

You laugh quietly, the sound drawing his gaze back down to you. For a moment, the movie fades into the background as his eyes linger on yours, something unspoken passing between you. It’s fleeting, but it’s enough to make your heart skip a beat.

"Just the beginning, huh?" you tease, your voice light but your pulse quickening under his gaze.

"Absolutely," Satoru smirks as his fingers gently brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "But don’t worry, pretty, I’ve got plenty more tricks up my sleeve."

The playful banter pauses, replaced by a quiet moment where neither of you seems to want to look away. His usual vibrant energy seems muted now, his presence calm and steady beside you. There’s something in the air, a tension that’s not unpleasant but certainly unfamiliar.

You’re the first to break the silence, clearing your throat and looking back at the screen. "Well, I guess I’ll have to keep you around then. Just in case I need cheering up again."

Satoru chuckles with his arm again loosely resting over your shoulders. "Guess so. Can’t have you moping around, can I?"

You shake your head, your smile lingering as you glance around his room again. Your gaze lands back on the photo of you pinned in the middle of his cork board, and your cheeks warm. "Hey, Toru?"

"Yeah?" he asks from beside you.

"Why do you have that picture of me up there?" you ask, nodding toward the cork board. "Why not one of us?"

He pauses, turning to look at the photo, then back at you. You swear that in the dim light from the lamp beside you, faint pink dusts his cheeks, but he plays it off with a casual shrug. "Why wouldn’t I? It’s a great picture of you. You looked so happy. I liked that."

Your heart does a little flip at his words, and for a moment, the heaviness weighing you down feels a little lighter. You're certain you're more flustered than he is. "Thanks, Toru," you murmur, your voice softer now.

The warmth of his presence lingers, his closeness wrapping around you like a comforting blanket. As the movie ends, the two of you sit in content silence, the credits rolling on the screen. Satoru stretches, his arm briefly tightening around you before he lets it fall.

"Alright, sweets," he says, his voice lighter now. "Satoru's specialized therapy complete. Feeling at least 15% better?"

You consider it, a genuine smile tugging at your lips. "Maybe even 20%."

He gasps. "See? Told you I was good at this. Should we watch another Barbie movie to celebrate?"

You nod, "Princess and the Pauper, please!"

"Another excellent choice, angel," he says, picking up the movie from it's drawer and moving across the room to put the disc in the player. He then returns to the same spot in bed, arm around you, pulling you into him. You rest your head on his chest above his heartbeat, cuddled into his side. The scent of vanilla and sandalwood that invaded your sense of smell from the moment you walked in his room are ten times more powerful, but even more soothing.

Slowly, your body relaxes more and more into Satoru's hold, the rhythmic beat of his breathing and heartbeat a lullaby, soothing you enough to fall asleep.

At some point, you realize you’re no longer paying attention to the screen. Your eyes flutter shut, and you feel yourself sinking deeper into his side. The steady beat of his heart beneath your ear lulls you into a peaceful state, your thoughts blurring and fading.

Satoru’s hand moves, brushing a strand of hair from your face, his fingers lingering gently along your cheek. "Hey, baby," he says quietly, his voice a soft whisper. "You okay?"

But you don’t respond. Instead, you breathe out, a long exhale that’s followed by a soft, steady breath. Satoru glances down at you, his expression softening as he realizes you’ve already drifted off to sleep.

He doesn’t move. His gaze lingers for a moment longer, savoring the quiet, tender moment. He gently brushes a strand of hair away from your face, the touch barely noticeable, but it’s a gesture of care that only deepens the intimacy of the moment. A small smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he watches you content in the quietness of the moment. He gently adjusts his position so he can be more comfortable, making sure you’re comfortable without waking you.

With you sound asleep and curled up against him, Satoru stays still, his heart quietly thudding in his chest. It’s a simple moment, but it feels like the start of something much more. This whole week has.

Satoru leans his head back against the couch, his own eyes slowly closing as he settles into the comfort of the quiet room. With you dozing beside him, he feels a sense of peace; a stillness he hasn’t often allowed himself to experience. The world outside doesn’t matter right now. There’s no rush. No expectations.

Just the two of you, in this small, quiet space.

And for a moment, he’s content to simply be there, with you in his arms.

For now, just being close is enough.

And so, in the soft glow of the fading screen, the two of you remain, content in the simplicity of just being together.

₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.

TAGLIST (currently open!):

@kentozwife @inthedarkshadows000 @yoimiya-m @makeshiftproject @frogfishie

@therealanxiety @kaged-kitty @pellucid-constellations @fuckisthatahotghost

@harryzcherry @briezy04764 @ohio-gyatt-mega-sigma-rizzler @babysoo-meu

@sorenflyinn @raquel12 @ermbehindyou @bxnfire @muli-wam @emlient

@diearama @miscellaneous-misty @blubearxy

₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.ෆ˟̑̑˟̑ෆ.₊̣̇.

enjoy!!! satoru is rly not even trying to hide it anymore LOL also he knows shes not in a right place mentally so he's not gonna make like... moves moves but hes def tempted

lowkwy wrote abt fairy princess off of memory so prob am wrong abt the very vague plot points i mentioned..

[jessicaloons]

INVISIBLE STRING: FROM THE VAULT

Part 3: A Christmassy story…

Masterlist

Merry Christmas everyone 🎄🎅🏻♥️

Better late than never! As it is during Christmas, it all gets a little hectic and what I wanted to post last night had to be postponed to today… it’s a little something I started to write a year ago, at Christmas, while watching one of my all time favourite Christmas movies.

And now no more talking, here it is…

Christmas 2027:

"Radiation?" Joris cocked an eyebrow.

"Radiation." I shrugged my shoulders and he chuckled "Don’t ask. It’s- it’s her newest ick…"

"You’re surrounded by radiation the entire day with having your phone with you? So where’s the difference at ni-…"

"That’s exactly the point. Your body is exposed to radiation all day long, so at night, when it resets, there shouldn’t be any radiation!" Lizzie’s voice rang out behind us, making Joris flinch "I’ve read it in various magazines! So it can’t be that wrong!"

I had to chuckle, looking at Joris’ petrified face when Lizzie glared at me, although I could see her eyes getting watery.

"It’s not funny!" her voice strained.

"It’s not, cara mia. You’re right. I’m sorry." I replied.

"I’m not crazy…" she sniffled a little and I felt bad.

"No, you’re not! I know that, okay?" I said immediately and got up from my seat, cupping her cheek and gently stroked the side of her bump "You’re doing everything to protect our babies… so whatever you think is best we’ll do! You’re an amazing mum, okay?"

She only nodded slightly and turned away, her shoulders slumped.

"I lay down for a bit…" she whispered and waddled off, taking a short look into Emmie’s room, before she continued to our bedroom.

"I swear I didn’t want to upset her!" Joris looked at me with big eyes and I sighed, sitting back down.

"Believe me, same. The last 2 or 3 days it’s been tough, she’s more emotional than usually…" I rubbed my temples, leaning back "One moment she’s happy and bubbly, the next moment she cries about how there’s only one apple left and that it might feel alone… and then she’s mad at herself for crying about such ridiculous things which makes her cry even more because she thinks I’m annoyed of her being an emotional mess… which is not true at all. I love it. I swear."

"You’re probably the only guy on earth who loves his pregnant wife’s mood swings." Joris laughed.

"It’s cute… when she’s this bubbly Lizzie, who turns over a jar she can’t open first super frustrated and then grumpy like never seen before and curses it like there’s no tomorrow, just to be sad the next moment that whatever’s in the jar is lost forever…"

"And then you chime in and save the day…" he wiggled with his eyebrows and I held up my hands.

"You know, not all heroes wear capes… but they still get a proper thank you… if you know what I mean…"

"Yeah. No. Gross…"

Right when I wanted to reply I heard the soft steps of Emmie and Arlo approaching and when I turned a little I saw them both walk around the corner.

"Dada? Mummy look sad?" her sweet little voice sounded truly concerned and I opened my arms, hoisting her up into my lap "Why mummy sad?"

"She’s not sad, Emmie. Just a little emotional."

"Emonal?" she repeated and I smiled.

"Emotional…" I said slowly, while she quietly said the word again "That’s when you feel all sorts of emotions… that’s feelings. Sad, happy, tired, funny, moody… and you just don’t know what’s the real feeling. So you get a little overwhelmed with emotions… it’s nothing bad. It happens. Especially when someone carries a baby, or like mummy two, in their belly…"

"Mummy feel for baby one and baby two?" Emmies eyes widened and I had to chuckle.

"Yes, my little princess, that’s exactly what mummy’s feeling. Her feelings and baby one and twos feelings."

"Lot of feelings!"

"Oh yes! A lot of feelings!" I nodded and she sighed, cuddling into my chest "You know what? Why don’t you help me and Joris make some hot chocolate for mummy?"

Emmie’s eyes lit up and she jumped off my lap, already pulling me up on my feet before she grabbed onto Joris hand, doing the same.

"Comes on, Jojo! Hot chotlat for mummy!" she chirped and pulled him with her.

"I’m coming, Emmie-bug." he laughed and picked her up, following me into the kitchen, where he sat her down on the kitchen island.

"Emmie hot chotlat, too!" she looked first at me and then at Joris with her big puppy eyes and I could melt away on the spot.

"Let’s make hot chocolate for us all, okay? And then we can watch a movie before bedtime, how does that sound?"

"No bedtime."

"Emmie, we have to get up early tomorrow! We’re leaving for Christmas!" I reminded her but she shook her head.

"No bedtime." she repeated, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

"No bedtime means no Christmas, and no Christmas means no pops and grams, no granny, no Liam or Elijah… no Arthi!"

"No Arthi?" Emmie whispered and I nodded.

"Also no presents…"

"Emmie like bedtime."

"Yeah?" I asked and she nodded.

"Bedtime comfy. Jojo read story?" she turned and looked at him "Pwease?"

"Of course, Emmie-bug. Every story you want!" he cooed at her and she clapped happily.

"Now chotlat for mummy!"

"Now chocolate for mummy."

"Charles?" Lizzie whispered and I turned a little, trying to make her out in the dark "I’m sorry…"

"What do you mean?" I asked, voice still hoarse from sleeping. I looked around, my eyes trying to adjust to the darkness and saw her perched against the headboard.

"For being over emotional… and unreasonable…" she said and I sat up to switch on the lamp on the night stand.

"Hey, you’re not over emotional or unreasonable!" I replied, rubbing my eyes, facing her.

"I am. The other day I cried because of a pair of socks I had to throw away since one of them had holes…"

"It was a nice pair of socks!"

"Charles…" Lizzie chuckled and I grabbed her hand, kissing her knuckles "I’m serious! I feel like I’m way worse than when I was pregnant with Emmie!"

"Yeah of course! You’re carrying twins, cara mia! Double the trouble!"

"Is that why I could eat all the damn time? I’m always hungry…" she sighed and I laughed, looking at her pouting.

"And what does my pretty girl want right now?"

"Now? Oh… umm… I’m not hungry…" she looked away and I gently grabbed her chin, turning her head.

"Lizzie… I know you… it’s 1 am that’s your time… so, what can I get for you?" I stifled a yawn.

"I’m fine… you’re tired and we’ll be picked up early…" she mumbled but I shook my head.

"Pretty girl…" I scooted closer, cupping her cheek "What do you want? Fruits? Something salty? Ice cream? A burger?"

"Some sour gums and-… it’s weird, because usually I don’t like them… salt and vinegar crisps? Do we have that?"

"On it…" I pecked her lips and shuffled out of the bed, stretching as soon as I stood up "Anything else?"

"Umm… one of these strawberry lemonades maybe?"

"Anything my pretty girl wants." I said, grabbing my sweatpants that got stuck somehow and I pulled harder almost tripping over when I finally freed it.

"Are you okay?" Lizzie looked at me and I nodded.

"It got stuck somehow… I don’t know… get comfy I’ll be right back." I slipped on my pants and left our bedroom, down the hall to the kitchen I stopped at Emmie’s bedroom and took a look inside.

Our little girl tucked in under her blankets, Arlo guarding her, sleeping right in front of her bed. He must’ve felt my presence, lifting his head looking at me. He got up, yawned and then trotted over, tilting his head.

"All good, Arlo. Just me." I whispered, kneeling down "Go watch our little princess." I stroked his fluffy fur, scratched his ears before he stretched “Ohhh big stretch! Good boy." I scratched his ears and got up "Go back to sleep…" he turned around and walked away, plopping down back at his old spot.

I rummaged through the pantry, grabbing everything Lizzie graved and trotted back to our bedroom, where a big smile spread over her face as soon as she saw me walk in.

"I can already taste the lemonade…" she made grabby hands and I laughed, handing her the can of lemonade and the crisps and sour gums.

I climbed in bed next to her, lying down and watching how she happily scrunched up her nose as soon as she ate the first sour gum, closing her eyes savouring the taste.

"Remind me to pack strawberry lemonade, salt and vinegar crisps and sour patch kids…" I yawned.

"I’m so excited for Christmas, our last without the twins… next year we’re already a family of 6…" Lizzie whispered and I cocked an eyebrow.

"6?"

"6…"

"Of course… Arlo…"

"I told you he’s our first born." Lizzie’s happy giggling made me smile and I nodded.

"You’re right. He is. And he’s an amazing big brother, guarding his little sister."

"He’s a good boy." she happily munched and I smiled, yawning again "You can sleep… you don’t have to stay awake with me…"

"Yeah?" I mumbled, fighting to keep my eyes open.

"Yeah…" Lizzie replied and leaned down, kissing my cheek "Thank you…"

"You need anything else?" I asked but she shook her head.

"No. We’re all good now. Sleep, pretty boy."

I didn’t know if I replied or not, I fell asleep almost immediately.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

An annoying ringing inside my head. But was it inside my head? I groaned and turned around, Lizzie next to me fast asleep, the ringing that definitely wasn’t just inside my head didn’t seem to bother her.

"Dada… make it stop…" Emmie rubbed her eyes, stumbling to our bed, her hair her a hot mess "Head owie!"

"I know…" I picked her up and sat her next to Lizzie "I’ll go…" I kissed her cheek and scrambled out of bed, looking for the source of the horrific sound. The door bell. And the landline phone. Both ringing at the same time. Just like my phone "What the hell?" I grabbed my phone and picked up "Hello?"

"Ah, Mr. Leclerc! Finally! I wanted to come up myself and look if everything is alright!" Matthieu, our concierge, said and the landline phone and door bell stopped ringing.

"Of course, everything’s alright? Why wouldn’t it be?" I was confused, looking around.

"There are two cars here to pick you up. They’ve been waiting for a while now and we tried to call you then-…"

"What?! But the cars should be here at 8?" I replied.

"Mr. Leclerc, it’s 8:30 am…"

"WHAT? What? How? I- what?" I checked the time at my phone and cursed "Oh shit… umm tell the drivers we’ll need a moment…"

"Can I send them up to get your bags?" Matthieu asked and I nodded.

"Yes. Everything is packed. All the bags are at the elevator…" I hastily walked back into our bedroom, pushing the buttons to open up the blinds.

"Alright. I’ll tell them." he hung up and I gently shook Lizzie.

"Cara mia? Wake up please… we need to get ready…"

"Hmm?" she mumbled, blinking a few times.

"The cars are already here… we need to get ready." I said again and her eyes shot open.

"What? But you set your alarm? What?" she scrambled up looking at Emmie next to her "Did we oversleep?"

"I don’t know. I didn’t hear the alarm. But that doesn’t matter. We need to get ready. Now. Come on." I pulled her gently off the bed and she sighed "I take care of Emmie, okay?"

"Hmm…" Lizzie mumbled and waddled away to the bathroom, yawning "Did you not set the alarm?"

"I did. I don’t know what happened…" I mumbled and picked up Emmie "Come on girlie, let’s get ready."

"Ready for Crimas!" she clapped her hands and I chuckled.

"Christmas. And no. Not quite yet. We have to get there first."

"To Christ-as?" she tried again.

"Almost, Christmas, with an 'm'… Christ- mas."

"Christ-mas." she repeated and I smiled.

"You got it right, Emmie! Good girl!" I sat her down on her bed and grabbed the clothes Lizzie had put out already "Now let’s get dressed and then we’ll have a little snack in the car, how does that sound?"

"Car?" she tilted her head, scrunching her nose.

"Yeah, we have to drive to the airport. And then we get into the jet to fly to Switzerland. To this big chalet in the mountains where all our family is waiting! To celebrate-…"

"Christmas!" she clapped excitedly and I nodded.

"Exactly! But we’re a little late. So we need to hurry up a little!"

"Houwy up! Houwy up!"

"That we have to! So let’s have a look. You look adorable, now we just need to take care of your hair and-…" I began when I saw Lizzie waddling towards the kitchen, still in her pyjamas "Alright… wait a minute…" I sat her down "You pack your sleep plushies into your backpack and play a little with Arlo, okay? I’ll be right back and make your hair." Emmie nodded and I followed Lizzie into the kitchen, finding her rummaging through the fridge "Lizzie?"

"Why is there no food?" she sniffled, turning around "I’m hungry. But there is nothing to eat. What am I supposed to do now?"

"Cara mia, we have breakfast in the jet, okay? It’s all prepared-…"

"But I’m hungry now!" she was grumpy "The babies and I are hungry now!"

"I understand, but we have nothing here, because we’re leaving now… we can stop at a bakery on the way?" I tried it again and she sighed.

"Okay… I go and take a shower…" she walked past me and I followed her.

"Cara mia, you don’t need to shower. We don’t have time. You can shower as soon as we arrive in the chalet…" I said carefully but she shook her head.

"I smell… I’m not arriving smelly for Christmas…"

"Technically it’s not Christmas yet, so… and also you don’t smell… you just had a bath last night and I can still smell your coconut butter on your skin, so please. Just get dressed and let’s go. The cars are waiting. For over half an hour now…"

"Then why didn’t you set the alarm?" she looked at me annoyed.

"I did! I don’t know why it didn’t went off! Stupid alarm clock…" I walked over to my night stand to find the alarm clock to be off, not plugged into the wall "What the… oh no… my sweatpants… fuck…" I mumbled, remembering the struggle I had at night with my pants "With my phone this wouldn’t have happen…" I groaned more to myself when a half naked Lizzie stepped out of the closet.

"What did you say?" she cocked an eyebrow and I held my hands up "Is it my fault now for protecting our babies? Last night you said I was the best mum because of it!" her bottom lip began to wobble and I hastily pulled her into me.

"And I meant it! Okay? It’s all good. Just-… please get ready. I feel bad for the drivers to wait this long because of me… and the jet and everything…" I whispered against the side of her head, kissing her temple.

"Okay. I’m almost done…" she breathed out "You need to get dressed yourself…"

"On it…"

15 minutes later I strapped Emmie into her seat and gave the driver the all clear to drive, although I had a feeling like we forgot something at home. I was nervously fidgeting with my phone next to Lizzie who happily munched on the croissant I got her from the bakery.

"What is it?" she asked after another minute of me nervously tapping my foot.

"I feel like we forgot something…" I mumbled, going over the list inside my head "I just don’t know what…"

"It can’t be important if you don’t remember it."

"I don’t know…" I looked outside the window, the car approaching the little private airport.

We had all of the bags, there was nothing left when we left the penthouse. I checked Emmie’s backpack and she had packed all her night plushies. Arlo laid on the floor in front of me, his bag with his toys and leashes in the back. Lizzie packer her bag with her books and computer last night herself and it rested now next to her on the seat. The bag with her snacks on the floor next to my feet. I couldn’t grasp what was missing but still I felt like it.

"Charles?" Lizzie grabbed my hand, squeezing it "We’ve got everything. It’s fine, you’ll see…"

"Yeah… I hope so…" I mumbled watching the car in front with our baggage stopping on the tarmac "It’s too late now anyways I guess…" I unbuckled Emmie and got out of the car, taking her with me. I helped Lizzie out of the car and she took Emmie from me, walking with Arlo towards the jet while I helped loading our baggage onto the cart, before I walked up the stairs of the jet myself.

"Welcome on board, Mr. Leclerc." the pilot shook my hand and I smiled.

"Thank you, and sorry for the delay… it got a little hectic this morning…"

"All good, Sir. Why don’t you take a seat and we’re preparing for take off."

"Thank you." I took off my jacket, handing it to the flight attendant who stored it away.

"Can I get you anything to drink?" she smiled and I shook my head, sitting down on front off Lizzie, Emmie next to her on the seat, looking outside the window.

I leaned my head back. Closing my eyes. One last time going over the list in my head. One last time going over every piece of baggage we just unloaded from the car. Lizzie’s suitcases, my suitcases, Emmie’s suitcases, the bags full off her and Arlo’s toys, the bags full of presents. The bag with Lizzie’s snacks and last but not least the 2 suitcases and backpack of…

"JORIS!" I shouted, Lizzie and Emmie both looking at me "WE FORGOT JORIS!" I took my phone out, about to call him when he already did the same.

"Jo-…"

"I can’t believe you forgot me at home…"

"I swear-…"

"Like seriously? What is this? Home alone? Your alarm doesn’t go off and you forget me in all the hectic?"

"I’m so sorry! I send the ca-…"

"Just be glad it’s more like Home Alone 2. I woke up by myself and-…" he hung up "And got in the car right in time… I just wanted to wait how long it would take you to figure out that I wasn’t with you…" Joris walked inside the jet, plopping down in the seat next to us.

"I’m so so sorry!" I looked at him sheepishly and Emmie climbed off her seat, walking over to Joris who picked her up, sitting her down in his lap.

"Jojo made Emmie hair look nice." she smiled and I looked at her, then at him.

"What?" I said and looked at Lizzie "I thought you did that?"

"I thought you did?" she replied and Joris laughed.

"Nope, I did, right Emmie bug?" he cooed at her and she smiled "And now that we’re all here… I say let’s go. Christmas is just right around the corner…"

"Christmas with pesents! Pesents for evyone!" Emmie said excited, clapping her hands "Mewwy Christmas evyone!"

🎄🎅🏻♥️🎄🎅🏻♥️🎄🎅🏻♥️🎄🎅🏻♥️🎄🎅🏻♥️🎄

I hope you enjoyed this (not so) little something and I hope you all had amazing Holidays!

Taglist: (If you don’t like to be tagged for this, let me know)

@itsjustkhaos @eugene-emt-roe @sunny44 @silkenthusiasts @glitterquadricorn @aundercover @kakorrhaphiphobia @alittlebitofbooksandmagic @ru-kru @shimmermotorsport @janeh22 @kahhorri @18754389 @chiliwhore @hellowgoodbye @queensassybitchsworld @harrysdimple05 @skynel09 @fangirlforever2000



[freckledjoes]

hi! i love your blog! i’d love to request a drabble, maybe steve and reader’s first christmas as mom and dad :)

Hi love! Thank you for enjoying my blog and sending in the request, that means a lot <3 I hope you will enjoy the drabble too! :)

Sophia's first Christmas

It was already Christmas Eve when Steve finally finished decorating the house with some finishing touches. To be fair, the house had been decorated enough days prior, but he wanted to go all out this year. Especially this year. But work had been crazy busy, with all the preparations for the winter dance, the Christmas market and the charity basketball game he participated in himself at school. In the meantime, you had been taking care of your little one while also simultaneously working at the bookstore. It was a busy time as people always loved to ask for books for Christmas, either because they loved reading, or they had planned some New Year’s resolution to read more next year. Thankfully the owner of the bookstore, aka your boss, didn’t mind it when you brought Sophia along. In fact, Nigel loved to keep an eye on her while you busied yourself with the customers. Nigel could have retired years ago if he had wanted to, but he loved the bookstore too much to do so. However, these busy days did take a toll on him so he favored you at the front of the shop during the rush hours. Safe to say, both you and Steve were pretty knackered when you went home that evening.

Steve stood on his tiptoes to attach the mistletoe above the archway as he had done every year prior. It was in fact how he had managed your first kiss. A true romantic at heart, that one. You both had been alone for Christmas and decided to spend it together, but at the time you had just been friends. Steve hadn’t really dated a girl in years and had been much more careful this time around, but the mistletoe had done the trick to give him just that extra ounce of courage. You had been together ever since. Meaning that Christmas also kind of had become your anniversary, be it the ‘unofficial’ one, because he did go out of his way to ask you to be his girlfriend officially about a month later during a very romantic date.

“Perfect,” he mumbled to himself before he turned around to flash you a grin. “I will require a smooch here later, it’s tradition,” he said, as he did every year. You gave him a smile as you finished giving Sophia a clean diaper and lifted her up against your chest.

“When she’s asleep, we’ll have plenty of time for that,” you told him.

“Until the next bottle at least,” Steve joked.

It was true, you hadn’t had much sleep since Sophia had been born. She would turn one in February and waking up to crying every night, multiple times a night, hadn’t been too fun. But you two made it work, took turns as one would like to expect, and you made sure to look out for each other as well.

Steve walked up to the both of you and gave Sophia a soft kiss on the top of her head before his lips met yours in a sweet kiss, his hand planted on your waist.

“I love you,” he whispered against your lips as he pulled away. Then, with his eyes on Sophia: “and you, my sweet little girl.” He glanced up at the clock and hummed to himself, still caressing your waist and gently digging his fingers in.

“Dinner?” he opted.

“Sounds good.”

And that’s where the fuss began. Sophia became a crying mess as soon as you started on your dinner, refused to be put down but also didn’t want to drink from her bottle. What was supposed to be a romantic evening (as far as that went with a newborn), became a hurried dinner and a lot of failed attempts at trying to calm Sophia down.

Steve tried everything. Usually, he wasn’t too bad at calming her down, but tonight was different. You cleaned up the table while he tried to distract her with toys, stories, even some singing. When Steve tried to give her the bottle again she went on a rampage, scrunching her little face together in protest as she became redder and redder from crying. Steve looked at you helplessly, suddenly getting up in his head about it all. You see, Steve wanted tonight to be perfect. Not just for the two of you, but he wanted Sophia’s first Christmas (and all the ones to come) to be perfect. He never had any of that, never even had one fun Christmas until he met you (mostly because he never admitted that he was home by himself to Robin and the others - he didn’t want to impose on their families), so it was all the more important to him that Sophia did.

“I don’t know what to do,” Steve said softly. “Maybe you should take her, I guess I’m just not—”

“Don’t finish that sentence,” you warned, “it’s got nothing to do with you, Steve. She’s just not having it today, we all have bad days, right?” You sat down next to him and planted a kiss on his shoulder on top of his Christmas sweater. Both of you enjoyed a good, classic Christmas sweater and Steve often insisted on the matter.

“Yeah… I guess you’re right,” Steve said reluctantly. “I just don’t want her to feel sad,” he mumbled, looking down at Sophia, his precious little girl. He wanted to protect her from all the harm in the world, at all cost. When he ran a hand through his hair to move it out of his face, he realized his forehead was a little damp.

“I’m actually sweating,” Steve mumbled with a dry chuckle, “can you-? I wanna take it off for a bit,” he said, pointing at his sweater. You nodded and held Sophia as Steve revealed a simple white T-shirt underneath. After giving Sophia back to him you brushed the hairs that stuck to the back of his neck away with your fingers and he sighed. Both of you watched as the only sound that filled the room were the soft crackles of the fireplace. The only sound?

Steve watched in awe as Sophia looked up at him with big eyes, soft and relaxed into his arms. Confusion furrowed his brows and he cautiously held the bottle in front of her, which she happily started drinking from.

“What even…” Steve mumbled. You shrugged, relieved that Sophia was finally content with the situation and rested your head on his shoulder, making you remember the itch of fabric you felt earlier when you kissed it.

“Huh.”

“Hm? What is it?” Steve asked, tilting his head to meet your eyes.

“Maybe she doesn’t like the itch of wool, from your sweater.”

“Oh… you think so?” He momentarily glanced at your sweater but decided he didn’t want to find out right now if she’d throw another tantrum if you held her. That felt a little too mean.

“That, or she has already developed a strong opinion about fashion, just like her dad,” you joked affectionately and Steve gave you a gentle nudge with his shoulder.

“Then she should learn that Christmas sweaters are super nice.”

“Not sure she’ll take that from a man who wears those loafers.” He followed your gaze towards the loafers near the fireplace (an early Christmas present to himself) and scoffed.

“You said you liked them,” Steve mumbled.

“I said I’m happy you like them,” you corrected him innocently. “Nothing like a good, manly ankle on display though.”

Steve barked out a laugh and shook his head.

“Actually… was planning to wear them with white socks.”

“You’d be dead before that ever happened.”

Steve had to admit that was true.

Sophia had finished her bottle and burped politely when Steve gently rubbed her back. He took her to bed upstairs while you grabbed two glasses of wine for the two of you. As Steve came down, he halted at the archway with the mistletoe and leaned against it. When you didn’t react right away, he cleared his throat.

“Yes?” you feigned being oblivious.

“I’m waiting for my kiss.”

“Oh, why didn’t you just say so,” you said as you got up and walked right into his waiting arms. Steve smiled down at you as he held your waist tightly, his bangs tickling your forehead a little bit. His gaze could still fluster you even after all these years. His hazel eyes reflected the decoration lights from somewhere in your home, though you couldn’t decipher which ones exactly. It didn’t matter anyway. Who would be able to focus on that when his twinkling gaze only had eyes for you? His nose nuzzled your cheek while his lips trail a path down to your lips before meeting them in a loving kiss. Steve liked to kiss slowly. Took his time to explore your mouth every single time, as if it was his first and last time doing so. He’d leave sweet little noises from pure enjoyment of kissing you while his hands wandered over your body in a caring manner.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he whispered close to your ear as he allowed his lips to explore your neck, finding your sweet spot.

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

-

Also want a wallpaper, drabble or gifset (& more)? Check out FRECKLEDJOES' JOLLY REQUEST CORNER

[greenlantrns]

caregiver ! ellie headcanons . . .

tags : first time regressing, cursing, no outbreak au, selectively verbal reader, gender neutral reader

the first time you regress around ellie is by accident after a bad day. you’re over at her house — you barged in and then proceeded to raid her fridge and commandeer her bed for a nap :3 — and just wake up tiny tiny tiny.

you wake up and you’re a little weepy and ellie is surprised and tries to ask what’s wrong and that just makes you more upset and she’s kinda panicking cause she doesn’t know what to do

“shit dude are you okay? oh wait, hey. don’t cry it’s alright!”

you don’t answer so ellie coaxes you out from under the covers and she makes you sit up so she can get a good look at you — she’s holding your face in her hands trying to get a good look at you and see if maybe you’re warm from a fever?

“hey, what’s going on?” she’s worried sick about you but all you can do is whine and lean into her hands and that’s okay, ellie pulls you into a hug because it’s all she knows to do and you just kinda sway for a moment.

after a while ellie pulls away and asks if you’re hungry cause now she’s all protective and worried about you and just wanting to take care of you. you shrug cause you’re not really sure right now and maybe start sucking on your thumb / fingers which ellie notices but doesn’t say anything because it seems to sooth you.

“well i’m fucking—” and by now you’re all wide eyed and still quiet and you’ve got tears drying on your face and for some reason ellie feels like maybe she shouldn’t be dropping f bombs around you right now. “i’m freaking starving.” she amends.

ellie tries to get up but you whine again and she panics for a moment but she realizes you’re holding onto her arm really tight and maybe you just don’t wanna be alone right now? “it’s okay i’m just going to the kitchen, you wanna come?” you nod so ellie takes your hand.

ellie cannot cook for shit unfortunately unless it’s breakfast food so now it’s about three in the afternoon and you’re gnawing on your fingers while ellie makes eggs and pancakes.

“those taste good?” ellie asks nodding at your fingers and you blush but she’s smiling all silly so you know she’s just playing.

“look pretty good to me,” she continues, and this time you smile a little too and that makes ellie smile even more!

anyway ellie helps you eat because you’re still a little shaky, she lets you hold the fork but every other bite she wipes your chin or your cheek.

“good?” she asks after you’ve had a few bites and you nod your head enthusiastically.

“i’ll tell joel you like them, he taught me everything i know,”

if you were big you’d mention that they were box mix but since you’re feeling a little spacey you nod very seriously because joel should now ellie’s is a good good learner and joel is a good good teacher.

when you’re all done eating ellie asks if there’s anything you want to do but you just shrug again but don’t let go of ellie’s hand even for a second so ellie takes the two of you to the couch.

ellie makes a million suggestions on what to do but you shake your head at every one until eventually you mumble “game”

and ellie is surprised cause this is the first word you’ve said all afternoon.

“you want to play a game?” you shake your head and point at ellie’s gaming system.

“you want to play a video game?”

you frown again and shake your head cause words are hard but you just want ellie to understand!

it takes a second but eventually ellie says “you want to watch me play?” and you nod really quick cause you’re glad she got it!

ellie gets her system set up and you refuse to let go of her arm. you’re not sleepy anymore but you snuggle into her.

it’s kinda tough playing essentially one handed which leads to a lot of frustrated cursing that ellie tries to curb which ends up just making you laugh — normally that would upset ellie ‘sore loser’ williams but just this once she’ll make an exception.

[hero-nerd]

Karasuno Boys Get Tamagotchis

I got my first tamagotchi yesterday and I am in love, so here are some headcanons of the Karasuno boys and tamagotchis!

Daichi- His tamagotchi actually does not last very long before it perishes. It’s not that Daichi isn’t responsible, it’s actually the opposite. He’s so busy taking care of the team that he didn’t have time to take care of his tamagotchi, and he didn’t bother trying again. He will babysit the others tamagotchis for them, and is trustworthy with this.

Suga- He got way too into this. Not only does the tamagotchi have a name and personality, he has a whole set up for it. A little spot on his nightstand to tuck it in when he goes to bed, a carrier to have it with him during the day, all of that.

Asahi- Dude is stressed about trying to keep his alive. He’s always worried about it and wonders if he’s responsible enough to be a dad for a tamagotchi. If anything bad ever happened to it, he would cry.

Noya- Doesn’t really care about tamagotchi’s, but he once watched Asahi’s for him while Asahi was on a weekend trip. It died under his watch and he PANICKED, knowing that Asahi would be devastated if he came back to a dead tamagotchi. So he reset it and with help he found online raised it again so it was as close to before as possible. Asahi didn’t notice anything off when he gave it back, and Noya is taking this secret to his grave.

Hinata- Hinata loves his tamagotchi, but is not responsible with it. That thing dies probably at least once a week, and he simply resets it and starts again. They all have the same name, with just a number after indicating which resurrection he’s on this time.

Kageyama- He doesn’t really get the appeal of tamagotchis. He got annoyed during practice one day when it kept beeping, so he just threw it in the bottom of his bag to muffle the noise and promptly forgot about it. That was months ago. Legends say the tamagotchi is still crying out for help.

Tsukishima and Yamaguchi- These two co-parent their tamagotchi, one they’ve had since grade school. They are almost unnervingly good at it, and the only resets they’ve ever had to do all these years is when the battery died and it was a forced reset as they changed the batteries. They’ve got the routine down. Yamaguchi is enthusiastic about it, and while Tsukishima pretends he couldn’t care less he has also grown an attachment to it after so long.

[wtfuckevenknows]

Well, I guess let's review this past year a little different and highlight the not so great parts.

This 👇🏻 is how I ended 2023.

I knew it would get better eventually, I knew I had to hold on and just keep pushing through. But it didn't get better immediately after that, it got worse actually. At that point I had only one surgery done. And then I had two more in the span of a week, right before Christmas. Three surgeries in eight weeks take a toll, not just physically but also mentally.

This 👆🏻 is what life looked like in January. (Do we think Tumblr will let me keep it up or make this post rated mature?) It was absolute shit. I was at my limit. I'm usually very in tune with my body but at that point I wasn't at all. I was sick of not being able to do shit, I was sick of sitting on my sofa and staring at the same four walls day in day out.

That is fortunately not how I'm ending 2024. It got better eventually, as I knew it would but it was a lot of fucking hard work. Like A LOT. A million doctors appointments, two radioactive pills, copious amounts of physical therapy, oncological therapy, rehab and rehab mandated sports class, yoga, so many tears (there was a lot of crying involved, so much fucking crying) and god knows what else later, I FUCKING MADE IT.

By May life looked like this 👆🏻 again. Seasonal depression (on top of everything else going on, what a joy) was gone come spring, and mentally I was doing heaps better.

But it still wasn't all sunshine and roses, especially physically. Had a set back in March when I was technically allowed to do Zumba again but my first class back destroyed me. Finally ended physical therapy at the end of AUGUST!!!! But the shoulder still wasn't pain free. That actually took until the end of November. After a second attempt at Zumba, this one successful, I sat in my car and wept, so fucking happy.

Today, as the year comes to an end, I can finally say I am 99.9% healthy again. The cancer is gone, the shoulder is able to do everything again and doesn't really hurt anymore. It's still not a hundred percent but that's probably because they had to reattach a ligament and I can somewhat feel the "string" they used to sew it back to my shoulder with. It's a weird feeling but it doesn't hurt really, and I guess over time I'll get used to it.

I wanna say a big THANK YOU.

Thank you to everyone who helped me get better, in small or in big ways. Thank you for this hellsite for bringing me some form of entertainment. Thank you to the fic writers for giving me lots to read in the 10 months I spent not working, 4 of those being an absolute horror movie.

Thank YOU GUYS for worrying about me, for cheering me on, for your kind words. Thanks for entertaining me with posts, fics, and conversations when I was bored out of my mind. Thank you for letting me rant and vent. Thank you for something as simple as our conversations, even just those kept me going. Thank you for sending Christmas cards or care packages, thank you for letting me come visit you as soon I was able to so I could escape for a little while. Thank you for keeping me company, putting my hair together when I couldn't, preparing food for me and god knows what else. I wouldn't have made it without you guys.

@paperstorm @loveconquersall @thebumblecee @beautifulhigh @heartstringsduet @celeritas2997 @goodways @carlos-tk and everybody else ❤️ I love you guys!

[beef-brisket]

((Sorry for taking a hot second with this. Everything I wrote didn't feel right, and I love this so much, I want to do it justice 😝))

It was almost amusing how the Pride Ring was nothing but panic and violence for days after the broadcast. No one had seen or heard from the two remaining Vee's and that caused more chaos.

What sparked the most panic was a handful of sinners showed up screaming, covered in blood and in a gruesome state. Abaddon had moved back to torturing sinners.

-

Alastor paced in his radio tower. He hasn't done a broad cast in weeks, and as much as he usually loves watching the Pride Ring suffer, it was different now that he had experienced Adam first hand.

Being powerless and so close to becoming another notch in Adam's belt has changed his whole outlook. He was beyond scared, and was struggling to hide it.

The prey animal in him is screaming for him to run, to hide. But he can't. He doesn't understand it, but the thought of running from the hotel, of being alone made his blood run cold.

He listened to the screams, the explosions in the distance, the pure, deranged bloodshed. It's something that should feel like home to the radio demon, but this couldn't be further from home. It felt like he was in that forest all over again, dogs chasing him down and gaining. Now, all he was waiting for was the bullet from the hunter.

A knock at his hatch broke him out of his thoughts, straightening his jacket with shaking hands. He cleared his throat.

Alastor: Come in!

His hatch lifted, and there was a man he never thought he'd be relieved to see. Lucifer Morningstar.

He climbed up and closed the hatch. There was silence between them, but it wasn't awkward or felt like a power struggle. It was like an understanding.

Alastor was the first to talk, his voice uneasy: If he can defeat you, there's really no hope.

Lucifer sighed and took off his hat. The king looks older, troubled. Really looking a day over 16,000 years old, maybe older.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed.

Lucifer: And Heaven has cut off all contact. We're on our own.

Alastor didn't know if he wanted to cry or laugh. What he did know is that he cursed Heaven. He's never hated anything more. Not the hunter and his dogs, not the worst if humanity he's slayed, not Vox, not even the Devil himself.

Alastor: So, this is it then. Judgment day has finally arrived, and the first man, reborn of the ashes. Becoming a whole new Devil.

Lucifer: Could have gone without eloquence.

Alastor gave Lucifer a tease smile before sitting down at his recording desk. He spun around and pulled his shirt collar, it suddenly felt impossibly tight.

Alastor: Why? Nothing I said was false. There's only a matter of time before he comes for me, and you. Vox is radio silent, pardon the pun. And miss Velvette? I heard through the grapevine that she's found a decent little hidy hole. But, only time will tell, I have a feeling we'll be seeing her darling corpse strung up.

Lucifer: ...He's sick. Adam... he wasn't like this. He was... a darling boy. Nothing but sunshine and rainbows in those eyes.

Lucifer smiled: When Charlie was growing up, I thought I had been cursed.

Alastor tilted his head: Oh?

Lucifer nodded: She was- is like a carbon copy of Adam. So sweet, and I saw the best in everyone. Never a dull day or a sky too dark or a storm too catastrophic. He... he wasn't even mad that Lilith wanted to leave him, go against Heaven's plan. He didn't care about his hurt. He was just worried for her. Traveling Earth was not easy. He even made her a spear. Even when he found out I was leaving to, leaving him. He didn't care about his own hurt, he just... gave me a basket of fruit and vegetables.

Alastor: I thought he hated you.

Lucifer: ...He does. I... used his kindness. Betrayed him over and over. Now, this monster... this Abaddon. He's my curse. My punishment. And you're right. He's the Devil now. I'm... just another fallen angel. I'm useless. I can't stop him. And Lord knows I've tried.

Alastor: We can't even call upon Heaven.

Lucifer's gaze hardened, a fire in his eyes: Heaven are cowards. There's no way to get word to them, and even if we did, I doubt they'd believe us.

Alastor chuckled. But it was more tense than because of amusement.

Alastor: We're alone. For thousands of years, sinners and overlords wished the angels would leave us, never to cause chaos again. And now look at us, almost begging at their door, and their not even home... what fools we are.

Lucifer: Damn right. Fucking fools...

Alastor: He'll come for us, your highness. He is death incarnate. And that's the one thing you can't outrun. You can't hide from. You can't barter with. Death comes for us all. One way or another.

Lucifer glares at Alastor as he talks: That's it? No bright ideas on how to kick his ass? How to send him packing?

Alastor stays silent for a moment before sighing.

Alastor: It's usually the king subjects look to for guidance.

Lucifer's disgusted with himself. He can't even protect his kingdom, and now this bastard is giving him a hard time.

Lucifer: Don't you think I fucking know that? I'm nothing against him, Alastor! Nothing...! Fucker... fucker wasn't even trying... my magic should have easily been able to snap him out of existence. But it didn't. I fucking... couldn't do it. I couldn't beat him... a-and I fucking tried, Alastor. I tried so hard... I'm nothing against him, now. I'm nothing against a man who tried to kill my daughter. If he decides he's bored of killing Sinners and Overlords and comes after my daughter? After Charlie?

Lucifer could feel himself start panicking. His breath is unsteady and uneven, his hands shaking.

Lucifer: ...I wouldn't be able to stop him... I'll have to stand there... and watch him kill my daughter... a-and if she begs for me- pleads for me to save her... I-I can't...

Alastor: ...Adam may be powerful, but he's weak.

Lucifer raises an eyebrow: Want to think about those words again, buddy?

Alastor rolls his eyes: I mean what I said. Yes, he's powerful, extremely. He's perhaps the strongest being in creation, under God, of course. But that's Abaddon. Not Adam. Adam is weak. We saw that during the failed extermination. It was easy to get under his skin to play with his feelings. He had over 10,000 years of anger and hate to play with. I heard what you said to him. You humiliated him. Broke him. Perhaps Abaddon is still as weak and delicate under all of that new power.

Lucifer: ...That's your plan? Pissing off Adam? Did he take a chunk of your brain when he popped your eye out?

Alastor glared: It's not a plan. It's more of an observation. Take it or leave it.

Alastor leaned back in his chair, his claws tapping against Sheetal of his recording bench.

Alastor: Not like we have anything else to go by. I doubt that. Adam would like to pop over for a cup of tea to discuss his weaknesses.

He felt like Alastor was on to something, but the risk out weighed... literally everything. Adam was too powerful to even thing of pissing on and expect to walk away with all of your limbs.

But, as much as Lucifer hates to admit it, Alastor is right. Adam can have all of the power in existence, but his mind is weak. His emotions always got in the way. His connection to God always came before anything else. His father's love meant more to Adam than life it's self.

Lucifer's eyes slowly widened: God...

Alastor: What?

Lucifer: God- my father. He could stop Adam! Like you said, Adam wouldn't be stronger than God!

Alastor gave Lucifer a soft smile: Well, well. We may still have hope.

Neither of them would have thought they'd call upon the heavenly father, but this was a unique situation. Lucifer hadn't spoken to his father since his fall.

Hope and desire slowly bloom in the demons chest. Maybe this is it. This is what they need.

Tormentor of souls au

Darkness surrounded him like a blanket. Only he was no way comfortable or felt safe. He felt fear grip him like iron as he tried to make even a sliver sense of his situation. He could barely a muscle, if he had any muscle to pull. It felt like he had nothing to move, was this what happened to the souls he exorcised? 

Were they to end up here for eternity, slowly being drove insane with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company? Adam couldn’t even try to open his mouth to speak, well he did try, but the only words that would escape from him were from within his mind. In his mind he sighed, he was just so tired, he didn’t have any strength to fight, to argue that he shouldn’t be here. Yet what exactly was the point? He’d only tire himself further out. 

He had to admit it, he was stuck here, for all eternity. Much the same as a sinner. 

That was when he saw it a flicker of light. Not just any light, a pure white light. A light that was so familiar, one that brought him joy when it spoke to him in his booming voice.

His creator 

“GREETINGS MY SON. IT HAS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I HAVE LAST SPOKE TO YOU AND FOR THAT I APOLOGIZE”

Adam didn’t care he was just so thankful to be in his creator’s presence.

“MY SON I KNOW THAT YOU HAVE LIVED A LIFE OF HARDSHIP AND THAT IT DID NOT STOP EVEN WHEN YOU PERISHED.” 

He tried to not flinch at that. Thinking about his first life brought too many unpleasant memories.

“THAT IS WHY IT BRINGS ME PAIN TO ASK YOU OF THIS, BUT I NEED YOUR ASSISTANCE ONCE MORE. I KNOW OF WHAT YOU HAVE DONE THESE PAST FEW CENTURIES, AND I HAVE TO SAY THAT IT WAS NOT THE SOLUTION”

Adam could not believe what he was hearing. His own creator believed that they, the murderers and rapists, deserved to be redeemed!?

“HELL IS MEANT TO BE A PUNISHMENT, ETERNAL TORMENT OF THE SINS LUCIFER CORRUPTED WITH HIS WAY OF FREE WILL. HOWEVER MANY OF THEM DON’T SEE IT THAT WAY. TO THEM HELL IS MERELY A PLAYGROUND WHERE RULES NO LONGER MATTER. I HAVE SEEN TRUE MONSTROUS ACTS THE WICKED HAVE BROUGHT WITH THEM FROM LIFE. THEY CARRY IT MOST OUT ON THE TRUE CITIZENS OF HELL, THE ONES THAT HAD NO SAY IN BEING THERE OR NOT.”

The hell born, Adam thought taking in the Lord’s words

“I KNOW I AM NOT THEIR CREATOR, NOR DO THEY CALL ME FATHER, BUT I HAVE HEARD THEIR PLEAS FOR HELP TO BE SAVED FROM THE ACTS OF THE WICKED, OF ALL WICKED. UNFORTUNATELY THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE BORN DOWN THERE, BUT I CAN STOP THE SINNERS FROM HURTING THEM AND THAT IS WHERE I NEED YOUR HELP”

Adam had never put much thought into the hellborn. To him they were simply there and as long as they got in his way during the exterminations they weren’t a problem. There was the princess, but he didn’t really count her. He was curious however as to what the Lord wanted him to do.

“THE SINNERS NEED PUNISHMENT, AND THE HELL BORN NEED PROTECTION. YOU CAN BE THEIR PROTECTOR BY BECOMING THE PUNISHER.”

 With a simple snap of his creator’s fingers Adam felt something shift within him, in his very essence he changed. A warm feeling engulfed him whole and then he knew no more.

((Oh shit- I love everything about this! God needs to fuck off and let our boy rest!

Sorry this took me a hot second to get to- and I hope my reply does yours justice 😝))

Charlie is in full work mode and has been since the failed extermination ended. Since finding out Sir Pentious ended up in Heaven.

For months, she had been working hard. It was so hard that she somehow missed the latest gossip going around the Pride Ring.

Sinners ending up missing, only to resurface months later completely different. Scared. Traumatized.

Many didn't think much of it. This is Hell. There's always some crazy bastard out there doing shit.

But, it was when they became too scared to even function, too scared to ever be normal again, too scared that they would rather turn an angelic blade on themselves than to live with the possibility of going through whatever it is they've gone through.

Charlie was actually getting quite concerned. Especially when she heard Angel talking about it one night at Husks bar.

Angel: I fucking tell ya, kitty. People a shit scared. I've never seen the clubs so empty!

Husk shook his head: Must be the worst of the worst, huh?

Angel scoffed, downing his drink: Nah, babe. It's something else. It ain't no sinner.

Husk: Hellborn?

Angel: Those guys are freaky. Don't get me wrong, but their not THAT freaky. I had a client who said he was taken for three months. Three. That's fucking child's play. But the shit he said happened to him... fucking skinning, to pouring acid down his throat. Fuck mam, the sick ficker even dug around I'm his muscle and tendons!

Angel shook his head: There's something going on... even Val has lowered the workload.

Husk: Pft. Fuck. That's how you know it's serious.

Angel: Damn fucking right.

Charlie stood at the top of the stairs, listening to Angel's story. She was shocked but not surprised. She wasn't sure why this person has the sinners so scared, but sury it's nothing new.

She probably should make sure Al isn't behind this. She's only heard a few tales of his exploits so she wouldn't put it past him.

-

Alastor: Hm. So you've heard the rumors, too. While I'm flattered, I don't appreciate being confronted in such a way.

Vaggie: Just- fucking answer her, Alastor.

Alastor sighed, leaning on his cane: No, it's not me. I've been too busy here! And my kills stay dead when I'm finishing them~.

Charlie wasn't sure if she liked that answer, but it was good enough.

She apologized to Alastor, ams watched him leave.

Vaggie: ...I don't know, Charlie.

Charlie: I don't know either...

Vaggie: I'm sure it's nothing. Besides, you have more important things to deal with here, hun. You shouldn't get mixed up in sinner issues.

Charlie sighed: I know. I just... surely, it's a coincidence that this starts after the failed extermination... that was my fault. Simmered died because of me- I put my friends in danger! I feel like I owe it to everyone to at least try and solve it.

Vaggie smiled and pulled her girlfriend onto a soft hug.

Vaggie: I know you feel like that, hun. But you don't owe anyone anything... besides, if it's that bad, you could just ask Lucifer. He said he was looking for something to do.

Charlie: Hm... that's... a good idea, actually! I'll get dad on the case!

-

Lucifer: Me on the what now? Charlie, why should I care about whatever is going on with those sinners? Their... you know... sinners.

Charlie: Dad, please? Our guests are sinners. We need them to be safe. So please. Look into this for me? Even just a little bit?

Lucifer sighed. He really didn't want to do this. But, seeing the hopeful, pleading look on his daughters face, eventually changed his mind.

Charlie: Oh- thank you, dad, thank you!

Lucifer smiled as Charlie pulled into a hug. But when she felt and heard his back crack, she slowly put him down.

Charlie: S-Sorry dad!

Lucifer laughed through the pain: It's okay, Charlie - nothing I can't handle! I-I better start hunting a... whatever the fuck this is!

[lasshoe]

i’ve decided to live right here in these specific screencaps just for a little while

[lightblueminecraftorchid]

they call me the griever because halfway through a thing I enjoy I’m already sad that it’s closer to being over

[tonycries]

I-T G-I-R-L!

Synopsis. Making big, powerful boys break beg and follow your every whim? Easy!

Pairings. [SEPARATE] Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, NÉEDY boys, making them whine, bondagé, creampíes, GOJO’S POWERS, chokíng Geto, use of “good boy”, cúmplay, spítting, making them CRY, MAJOR overstím, bégging (THEM), pússy-slappíng, oraI (fem receiving), face-ríding, matíng presses, dry húmping, overspill, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 5.9k (whew)

A/N. Woke up n’ decided I wanna bully them so here we are. Have a lovely day <3

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - MR. AND MRS.

“P-please.”

“What was that?”

“Fuck you-”

It was low - begging - and for the first time, you have that syrupy sweet privilege of hearing Toji’s husky baritone break with such a whiny crack at the end. 

Smugly, you swipe an index right across where your puffy pussy was straddling his poor, overworked cock. Collecting the saturated mess along his furious length - still so swollen with the sheer volume he’d been gushing out tonight. All the way up, up, up to that messy puddle of seed glistening all over his flinching abs. “Then…I guess m’not letting you cum inside, Toji. Again.”

“No! No no no- oh.” Toji’s burst of pained moans are cut off when you shove your fingers between his bruised lips. Dewy, green eyes rolling to the back of his head with each suck and slurp at their milky white sheen. “Fuck- you little-” And despite how furious he sounds, you could feel the very tip of his fat head thicken, twitching a jagged pattern along your cervix. With a low growl, Toji narrows his gaze, biting down on your now-clean digits with his sharp canines, “I said- please, my girl.”

Just that simple plea has your boyfriend’s jaw clenching, teeth gritted so viciously at the way you’ve been oh-so-coyly denying him the one thing he’s wanted for what feels like hours now. 

“Louder.” your lips curl into a devilish grin, back arching in that perfect bow Toji loved so much. Only deepening the lingering rolls of your hips down his needy tip. “Didn’t hear ya.”

“F-fuck.” Toji’s throwing his head back, thick fingers coming down to splay out across your bent thighs. “Can you- please-” You could feel every minute flex of his muscled thighs when he efforts to buck your sloppy hips deeper - faster - down his fat cock. Only to be halted by ten mean fingernails of yours pinning him down by his curving pecs, “-please. Wan’ cum inside- let me cum inside goddammit, woman.”

Of course, you decide to tease him by slowing down your pace even more. Letting your sloppy pussy just stroll down every greedy inch of his dick. Trying to hold back your content giggle, “I dunno…”

And Toji thinks he could yell out in frustration, he thinks he could sob, “Fuck- I said please. Pretty please? What more do you fucking want?”

He sounded so devastated. And you swear you could spy wet, bulbous tears at the corners of his long lashes, the familiar scar along his lips wobbling with such precious need. 

“Hmm–” you’re letting out such a sultry drag of your voice, taking so much of your sweet sweet time that Toji thinks he’s about to lose his mind. About to just flip your bratty self over and shove his thoroughly teased cock into you until you forget about that looming threat of not letting him paint your insides white. Fuck, the things he does for you-

“Call me your wife.”

Shit - Toji’s darkened eyes widen at your little request, jaw hanging open in disbelief and-

“That’s it?” he laughs - laughs. Rumbling out of his broad chest in a hoarse rasp, and those two strong arms of his tug down your limp body to kiss teasingly at your jutted-out lips. Slipping his hot tongue between the seams, “S’all because my hah- baby wanted to be my- my pretty lil’ wife. Well-” Any and every retort is fucked out of your mind when Toji’s spearheading into your mushy g-spot with a harsh rut of his hips. “-what my wife wants, my wife gets.”

The bed is creaking with every riotous slam, smearing the velvety pool of cum even farther between your bodies. Sticking to you like a sloppy second skin, strings of lewd juices form and snap when his massive cock stretches your gummy walls until they gape. 

“Shit- shit shit shit, if I knew that was all you wanted-” you’re feeling the languid drag of Toji’s happy trail scratch your throbbing clit. “Please- I would’ve been fucking my wife for s-so long now. Silly girl, s’all I’ve ever wanted- would’ve begged, gotten on my knees-”

“Hngh! Fuck-” you’re squealing when you feel him drip with even more saturated precum to coat your snug channel. One calloused palm of his coming between the two of your slick bodies to smear across the mess from his sweet highs, deftly angling them so that the rounded tips of his fingers are stuffing your leaky pussy with sloppy globs of his seed every time you’re slamming down. 

“Now now–”  It’s all you can do to gulp in heaving breaths to make your tone sound warning, but even that sounds too breathless - and both of you know it. Babbling away, “-don’t get so cocky- might just- hah, change my mind, husband.”

And fuck. Oh fuck. 

Your poor cunt just throbs when in a split-second, Toji’s mouth slacks even further, wrenching out a guttural groan. 

And then your gushing walls are milking out every ribbon of velvety cum that splurges into your tight pussy. It’s so much - too much, painting your insides all white with his seed. Toji’s gasping at the feeling of it sloshing around your elastic walls in slow, clingy swivels coating the both of you. 

His breath hitches when he spies down at the obscenely white mess below, globs of his cum slobbering messily down your inner thigh. Fuck, he’s never - never - came before you. This was-

“This better be a proposal, y’know.” you hum in amusement. “Or it would be interesting that you came early just becaus-”

“The fuck else would it be?” Toji’s gruffing out, two warm hands gliding to grip onto the globes of your ass. Still irritated. Still embarrassed. 

Ignoring your titter, he rams your teasing hips down with a sharp smack! like he was branding all five fingers onto your skin. Plugging your ravaged entrance shut with his weepy dick to stop even more of that thick, gushing cum from trickling out. You mewl when you feel his swelteringly wet tip quirk at the very bottom of your spongy cervix in interest, “Now be quiet and let me fuck you properly as my wife.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Hands-on intervention…

“You really are trying to get us fired, huh, my love?” he’s murmuring gently, “What do you think you’re doing this late, hm?”

Now, Nanami knew he shouldn’t have taken on those extra documents, he knew he should’ve been back home by now. Wrapped up in you and your cute gossip about what happened in your department today.

But here he was, sitting at his empty office. With you - stubborn as you are - straddling him like such a slut on top of his heavily manspread, muscular thighs, his favorite late-night snack. His coworker. His wife. 

“I should hah- ask you the same thing, Ken.” you’re grinning, the sinfully tight satin of your skirt hiking up with each slow, teasing roll of your drooly cunt against his clothed erection. It’s so messy. Your syrupy saturated slick mixing in with Nanami’s steadily beading precum. “Didn’t we both agree to no more late nights?”

He’s heaving out a shaky sigh, running a warm hand up and down your arched spine, “I know, I know. I apologize.”

That frantically achy little pulse of your slick-glossed cunt on top of him told him that he wasn’t forgiven just yet. And Nanami gulps - loosening that yellow, speckled tie of his with the tight bobbing of his Adam’s apple. Rich tone shaky - shuddering, even, “How- how do you want me to make it up to you, darling?”

You’re batting your lashes at his expansive mahogany desk. “Well…”

Of course he should’ve seen where this was going - with your high-heel-clad feet swiveling high in the air, digging into his broad shoulders. Stitches in your poor skirt popping and tearing with each bullying thrust your husband’s planting on your ravaged in this tight mating press. 

“K-Ken—” you’re letting out such a sickly sweet moan when his fat, weepy tip collides with the very bullseye of your sensitive g-spot. Your fingers work deftly to reach into your skirt pocket - pulling out that familiar tiny hot-pink bullet vibrator.

“Walkin’ around with that during work?” Nanami gasps, barely tearing his eyes away from that heavenly sight of your swollen pussy entrance wrapped around his girthy shaft. “Such a dirty girl you-” 

“Oh s’not for me.” 

And fuck, Nanami can only watch - can only gape his clenched jaw open when your devious fingers dip the feverishly shaky vibrator down, down, down to kiss so delicately at his thick hilt. 

“Oh!” His towering body wracks with a shiver, full, heavy balls clenching so tightly. Hammering his rawly aching cock so thoroughly into you, hips pistoning forwards with the carnal need for more more more- “Wait- Fuck! M-my love?”

“Yes–?” you’re humming, low and sultry and oh Nanami already knows he’s gone. He can only pray he leaves with his sanity intact. 

Splaying out two large hands on the sides of your head, the documents on top rustle in sync with those saturatedly hypnotic squelches echoing from your ravishing cunt. “Is this- s’this oh, fuck- please.” Nanami screws his eyes shut when you’re holding down the device even harder onto his glistening shaft. “S’this- is it- because I broke our hah- promise?”

“Maybe.” you’re breathing out into his panting mouth. So enveloped by his weighty figure that it was almost difficult to work your little magic. “Maybe I just got tired of waitin’ around for you to finish overtime, Ken.”

“Please!”

Over and over. That tiny spark is enough to have him barrelling back into your dripping wetness with reckless abandon. 

He’s so utterly ruined - glasses sliding down his high nose-bridge, thighs quivering with sensitive need. And you could just feel every fresh wave of heated precum painting your cunt in a glossy new coat. “Fuck- tell me please. Please, darling, m’begging.”

“Promise me no more overtime.” You’re grinning, fingers still steady tracing his most sensitive spots. 

“P-promise…”

“N’ to always hurry home to me?”

“I promise! I promise- promise to always come home- to you- always. Please-” he’s startling you with a soft pad of his thumb rolling over your neglected clit. Such a low, broken keen leaving him at when you start drawing harsh, methodical circles on the sensitive spots along his length. “N-no more overtime. Please please please- feels too good- what do I do- what-”

Ah, success looked so pretty.

Nanami’s eyes were already so watery, stern lips trembling with little apologies about “never workin’ overtime again.” So uncharacteristically disheveled in a way that makes your mouth water.

“Shit-” you hiss when that pointed nub of the vibrator accidentally hits your widely stretched-out pussy. The velvety cling of your walls making him hiss furiously. Disrupting, fat tip nudging all those crevices along your snug channel. “Hah- don’t think I’d let you off so-”

Before you can react, he’s hiking a long leg up on the desk to angle his crashes with scary accuracy. Just colliding against your bulbous g-spot with no hesitation. Pushing, with the very edge of his weepy tip - far, so far that you could scream.

Over and over and over- So elastically stretching out your snug hole to your limits to take him in all his long, throbbing entirety. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck I know, I know.” He’s alternating between long, rough strokes to shove you further and further up the cool desk, and shallow lingering grinds to mold your pretty walls to the exact form of his swollen shaft. “I’ll do anything- anything, please just- cum.”

It only takes a few more calculated pistons of his hips, and a touchy, teasing smack! onto your weepy cunt before you’re crashing headfirst into your orgasm. Cumming all around his wildly twitching shaft, your velvety walls just mending all around the shape of his pretty cock. Your toes curl, back arching into such a bowing bend. And in the split-second your grip weakens, Nanami’s seizing that hot pink devil in your hand.

“F-fuck wait-” you squeal at at familiar bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzt echoing across the filled-out walls of your cunt. Squeezing inside the tight fit where Nanami’s fat shaft was nestling, tremoring so deliciously against each and every one of your sweet spots. Stuffing you full. “What-”

“Don’t forget - you’re working overtime, too, my love.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - No need for air

“F-fuuuck, gorgeous.” Geto’s melodic moan makes your cunt throb, a fresh gush of your sweet sweet juices slobbering down to where he was slapping your puffed-up clit with his fat head. The angry divot of his tip smacking up once, twice onto the too-sensitive nub. 

“So fuckin’ wet f’me-” he whispers from behind, gliding a thumb across the glossy sheen trickling down from the corners of your slit. The sight of his glistening fingers makes him bare you with such a crazed, feral grin, feeding you inch by fucking in languid, bullying rams. “-almost makes me forget the hand around my throat.”

At this, your nails are digging in even deeper around the pale, long column of his throat. Leaving neat, red indents that stand out. And you swear you could spy his leering grin grow even wider at that sinful sting. 

“What about it, Sugu?” you’re grinning over your shoulder. Gasping for air at how relentlessly he was trying to squeeze his fat shaft through that tight, glossy ring of muscle. 

Each drag of his throbbing shaft has your fingers tightening more around his throat. Making Geto feel so woozy and lightheaded with each little grind into the glistening channel past your puffy folds. “Heh, really like fuck- it rough like this, huh?” A low groan drags at the back of his throat when you start pushing your limp hips back in a jerky little cadence to try and meet his. “Shit- shit shit shit s’too good. You’re suckin’ me up so tight s’almost hard to fuck into ya. Almost makes me wanna-”

“Cum inside?” 

This earns you a punishing smack! on your bulging cunt, cool metallic rings of his burning into your skin. So sopping wet and struggling to expand your gummy walls around his expanding girth. Drawing out a dark chuckle from the depths of his chest, “Real funny, gorgeous. You and I both hah- know s’jus’ your hngh! cockdrunk mind talking.”

“Nooo—” you’re tugging him in a desperate, vice-like grip to crash your lips against his. Whining against his lips, “S’not. Really really want you to cum inside, Sugu. F’me - please? Like a good boy?” 

It was a little slip of your tongue - really - and you didn’t expect anything more than another teasing slap to your cunt, maybe even a joke at your expense.

But what you didn’t expect was for the sloppy cadence of Geto’s hips to falter just a bit. You’re turning your head just in time to catch that glassy, far-away look in his eyes, jaw slacking open to let out a shocked gasp. You hear a sharp pop! from his toned hips before they’re surging forwards to barrel your poor cunt with every weighty inch of his girth. 

Over- and over and over- One large hand of his is catching around yours to squeeze - warningly. Letting out a strangled, “G-gorgeous…”

Oh? 

Brows quirking, you’re batting your lashes so syrupy slow, “Are you gonna be my good boy, Sugu? Make me a momma?”

Another lewd push and pull, having you bouncing back on Geto’s sharp hipbones with such loud smacks! of skin-on-skin. Ringing into the humid, heady air and wracking his body with almost-painful shivers. 

“F-fuck–” He’s struggling to find the words - to even think with his melty mess of a mind. Such a delicate blush burns at Geto’s scowling cheeks when you’re facing him with a surprised grin - one he hides by latching his lips onto the crook of your neck, hiding away the smile threatening at his plump lips. “God- you’re gonna be the death of me. Don’t you fuckin-”

Your firm grip grows even firmer, resolving to him choking in large, breathy exhales. “Good boy.” Craning your arm around deftly to cup his pretty cheek. “You’re gonna do what I say, right?”

Shit, he was a goner.

It has the same effect, and once again, your big bad boyfriend is reduced back into a whiny mess. He’s planting two strong legs on the drenched silken sheets to fully fuck his bullying cock all the way into the back of your plushy pussy. 

Usually sharp tongue so heavy and slurring. Babbling out little pleas into the rhymically jiggling valley of your breasts - “Ohhh yes- yes yes yes please let me- wanna- m’your good boy, right? Let me cum inside, hngh shit! Wan’ you to take it- ah- a-all, make you a momma.” 

He lets out wet, feverish pants when you drag him close enough to moan that dangerous little word into his mouth. “Please? Please let me?” Geto nuzzles his cheek into your soft palm, heady movements so slow. Syrupy - like he was moving through molasses. And it’s like he doesn’t even realize what he’s doing when he’s popping one of your fingers into his mouth. Delicate pink lips looking so pretty - depraved - wrapped around your ring finger. “Wanna knock you up- hah marry you.” His eyes roll to the back of his head, “Put a ring on this finger- n’ a baby in ya pretty pussy.”

Meeting that increasingly ruthless cadence by fucking back to memorize each thumping ridge, each prominent vein along his girthy shaft. Twitching. Angry. He’s nodding - nodding so feverishly - tears crinkling glisteningly at the corners of his lids. “Please- please call me that again. Let me make you a momma, please.”

You don’t get to hear the rest of his sentence, because it only takes a few more solid, thorough swallows of his rummaging cock before he’s speechless. So fucking pussydrunk he can’t piece together anything but your name followed by a slurred-out string of profanities. Close. Too close. 

Staring into Geto’s heavy, half-lidded gaze, you whisper such a saccharine sweet, “Then, cum inside f’me like a good boy, Sugu.”

♡ CHOSO KAMO - “Crybaby.”

It’s by the second orgasm that Choso feels a bit jittery, thighs quivering uncontrollably, chest heaving up and down in pained, ragged little gasps. 

It’s by the fourth that Choso feels nervous, he trusts you - of course, he does, you’re his sweet girl after all - and yet he can’t help that churning heat in his pulse. Heavy balls squeezing weakly with each glide of your soft palm down his red, achingly stimulated length. 

It’s only by the fifth that Choso is sobbing, big fat tears trailing down to his glossy lips. Such a rosy red and bitten in worry, hips fucking up in jagged, mindless little grinds. Oh, it takes everything in Choso to not cling on desperately to your feverish hand right now - dwarfed by his sheer girth, so glossy with a thick sheen of precum - yet still dragging up and down relentlessly. Treating him like some toy. 

“Baby–” your beloved boyfriend’s wet gasp catches in his throat when you swivel a curious thumb underneath his sensitive slit. Letting a fresh gush of his saturated precum glisten down to your wrist. “Baby baby baby- please. P-please, I don’t think I can- ngh- give y’anymore.”

“I think you can.” your leveled hum cuts through his frantic pleas. “Don’t you think? After all, you were so happy getting off to my panties like this, weren’t you? Ruining them?”

It’s like the very memory of his shameful act has Choso fucking his jerky hips up into your soft touch, arching his muscled back into a beautiful curve on your soaked bedsheets. Oh, how embarrassed he felt - how shameful, being caught in the very act by you, fingers deep in your panty drawer. 

Despite his very obvious need, he’s shaking his barely-lucid head. Damp, dark tresses sticking to his sweat-glossed forehead, curtaining those glassy eyes. Slurring out, “Fuck! Please m’sorry m’sorry I don’t think- can’t-”

So deceivingly innocently, you’re batting your lashes in a way that has his massive girth jolting ferally in your hand, “But that’s all I really want, Cho~?”

“...”

Leaning down, Choso could feel your mean smirk against his hotly flushed skin. Dragging up his salty trail of tears, kissing so gently meanwhile your next words made him think he’d pass out. Sultry, and whispered right against the shell of his ear, “Then we better make this last one count, right?”

“Ah!” he’s yelping, large hands scrambling for the sheets - the headboard - you when you seat yourself so prettily on his splayed-out lap. Greedy cunt feeding into every long, solid inch of his achy cock in an easy glide. It felt so good - it hurt so good. Fuck, he thinks he’s gonna-  “-die.” Choso rasps, jittery hands coming to rest at your waist. “Think m’gonna die- gonna- fuck fuck fuck-”

You didn’t even have to think of moving, yet - because all it takes is for Choso’s gushy tip to be swallowed up by your snug channel - the slightest taste of heaven, the slightest squeeze - before you’re being slammed down onto the plush mattress.

Breath puffing out of your lungs, gasping at the sheer stretch when your dangling legs are being thrown over Choso’s broad shoulders. Wrapping tight into a vice-like grip when he folds you in half, down, down, down into the meanest mating press you didn’t think either of you capable of.

But rationality was the last thing on Choso’s mind, right now. 

“Baby—” he’s hissing, fully sheathed inside your dripping cunt to that thick hilt of his. He gulps at the stars bursting behind his lids with each slow, lingering grind. Nuzzling into your touch, “Baby, can’t b-believe you’ve ahh- brought me to this state. M’sorry hah- please forgive me.”

And you almost feel bad - that is, until Choso’s swiping his fat tip against your spongy cervix. Still feeling every single pads of your fingers burning down his raw shaft every time your puffy cunt milks him tight. He’s jutting in jerky, unmethodical little humps - feeling less human than just sheer need. 

“W-well-” you’re gasping, when he gives such a ruthless smash into your bruisingly bulging g-spot. Bonelessly, you wrap your arms around his pale neck, tugging him in so close. A full-body shudder wracks through his entire body when you crane your glossy lips up to bite down on his ear lobe, “-how about you cum f’me again to make up for those three limited edition panties you stole.”

His jaw falls even more slack at your little sentence, a shiny trail of drool dripping from the corners of his ravaged lips. 

“Baby, please.” he’s hissing, moving pistoning even sloppier into you as if on autopilot. A cracking ah! ah! ah! leaves Choso’s mouth at every bullying crash against your g-spot, every dizzying thrust. “Anything else. Please please-”

Through his blurry vision, the blood roaring in his ears, Choso could make out your soft suckling kiss against his slack lips. “Cum f’me, Cho.”

Maybe it’s that honeyed little nickname, maybe the way the curve of your thumb glides away his mess of syrupy saliva. Or maybe it was the way your velvety walls come to form around him so tight - squeezing almost meanly. Once. Twice. 

Choso doesn’t know - nor does he fucking care right now.

“F-fuck I can’t believe-” his eyes snap so comically wide open, letting out such a long, drawn-out drawl of your name. Hips stuttering to smack forwards, “-m’cumming- shit, it hurts- it feels so good. M’cumming m’cumming-”

Choso cums - in ghosting, wispy streams of almost-translucent fluid. Withering out into nothing, until his poor, overworked cock is spurting out just blank heavals. Cumming dry, the only signs of him fucking you through his high being that shaking in his thighs, that frantic twitching of his shaft - flinching to nudge into each dripping sweet spot inside you. 

And his broken, pleading cries, “Fuck- m’buying you the hah- wh-whole store. Fuck- please, baby just-” Nudging his sobbing cock even deeper to brand at your cervix, “-just one more.”

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - TASTE

“You little-”

“What?” you’re leering down at the great Ryomen Sukuna. Pink locks splayed out across the decadent silk sheets, pretty face framed so perfectly by your thighs. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Not quite.” his long, rosy tongue licks a strip up your exposed skin. All the way up from about midway at your inner thigh to just the edges of your drippingly wet panties. Syrupy sweet, and see-through with all your juices. “You really think this is gonna make me say sorry for uh-”

You have to stifle a low laugh when Sukuna cuts himself off with a ragged hitch of his breath. Sharp, cursed eyes widening - just a fraction - honing in to let his greedy tongue loll out. It takes him only a split-second to catch that droopy ooze of your slick, beading through your sopping slit and right onto the middle of his tastebuds. 

“Mmm-” he’s licking that lewd little gloss all over his lips without even a shred of abashedness. “Where- uh where were we, brat?”

Without warning, you’re lacing your fingers through his surprisingly soft strands. Pulling - hard enough to make him groan - until the tip of Sukuna’s nose was just kissing at the lacy mound of your cunt. 

“I believe…” you’re smirking at the way that’s all it takes for him to slide the thick seam of his tongue between the thin fabric of your panties. Red - to match his eyes. Not wasting even a second when he lets your honeyed sweet cunt drool all the way down to the back of his throat. “Not gonnna make him say sorry” your ass. “-you were in the middle of apologizing for forgetting our little dinner date.”

You don’t think he hears you - you don’t even think he breathes. Because with one, final shuddering breath puffed out onto your quivering pussy, Sukuna is meshing his lips with yours in such a messy kiss. Fast, thirsty. Clashing against your swollen folds, slurping past your flimsy excuse of panties to latch around your throbbing clit. He’s hollowing out his cheeks to give them harsh, methodical little sucks. 

“Shit- mmpf- fuck I always forget how sweet you are.” he’s rasping, two large hands coming up to spread the globes of your ass. Pushing you up, up, up to slobber all your saturated slick down the lower half of his face - his cheekbones. “C’mon now, ride my nose- hah, use me with this cute cunt like you always do.”

Fuck, was it tempting. And it takes everything in you to tug away his salivating mouth with a loud squelch! And if you didn’t know any better, you’d have said that the infamous king of curses let out a whine - a whine - watching those delicate strings of spit and slick snap away when you hoist yourself off his greedy mouth.  

“What the fuck, woman?”

“I told you, Kuna.” you whine out, as scoldingly as you can. Wrangling against those big beefy arms trying to desperately pull you back down, “You hafta apologize.”

You’re teetering precariously when Sukuna’s entire chest rumbles with a groan, eyes rolling so sassily. “What did you want me to do?” he clicks his tongue. Baring you with such dangerous fangs that glisten with your juices in the dim light. “Had to kill off some scum curses, s’not my fault. M’not apologizing for- shit-”

Any and every retort is knocked out of his mean mouth at that heavenly sight of you running your trembly fingers between your puffed-up pussy lips. Pushing past your panties to run them up and down where your dripping wet cunt needed you most. 

“Oh?” you’re quirking a brow at how transfixed he was. Following that shuddering gulp when you roll your neglected clit between two fingers. “Cat got your tongue now?”

His jaw slacks open when you’re teasing your winking hole, glossed-up and already so pliant with where Sukuna had just dipped the edge of his soft tongue inside. His mouth waters at the memory, “I–”

“Or is it that you just don’t hah-” you’re arching your back even more to give him the perfect view. Fingers getting a bit more frenzied, circling around the very edge of that ring of muscle the way you knew he loved to do. “-want this-” Whining out, “-Kuna–?”

That was it.

“Fuck, sit-” Sukuna’s gritting out through clenched teeth. And when you’re only stagnating and hovering tempestuously in front of him, he wraps all four large arms around the small of your waist. “-fucking sit, woman.” 

You’re squealing at the force of his inhuman strength, dragging you down unceremoniously onto his awaiting mouth. With this, he’s spitting on your cunt. Once. Twice. Three whole times to add to the glistening gloss that collected down your folds. 

“M’sorry, see?” he goads pridefully. Oh, if anyone heard the cruel king of curses apologizing like this, they’d faint. Giving the fat of your ass a branding smack! Hard enough that he could feel all five bumps of his sweltering fingers on your skin. “Fuckin’ little- oh- spoiled little-” But Sukuna can’t even finish his sentence - can’t even think about it with his mind so saturated. Hot tongue mashing in to swerve and drag across those sweet spots hidden at your plushy walls. “Said m’sorry, s’this good enough for you?”

Your pussy such a sopping wet mess that Sukuna can’t help but kiss again. And again. And again and again and- “See m’sorry. M’so, so sorry- fuck just never take this pretty pussy away from me, little brat.” 

And now you’re sure he lets out a whimper - raspy, and a few octaves higher than his usual baritone. So deep now that he was just cinching your pulsing clit across his sharp nose. Murmuring, “Stop laughing- can feel ya shaking- before I cancel our dinner reservation for tomorrow. M’renting out the whole fuckin’ restaurant, so ya better give me my fill.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Bed chem.

“It won’t-” If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that the great Gojo Satoru was pleading right now. Praying. Voice shot, pretty pink lips wobbly, pale hand raw and red from tugging on those fluffy handcuffs. He’s pouting, “Won’t work.”

He was so picture-perfect, restrained tight to the headboard with those customized handcuffs you’d ordered. Blinking his weepy, blue eyes droopily, slurring words that were all bark and no bite. 

You’re rolling your eyes, giving his spit-glossed lips a lingering little peck, “Didn’t think you were such a pussy, Toru?”

“F-fuck who are you calling a-” It makes your cunt absolutely drip with a fresh wave of honeyed juices when you give his sensitively overworked shaft another thorough glide of your drooling walls. Meshing your pussy lips with the very hilt of his angry, red cock. “Please- fuck when you’re riding me like that, sweetheart.” he’s yanking frantically on those restraints as if to hold onto your feverishly gliding body. “Think- hngh! Think I really will explode-”

“Oh?” you’re cutting through his babbles, eyes flitting over his powerful arms, those glassy eyes that just seemed to glow in the dim bedroom lighting. “I knew I wasn’t seeing things, so you do think that- ah- your powers are linked to you-”

Your thoughts are spiraling into a gooey mess when Gojo’s uncontrollably strengthened thighs leverage themselves on the silken mattress to just rut up into your squelching pussy. 

“Jus’ wanna see, Toru.” you’re huffing, reaching a hand behind your ruthless hips to palm at his painfully squeezing balls. Rolling the soft pad of your thumb over the curve of their straining texture - just the way he liked it, “Wan’ you to cum f’me. Just wanna see.”

“Using all your dirty tricks-” he’s spitting, mouth sagging open to let you plant a few somewhat apologetic kisses down Gojo’s face. “I can’t-” Another harsh buck of his hips, and with such a loudly pornographic mewl he’s bullying his overwhelmed cock up, up, up to swerve into your neverendingly sloppy staccato - right into your sweet spots. “Fine- fucking fine- hah- use me. Use me for whatever- just, please. Fuck I just wanna cum- please—”

You’re very quickly realizing that those handcuffs can do nothing to restrain Gojo Satoru. In fact, the only reason they’re still on him unscathed was purely out of indulging in your cute little play. 

Gifting you with such a sexily cocksure grin he tries to mask away his furious flush, his trembling voice with, “N-no, m’not a- hngh! M’not some grade 4 sorcerer. I’m the fuuuck- strongest, why would my powers go out of control when I cum- fuck-

Gojo’s blabbering mouth is cut off with each gripping slide down his achy cock. Molding your plushy walls to each of his eager twitches, so fucking massive that you had to balance your hands on your boyfriend’s broad deltoids to even have him reach each hidden deep spot inside you. 

It makes him throw his head back, it makes him cry out, it makes him whine. 

And it only takes a few more churning strokes of Gojo’s hips, a few more critical mashes into the spongy bullseye of your g-spot before you’re cumming. So hard that you don’t even realize it at first. 

Gojo does, though - of course, he does - fighting back against the velvety cling of your cunt to fuck you into the desk so deeply. So purposefully that he can almost feel every indented bruise of his fat tip hitting against your slick cervix, your bouncy g-spot. Wave after wave having you milking the fucking soul out of him and-

“Fuck m’gonna-” he’s whining, hips stuttering upwards like they’re pained to pull back from your heavenly pussy. If even just to thrust his greedy length all the way back in. Gojo’s breaths come out in ragged pants, chest heaving up and down. Somehow, the hairs on your body raise, and you can feel that familiar tension of pressurized atoms. “Can’t hah- last much longer. Fuck- please. M’close- gonna cum gonna-”

That sobbing little divot at the end of his angry, thick head just bursts with thick, long ribbons upon ribbons of sloshing white cum. Gliding across every inch of your tight pussy, coating all your insides in a creamy color that was so Gojo. 

It’s so much - dripping down the corners of your bulging slit in oozing little dredges, making such a mess of your rapidly overfilling cunt. Almost too much - it felt like you could explode. 

You’re almost missing that familiar little flash of blue lightning at the corner of Gojo’s pussydrunk eyes. Glowing and almost falling shut with just how fucking good it felt to have your milky cunt sloshing full of his seed. The thought- the thought makes him-

You’re gasping when the lamp by your sloppy bed starts flickering so dangerously, once. Twice. Before bursting into tiny shards that flick at the both of you - only to be stopped, falling to the surrounding blankets just a few centimeters short like they were hit by an invisible wall.

“T-Toru–” the sound of your voice makes something in Gojo’s heating body raise its dark, feral head. And he only wrenches out of those pathetic handcuffs to wrap two big, strong arms around your waist. Face burying into your skin, fucking up into you over and over and-

CREAK! 

The bed groans at his rough cadence, so loud even over the dragging wooden noises of some of the furniture nearby inching forward like they were briefly tugged by some magnetizing force - Gojo. 

Bingo.

And it’s like something snaps because you’re jolted with a sharp spark of electricity. White-hot pleasure blissing down your entire limp body, and suddenly your high feels like it’s being repeated over and over and-

“Hey- hey, sweetheart?” Gojo’s voice sounds so far away. Lazily, your heavy lids blink back your vision - when did it even become hazy? “...y’know how every science experiment has about five trials?”

“...”

A/N. I don’t want to write a longer version of Gojo’s but the demons in me want to write a longer version of Gojo’s…

Plagiarism not authorized.